I know many people have wondered how it is that I'm so good at pretending to listen when I'm not, in a conversation with someone I think what they're saying is boring. So I wipped up a tutorial:
If you want to learn how to pretend to listen to something boring, you have to listen at first. Know the concept, or the topic of what the person is talking about before you stop listening. This is the key thing. Then while your mind starts wandering, you have to focus back to the talker every once in a while and snap up a few key words here and there. When the person is making more pauses it usually indicates they are about to stop, whatever they're babbling about. It's extra important you start focusing here, cause now is when they will be making conclusions you should have opinions on or asking questions. If you're asked a direct question and you're uncertain of what they want you to say cause you didn't pay attention (which is the whole point here), you have two options:
1) Be vague and say something understanding or empathetic, that you agree or disagree.
2) Be brave and say that you want them to elaborate.
The second is more risky of course, cause it might make the other person annoyed and accuse you of not listening, but on the other hand it can instead make them feel that you're not only listening, but that you're also interested in what they're talking about! It's a 50-50 chance. The better you become at this, the more you can zone out, but never forget that you have to know what their line of argument is!
# Word of advice from your friendly neighborhood sociopath.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Uncontrollable pain
I had the most horrible headache tonight, or late evening. I crawled up in my bed, shaking and crying uncontrollably. I never cry from physical pain, but when it hits 9 in Mankoski pain scale, it's beyond horrible. If it had gotten any worse I'd been unconscious. That would have been better, come to think of it! When it's that bad no medicine can help, confirmed on wikipedia that when pain exceeds 7 or 8 on the scale even strong painkillers doesn't really help much at all. I've been on 7 and 8 before, but I can't recall ever reaching 9 before. Oh well, I survived that too!
It made me kinda weird though, no surprise perhaps. I don't know what you might know about pain like that, but it can make you delirious. I fantasized about Vargyl and whispered to him, at the best of my ability, to hold me. I remember getting angry at him for not being real and cried some more. Then I told him that I was sorry. I don't think I've acted like that around my imaginary boyfriend before.
I'm not quite sure what happened that caused this. I had quite bad headache, but manageable, since I woke up yesterday, but it wasn't until my uncle and his girlfriend came by for dinner that it escalated. There was a lot on my mind and I was extra sensitive after having just come out of the loony bin. So add some stress, red wine (though I just had one glass) and possibly a little dash of migraine but when pain gets that bad it gives you migraine symptoms whether you have a migraine or not. I pushed myself a little too far, wanted to be social, so when I told them I really had to go inside and rest, I should had done that about an hour earlier. It didn't hit the roof immediately though, so I thought I was gonna be fine if I just rested a few minutes. But no... three hours later when I finally could take my Imovane I thanked all the doctors in the world for that amazing pill that would knock me out in seven minutes. Then I slept for ten hours and now I'm fine. Well, I still have a little more than usual headache, but I'm not complaining!
It made me kinda weird though, no surprise perhaps. I don't know what you might know about pain like that, but it can make you delirious. I fantasized about Vargyl and whispered to him, at the best of my ability, to hold me. I remember getting angry at him for not being real and cried some more. Then I told him that I was sorry. I don't think I've acted like that around my imaginary boyfriend before.
I'm not quite sure what happened that caused this. I had quite bad headache, but manageable, since I woke up yesterday, but it wasn't until my uncle and his girlfriend came by for dinner that it escalated. There was a lot on my mind and I was extra sensitive after having just come out of the loony bin. So add some stress, red wine (though I just had one glass) and possibly a little dash of migraine but when pain gets that bad it gives you migraine symptoms whether you have a migraine or not. I pushed myself a little too far, wanted to be social, so when I told them I really had to go inside and rest, I should had done that about an hour earlier. It didn't hit the roof immediately though, so I thought I was gonna be fine if I just rested a few minutes. But no... three hours later when I finally could take my Imovane I thanked all the doctors in the world for that amazing pill that would knock me out in seven minutes. Then I slept for ten hours and now I'm fine. Well, I still have a little more than usual headache, but I'm not complaining!
Saturday, 29 June 2013
Sociopath?
During my stay at the ward I didn't have access to my computer, so I wrote a lot in my diary. It's safe to say I've never written so much explicit material in any diary ever before. I've dug too deep into myself and I'm scared of what I've found. Really horrible things that I have done. I can't write about them here, and it tears me to pieces that I can't vent about them with any living soul. I can't even tell my shrink, cause of the risk of being brought up to court, and perhaps even be arrested. The thing I worry most about happened like 10-15 years ago when I was still a minor, but I'm not so keen on putting myself through that risk anyway. The other thing was more recent, a couple of years ago, but there's no evidence there that could put me away.
I'm walking on a thin line, afraid of messing up just a little too much. Most of the time I don't even realise how bad I fucked up until much later. The sad thing though, I'm worried about my own skin and not those I hurt. I don't really feel any remorse at all. Yeah, I've really dug too damn deep inside myself to find this shit. I had the memories before of course, but through my digging I've discovered so much more about what actually happened and what went through my head during those times: selfishness, control, sadism. That freaks me out.
This very thing has ran through my head a lot lately (like the latest month, from time to time), that I'm basically a sociopath. When I did the tests prior to get the borderline diagnosis, the doctor told me I also most likely had antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). He hesitated to put that up on my chart, and somehow we agreed that he wouldn't. It was a pretty damn close case, and I can't help thinking about that now. It's hard to not feel like a creep those days this goes through my head. I'm stealing, stalking, lying, abusing, selfish, cruel and worry about my own sorry ass, but mostly just angry at the jerks on the telly portraying sociopaths as creeps. Self distance, I'm working on it! It's just that it's already too much shit going on in my head and when I start thinking about this I'm really starting to crawl out of my skin. It's offensive and on some, or perhaps quite many levels, this makes me a bad person. I want to believe that I'm a good person, but sometimes I really doubt that I am.
I'm walking on a thin line, afraid of messing up just a little too much. Most of the time I don't even realise how bad I fucked up until much later. The sad thing though, I'm worried about my own skin and not those I hurt. I don't really feel any remorse at all. Yeah, I've really dug too damn deep inside myself to find this shit. I had the memories before of course, but through my digging I've discovered so much more about what actually happened and what went through my head during those times: selfishness, control, sadism. That freaks me out.
This very thing has ran through my head a lot lately (like the latest month, from time to time), that I'm basically a sociopath. When I did the tests prior to get the borderline diagnosis, the doctor told me I also most likely had antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). He hesitated to put that up on my chart, and somehow we agreed that he wouldn't. It was a pretty damn close case, and I can't help thinking about that now. It's hard to not feel like a creep those days this goes through my head. I'm stealing, stalking, lying, abusing, selfish, cruel and worry about my own sorry ass, but mostly just angry at the jerks on the telly portraying sociopaths as creeps. Self distance, I'm working on it! It's just that it's already too much shit going on in my head and when I start thinking about this I'm really starting to crawl out of my skin. It's offensive and on some, or perhaps quite many levels, this makes me a bad person. I want to believe that I'm a good person, but sometimes I really doubt that I am.
Friday, 28 June 2013
Outside
So I'm out of the psych-ward for now, though I'll be going back and forth a few times over the weekend. As of now I have no wish to die, and things seem to go in the right direction. A lot of changes are being made. Finally, the people in Huddinge are starting to realise my situation and get their asses off their comfy chairs and do what they should have done years ago! That's right, they've finally opened their eyes! The transsexual department whatever in Huddinge will finally give me hormones and they're talking about surgery this autumn. It still hasn't really sunk in yet. Am I dreaming? Is this for real? Will it actually really happen, I mean like in reality? When the doctor at the ward asked me how I feel about it I could just say: it's a dream come true.
