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Why Me? Here is a safe space to let it all out, where you can rant about all the bad things life throws your way. Sometimes it just helps to ask "why me?"
I hate my job. I get holiday pay based on 13 hours and yet I work 30, but they 'dont know' if they can up my contract so I get the holiday I've been entitled to for over a year. I hate it.
Addiction fucking ruins everything. Forever. It doesn't even matter that we're both clean/sober now because we've already fucked things up too much in active addiction that it's too late to fix. I'm truly broken. And if this is what sobriety is like, I don't fucking want it! I don't want it. I hate being sober. It's just pain. There's nothing good left in my life without substances. No relief to the pain. Nothing to look forward to or hope for. Nothing to try for. No one to be there for me. Everything in my life in sobriety was a fucking lie! For how long, I don't even know. But it kills me. It kills me so much. Because you just took away the one thing I had left to hold on to; which was only a flicker of hope to begin with. Now it's just me and my fucked up mind. My tears that won't stop as I see every day that you have already moved on. That I am nothing to you. You said it didn't matter that my progress was slower than yours, but clearly it did. I'm not recovering the same as you, and you think that means I'm not even trying. So why bother trying at all. My efforts don't pay off. All this work for more pain? What's the fucking point? Maybe you should be afraid of what I'll do, but I'm not. Because I really don't give a fuck what happens to me anymore. Why should I? Who gives a fuck? Because I sure don't. Fuck drugs. Fuck addiction. Fuck life for sucking so much that drugs are the last resort.
"Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful..." ~Sixx:A.M.
I really don't want to do this job anymore and I know I won't get hired for the other job. I've heard they have picky hiring practices and they usually already have an idea on who they want to hired
So much is so bad that dissociation is hitting. The survivor me is back. Maybe I can survive after all. My brain and body have already adapted to trauma. So I can survive. Just don't know in what condition.
"Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful..." ~Sixx:A.M.
Half way through my week off work and my team leader texts me to tell me - not even ask me - that I'm going on a training course in a couple of weeks. It's a pain in the ass to get to and involves using the tube and going into central london which I hate at the best of times, let alone when I'm on my own. I'm going to be so anxious for the next two weeks now and I feel like I'm going to cry.
Apparently chronic illness isn't a valid enough reason to be tired. Pushing myself to sickness isn't good enough; lazy in fact. So I pop more caffeine pills and potentiators since the caffeine doesn't work enough anymore. But it's not enough. So I work longer hours and sleep less. More pills. Vicious cycle but it's still not enough. Because whatever I do, healthy people are accomplishing more. And that's what I'm compared to because I don't look sick. I keep getting yelled at for trying to respect my limitations, so now I don't. I know people with real uppers. I've been thinking of that more because what choice do I have. I'm going to get cardo problems eventuqlly if I keep this up, but maybe I'll get lucky and I'll die first. Healthy people abuse uppers to accomplish more; I need them to function less than normally. But I'm just lazy for not working myself into the hospital or to death.
"Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful..." ~Sixx:A.M.
The truth is that I'm simply not good at anything. I don't have the social skills or the confidence to be good - actually good - at anything I ever do. I can go to this uni inverview, I might even get a place on the course, but in a year when I graduate I'll be no better off than I am now. I'll have another certificate to put into a folder and I'll still have no idea what I Want to do with it. I'll still be sat on my laptop at 12:30 in the morning scrolling through job sites and starting to cry because I'm stuck and can't do anything.
It doesn't matter how much caffeine I take anymore. All it does now is prevent withdrawals. Potentiators don't even make it work enough, but it's all I've got. Must push through it because apparently I'm completely healthy when I'm not in the hospital. So I shouldn't complain. I don't have limitations from a disability. So me trying to respect my limitations is hurting others. They always remind me of that. All I can say is, my brother doesn't have these health problems, but he definitely uses uppers. I can see it in his eyes. I've thought about asking him what he has because I can't keep this up. Nothing legal overcomes this fatigue. I'm running out of options.
"Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful..." ~Sixx:A.M.