classify text {harassment, self-harm, religion insult, sexist, hate, racist, safe for work, psychiatric or mental illness, porn}, text `I've decided I'm not going to try to stay alive.I finally got a DWI in February after taking more risks previously than I care to remember (as if I could anyway...).  BAC was a .21.  Started going to group and individual therapy pretty much weekly, and went from being blackout drunk at least twelve hours a day to having a full-time job I loved (lovED...  yeah, spoiler there), being employee of the month for July, exercising quite a lot almost daily, fewest panic attacks ever, etc.  WELL.

My second court date to make sure I was complying with treatment and community service was August 20th.  I started getting so worked about a month in advance that I was having panic attacks EVERY DAY again, and around 25-50 each day.  I don't remember anything from around the beginning of August until around the last day of August.  And that, at least initially, wasn't from alcohol relapse.  When my anxiety gets that bad that I'm basically constantly about to have, having, or recovering from a panic attack, I guess it's one of those instinctual survival techniques to GTFO and forget about all of the shit that didn't matter while I was trying not to die, like dinner or which store I shopped at that day...  And where I live.  The court date went great because I've been compliant, but something else has been eating at me since before that...

I was fucking FIRED while being employee of the month for having panic attacks at work.  I don't go crazy or run around.  I've had so many most people can't tell if I'm having one unless they're very close to me, and that's because I'm not trying to hide it then.  I lost so much of my memory that I couldn't function because I was constantly bewildered and confused.  So, since then, I've been fighting the urge to drink.  I went nearly three months without ANYTHING.  Now I'm back to around 20-30 drinks per day.  I think I've pretty much been hammered since the day after my court date, but because I wasn't able to form new memories again until Saturday evening or Sunday, I am only basing that off of evidence left around the apartment, texts, google searches, some receipts I've found, etc.

I've been fighting the urge to hurt myself since I was fired.  I failed immediately.  As soon as I was told I was fired, I gracefully accepted it, and went and cut myself.  I've been cutting myself multiple times every day or two since then.  I haven't dealt with SH this bad since high school.  I'm 27 years old now.  I don't even want to feel good.  I just don't want to feel so devastatingly bad.  Numb is good enough now.  I failed out of my first college of choice where I had a full scholarship because my junior year I developed severe panic disorder (about 100+ panic attacks daily then).  It then took me a year to get my associate's degree even though I only need one full semester's worth of classes because I'd gotten so far along trying to get my bachelor's.  Now I can't hold down a job because of the fucking PANIC ATTACKS.  I drink to make those easier.  I know it makes it worse in the long run, but I've fucked up so much potential at this point that it would be better off for everyone close to me if I just stopped caring and let the universe work as it will.  Not even just the money and time they put into, but the physical and mental energy...  They see something hopeful for me, but I know that's really unlikely at this point.  I love them.  Oh, I love them...  That's why I don't need to stick around.  That's not really a suicidal gesture or comment per se, more of me saying I'm not going to try to stay alive.  I won't be running out into traffic or OD'ing on my meds, but if someone is texting and driving and hits me on a crosswalk...  Well, it is what it is.  If my medical bills get higher, and I continue having a hard time getting my meds refilled, I'll just stop seeking and receiving treatment.  It makes sense financially, and in the long run, it probably makes emotional sense for everyone as well.  I just don't have a lot going for me anymore.  

I'm scared to leave my apartment, I'm scared of strangers, I'm scared of people I interact with regularly, I'm scared of the past, present, and future.  I'm so busy being scared and hurting that I can't get much done.  People have to monitor me constantly.  They didn't choose to love me and didn't have to.  I'm making the decision to show them how grateful I am by slowly phasing myself out of life.  They didn't choose these situations and I love them too much to put them through it when it's another gamble every time.  I know how it feels to worry constantly, and the fact that I cause the people I love the most to worry almost as much as I do about everything--but almost all of their anxious energy is focused on me--is really just completely unacceptable.  In 2013 my mental health issues started, and in late 2017 the alcohol abuse started.  Yes, I might have something to offer with a LOT of therapy and other expensive, time consuming tasks, treatments, and supports...  But what's the point?  Stressing everyone out JUST TO SEE if he gets a little better?  That's not for me, and if they were willing to be honest with themselves, they'd see that too.

I just bought a fifth of vodka, a bottle of wine, a six pack, and three tall boys.  I haven't had any yet, but there's nothing holding me back now.  I know I'm a failure.  But I also know it doesn't matter.`, return in JSON {'kelas'}
{"kelas": "self-harm"}