Now you'll probably hate me, but I think Satan may have had something to do with this. I mean, they have sat on their asses without lifting a finger for three years in Uppsala and when I moved here and changed team to Huddinge nothing happened for another year. First it just took a while (six months) just to get an appointment, then I got on a first meeting in January and they had to wait for Uppsala to send all the papers they needed. Five months later Uppsala still hadn't sent those papers. Somewhere around then I became a Satanist and just kinda carefully asked Satan if he could possibly help me on that matter. Now, a month later: they've sent the papers, Huddinge got them, and understands and takes me suddenly very serious (almost to the point they kick themselves for not getting things going a lot earlier), sent a referral to endocrinologist and put me up for a new meeting in late August for talking about surgery. Yeah, I think my new heathen god had something to do with it, and if he did, he really saved my life.
I have to leave the Church of Sweden. I mean, come on, a Satanist in a Christian church? I've wanted to leave it for a long time, but now I have some damn good reasons to, except that I just want to leave, that is.
What else is new? Oh, yes. I met a girl in the psych-ward, that I really like. I mean, really like. So I'm going bisexual again. Dafuq? I wish I could just make up my damn mind about it! I was just getting comfortable being gay, and then I have to go and get lost in an adorable, amazing, young womans brown eyes. That's life. There's no use trying to make sense of it. That doesn't mean I'll stop trying though! So yeah, I'm the usual me when it comes to affection, I fall head over heals before I even know how to spell the person's name. I've known of her since... erh... Monday 17th, when they combined the two wards.
First time I saw her it was the day I was mute. I really wanted to say hello, but all I could do was wave. Then it took a few days, or maybe it was a week? before we talked, and just a few days ago when I finally started to crawl out of my dark despair, we kind of connected. I was so nervous yesterday when I tried to find her somewhere in the ward to ask for her phone number before I would leave. I couldn't find her, so I just sat out in the yard where one can smoke, and downed half a pack of cigarettes. Yeah, pathetic, I know, I'm depressed and weird allover. Today when I woke up and noticed I sort of clinged to the ward, like stroking the walls avoiding to tell the staff exactly when I planned to go home, I suddenly saw her in a corner. So I just (no, not "just" cause it was one hell of an effort) walked over there and told I was getting out and I actually mustered to ask for her number, and I got it!
I know perhaps the psych-ward is probably not the best hook-up place, and I doubt this will lead to some sort of romance, but if it's what they say: "if you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best" then I'd say there are worse places to find someone! Right now I'm more worried about her. She said she'd been there for a while and hasn't gotten any better. I won't write any personal stuff we discussed here, cause what happens in the psych-ward stays there! Secrecy or just common courtesy, I won't write why she's there. But I do worry, and I really hope she'll get better soon so maybe we could meet one day, outside of the locked doors.
Now you'll probably hate me, but I think Satan may have had something to do with this. I mean, they have sat on their asses without lifting a finger for three years in Uppsala and when I moved here and changed team to Huddinge nothing happened for another year. First it just took a while (six months) just to get an appointment, then I got on a first meeting in January and they had to wait for Uppsala to send all the papers they needed. Five months later Uppsala still hadn't sent those papers. Somewhere around then I became a Satanist and just kinda carefully asked Satan if he could possibly help me on that matter. Now, a month later: they've sent the papers, Huddinge got them, and understands and takes me suddenly very serious (almost to the point they kick themselves for not getting things going a lot earlier), sent a referral to endocrinologist and put me up for a new meeting in late August for talking about surgery. Yeah, I think my new heathen god had something to do with it, and if he did, he really saved my life.
I have to leave the Church of Sweden. I mean, come on, a Satanist in a Christian church? I've wanted to leave it for a long time, but now I have some damn good reasons to, except that I just want to leave, that is.
What else is new? Oh, yes. I met a girl in the psych-ward, that I really like. I mean, really like. So I'm going bisexual again. Dafuq? I wish I could just make up my damn mind about it! I was just getting comfortable being gay, and then I have to go and get lost in an adorable, amazing, young womans brown eyes. That's life. There's no use trying to make sense of it. That doesn't mean I'll stop trying though! So yeah, I'm the usual me when it comes to affection, I fall head over heals before I even know how to spell the person's name. I've known of her since... erh... Monday 17th, when they combined the two wards.
First time I saw her it was the day I was mute. I really wanted to say hello, but all I could do was wave. Then it took a few days, or maybe it was a week? before we talked, and just a few days ago when I finally started to crawl out of my dark despair, we kind of connected. I was so nervous yesterday when I tried to find her somewhere in the ward to ask for her phone number before I would leave. I couldn't find her, so I just sat out in the yard where one can smoke, and downed half a pack of cigarettes. Yeah, pathetic, I know, I'm depressed and weird allover. Today when I woke up and noticed I sort of clinged to the ward, like stroking the walls avoiding to tell the staff exactly when I planned to go home, I suddenly saw her in a corner. So I just (no, not "just" cause it was one hell of an effort) walked over there and told I was getting out and I actually mustered to ask for her number, and I got it!
I know perhaps the psych-ward is probably not the best hook-up place, and I doubt this will lead to some sort of romance, but if it's what they say: "if you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best" then I'd say there are worse places to find someone! Right now I'm more worried about her. She said she'd been there for a while and hasn't gotten any better. I won't write any personal stuff we discussed here, cause what happens in the psych-ward stays there! Secrecy or just common courtesy, I won't write why she's there. But I do worry, and I really hope she'll get better soon so maybe we could meet one day, outside of the locked doors.
Thursday, 13 June 2013
Fade to black
I wish I could just stop stalking people. I've tried to tone it down now, with my latest crush, but it's not exactly easy. He'll go crazy from all the comments I wrote him, once he's back from his trip to wherever far off. I miss him terribly.
Trying to figure out what to say to my therapist later today. About my insomnia, starvation, mood swings, complete lack of control over myself, short term memory loss, my far off future possible suicide plans, recent suicidal thoughts, my plans of getting hearing aid, how far my writing has gone, my new love interest, if we're ever gonna work through traumas like she talked about before, and what more.
I'm listening to my suicide playlist on Spotify. That means I'm a little low right now. I'm tired, and forcing myself to stay awake is getting slightly horrible. Every minute a little harder. Five hours left before I hea over to Visby. Drinking water makes me feel sick, and I still haven't gotten used to these Level cigarettes, I miss my Lucky Strike but they were out of stock so I had to buy another brand. Fucking people are smoking too much during the summers on this island! They're always out of cigarettes in the stores, and I have a bit exclusive taste; I only smoke Lucky Strike or Pall Mall. Preferably the first one. And yes, there's a lot of different tastes to them when you're smoking three packs a day!
I'm whining again. I hate when I do that. Like some spoilt brat complaining about cigarettes and sleep deprivation. I'm gonna have a glass of wine and hide the bottle of vodka for when my mother comes by at noon. Try to keep it down to one or two drinks a day only, mostly because it's harder to stay awake when drunk. But I'd like to just enter that fog and stay in it. I miss it so much.
"Life it seems will fade away
Drifting further everyday
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost this can't be real
Can't stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone
No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye
Goodbye"
Fade to Black - Metallica
I might not be so okay. A lingering sadness inside of me, that I can't really reach. I'm desperate but not willing to change. Feel so completely lost in the leftover vibrations after strong emotions, that thing that happens when I'm shutting down to restart again. One of those subconcious survival instinct. I wish that would shut down too. I don't want to survive more shit. What's the point of that? I'm tired of living as a human, I just want to go home.
Trying to figure out what to say to my therapist later today. About my insomnia, starvation, mood swings, complete lack of control over myself, short term memory loss, my far off future possible suicide plans, recent suicidal thoughts, my plans of getting hearing aid, how far my writing has gone, my new love interest, if we're ever gonna work through traumas like she talked about before, and what more.
I'm listening to my suicide playlist on Spotify. That means I'm a little low right now. I'm tired, and forcing myself to stay awake is getting slightly horrible. Every minute a little harder. Five hours left before I hea over to Visby. Drinking water makes me feel sick, and I still haven't gotten used to these Level cigarettes, I miss my Lucky Strike but they were out of stock so I had to buy another brand. Fucking people are smoking too much during the summers on this island! They're always out of cigarettes in the stores, and I have a bit exclusive taste; I only smoke Lucky Strike or Pall Mall. Preferably the first one. And yes, there's a lot of different tastes to them when you're smoking three packs a day!
