I have been admitted into a mental health facility after gnashing up my arm. I have 22 stitches and seven deep lacerations. I took 12+ pills of Vicoden with two shots of rum so I could have died from just that. My roommates don't want me back, which is painful to hear even if I knew doing this would mean I had to move back in home.
I honestly thought it would work so I didn't give any thought into what would happen if it failed. With my plan failed, I know that I need to reboot my life.
It almost feels as though this was part of the plan because of how things have moved. I feel a bit hopeful that there is a way to get myself some kind of tools to actually deal with this better. My room is room 28, my lucky ******** number. People are truly really nice but I don't have a bra so my boobs are starting to hurt.
My brother is the only one that I am able to handle having to visit me. It isn't about what my parents are or what they have done but my own emotions dealing with the shame and angry or resentment with things. I still am unable to look at the wound and even really talk about the thing in detail. I am having trouble with some of my urges right now. I keep wanting to attract attention from the guys here and there are a good number of them that are sweet. I mean, obviously they are messed up so I shouldn't get involved but my emotions are like DOOOO ITTTTTT. It's hard to control the impulses.
Well, we have computer access so I'll try to keep you updated.
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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
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