Waiting for the right moments 

My day? Fine. It’s fine. Lamictal is definitely not helping in the way it did when I was first starting it. The last few days I’ve tried splitting the dose, taking one in the morning and the other 7 hours later. Splitting the dose lessens the intensity of the crash I have at hour 12 or so.

Four days into taking Lamictal everything was different. I found it difficult to understand how I had so intently desired to die a week prior. Those desires are back.

Lamictal is working at about 30% right now. My thoughts aren’t yet at my lowest. However, my mind is turning on myself. God, I sound crazy. Sigh. I guess I am… “mental illness.”

In the back of my head, escape just sat there. It creeped in during any ideal moments. It still felt comfortable. It is like my body almost missed the punishment. Oh yes, you want to fucking kill yourself. Yes. Yes, you do.

I busied myself with tasks, it kept those thoughts at bay. This would never have worked three weeks ago. So yeah, Lamictal is helping. But I was hoping to get used to the other me. The one that doesn’t figure out the ideal place to hang myself in every building I walk into.

About to start my weekly therapy appointment. That will fix everything. 

I wish.

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Waiting for the right moments 

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