Bad nightmares and a rotten headache in need of a chat
You don’t want to know my thoughts
Having such intense, gross nightmares about slitting my wrists. I have been suicidal for weeks now. I was even in the psych ward for five days. It didn’t help only made things worse. I tried to sign myself back out cause it was horrible and was told the process. I could end up with a court ordered 72 hour hold. So I lied to get out in five days. Now the nightmares started. Hoping I get through this without slitting my wrists in real life.
Been dealing with a deep depression and suicidal thoughts for weeks now. Was in the hospital but lied to get myself out it was so bad in there. Was getting worse. Having nightmares about killing myself, when I do actually sleep. I have had episodes in the past but never this bad. Trying so hard to get through this.
Part 1 of 2 It was always such an embarrassing moment for me, whenever a new doctor or new nurse would ask the question: “Why did you do it?” ‘It’ being trying to end my life.
The simple answer of course is I’d wanted my life to end. I was in too much emotional pain; it became unbearable. But the reason for that? I felt like a walking, talking cliché every time I began to explain.
My three year relationship had just ended, and it was him that broke it off.
I’d been aware how lost I’d become within the relationship for a while, especially for someone with Borderline. But before I lost myself in it, it was the first healthy relationship I’d been in. I guess that’s part of the reason it was all too easy to lose who I was along the way. All he wanted to do was care for and protect me. To understand me. He was proud of the fact that I invested so much time into my writing, especially about my mental health. It helped him figure out some things about himself along the way, as well as his brother.
I guess now that it’s ended, we’re considered one of those “pandemic relationships”. We met before the world seemed to go into lockdown. So pretty immediately, we didn’t have your average kind of beginning. The world went into lockdown and the rest of the world was beginning to experience what the last nine or so years of my life had always been – the isolation. I saw and read online about people struggling to adjust to a life of isolation and I’ll admit, it was hard for me not to scoff considering what my life had already been like. I could only think to myself, “Welcome to my life,” as I read others’ recent experiences. Considering just how long I had been isolated before the pandemic, I found that I’d become extremely jaded about the topic as it became more and more relevant in the world. As it became months for the rest of the world, I thought to myself “Go five years without seeing or even having friends.” It was hard not to be bitter about it since it’s just normal for me. It forced this new relationship I was in to progress quite fast, but I was extremely grateful for him.
Cut to the end of August 2023; him saying he needed a break. It devastated me but if he was unhappy, of course I’d do what I could to help. A week went by agonizingly slow, and I felt myself preparing for bad news. I just had a feeling. So why was I still completely and utterly blindsided when it turned out to be true? He wanted out. He was done.
My Borderline can bring out the best and the worst in me. I sat with the pain for as long as I could before I found myself writing a note to my parents and one to him, and making an attempt. Because in that week long break before he officially ended it, it became glaringly obvious just how much I’d lost myself in this relationship.
I found myself back in Form 1 at the hospital, wondering; Is there something beyond this? Beyond him? If there is, I can’t see it. I can’t picture it. He’s all I had. He was really all I had. I depended on him in every way, something I always tried to ignore as time went on. And I guess I stopped wanting to have a life outside of him, one that’s not dependant on someone else.
He was it for me. His world became mine, not the other way around. The enormous lack of his presence was too much. It felt like every single person, all the friends I’ve lost over the years, magnified.
Three years of nearly every single day and night with him. Through the pandemic, through all the ups and downs, the good and bad, the exciting and mundane. All the plans we made. To this day I still miss the people who left me behind with no explanation or warning. But nothing as painful as this. I’ve never felt the absence of someone like this.
How do I go back to the room I opened up to him to call his own? How do I go back to sleeping in a bed I spent three years right next to him in? It’s always the nights that are hardest. It was him that would wake me from bad dreams, who held me whenever I woke up crying from nightmares and assured me that I was okay, that he was there.
It might seem like he was complicit in further isolating me, but I know that’s never what he’d wanted to do, or meant. But it happened nonetheless. I waited for him every day to get back from work. He would pick up my prescriptions. His friends became mine, as any of the remaining ones in my life kept drifting away. His family considered me family. He was my support system. I even lost my writing – this is pretty much the first time in two years.
He was supposed to protect my heart, help mend it from all the past abuse. Not break it himself.
He gets to move on clean… I get the remnants
I learned something today that really sank into my mind. I learned that there are legitimate fears I have from my PTSD. BUT there are also some of those same legitimate fears people experience who haven’t had trauma.
