Tam said 5 years, 1 month ago:

I haven’t taken any painkillers in two weeks, and I feel like I’m going crazy.
I was going to take some a few nights ago, I just felt so awful and wanted to feel that induced lovely feeling, but I went to my hiding place and found the bottle was completely empty. I had taken more than I thought apparently. Inwardly I felt relieved, but also a little empty inside, a little disappointed in myself.
But here I am with no pills and no feelings except for the bad ones. I’m telling myself that this is the only path to intellectual growth, the only way I can feel deeply satisfied, the only way I can genuinely be happy.
With this positive outlook I’m also reminded that I’m clinically depressed, and I have anxiety, which I can’t take medication for.
So with this sobriety, I feel my genuine self, this constant sense of dread that hangs in my mind persistent as ever, and this worrisome feeling that something bad is going to happen every single day, and I’m never able to just take a minute and feel like things are okay, that I’m not awful, that things aren’t that bad. Because things are that bad. Everything is just so screwed up, I’m screwed up, my life is screwed up, and I feel like everyone can tell just by being around me that shit is messed up.
I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been pushing away my friends. Three different people wanted to hang out with me this week but I was just so nervous about it, about going out and doing things and potentially having fun that I made up an excuse.
I just want to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling until I can leave this house. I want to not exist in this time and resurface on the horizon when the storm has cleared.
My sister has a court date today that determines whether she’s going to jail or not. She has a child, which me and my parents are caring for now. I’m staying at this house until she gets him back because I don’t trust my parents to take care of him. If she goes to jail she probably won’t get him back and I’ll be stuck here trying to cling to my fucking sanity.
Isn’t that selfish? My sister’s life might be ruined, my nephew might never be reunited with his mother, and I’m most concerned about moving away from the mental insanity that is my household.
It makes me hate myself, it really does. I’m so concerned about getting out of this house that everything is tied to it in one way or another.
Fuck sobriety, man.
Is this shit really worth it?