I Me & Myself
scared of change
- Sep 9, 2025
- 50
I'm so fucking tired of this bullshit.
Content warnings: Psychiatry, Self harm, Strangulation "Attempt" (It wasn't gonna work anyway, and I didn't really want it either)
Take care, don't make your day worse by reading this if these topics could trigger you.
context: I am in a psychiatry and have recently been moved out of observation because things are going uphill. Making discharge plans as we speak. This may not happen now.
I need routine really badly, especially when it comes to food. Recently the staff has really fucked that up.
Now, I am not a picky eater. But I need to know what I'm going to eat and it needs to be the same thing. I can order food one day in advance and I always order the same, I've been here for 6 weeks.
By now most of the staff know I am very particular when it comes to food, some even go out of their way for me. I don't expect that of anyone but I am very grateful when they do.
This morning I missed breakfast. By 2 minutes. I overslept.
Usually there is a loud bell to wake everyone up for breakfast, that wasn't there. Instead I was woken up by a nurse asking if it's fine if they drew blood for a sample. I agreed, still half asleep, and let him do his thing. I fell asleep again immediately after.
Eventually I woke up and saw the cleaning guy (He's amazing, I love this man) and we chatted a bit. He asked if I'd had breakfast yet and then smiled and told me to Hurry. So I did.
So I go to get my morning meds and ask "Hey, did you set my breakfast away so I can pick it up?"
(Usually, they will set food back if it's not picked up immediately or if someone wants to eat a bit later)
"You're a bit late for breakfast" Yeah 2 fucking minutes it's 8:17am.
The staff proceeded to offer me slices of bread, cookies and other stuff to scramble together a breakfast for me. This is incredibly nice of them but the tone was passive aggressive and I need my breakfast. Like. Mine. Two bread rolls, one slice of cheese, cream cheese, Müsli. What I have had for the past 6 weeks.
Even worse the food wagon was still RIGHT THERE. Behind a glass door. In front of the elevator. It hadn't been picked up by the food guy yet (I love him too, sweet soul who I accidentally hit with a ping pong ball once-)
Why didn't they just open the door and take out my breakfast? Well. The staff take all the leftovers and eat them in their own breakfast break. They had probably already cleaned my tablet and added it to their own breakfast in the staff room. I don't know this 100% certain but I do know they always eat the leftovers, so that's likely where my breakfast ended up.
I've been struggling to eat these past few days in general. It had gotten better but... Well. This certainly doesn't help. When lunch time came around I was asked if I was going to come eat, I said no. I usually do not eat lunch I can't, it's a different dish every day. "You didn't eat this morning either." YEAH NOT BY CHOICE. I WANTED TO. This really made me so fucking mad.
It also doesn't help that my old roommate constantly triggered my trauma for 3 days straight, which I always complained about and mentioned a lot, until they finally put us in different rooms. Only took 5 panic attacks and some self harm. Fucking hell.
It's not her fault, she is also very ill and just kept rambling. She couldn't stop, she wanted to stop. But the things she talked about were highly triggering, not to mention the constant Audio oversaturation due to talking that made me feel overwhelmed.
Case in point: I have had an awful week. And this... This Tipped the Barrel. I just fucking broke down crying on my bed over breakfast. I felt so silly but I also knew it was not the breakfast, it was this past week.
About all the times I'd picked open the injuries on my legs again and again just to see myself bleed.
So I went into the bathroom and tied the shower Cord into a noose. I have no idea why. It was so so fucking hard to put it away again. It was so difficult to take my head back out of the noose. It wouldn't work anyway. They'd realise, find me. I know that. And yet. And yet I keep fucking trying.
I'll probably talk about this with my therapist, I need to. And back into observation I go. I just want to get out of here, I want to give life a shot. And yet my head works against me. Keeps yelling. You fucking want to do it, don't you?
I didn't untie the noose yet... I probably should before someone finds it.
Partial hanging has a low success rate anyway. I'm 99% certain it won't succeed, even if I try. But that 1% is so appealing...
