Discussion Starter · #1 ·
i can't take it anymore. it's a thursday night, and i watch my phone ring. too dp-ed to hang out with friends, too lethargic from my meds to go to the gym. i am hurting myself, i know, it's all me, my dad tells me it's my decision, will this rule my life? and he uses golf analogies and examples from sports psychology magazines and as i talk to him my voice get flat and my soul drifts away and i can't explain that i don't know how to spend my time because my needs keep changing. i can't explain to him that while he rose out of poverty, out of adversity, i create my own, i pass the time by killing it, i've been smoking pot every day for a year. my psychiatrist thinks its affects on dp are unknown when your dp isn't drug induced, but my therapist is begging me to quit. he is begging me to be here now. but i want to be anywhere but here. i want to smoke so badly. because it saves me from the knowledge that i am wasting my life, my spirit, my energy, and it's dying. and that it's all my fault.