I'm whining again. I hate when I do that. Like some spoilt brat complaining about cigarettes and sleep deprivation. I'm gonna have a glass of wine and hide the bottle of vodka for when my mother comes by at noon. Try to keep it down to one or two drinks a day only, mostly because it's harder to stay awake when drunk. But I'd like to just enter that fog and stay in it. I miss it so much.
"Life it seems will fade away
Drifting further everyday
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost this can't be real
Can't stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone
No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye
Goodbye"
Fade to Black - Metallica
I might not be so okay. A lingering sadness inside of me, that I can't really reach. I'm desperate but not willing to change. Feel so completely lost in the leftover vibrations after strong emotions, that thing that happens when I'm shutting down to restart again. One of those subconcious survival instinct. I wish that would shut down too. I don't want to survive more shit. What's the point of that? I'm tired of living as a human, I just want to go home.
The choice I took
Just thought of something, (all of a sudden and for no apparent reason). When I wrote an application for these special service residents, I ckecked out a box for "do you need a sound proofed apartment to not disturb the neighbors?" Cause I can get kinda loud and all when I get furious or if I'm manic, laugh and sing in the same volume. Today my contact person here told me to not disturb the neighbors... Appearently, this apartment isn't sound proofed. Fortunately for me, most of my neighnors are older and more hearing impaired than I am. I haven't had any complaints yet either, or at least so I think, I'd probably not hear if I had though...
I really have to eat something, but it's boring and.. yeah, boring. I thought I had some leftovers from yesterday, but no. So maybe a toast or something then. The problem with me trying to get my ass off this chair is that I either "have to" finish the cigarette in my hand or finish listening to the song that is playing. It's kinda hard to time those two, cause usually I lit another cigarette about one minute before the currently played song stops, or I've just started to listening to a song when I have almost finished a cigarette.
I have to write reminder notes of going to the bathroom, cause I keep forgetting it! Am I developing some sort of amnesia, or what? I've heard of something like short term amnesia, losing short term memory.
My voice is having a roller coaster right now. It's kinda funny, cause it means it will start dropping again. I hope I will get a really deep, dark voice someday. Yeah, I've started taking hormones again, but my two contacts are starting to run out of it to sell me. I have for about three months, and I've taken it for about two weeks now.
I just had to, okay? It's been another two years now and I just can't just sit here and wait for the trans-unit morons to come to a fucking decision before I off myself. It depends on my life and I'll gladly take any risks for it.
I have taken huge risks already, to be honest. I'm quite sure now that my erratic behaviour the last two weeks happened because of the hormones. I see what they mean now, about it being good to be stable before starting hormones. Oh well, it's not like I regret it. Just stay out of the hospital and I'll be okay. (Very reassuring I realise...) I haven't told anyone about this yet; my family, friends, contact persons and doctors. A complete secret, in other words, until now. Thought you should know, that I'm probably not going crazier. Just a teenager with borderline and asperger again. It's a bad combo, I know, but haven't I also been happy, maybe even happier than before, in the midst of this chaos? It's just my brain adjusting, it will get more stable in a few weeks or so.
Stupid people make bad decisions. Desperate people make even worse decisions.
I really have to eat something, but it's boring and.. yeah, boring. I thought I had some leftovers from yesterday, but no. So maybe a toast or something then. The problem with me trying to get my ass off this chair is that I either "have to" finish the cigarette in my hand or finish listening to the song that is playing. It's kinda hard to time those two, cause usually I lit another cigarette about one minute before the currently played song stops, or I've just started to listening to a song when I have almost finished a cigarette.
I have to write reminder notes of going to the bathroom, cause I keep forgetting it! Am I developing some sort of amnesia, or what? I've heard of something like short term amnesia, losing short term memory.
My voice is having a roller coaster right now. It's kinda funny, cause it means it will start dropping again. I hope I will get a really deep, dark voice someday. Yeah, I've started taking hormones again, but my two contacts are starting to run out of it to sell me. I have for about three months, and I've taken it for about two weeks now.
I just had to, okay? It's been another two years now and I just can't just sit here and wait for the trans-unit morons to come to a fucking decision before I off myself. It depends on my life and I'll gladly take any risks for it.
I have taken huge risks already, to be honest. I'm quite sure now that my erratic behaviour the last two weeks happened because of the hormones. I see what they mean now, about it being good to be stable before starting hormones. Oh well, it's not like I regret it. Just stay out of the hospital and I'll be okay. (Very reassuring I realise...) I haven't told anyone about this yet; my family, friends, contact persons and doctors. A complete secret, in other words, until now. Thought you should know, that I'm probably not going crazier. Just a teenager with borderline and asperger again. It's a bad combo, I know, but haven't I also been happy, maybe even happier than before, in the midst of this chaos? It's just my brain adjusting, it will get more stable in a few weeks or so.
Stupid people make bad decisions. Desperate people make even worse decisions.
Talking, hearing, writing, sleeping, ageing
It's been an okay day, without all too intence moodswings. Just three major anger outbursts and once I laughed hysterically. No kidding, this means I've been considerable docile today. Not thinking so much about the nightmare anymore, but still afraid to sleep. I will stay up tonight, just thinking about sleep makes my pulse racing. So it's completely out of the question.
Saw my contact person in my resident this afternoon and we talked for two hours. About anything and everything. From sunburns and metabolism (she's my opposite, naturally thin and hard time gaining weight) to my transgender issues and tattoos. She told me she was vision impaired the same way as I am hearing impaired, and we had a laugh about her prefering people to be on her right side while talking to them so that she can see them, and so do I so that I can hear them. It was kinda funny when we joked about competing who would stand on which side and running around each other. We seem to have a lot of things in common.
She said she's almost 26, which makes her just two years older than me. It's weird how those caretakers just seem to get younger! ...or maybe it's me getting older... I think about Ann Heberlein's book "Jag vill inte dö, jag vill bara inte leva" (it's definately one of my favourite books now and a huge inspiration to my own writing) when she mentions just this. That the psychologists she meets seem to get younger, when it's actually the other way around. Most of them I meet are young, in their twenties or early thirties, which means I'm catching up on them. Yeah I can definately see myself sitting in a waiting room at a psychiatric emergency unit at 38 years of age, wondering how all the doctors became so young.
Then I've mostly been writing. Five or six pages in one chapter, nine in another and some editing. I read somewhere you shouldn't edit until you're done writing, but I just can't stand seeing errors and leave them as such. Nor can I keep on writing without reading what I've just written. My attention span is so short I forget what I was writing about in the middle of a sentence every now and then, so I have to read the last part I wrote to get me back on track - and, obviously, spell ckeck it. Not much of a first draft then.
My registration at a hearing loss forum just got approved and I posted a few comments there. Someone there said that nerve damage hearing loss is the most common kind and also the one you can get the best help for. That kinda made me smile. I figured out that I should probably not overuse the words "that sounds good" or "as you can hear" there. Might not be appreciated. Most people there are hearing, just not so very good, but I still think it could be considered a little rude.
Saw my contact person in my resident this afternoon and we talked for two hours. About anything and everything. From sunburns and metabolism (she's my opposite, naturally thin and hard time gaining weight) to my transgender issues and tattoos. She told me she was vision impaired the same way as I am hearing impaired, and we had a laugh about her prefering people to be on her right side while talking to them so that she can see them, and so do I so that I can hear them. It was kinda funny when we joked about competing who would stand on which side and running around each other. We seem to have a lot of things in common.
She said she's almost 26, which makes her just two years older than me. It's weird how those caretakers just seem to get younger! ...or maybe it's me getting older... I think about Ann Heberlein's book "Jag vill inte dö, jag vill bara inte leva" (it's definately one of my favourite books now and a huge inspiration to my own writing) when she mentions just this. That the psychologists she meets seem to get younger, when it's actually the other way around. Most of them I meet are young, in their twenties or early thirties, which means I'm catching up on them. Yeah I can definately see myself sitting in a waiting room at a psychiatric emergency unit at 38 years of age, wondering how all the doctors became so young.
