It doesn’t take a lot to trigger feelings of self-loathing, loneliness, sadness, the need to make myself sick.

A look. An arguement. A delayed response to a text. A comment. A joke. A laugh. Waking up.

Life is a trigger for me. 

It makes it hard for me to avoid the things which set me off. Once I’m there. I struggle to get out. I don’t have rational thoughts or think of logical explanations for things. If I do I convince myself I am just doing it to make myself feel better.

I’m easily paranoid. If I see a friend read a text or skip past my comment in a group chat then I know they must hate me. I must have done something to piss them off. I try and think. I scroll frantically through the chat to see what I have said, what I have done. I see they’ve tagged another friend in a meme on Facebook. It’s confirmed it to me. 10 minutes later I get a response. I still can’t shake off that feeling.

I need a dress for a day at the races. Can I find anything I like that fits me and is flattering? Of course not. Everything is frumpy or too tight. I hate myself. I get frustrated. I get into a stroppy mood I can’t snap out of.

I get angry. I go to my Slimming World Group. Knowing I’m going to the races and I want to lose a few pounds (and more, but I know I can’t lose 4 stone in a week!) I follow the plan strictly. I end up maintaining whilst my boyfriend is a pound lighter after eating crap all week. I cry. I storm into Morrisons to buy salad. I storm back out with nothing. I get home and row with everyone in my house and go to bed without eating as punishment.

I wake up in low moods sometimes. I get to work and I don’t want to be here.

I get sad. I have an arguement with my boyfriend. We make up but I go out drinking with friends. I’m still sad. I don’t want to go anymore but I can’t pull out because they’ll think I’m boring. They’ll think I’m ditching them for him. I’m not. I’m sad because I can’t help it. I want to go home. I need to go home. I don’t. I get worked up even more. We get separated and I manage to find them in the loo. Whilst in the toilet I hear girls making themselves sick. I battle with myself not to not do the same. I leave the cubicle and my friends are gone. I decide they hate me and don’t want me there. By this point I’m having a full blown panic attack. I rush outside for air. People are smoking all around me. I’m gasping for fresh oxygen. I call my boyfriend. I always call him when I’m drunk and need picking up. I always promise I won’t but I do. And he will always come and get me because luckily he understands me.

I’m panicking and talking really fast in the car. I feel sick. He always worries I will fall out with my friends so he texts one to let them know what happened and that he came to get me. I fall asleep.

Next day I awake to 18 messages from my best friend. Really unkind messages. She says I have no real problems. She’s going through a hard time but doesn’t open up to me. I can’t support her. I tried to let her know I was there for her and told her I love her. But I “live in a bubble” so I have “no clue”. She has no idea of the things I am dealing with. The things I keep to myself. The loneliness I feel although surrounded by other people. I don’t respond.

My whole weekend is spent in bed. I explain to my boyfriend that I just want a chilled out lazy weekend to hide it. We bicker a lot. Because I am miserable. But at the same time I am happy as I am with him. I can’t help but feel so contrary.

I text another friend to see if we can meet for drinks. An attempt to cheer myself up. She’s busy this week. Although she told me she would be free. I know plans change and people forget they have other commitments, but the first thing I think? She hates me too. She wasn’t even there Friday night. I haven’t even done anything wrong! I think?

But that’s my immediate thought.

I can’t help the way I feel. I can’t stop myself being paranoid and working myself up. I wish I could.

I‘m depressed again and nobody knows.

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