Content warnings: Psychiatry, Self harm, Strangulation "Attempt" (It wasn't gonna work anyway, and I didn't really want it either)
Take care, don't make your day worse by reading this if these topics could trigger you.
context: I am in a psychiatry and have recently been moved out of observation because things are going uphill. Making discharge plans as we speak. This may not happen now.
I need routine really badly, especially when it comes to food. Recently the staff has really fucked that up.
Now, I am not a picky eater. But I need to know what I'm going to eat and it needs to be the same thing. I can order food one day in advance and I always order the same, I've been here for 6 weeks.
By now most of the staff know I am very particular when it comes to food, some even go out of their way for me. I don't expect that of anyone but I am very grateful when they do.
This morning I missed breakfast. By 2 minutes. I overslept.
Usually there is a loud bell to wake everyone up for breakfast, that wasn't there. Instead I was woken up by a nurse asking if it's fine if they drew blood for a sample. I agreed, still half asleep, and let him do his thing. I fell asleep again immediately after.
Eventually I woke up and saw the cleaning guy (He's amazing, I love this man) and we chatted a bit. He asked if I'd had breakfast yet and then smiled and told me to Hurry. So I did.
So I go to get my morning meds and ask "Hey, did you set my breakfast away so I can pick it up?"
(Usually, they will set food back if it's not picked up immediately or if someone wants to eat a bit later)
"You're a bit late for breakfast" Yeah 2 fucking minutes it's 8:17am.
The staff proceeded to offer me slices of bread, cookies and other stuff to scramble together a breakfast for me. This is incredibly nice of them but the tone was passive aggressive and I need my breakfast. Like. Mine. Two bread rolls, one slice of cheese, cream cheese, Müsli. What I have had for the past 6 weeks.
Even worse the food wagon was still RIGHT THERE. Behind a glass door. In front of the elevator. It hadn't been picked up by the food guy yet (I love him too, sweet soul who I accidentally hit with a ping pong ball once-)
Why didn't they just open the door and take out my breakfast? Well. The staff take all the leftovers and eat them in their own breakfast break. They had probably already cleaned my tablet and added it to their own breakfast in the staff room. I don't know this 100% certain but I do know they always eat the leftovers, so that's likely where my breakfast ended up.
I've been struggling to eat these past few days in general. It had gotten better but... Well. This certainly doesn't help. When lunch time came around I was asked if I was going to come eat, I said no. I usually do not eat lunch I can't, it's a different dish every day. "You didn't eat this morning either." YEAH NOT BY CHOICE. I WANTED TO. This really made me so fucking mad.
It also doesn't help that my old roommate constantly triggered my trauma for 3 days straight, which I always complained about and mentioned a lot, until they finally put us in different rooms. Only took 5 panic attacks and some self harm. Fucking hell.
It's not her fault, she is also very ill and just kept rambling. She couldn't stop, she wanted to stop. But the things she talked about were highly triggering, not to mention the constant Audio oversaturation due to talking that made me feel overwhelmed.
Case in point: I have had an awful week. And this... This Tipped the Barrel. I just fucking broke down crying on my bed over breakfast. I felt so silly but I also knew it was not the breakfast, it was this past week.
About all the times I'd picked open the injuries on my legs again and again just to see myself bleed.
So I went into the bathroom and tied the shower Cord into a noose. I have no idea why. It was so so fucking hard to put it away again. It was so difficult to take my head back out of the noose. It wouldn't work anyway. They'd realise, find me. I know that. And yet. And yet I keep fucking trying.
I'll probably talk about this with my therapist, I need to. And back into observation I go. I just want to get out of here, I want to give life a shot. And yet my head works against me. Keeps yelling. You fucking want to do it, don't you?
I didn't untie the noose yet... I probably should before someone finds it.
Partial hanging has a low success rate anyway. I'm 99% certain it won't succeed, even if I try. But that 1% is so appealing...