Then I've mostly been writing. Five or six pages in one chapter, nine in another and some editing. I read somewhere you shouldn't edit until you're done writing, but I just can't stand seeing errors and leave them as such. Nor can I keep on writing without reading what I've just written. My attention span is so short I forget what I was writing about in the middle of a sentence every now and then, so I have to read the last part I wrote to get me back on track - and, obviously, spell ckeck it. Not much of a first draft then.
My registration at a hearing loss forum just got approved and I posted a few comments there. Someone there said that nerve damage hearing loss is the most common kind and also the one you can get the best help for. That kinda made me smile. I figured out that I should probably not overuse the words "that sounds good" or "as you can hear" there. Might not be appreciated. Most people there are hearing, just not so very good, but I still think it could be considered a little rude.
Wednesday, 12 June 2013
Spiders
Spiders seem to like me. I have no problem with that, I like them too, but it's strange how they seem to be drawn to me. I've had five different ones in my apartment since I moved in in April and I've found two different webs in the windows that weren't there before. Can't help but thinking of the Harry Potter scene in the second movie, or was it the third? Anyway, the one when Ron and Harry follow the spiders into the forrest. Spiders in Sweden seem to prefer my kitchen sink and bathroom though. What is with them and water, byt the way? I mean they're not very good swimmers.
Stay awake
I don't want to sleep anymore. I can't take anymore nightmares. I feel like a small child crawling up in my parents bed, sobbing in the middle of the night. Except that I don't. I wake up midday, shaking while I lit a cigarette and write about it on my computer. This is really starting to get out of hand. Usually when I drink I sleep heavy and don't remember any dreams afterward. Not tonight. Tonight I had a dream about my mother torturing me. I was tied to a chair when she took my hands and pressed them so hard I started to cry, stuck a knife under my fingernails, cut me and then took a chainsaw. I woke up just as it touched my head. It felt so real I had to check if I had any marks on my body. I've had nightmares every night for the last week, before then I had nightmares almost every night. Some of them I can put up with, like going somewhere in the dream and getting lost, or being chased by someone dangerous. Probably cause I've gotten used to them. But I can't get used to realistic dreams about torture, rape and murder involving family members. It's not just this one night, it's been like this for weeks, but worse lately.
Good thing I've got an appointment with my therapist tomorrow, maybe she's got any ideas what to do about this. Meanwhile I think I'll start drinking coffee again, and with it I will get more headaches, tremors and harder to concentrate. But I don't mind. Anything to stay awake.
Good thing I've got an appointment with my therapist tomorrow, maybe she's got any ideas what to do about this. Meanwhile I think I'll start drinking coffee again, and with it I will get more headaches, tremors and harder to concentrate. But I don't mind. Anything to stay awake.
Tuesday, 11 June 2013
Alcoholic
Noticing my urge to post comments on every picture I like on Dayviews is increasing a bit with the alcohol. I've missed being drunk without having anyone else around commenting my drinking. Once alcoholic, always alcoholic? I hope not. I fucked it up pretty bad back there in 2010. I haven't had that urge to keep myself drunk for a longer period of time since then. And by "longer", I mean days, or weeks. I just love how everything becomes lighter, fuzzier, smother, easier, warmer, funnier and more beautiful and as long as I don't stop drinking for more than an hour, I won't get hungover. Now I have that urge. I'm shotting vodka already. I'm fucked.
Downward spiral
I was on my way down town to buy some liquor just now, in the middle of the day. Bought four bottles. As I was strolling and dodging passing cars (my reactions are a little on the slow side) I just thought of the idea that I was some kind of a master of self destruction. This week has just been phenomenal that way. I don't want to cut myself anymore, and that's really good! It's what I do to compensate it that is not so good. Dehydration, starvation, keeping myself awake for as long as possible, sitting/standing in a bad posture to get more pain, and now booze. I honestly don't know what to do. It's like I can't control it, it just happens. I didn't realize what I was doing at Systembolaget at 13.30 until I was halfway home. I didn't know I chose to have insomnia after I had been awake for 40 hours, I didn't think of my starvation as self harm until two weeks after I started it. I'm in a downward spiral and I'm falling quickly.
This is a nightmare, this isn't what I wanted. I want to be free of self harm, not just finding new ways to harm myself. I don't know how to stop this. Though I know one way, but I don't want to go there yet. As I stated in another blog entry not so long ago, I don't want to spend the summer hospitalized. But do I want to spend it starving, sleepless and constantly drunk? Choices...
I've been very productive the last twenty hours though, my creativity is faster than my ability to get it into the computer. In this pace, my book will be completed before the end of the summer. (If I'm not hospitalized, that is). I've basically written three quarters of it already in about three months. All I have left is some parts of the gymnasium/young adult period, some information stuff and something that will depict how my life has been the latest year or two. And then just wrap it up together, correct it and put the chapters in the right order.
My body hates its mind, and my mind hates its body. At least it's mutual. I can really feel how pissed off my body is at my mind. It's shivering though it's like 25 degrees outside, very weak, tired, hungry and aching. And I just tell it I want it to suffer. Yeah, I'm actually talking to my body... out loud, in front of the people there down town. They gave me some funny looks, but I'm not sure if it was because of the weird talking, or the fact that I was wearing all black complete with sunglasses and gave off strong, dark vibes. I feel more like a demon than human right now, and I constantly think people can see my true form. But if they did, they wouldn't just look at me in a funny way, they would more likely be fainting. So no, not even close to possible, it's just me being paranoid.
I almost couldn't stop myself from laughing when the crew just rang and asked me if I had eaten. I said I tried (which I actually did) but failed and she asked if I was drinking at least, like tea or water. I was just "yeah I'm drinking alright", sipping from my Smirnoff Ice. When she said that was good, I basically had to smother myself to not laugh.
This is a nightmare, this isn't what I wanted. I want to be free of self harm, not just finding new ways to harm myself. I don't know how to stop this. Though I know one way, but I don't want to go there yet. As I stated in another blog entry not so long ago, I don't want to spend the summer hospitalized. But do I want to spend it starving, sleepless and constantly drunk? Choices...
I've been very productive the last twenty hours though, my creativity is faster than my ability to get it into the computer. In this pace, my book will be completed before the end of the summer. (If I'm not hospitalized, that is). I've basically written three quarters of it already in about three months. All I have left is some parts of the gymnasium/young adult period, some information stuff and something that will depict how my life has been the latest year or two. And then just wrap it up together, correct it and put the chapters in the right order.
My body hates its mind, and my mind hates its body. At least it's mutual. I can really feel how pissed off my body is at my mind. It's shivering though it's like 25 degrees outside, very weak, tired, hungry and aching. And I just tell it I want it to suffer. Yeah, I'm actually talking to my body... out loud, in front of the people there down town. They gave me some funny looks, but I'm not sure if it was because of the weird talking, or the fact that I was wearing all black complete with sunglasses and gave off strong, dark vibes. I feel more like a demon than human right now, and I constantly think people can see my true form. But if they did, they wouldn't just look at me in a funny way, they would more likely be fainting. So no, not even close to possible, it's just me being paranoid.
I almost couldn't stop myself from laughing when the crew just rang and asked me if I had eaten. I said I tried (which I actually did) but failed and she asked if I was drinking at least, like tea or water. I was just "yeah I'm drinking alright", sipping from my Smirnoff Ice. When she said that was good, I basically had to smother myself to not laugh.
Love and fear
Singning along to Emilia's "Big big world" thinking how well it describes me as a nine year old. Nostalgia-anxiety, sort of.
I sense that my feelings for this guy are just get stronger and stranger. Makes me say weird things sometimes. I suppose I shouldn't worry too much if I'd say something that he finds weird in that way, or would suspect my feelings. That would only save me the trouble of telling him! Nah, I don't think I want to tell him just yet, I mean this might be over in a week. But that is unlikely, cause usually when it's an actual person I fall for, that I also talk to, that passion will last for at least six months up to several years. No matter how unobtainable. I wish I could gain some control over my chaotic heart. Like, say... fall for an obtainable person that at least shows some interest? Who doesn't live across the country? Who I've actually met in real life more than once? No..?
