Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Stop Telling Me I "Look Well"

I don't feel well.

I feel numb and overwhelmed, all at once, and I want to stop thinking about my medication. I want to stop adding it up.

A 40 year old man, with non-insulin dependant diabetes, and no other health conditions took 19g of Venlafaxine. He did not ingest any other medications or alcohol, and within 9hours it proved fatal.
He weighed 106kg.
I weigh around 55kg... so I should, technically, need only half that dose.

I have purposely not collected the 24 x 75mg tablets that the pharmacy had to order. However, I reckon I still have in the region of 8g.
And some fluoxetine.
And 20-something Citalopram.
And about 30 ibuprofen, just for luck.

This is spinning round and round in my head until I want to bang it repeatedly against a wall. I self-harmed, superficially, last week. The first time in a very long time. I used the vegetable knife, it wouldn't go through the skin initially so I used the tip to open up a small wound and then sawed at it until I could think again. Six small cuts, on my calf.

I keep thinking about my boyfriend's Stanley knife. I only found out he had it the other day - he was talking to a friend about using it for cutting the griptape on a skateboard, and now I know it is in the flat, and I have a pretty good idea where it is. I want it.

I don't know if I want to die. I just want all the shit to stop. I want to feel normal, not like I'm trying to speak to people through several feet of ... something... like a thick, jelly-like substance, a barrier between me and the world.

It could be so much worse... and that just makes me want to face the world even less.

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