I grew up in a household infested with mice and cockroaches. (They crawled over us children as we slept.) I have a deep fear of both. While staying with a family member recovering from surgery, a well-fed mouse came within 2 feet of me as I was about to go to sleep. I screamed. It ran under the couch I was to sleep on. It returned several more times and ran under the couch again. I went out to my car, crying and shaking. I hardly slept and had nightmares when I did. I was ashamed of my reaction so I didn’t reach out to my therapist. Today, my therapist told me many people without any trauma would have responded as I did. I’m not overreacting. I’m not crazy. I cried with relief. He said I should have immediately reached out to him. He also told me to let those close to me about that past trauma so they can be understanding and supportive of me. I’ll try.
It's currently 4:46 am. here. I was woken up by a nightmare, which is a nightly thing, and I'm trying to fight through somatic flashbacks. I'm a mom, a wife, I work 2 jobs, and the lack of sleep tends to make everything worse.
How do you manage your nightmares and/or flashbacks?
I'm just looking for some tips and maybe a little support. I hope you're all well.
It feels like my mind is blind
it can't see who I am because it Can't draw the line.
Its stuck on the borderline.
can't see the difference between the things that I see.
And what people think of me.
Emptiness has come to define my reality
Still upwards I look destined to find a sign
A signal that shows me I've been real the whole time
That I don't need saving because my strength is Devine.
But these thoughts hold me back they hate me they are afraid
They live in the darkness where my nightmares are made
They shout louder and louder and cut me to pieces like a blade.
Hope still resides and for peace I always seek
Even if my depression and pain leave me weak
To be there for my children is a promise I must keep
I can't give up I cannot take me away from them
Each nightmarish thought I must fight and condemn
So I can be a role model, a living example that shines like a gem
I will fight, I won't break, I'm more than reflection in the mirror I see
I have to believe I can do more personify the demons inside of me
It's time to live, time to be free, time to be all that I know I can be
It's time to change the pattern, flood my lonely deset, break the dam
A new me will emerge because instead of drowning I swam
With the strength I was given by my savior the lamb.
Long days are followed by longer nights. I’m playing a constant game of catch up that has exhausted me to the brink of death.
My love doesn’t feel deep enough, my sadness doesn’t feel scary enough, my pain doesn’t feel bad enough.
How do I tell him thoughts that don’t even make sense in my head? How do I explain this feeling inside my hollow chest? How do I justify reaching out and touching him when I know I can only drag him down with me?
Suddenly my appetite is washed away by the thoughts of how afraid I am to lose my beauty. So I skip meals until I can’t anymore and then in the darkest hours of the night I fulfill my worst desires.
I eat and eat and eat. I eat until the tears burn my face. I eat until I feel the pain in my throat. The disgust clawing it’s way back up. The fear that I will lose my one asset. The release is always the most painful part. Physical pain amplified by mental agony feels like being torn apart slowly.
I know sadness. I know this mental anguish that consumes you entirely and rips you away from every person close to you. All I have ever known is my own suffering. Sadness, loneliness, fear, and anger.
My sadness holds me close and caresses my face while I sink lower into my bed. It sits with me in the darkness, it looks back at me in the mirror, and it hears my cries at night.
My fear hugs my chest like a second rib cage, crushing my lungs to stop me from calling out. It holds my eyes open in front of memories that I tried to bleed out years ago. It takes me by the throat and peels away my skin to expose my still beating heart to prove to the monsters that I am still alive and therefore I can continue to be haunted by the memories and nightmares they gave me.
My anger is an iron shackle that ties me to my past. It is still raw and passionate about wrongdoings I have started to forget. It burns for everyone who wronged me, never to be put out until I have my retribution. My anger screams to the world how unfair it is. It claws at my skin and whispers to me about how I didn’t deserve that. It tells a kid shouldn’t have endured that. It drags me back to old memories to brand that white hot anger of unfairness onto a child who didn’t understand how unfair it was.
All of my suffering resides inside of me. I feel it in the blood in my veins and the aches in my bones. The darkness at rock bottom wraps around me like a blanket. My agony is the most comforting thing I know.
First time posting here. I'm a USAF Vet, and I'm having to fill out a form for MST/PTSD that requires me to account the incident(s) that caused the PTSD...and I'm struggling. This is making me remember what my mind wants to forget. and I'm shaky, having panic attacks, and having nightmares and my body is remembering what the assaults (and an active shooter event) felt like.
I need to fill out these forms, and I'm having trouble remembering exact dates, and when i try to probe my mind for them...it hurts. I feel like i'm re-living them as i try to write them down. and each one i remember triggers another memory that i don't want out of the box i've shoved them in my head. How do i keep sane thru this? #MST #PTSD
It seems like i never sleep. I have #Nightmares that stem from my Domestic Violence. I fight every night not to fall asleep afraid of bad dreams. When i do have these #BadDreams i wake up crying, shaking and feel displaced. So many days i feel drained from lack of sleep and feel like I’m sleep walking through the day. Glad im here.