Okay I give up. What will be will be. Some beasts are just not tameable, they rip you up and eat you alive. Thus is my heart.
I try to decide if I should tell my mom about those two times I was sexually abused. It's a little weird that -talking about sex with your parents- kinda thing, but this isn't about sex. It's about somethings awful that happened to me and that I've for so long needed to talk through with her. She knows almost everything about me, I tell her if I skipped taking my medicine, when and if I have my period, about most of the bullying I went through, relationship problems, I tell her when I'm suicidal and have discussed gender reassignment surgey with her. So why does this tear me to pieces? Because it's the most awful I've ever been through and I'm scared I will somehow hurt her if I tell her. What if I'll make her cry? I've only seen her cry once in my entire life, and that was many years ago. It was so heartbreaking but I still don't know why she cried. So I'd feel awful if she cries if I told her about this. I don't think she would even know how to react. Would she be upset if I tell her or glad that I finally open up to her about it? How the hell would I feel if it was reversed and my grown child tells me fifteen years later they were abused? I know that I can't possibly know no matter how much I keep ranting this. It's not gonna help a shit. Yet I can't stop. This is a huge thing, it's heavy as hell and no parent on earth would want their child to have gone through what I've been through. And why bring this up now? I dunno, things just got so very vivid and real this last week.
I almost told her in the car yesterday, but I didn't cause I didn't want my sister to hear it too. She mentioned something about my ex and I asked her which one. I said I've only had two serious relationships and two more that were a little vague. I told her about Max for the first time. That he didn't think we had arelationship but we were friends and slept together and thus I considered it a relationship. I mean I'm 24, she must know I've had sex. With my lifestyle and what more. I'm still not sure about my sister though, but that's not my story to tell. So I was close to telling her, could that mean I might be ready? Well it's now or never, I can't keep ranting, analyzing, disecting and repeat if I'm going to or not for all eternity. If I'm ever gonna be able to process these traumas, I can't keep it bottled up, right...?
My brain is so confused right now. Two contradictory, strong feelings at the same time. Ambivalence. Being in love with a fluttering heart and having it ripped up by awful memories at the same time.
Kill. Me. Now.
I sense that my feelings for this guy are just get stronger and stranger. Makes me say weird things sometimes. I suppose I shouldn't worry too much if I'd say something that he finds weird in that way, or would suspect my feelings. That would only save me the trouble of telling him! Nah, I don't think I want to tell him just yet, I mean this might be over in a week. But that is unlikely, cause usually when it's an actual person I fall for, that I also talk to, that passion will last for at least six months up to several years. No matter how unobtainable. I wish I could gain some control over my chaotic heart. Like, say... fall for an obtainable person that at least shows some interest? Who doesn't live across the country? Who I've actually met in real life more than once? No..?
Okay I give up. What will be will be. Some beasts are just not tameable, they rip you up and eat you alive. Thus is my heart.
I try to decide if I should tell my mom about those two times I was sexually abused. It's a little weird that -talking about sex with your parents- kinda thing, but this isn't about sex. It's about somethings awful that happened to me and that I've for so long needed to talk through with her. She knows almost everything about me, I tell her if I skipped taking my medicine, when and if I have my period, about most of the bullying I went through, relationship problems, I tell her when I'm suicidal and have discussed gender reassignment surgey with her. So why does this tear me to pieces? Because it's the most awful I've ever been through and I'm scared I will somehow hurt her if I tell her. What if I'll make her cry? I've only seen her cry once in my entire life, and that was many years ago. It was so heartbreaking but I still don't know why she cried. So I'd feel awful if she cries if I told her about this. I don't think she would even know how to react. Would she be upset if I tell her or glad that I finally open up to her about it? How the hell would I feel if it was reversed and my grown child tells me fifteen years later they were abused? I know that I can't possibly know no matter how much I keep ranting this. It's not gonna help a shit. Yet I can't stop. This is a huge thing, it's heavy as hell and no parent on earth would want their child to have gone through what I've been through. And why bring this up now? I dunno, things just got so very vivid and real this last week.
I almost told her in the car yesterday, but I didn't cause I didn't want my sister to hear it too. She mentioned something about my ex and I asked her which one. I said I've only had two serious relationships and two more that were a little vague. I told her about Max for the first time. That he didn't think we had arelationship but we were friends and slept together and thus I considered it a relationship. I mean I'm 24, she must know I've had sex. With my lifestyle and what more. I'm still not sure about my sister though, but that's not my story to tell. So I was close to telling her, could that mean I might be ready? Well it's now or never, I can't keep ranting, analyzing, disecting and repeat if I'm going to or not for all eternity. If I'm ever gonna be able to process these traumas, I can't keep it bottled up, right...?
My brain is so confused right now. Two contradictory, strong feelings at the same time. Ambivalence. Being in love with a fluttering heart and having it ripped up by awful memories at the same time.
Kill. Me. Now.
Setting the right mood
This is kinda weird... I just wrote a suicide note without any plans or actual thoughts on killing myself. I suppose I just wanted to write one letter that I can use for all of my in the future failed attempts. Cause I'm getting kinda tired of writing new ones all the time. So that's it. No thoughts, no plans, just the note.
I feel kinda detached today. I couldn't stay awake anymore so I fell asleep last night and slept for 14 hours. When I woke up my legs hurt from lying down in a strange angle or something, almost as if my body wasn't used to sleeping. During group therapy today I shook so much my handwriting got very messy. Perhaps my body is still in some sort of shock after those 50 hours of insomnia. Now the sun has just started to rise and I'm not planning on going to sleep. Yup, I'm gonna keep up this insane insomnia, this night was just a mishap. After all, you can't die from insomnia, but it sure hurts.
I've been writing a lot today again, jumping between chapters and different parts of the same chapter. The one about 2010/2011 is getting kinda long, so I'm trying to decide if I should split it in two. It's already at 9 pages and I haven't even gotten to November 2010 yet. But I haven't really proof-read it yet so there's probably a lot of unneccasary stuff there. I try to keep each chapter rather short, cause that's the way I like it when reading others books. A thick book with endlessly long chapters is a nightmare for me, but maybe that's because I'm not such a big reader and too much text makes me lose track of where I was last time I read. I have a ton of reference material from that time, at least ten pages of diary writings a day and even more on this blog. Digging through Spotify to find what I listened to during each era as inspiration. Often leads to strong emotions with these combined though. I realise I write a lot of things on this blog and find it so good I translate it into Swedish to use for my book. Not so much the other way around though. Anyways, back to writing!
I feel kinda detached today. I couldn't stay awake anymore so I fell asleep last night and slept for 14 hours. When I woke up my legs hurt from lying down in a strange angle or something, almost as if my body wasn't used to sleeping. During group therapy today I shook so much my handwriting got very messy. Perhaps my body is still in some sort of shock after those 50 hours of insomnia. Now the sun has just started to rise and I'm not planning on going to sleep. Yup, I'm gonna keep up this insane insomnia, this night was just a mishap. After all, you can't die from insomnia, but it sure hurts.
I've been writing a lot today again, jumping between chapters and different parts of the same chapter. The one about 2010/2011 is getting kinda long, so I'm trying to decide if I should split it in two. It's already at 9 pages and I haven't even gotten to November 2010 yet. But I haven't really proof-read it yet so there's probably a lot of unneccasary stuff there. I try to keep each chapter rather short, cause that's the way I like it when reading others books. A thick book with endlessly long chapters is a nightmare for me, but maybe that's because I'm not such a big reader and too much text makes me lose track of where I was last time I read. I have a ton of reference material from that time, at least ten pages of diary writings a day and even more on this blog. Digging through Spotify to find what I listened to during each era as inspiration. Often leads to strong emotions with these combined though. I realise I write a lot of things on this blog and find it so good I translate it into Swedish to use for my book. Not so much the other way around though. Anyways, back to writing!
