Oh hello there, depression. Nice of you to stop by again, just in case I thought I wouldn't see you again.
Things were going so well these past few weeks. Everything was gradually improving, and while things weren't magically wonderful, I was certainly getting a lot better pretty steadily.
This week I've been performing in a show, which has meant 5 hour long rehearsals, late nights, and then 3 performances. It was pretty draining to say the least, but I was just about coping. Ok, so every time I was on my own I wanted to break down and cry from exhaustion, but I knew that after the last performance this evening things would get back to a more manageable level.
After the final performance, I was feeling pretty drained to say the least. I saw my ex-partner, who said it was nice to see me, and after helping to clear up from the show, I headed over to the after-party, with the intention of probably only staying for a few hours. I chatted a bit, sang some songs, ate cake, and calmed down a fair amount.
When my ex arrived, we chatted a little, and it was all going well until he started telling me about his sex life. It just hit me unexpectedly, and he realised as soon as he'd said it, and apologised, but the damage was done. I excused myself and went and cried in the bathroom, and then spent a while in a bedroom with friends trying to cheer me up, but the truth is, I'm only mad at myself. I'm pissed off at myself for still feeling like this, and for showing it in front of him. I feel like every time he sees me like this he must think less and less of me, and I don't want that to happen.
Anyway it was a house party, with only really one room, so there was nowhere I could be where I couldn't see or hear him, so I had to escape.
Trigger warning: self-harm
I got my stuff together and drove home, mentally beating myself up for being such a pathetic worthless creature and looking forward to being able to slice myself open to teach myself a lesson. To serve me right for still feeling like this. I thought about just crashing my car in the hopes of killing myself, but the usual fears stopped me - mainly, that I might survive and then have to deal with all the insurance crap. I considered driving to hospital rather than hurting myself, but then remembered that you have to pay to park there, and it's bloody expensive, so I just came home.
I didn't cut deep, just enough to break the skin so I could watch the blood flow, but I still really want to hurt myself. To punish myself for feeling this way. God I'm so stupid and worthless and a waste of a human being.
