It’s nearly 3:15am and I am nowhere near falling asleep, despite taking more Quetiapine then I can actually remember. I know I took 6 and then maybe another 8, as well as taking maybe 4 of my Venlafaxine.

I have just been balling my eyes out for maybe 10 or more minutes and I feel anxious about so many things. One of those things is sleep. I can’t stop having lucid dreams and by that I mean dreams I don’t realise are not reality until I wake up. And this is every fucking night since my friend died. It fucking torture of the cruellest kind and I hate it!

Part of the reason I am balling my eyes out is because I am shit scared of letting on to anyone that I am not coping and I am not ok right now. Part of it is me grieving and part of it is dreading sleep and also the feeling every night of not wanting to go to sleep and every day being a struggle. And feelings of hopelessness and no real lasting joy in my life and having absolutely no desire to get up each morning.

My fiance tells me numerous times each morning to get up and out of bed and all I want is to be left alone and to tell him to shut up and leave me the fuck alone and stop telling me what I should be doing, like I’m a child.

I need help. But I fully fear asking for it and admitting I need it. And this is solely due to CYFS (child, youth and family) and their reactions and actions in the past and I am so paranoid about what admitting I need help might mean and potential consequences. As I have fought so hard to get my daughter back and keep her with me.

I admittedly have been really irresponsible with money. And I know that is solely related to my mental health.

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