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Taking its toll
I will kill myself if I get denied treatment for my transsexualism due to any of my other mental conditions. And I don't mean I'll go 'boohoo' and swallow all my pills again where someone can find me before it's too late. I'm gonna hang myself, locked in my bedroom at a time I am absolutely certain I won't be disturbed for hours. The reason I'm writing this is that a lot of shit just seems to get worse, and I would really need to get this Anna-business looked over. I won't get well if I keep on lying about her, and if I can't get more stable than this I think they will just keep on postponing my treatment until they think I'm stable enough to go through with it. This is a horrible catch 22 thing, a basically unsolvable dilemma. I don't know how much more time I can give them to decide what they're gonna do with me. It's been four years, and a part of me has already given up. But the other part, the part of me that fights for my life won't give up that easily. I think I can give it one, maybe two years at the very most. If I don't have legally prescribes hormones by the next summer... I don't think it's ever going to happen. If that is going to be the case, I won't stay here for much longer. This is the most important thing in my life, I'd kill a cat for it. It is that important, but obviously it doesn't matter what I say to them.
It's so very cold. It's been almost 48 hours since I last slept, and not even a full glass of Jägermeister could make me fall asleep. I don't want to and I'm scared to. So I kept myself awake with all that alcohol in me wearing off, thinking of "Nightmare on Elm Street" when the kids shot themselves full of adrenaline to stay awake. I'm almost at that point now. I'm afraid of dreaming just like they were in the movie. I hate sleeping, unless it's drug induced dreamless sleep.
Oh, it's raining. The bible holding up my window will probably get wet. Whatever. I've finally found a useful purpose for that book. I'm gonna go out in that rain and just feel the drops on my face and in my hair. I just love the rain. The air gets so clear, it smells nice and the sound of heavy rain is very soothing and comforting to me.
48 hours and 30 minutes now. I'm starting to get some strange, and not so strange symptoms. I have slight tremors in my whole body, I can only move extremily slowly, it's hard to focus, my body is numb yet aching, my libido is completely gone and my vision is mildly distorted. Or rather distorted. Pictures of peoples faces changes shape as if I saw them through water. Everything seems to be moving in soft, flowing movements with little glitches of double-vision and an extra layer of random patters like henna over everything, which is making me kind of seasick. Reading this text is making me nauseous, the words won't keep still! I'm not really awake and not really asleep, but somewhere in between.
It's so very cold. It's been almost 48 hours since I last slept, and not even a full glass of Jägermeister could make me fall asleep. I don't want to and I'm scared to. So I kept myself awake with all that alcohol in me wearing off, thinking of "Nightmare on Elm Street" when the kids shot themselves full of adrenaline to stay awake. I'm almost at that point now. I'm afraid of dreaming just like they were in the movie. I hate sleeping, unless it's drug induced dreamless sleep.
Oh, it's raining. The bible holding up my window will probably get wet. Whatever. I've finally found a useful purpose for that book. I'm gonna go out in that rain and just feel the drops on my face and in my hair. I just love the rain. The air gets so clear, it smells nice and the sound of heavy rain is very soothing and comforting to me.
48 hours and 30 minutes now. I'm starting to get some strange, and not so strange symptoms. I have slight tremors in my whole body, I can only move extremily slowly, it's hard to focus, my body is numb yet aching, my libido is completely gone and my vision is mildly distorted. Or rather distorted. Pictures of peoples faces changes shape as if I saw them through water. Everything seems to be moving in soft, flowing movements with little glitches of double-vision and an extra layer of random patters like henna over everything, which is making me kind of seasick. Reading this text is making me nauseous, the words won't keep still! I'm not really awake and not really asleep, but somewhere in between.
Ordeal or deal with it
I've quite recently noticed that Anna is also affected by my nicotine addiction. She says things like "there's no cigarette in your hand, fix it" or "it's been like twenty minutes since you last smoked!" with a desperate voice of sudden cravings that I find rather amusing. She's always been against it and recented it until just a couple of weeks ago or so. I suppose heavy smoking that makes the body crave for high doses of nicotine - often can make even the most anti-smoker develop some cravings. It can't be easy being completely anti-smoking, non-drinker, hating music and being a fashion-opposer and living in the same body as me. She mostly just zones out or start bitching about it until I zone out. Sometimes I don't think she's effected the same way by all that stuff I do, since I'm the one who "owns" the body and she is just a host in it.
She can take control over some parts of my body with much effort for short moments and often against my will. Everything from taking control over my hands to write something (we have very different hand writing: mine is clumsy, almost childish with hard pressure and all over the place, while hers is cursive, neat and with light pressure), throwing things I like that she doesn't, walk somewhere she knows I'll never go just to freak me out, and even raping me.
Saying that was crossing the line is a huge understatement and our relationship the following months were excrutiating. But I think she just wanted me to understand how much it affected her that I refused to let her take over once in a while. I thought maybe she could have thought of a better, less horrible way of telling me that. I was more than pissed off, but most of what I felt was assaulted and I think I went through some lighter form of PTSD. I mean, I had already been sexually abused twice and wasn't going to let it happen a third time. I don't know if I can even consider it a rape in the actual sense, cause of... well yeah the obvious. It isn't something you would bring up in court exactly. "Hey my invisible friend took over my body an raped me" I can just imagine the head lines! ...and the next twenty five years in a straight jacket.
After we somewhat got over that we came to an agreement that I would let her do the driving a little once in a while, as long as she tells me about it first. I mean, she had a good point after all. But I will never forgive her for what she did and the horrible consequenses it led us both into. Those months afterwards... we were fighting like never before, hated each other to the extent we couldn't stand living together. Locked together in hatred. It was vital we could put it behind us and agree to disagree. We're like siamese twins, there's no escape.
She can take control over some parts of my body with much effort for short moments and often against my will. Everything from taking control over my hands to write something (we have very different hand writing: mine is clumsy, almost childish with hard pressure and all over the place, while hers is cursive, neat and with light pressure), throwing things I like that she doesn't, walk somewhere she knows I'll never go just to freak me out, and even raping me.
Saying that was crossing the line is a huge understatement and our relationship the following months were excrutiating. But I think she just wanted me to understand how much it affected her that I refused to let her take over once in a while. I thought maybe she could have thought of a better, less horrible way of telling me that. I was more than pissed off, but most of what I felt was assaulted and I think I went through some lighter form of PTSD. I mean, I had already been sexually abused twice and wasn't going to let it happen a third time. I don't know if I can even consider it a rape in the actual sense, cause of... well yeah the obvious. It isn't something you would bring up in court exactly. "Hey my invisible friend took over my body an raped me" I can just imagine the head lines! ...and the next twenty five years in a straight jacket.
After we somewhat got over that we came to an agreement that I would let her do the driving a little once in a while, as long as she tells me about it first. I mean, she had a good point after all. But I will never forgive her for what she did and the horrible consequenses it led us both into. Those months afterwards... we were fighting like never before, hated each other to the extent we couldn't stand living together. Locked together in hatred. It was vital we could put it behind us and agree to disagree. We're like siamese twins, there's no escape.
Losing my mind
Okay this is starting to freak me out! I can't stop laughing! This week has been the most horrible, fascinating, adventuring, painful, exhausting, liberating, self realisation I've completely lost my mind kind of week. How about a little summary:
- Friday: full blown mania for the first time in my life.
- Saturday: thought that starving myself might be fun, but today I'm just gonna decrease my food intake.
- Sunday: realizing I'm falling in love with someone again, to my absolute horror.
- Monday: fell down into deep depression, wanted to die, tried out six different self harm methods all in one day, including that I started starving myself.
- Tuesday: entusiastically starving myself and being very creative and energized by... nothing?
- Wednesday: surfing on the feeling of just the right amount of depression/anxiety, counting calories in cups of tea, finding out more about my phobias, still starving.
- Thursday: crashed in the bathroom due to the starving, crawled into bed for sleep, woke up and started eating again before my brain melts.
