My brother and his fiancé took me to see the doctor again. I've had my medication changed to Mirtazapine. It feels like I'm giving up on Citalopram without giving it the chance to work, especially since all the alcohol I've been drinking decreases it's effectiveness. But I didn't ask for this, the change, they did because of how bad things have got. They don't know how close I go though, last night, to killing myself.
I woke up this morning after only a couple of hours sleep to find two boxes of ibuprofen and a bread knife next to me on the floor. I have bruises on my arm from biting it, something I haven't done in a long time. Luckly what I remember of the bread knife didn't go as sucessfully, they're so much harder to use than they look when the world is spinning. I wanted to cut my arm open. I shouldn't be alive right now.
All day I've felt numb and horrible. Nauseous and distant. My whole body has been tingling. My head felt like a fog had encased it but now its starting to clear. I am scared that last night may not be a one-off. I'm scared that these new tablets won't help. But I'm more scared of what might happen if I don't take them.
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