defeat? or success?

Today, along with my mother and father I went to get my test conclusions. I did a series of tests at a psychologist office to see if I have ADD or some other learning disability. Today was the evaluation. It was interesting. The conclusion is no learning disabilities! But a tad bit of attention problems and definitely memory issues. And a hell of a lot of anxiety with a side of depression. Hmm. I’ve always thought of it the other way around. I always thought I was depressed, with a bit of anxiety. However, the more and more we talked, my anxiety became even more obvious. Its funny how a series of events throughout my LIFETIME could all point to one thing. Seemingly unrelated events, at that. But things are definitely starting to make some sense. Anyways, I’m not exactly sure how to take all of this. The whole attention/memory/learning disability thing is one thing. And then the anxiety/depression is another. But I suppose they both lead to one thing…medication. I have a love/hate relationship with medications. I’ve taken a bunch for my depression. And that did a whole lot of NOTHING in the long run. I’m hopeful and skeptical at the same time. I mean, after dealing with medication after medication (7 or 8 antidepressants..) I cant help but feel broken. At the same time, if there’s a medication that will help my attention, which may in turn help my memory, which subsequently helps my grades…then I suppose I’m willing to give it a try. It’s complicated. I hate the whole guess and check situation with some medications. With antidepressants the doctor doesn’t know which specific one will help, so they pick one and see if it does. If it doesn’t, they move on to the next. It’s a very exhausting process. This is why I’m tentative.

I suppose my parents see success in all this, but
I feel so defeated.

fear.

I’m scared of a lot of things. And I don’t know what my biggest fear is. There are much too many. But one thing that absolutely terrifies me is this. I’m scared that one day, I will have a family, kids. I will have these beautiful children, and I will pass this ugly disease to them. The thought makes me want to throw up, and makes me hate myself a little more. Eventually I want to have children. But I am scared to. What if they are as miserable as I am? It makes my mind hurt, what if I have them anyways?

How selfish would that be?

Crave.

You know how sometimes you just have a craving for something. Its on your mind and you just want it soooo bad. Like chocolate. Or potato chips. Or something else like that. I’ve definitely have cravings like that. But right now, it’s similar but different. I crave a knife. A blade striking against my flesh. Blood. Seeing my inside, out. The way my arm feels after I’ve cut a few times. The sting after I slap the cuts, to make them bleed again. The way I can feel my heartbeat EVERYWHERE. Yeah, I miss that. It’s a crazy concept to grasp. And I know I sound crazy when I say all of that. But just think of it like you are craving chocolate. And I mean REALLY craving. And then, multiply that by a hundred. The craving is so intense, I just cant stop thinking about it.

I used to describe it like an itch. On the bottom of your foot. And you have shoes and socks on. And you are driving your car. You know that you shouldn’t itch it, but the itchy feeling is so intense. You wait as long as possible, but finally you just cant take it anymore. You have to rip off your shoes and socks to finally scratch the itch. All better.

I know there is debate on whether or not self harm is an addiction but it truly and honestly feels that way. I am no medical expert, but it feels like I am enslaved by this…habit?

I want to cut so bad right now. And it’s not like I’m super depressed or anything. It doesn’t always happen when I’m depressed (a common misconception). IT’S JUST A CRAVING that I get. It’s driving me crazy. But, I’m trying to be good. I haven’t cut for over a month. But to be completely honest, it’s mostly because of my scars. I have so soooo many scars. And its getting to be a bit ridiculous.

My scars don’t bother me tooo much, until I go out in public. I’m not embarrassed all the time, but I’m scared people will ask me questions (especially adults), and I KNOW people are judging me. It’s inevitable. But I’m kinda scared to lose them. Sometimes, I don’t want to forget.

Ah! Sometimes, my mind just cannot rest. It cannot stop.