I'm really disappointed in myself. I went fucking bonkers. Again. I haven't had an episode this bad since Roachboy was still taking up space in my house.
I went over to Charlie's to see Dirk for a few minutes after work. My mother wasn't leaving until an hour after I did, so I figured I could sneak a little trip to Charlie's before I got home. No-one was there but Dirk, which really cheered me up. I left at about 6:20, to rush home and cook.
When Dirk called me at 7:30, he told me he was going up to D.C. with Charlie. All I really wanted was to be asked to come along, but I couldn't really bring myself to say that. Pride is utterly pathetic. Instead, I did the normal Agent Skatter thing to do: I fucking snapped. And it didn't help when Dirk decided he didn't want to talk to me anymore and started talking to me in that "sooth the psycho girl" voice again. I really freaked, started crying hysterically, and he hung up on me. Fucking hung up on me while I was crying.
So, I cried for a while, decided he wasn't going to call back, and decided I wanted to call Aaron (who'd called me earlier in the evening and seemed eager for conversation). I realized that I didn't have his number on hand, and was forced to call Dirk back to get it. I got a busy signal the first time, and the second time, Charlie picked up the phone and handed it to Dirk. Dirk had apparently been trying to call me. Dirk offered to bring me with them, even apologized. I was really pissed because he'd hung up on me. I'm so fucking stupid. I couldn't make myself quit being angry long enough to just say, "Okay". I kept right on attacking him. I couldn't make myself stop. I tried. I tried. I tried. He got sick of it and hung up on me again.
So, I called Dirk back again, he was really curt, I finally admitted I wanted to come, and he told me he didn't think it was possible anymore. Because it was five minutes later. I thought he was playing games with me and said so. He told me he'd see me in a few minutes.
So, I changed shirts (I'd been using mine as a tissue again), wrote a note to my mother (who was at the library), got my stuff together, and waited. And kept waiting. Each time I saw headlights coming down my street, I'd get hopeful, only to have them pass. About half an hour later, I admitted to myself that they weren't coming. I was crying hysterically again. Alone, with my car keys.
You know what's coming, don't you?
When I'm going completely bugfuck (which is another way of saying I am freaking out times a thousand), something goes really wrong in my head. It usually occurs to me, at some point during a bugfuck episode, that if I hurt myself physically I'll be able to control my emotions a little better. Make the sound of screaming in my head and the flames in my blood recede, just a little. Just enough to breathe again. So, I found the sharpest key on my keychain (I've got a whole slew of keys, because I never throw them away), and slashed my arm open.
Again
At least this time I had the foresight to do it higher up on my arm, so I could actually hide it.
Actually, my parents didn't notice last time. Neither did the people at work, for the most part. The only people who noticed last time were Dirk, Roachboy, and Katie.
I managed to attain a semblance of calm. Unfortunately, it wasn't a good calm. I'm rarely truly suicidal. The aftermath of going bugfuck is one of the few times I'm actually a danger to myself. I decided that I wasn't going to break up with Dirk, but would instead take take myself out of everyone's misery. I called Charlie's and told his wife to ask Dirk to call me when he got home, no matter how late. Then I started my suicide note.
I write dumb, poetic suicide notes. Sometimes they even rhyme. I didn't get very far with this one, since I was so tired from crying. So I sat in the computer room with the lights and computer off, cell phone sitting next to me, and dozed until the phone rang. I guess that happened at about 10:30.
I was very calm this time. I didn't freak out, and I wasn't really interested in what Dirk had to say. At first he was apologetic and kept saying he loved me, then he got pissed and attacked me a bit, then he started apologizing again, when I started telling him I wanted to go. Gradually the aftermath of the bugfuck episode started to lift enought that I felt horribly stupid for being suicidal. It's not really in my nature. I don't like to think what I'd have done had Dirk not called. I eventually found myself laughing about something with him. I didn't feel better, but I wasn't going to do anything drastic either.
Dirk explained that he'd forgotten to call when he found out there simply wasn't room in the van to take me with them. So, I made sure he understood just how abandoned I'd felt, especially since I thought they didn't show up because Dirk was mad at me.
So, here I am, horribly disappointed in myself, my left arm aching, and permanently swollen eyes. And now you're disappointed too.
I need help, medication of some kind. Going utterly bugfuck doesn't happen often, maybe once every 7-8 months, but less serious variations of it happen fairly often. I don't know how, but I used to be able to control it. Last summer, I hardly ever got angry at all.
Okay, new topic. Patrick wasn't online today, either. I guess he's never going to be online again, at least not under the screen name I knew him by. Oh well. It's not as if we really had much in common anyway.
When Aaron called earlier in the evening, he wanted to talk about the band, and maybe getting us a show in the near future. He suggested we go to the next local show, make some friends. Billy and Krisco don't have the amount of pull they think they do in the punk scene. It's all well and good to know the cool people, but if they're snickering behind your back when you walk away, knowing them doesn't do you a damn bit of good.
I want you to know, this evening's bugfuck episode wasn't completely my fault. Dirk could stand to be a good deal more patient with me. After all, he knows I really can't help it. Unlike Roachboy, though, he doesn't seem to think that makes a difference. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe I should just take some stupid medication that'll make me zombified and cheerful.