- Friday: finding out which demon I am, starting to really feel those butterflies in my chest while thinking of *him*, realizing I really want to stop self harming.
- Saturday: first time in ever wanting to do something about this hearing impairment of mine, get loads of writing-creativity and a weird state of being both manic and depressed at the same time, and then I get this strange insomnia thing.
- Sunday: after being awake for almost 40 hours I suddenly realise this is a new way of self harm, which completely cracks me up and here are we now.
I think what got me laughing so hard (honestly I kept on cackling manically for like half an hour, it was very liberating!) has to do with that realising I'm on a new pattern of self harm with this "insomnia" almost fourty hours after declaring that I really want to stop self harming just was so... funny. My mind is playing tricks on me, almost like it's resisting itself in some absurd way. Okay I know I have a slight case of split personality, but half the time I don't know what the fuck I'm doing or what I have done. Feels like someone else just comes in and takes over every once in a while. I just checked out Dayviews and saw I had new comments on something or someone I commented. Thing is, I don't recall making that statement and it's really weird shit I've been writing. I lose time and think it's 03.00 pm but it's actually 02.00 am. I think I really start losing my mind.
This has been a great week! No actually I mean it, it's made me realise, accept and decide a lot of things I never thought about or had the curage to do before. I've never laughed and cried so hard for a very long time and letting all that out has let off a lot of inner pressure. I can't understand what the fuck is going on and creeping myself out with these extremes, yet I think it has been quite an adventure. I mean, not so many people are having a rollercoaster ride including every possible human emotion and state of mind in just one week while sitting in front of a computer, am I right?
So it's daytime again, how did that happen?
- Friday: full blown mania for the first time in my life.
- Saturday: thought that starving myself might be fun, but today I'm just gonna decrease my food intake.
- Sunday: realizing I'm falling in love with someone again, to my absolute horror.
- Monday: fell down into deep depression, wanted to die, tried out six different self harm methods all in one day, including that I started starving myself.
- Tuesday: entusiastically starving myself and being very creative and energized by... nothing?
- Wednesday: surfing on the feeling of just the right amount of depression/anxiety, counting calories in cups of tea, finding out more about my phobias, still starving.
- Thursday: crashed in the bathroom due to the starving, crawled into bed for sleep, woke up and started eating again before my brain melts.
- Friday: finding out which demon I am, starting to really feel those butterflies in my chest while thinking of *him*, realizing I really want to stop self harming.
- Saturday: first time in ever wanting to do something about this hearing impairment of mine, get loads of writing-creativity and a weird state of being both manic and depressed at the same time, and then I get this strange insomnia thing.
- Sunday: after being awake for almost 40 hours I suddenly realise this is a new way of self harm, which completely cracks me up and here are we now.
I think what got me laughing so hard (honestly I kept on cackling manically for like half an hour, it was very liberating!) has to do with that realising I'm on a new pattern of self harm with this "insomnia" almost fourty hours after declaring that I really want to stop self harming just was so... funny. My mind is playing tricks on me, almost like it's resisting itself in some absurd way. Okay I know I have a slight case of split personality, but half the time I don't know what the fuck I'm doing or what I have done. Feels like someone else just comes in and takes over every once in a while. I just checked out Dayviews and saw I had new comments on something or someone I commented. Thing is, I don't recall making that statement and it's really weird shit I've been writing. I lose time and think it's 03.00 pm but it's actually 02.00 am. I think I really start losing my mind.
This has been a great week! No actually I mean it, it's made me realise, accept and decide a lot of things I never thought about or had the curage to do before. I've never laughed and cried so hard for a very long time and letting all that out has let off a lot of inner pressure. I can't understand what the fuck is going on and creeping myself out with these extremes, yet I think it has been quite an adventure. I mean, not so many people are having a rollercoaster ride including every possible human emotion and state of mind in just one week while sitting in front of a computer, am I right?
So it's daytime again, how did that happen?
A strange degree of love
I just started listening to a playlist on Spotify when Alphaville's song "Die for you today" pops up. I remember listening to it when my heart broke into unrecognisable pieces in January 2011, a week before I tried to kill myself for that reason. I remember thinking that many people kill themselves because of a broken heart. I've had my heart broken so many times I have literally lost count ages ago, when I had reached to 20-something already at the age 15. My heart is really out of control. But this one was so much stronger than all the others before wrapped up into one. I broke into pieces completely. I starved myself, had insomnia, cried constantly and planned my suicide for weeks. I remember asking Anna: can I kill myself now? after she had promised I could if this was to happen, and with a faint, shallow, shaky voice she said yes. I could hear she was crying. I've never heard or felt her crying before or after that again. It was so very sad, painful, scary and strange. To hear another person crying inside me with a different heart rate and breathing. It was almost as if we were departed and at the same time we were closer than ever. I've never sought comfort from her before, but that day, that moment we held each other and cried together. There were no words to say, the world had fallen apart.
"I wanted to be everything, everything for you
I wanted you, I needed you, I thought that you did too
You built me beauty and took it all away
And I can't face another day
I'll die for you today..."
The fault was my own. He didn't break my heart, it wasn't in his hands, he did nothing wrong. It just happened after I found out he had gotten together with a girl. That was all it took. I can't stop blaming myself for all this, that I let my unconditional love escalate to something even bigger. I svore, vowed that I'd do everything for him, anything at all. Everything I could possibly imagine in the most gruesome ways. I didn't even know I could feel a love that strong for a guy I didn't even know what his sexual orientation was. But I do realise now that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. It was literally love at first sight. I remember when I got into our new class room the first day of school and I didn't notice him at first. Fifteen minutes later I met a pair of perfect blue-green eyes with black eyeliner framed around and it was like the floor just disappeared from under my feet. I'm not really sure exactly what happened, I guess I'm too human to be able to grasp the concept of it. From there on I only wanted to be around him, didn't care much for the other classmates, teachers or the lessons. I was there only to be with him.
So what I'm getting at is that I didn't have much of a choice. My heart just did it's own, quite remarkable thing in a split second and then I was lost in those eyes for almost half a year. At first I just followed him around everywhere, trying to make it look natural but I don't think anyone even cared to notice that everywhere he was, so was I. I tried to talk to him as much as I could, gave him anything he wanted, spent a fortune on lunches even though I was broke to begin with, did everything he suggested that I could do, gave compliments and bought his old iPhone he had put up for sale - for money I didn't have - just to have something that was his.
When that wasn't enough I started stalking him on Facebook, Helgon, Dayviews, listening to his video blogs over and over again and scrolling through his reading blog for hours a day. I printed out pictures of him from these sites and filled my walls with them. I think this is commonly called an obsession, in it's most graceful way. You see I was very keen on keeping this a secret, and though I made a mistake once in a while, it mostly went unnoticed. Usually, people don't expect ordinary, generally non-creepy people to develop such an obsession.
In retrospect, I'd say one reason as to why I went haywire fanaticly obsessed, could have been that I was falling apart in other aspects too. I'm not capable of studying full-time, it drains more energy than I can possibly give it, but I was going all in for it anyway. I was hammered already the second week but I just ignored it and kept going. When I developed insomnia and couldn't stay awake during class I started to drink massive amounts of coffee. My headaches got so bad I couldn't get out of bed without strong pain killers. When coffee alone didn't work, I upped my smoking habits. The insomnia got so bad I started to self-medicate with vodka and absinthe. The hungovers that followed the next day was so bad I had to take a glass of vodka in the morning as well. At my worst I went to school high on pain killers, slightly drunk with vodka in my strong coffee I always carried around, smoking at every break. I was on life-support and was only halfly aware of what was going on around me. Tomb was eventually everything I had to live for. I wrote up "five reasons to live today" every day in my diary and throught October, November and December all it said was his name.
This is why I am scared to death of falling in love again.
I mean it's not really so strange my feelings got way over hand considering the way I "lived" during this period. I was a runaway train on a broken track about to crash into a mountain any minute. I'm actually kinda amazed I got to school almost every day and sometimes even successfully completed a task or two. Most significantly, I learned a very important lesson: don't even try to study full time if I don't plan to pay for a casket as well.
