coping vs not coping, part whatever


So I blog here primarily about mental illness, including writing about my own experiences. I guess that’s why, on an American holiday, with plans for a meal at a friend’s house that I was invited to later and a beautiful emotional support animal and a patient, supportive boyfriend messaging me from his parents’ house, I am about to tell you all how bad things are right now for me.

Things are very, very bad for me right now.

I’ve been without a therapist since May, on a waitlist and now unable to contact the agency I’m supposed to get outreach therapy from. The one that I was getting outreach therapy from (two times a week) until this May when my truly lovely former therapist had to leave suddenly for health-related reasons.

I have so much psychological trauma to process, new and old, that I am unable to process and learn to live with in a healthy way until I can trust another therapist several months after whenever I am able to start with one again.

I have gone to the hospital twice since May to present for inpatient care. I have had to go home without care as a result of their not providing me services, and in the other case completely turning me away. I have had to go home to the same level of suicidality I had when I decided “hey, maybe I should check myself into the psych ward so I can not die,”

I’m still alive, and I think I probably sound whiny as hell, but ugh, is it hard to live. It’s so hard to exist, to fight. I’m doing it, for several reasons, but it is not something I can say I’ve seen glimmers of enjoyment or happiness in for months.

I maintain my statement that severe mental illness left untreated or not treated properly will take you by the neck with one hand and make you watch as it destroys everything you love and care about with the other hand.

Wish me a therapist.

Things are getting super bad, like way worse than normal-bad, and so I’m not sure how much I’ll blog for a time period of some sort. I really want to be here, to be present, to write regularly. I don’t know how to do that when I am choking on life.


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