Todays is the 4th anniversary of the day a friend of mine died by suicide. I've thought about him all day. ALL. DAY.
I went to my shrinks appointment and pretended everything was fine because really, what can they do for depression? Nothing that I could afford. I stay on my meds which are great for general mood, anxiety, prevention and treatment of mana or hypomania, but they do little for depression. Obviously there's not a whole helluva lot that helps depression or the suicide rate wouldn't be so incredibly high. Anyway.... got my meds refilled so that's good.
I'm such a hypocrite. I posted all over social media ways that people can get help or reach out if they're feeling depressed or suicidal. I posted pictures of Nick to honor his memory, and no one would EVER know that I'd give anything to join him. My mind is obsessed with finding a way to end this hell. But......my dogs. My precious, sweet, amazing, incredible dogs. I can't leave them. I won't leave them. So for the time being, I'm stuck here in hell on earth....existing....breathing. But I do want to die. I want my dogs to come with me. It's not just that I want to end my pain... I want to end my LIFE. There is no cure for Bipolar Disorder, and there is no hope of me ever getting better, or going back to work. So I exist in poverty, in sadness, and struggle, or mania or just somewhere in between balancing between the two. I don't want to die alone so I have to die before my parents, but how? I don't know what to do. I have lost everything except my dogs....all because of something I can't control. That's so unfair.
I looked at some old pictures tonight and it was good and bad. Good that I have those memories and bad that I have those memories.
This hurts so badly..... my heart hurts so badly. I'm so alone.
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