I took 4 Seroquel early last night, because I didn’t want to be conscious. There were rowdy, loud people making all sorts of anxiety and misophonia triggering noises in the hallway last night. It took me a while to get to sleep even with the extra Seroquel I took. I was scared, because it sounded like they were randomly banging on people’s doors and laughing about it.
The motel housekeepers still haven’t cleaned my room. I’ve been asking for the last 2 weeks. They keep saying they’ll do it, but it never happens. I even offered to clean the room and change the bed myself, if they let me borrow the cleaning stuff (I’d actually rather do it myself anyway, than have the housekeepers in my room when I have nowhere else to go.
More snow fell last night, crushing any slim hopes that I had of being able to go out later today. I am down to my last can of soup and a couple of apples, as far as food goes. I’m not going to the clinic until Wednesday. My cash assistance hasn’t been re activated yet and my UK bank card doesn’t allow me to order takeout online. I can’t get to an ATM to withdraw cash.
My existence is utterly pointless. Coming here was probably an awful decision, despite the mental health support, which is superior to what I would’ve got in England,, had I stayed. But then I realize that having friends is far more important to me than therapy or pills. Real friends are what I’ve been lacking since I started transition and slowly lost the 2-3 friends I had from before I’m an ambivert that has more of a need for time with friends or a partner than I do alone time. Life would be so much easier if I were an full introvert.
I don’t know how I’m going to even begin to get through so many more weeks of this. I hate myself for letting myself end up in this situation through horrible decisions.