"I wanted to be everything, everything for you
I wanted you, I needed you, I thought that you did too
You built me beauty and took it all away
And I can't face another day
I'll die for you today..."
The fault was my own. He didn't break my heart, it wasn't in his hands, he did nothing wrong. It just happened after I found out he had gotten together with a girl. That was all it took. I can't stop blaming myself for all this, that I let my unconditional love escalate to something even bigger. I svore, vowed that I'd do everything for him, anything at all. Everything I could possibly imagine in the most gruesome ways. I didn't even know I could feel a love that strong for a guy I didn't even know what his sexual orientation was. But I do realise now that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. It was literally love at first sight. I remember when I got into our new class room the first day of school and I didn't notice him at first. Fifteen minutes later I met a pair of perfect blue-green eyes with black eyeliner framed around and it was like the floor just disappeared from under my feet. I'm not really sure exactly what happened, I guess I'm too human to be able to grasp the concept of it. From there on I only wanted to be around him, didn't care much for the other classmates, teachers or the lessons. I was there only to be with him.
So what I'm getting at is that I didn't have much of a choice. My heart just did it's own, quite remarkable thing in a split second and then I was lost in those eyes for almost half a year. At first I just followed him around everywhere, trying to make it look natural but I don't think anyone even cared to notice that everywhere he was, so was I. I tried to talk to him as much as I could, gave him anything he wanted, spent a fortune on lunches even though I was broke to begin with, did everything he suggested that I could do, gave compliments and bought his old iPhone he had put up for sale - for money I didn't have - just to have something that was his.
When that wasn't enough I started stalking him on Facebook, Helgon, Dayviews, listening to his video blogs over and over again and scrolling through his reading blog for hours a day. I printed out pictures of him from these sites and filled my walls with them. I think this is commonly called an obsession, in it's most graceful way. You see I was very keen on keeping this a secret, and though I made a mistake once in a while, it mostly went unnoticed. Usually, people don't expect ordinary, generally non-creepy people to develop such an obsession.
In retrospect, I'd say one reason as to why I went haywire fanaticly obsessed, could have been that I was falling apart in other aspects too. I'm not capable of studying full-time, it drains more energy than I can possibly give it, but I was going all in for it anyway. I was hammered already the second week but I just ignored it and kept going. When I developed insomnia and couldn't stay awake during class I started to drink massive amounts of coffee. My headaches got so bad I couldn't get out of bed without strong pain killers. When coffee alone didn't work, I upped my smoking habits. The insomnia got so bad I started to self-medicate with vodka and absinthe. The hungovers that followed the next day was so bad I had to take a glass of vodka in the morning as well. At my worst I went to school high on pain killers, slightly drunk with vodka in my strong coffee I always carried around, smoking at every break. I was on life-support and was only halfly aware of what was going on around me. Tomb was eventually everything I had to live for. I wrote up "five reasons to live today" every day in my diary and throught October, November and December all it said was his name.
This is why I am scared to death of falling in love again.
I mean it's not really so strange my feelings got way over hand considering the way I "lived" during this period. I was a runaway train on a broken track about to crash into a mountain any minute. I'm actually kinda amazed I got to school almost every day and sometimes even successfully completed a task or two. Most significantly, I learned a very important lesson: don't even try to study full time if I don't plan to pay for a casket as well.
Saturday, 8 June 2013
My mixed emotions are back
Okay I feel like crap after watching that damn movie. I didn't know it was a horror movie, or any of it's content except from a very breaf description. I emidiately like the little girl Max, she was so sweet, protecting, brave and I realised already from the start that she was gonna be the hero and I was right. That was the only good thing about that movie. Funny thing though, I knew exactly what was gonna happen or be said a few seconds before itt occured. It wasn't those ordinary things like "he's gonna survive" but more like "I think she's actually an adult in a childs body" stuff. That was a bit interesting due to the fact that I knew nothing about the film before hand. But it was so horrible, not the actual events, cause a little blood, gore and murder is nothing I usually cringe before. No, it was that it was done to children. Most of the time I looked away, just couldn't... I think I might be developing some parental instincts. Believe it or not, I seem to have a biological clock too.
I've been awake for 26 hours and now I'm so fucking jaded I'll probably be up for at least another 5 hours. So what's this then? Insomnia? I pray to Satan it's not! I'm too fragile for this. Yeah, that's right I admit it, I'm as fragile as a wine-glass, and yeah, that hurts my manliness a little bit. I've always hated that, feeling weak and fragile, like some... no I can't say that, you'll hate me. Even when I thought I was a girl I hated being weak. I did everything I fucking could to prove everyone I was as tough as the boys, the other boys. Failed miserably of course, though I had my moments! Getting even with bullies, working my ass off at karate lessons and winning one or two arguments.
Now if I could just get the shakes to chill a bit... watching a lovely self harm related gif on tumblr without wanting to harm myself. That's comforting.
Lydia, that must be the most beautiful name in this world. Lydia... not sure about it's origin though. If I will ever have a daughter, I'd name her Lydia.
I think writing this made me bit calmer. Writing is an awesome form of therapy!
I've been awake for 26 hours and now I'm so fucking jaded I'll probably be up for at least another 5 hours. So what's this then? Insomnia? I pray to Satan it's not! I'm too fragile for this. Yeah, that's right I admit it, I'm as fragile as a wine-glass, and yeah, that hurts my manliness a little bit. I've always hated that, feeling weak and fragile, like some... no I can't say that, you'll hate me. Even when I thought I was a girl I hated being weak. I did everything I fucking could to prove everyone I was as tough as the boys, the other boys. Failed miserably of course, though I had my moments! Getting even with bullies, working my ass off at karate lessons and winning one or two arguments.
Now if I could just get the shakes to chill a bit... watching a lovely self harm related gif on tumblr without wanting to harm myself. That's comforting.
Lydia, that must be the most beautiful name in this world. Lydia... not sure about it's origin though. If I will ever have a daughter, I'd name her Lydia.
I think writing this made me bit calmer. Writing is an awesome form of therapy!
It's my problem
I don't think I can read lips, but it's harder to hear what someone says when I can't look at them directly in the face, and often I seem to find myself staring at their mouth. So maybe it's not exactly lip reading, but whatever it is I'm doing it's working. It's easier to hear what someone says when I can also see what they say, but if I can't hear them at all and only see the speech I don't understand a daft. Maybe it could be a good thing to learn? Lip reading, I mean. It seems kind cool too. I've always thought on some level that it could be helpful, but most of my life I've just thought that I'm hearing good enough as it is. Yeah, right. I must be annoying the crap out of people always expecting everyone to remember which ear is which, to speak clear and one at a time. Is it completely impossible for me to NOT be a selfish asshole and think for a minute?
Yeah I think I'm finally starting to actually realise this problem and how in affects my life. And also what I can do to improve things. I've always thought that since my hearing is on a normal level and therefor not an actual hearing problem. I do remember that when I was together with Robin, he thought I should get some help for it, since his sister was also hearing impaired and his whole family had some knowledge about it. But I just discarded it, for whatever the reason was. The problem is the way I percieve what I hear (or don't hear), and that problem is in fact real and it won't go away by denying it. Nor will I out grow it. It's kind of permanent, and sometimes I think I'm a little too used to it. Almost expecting everyone to have a full understanding and undeniable sympathy. As I said, time to stop being an asshole, perhaps. After all, it's MY problem, not everyone elses.
So I'm planning on stop whining and making excuses. And maybe... just maybe I'll actually pay a visit to some ear-doctor or whatever and find out if there's any hearing aid I can get. Might be worth trying, I think. I mean what's the worst that could happen? If it doesn't work then nothing has changed. Would I be scared of hearing differently? Probably, but I do a lot of scary things to myself on a daily basis so I don't see why not really. I have to at least try to look forward and not only wallowing myself in self-pity.
I just love these little moments of clarity! They're so... clear! in lack of a better word. Maybe Im really not a hopeless case after all. Maybe all I needed was a little faith in myself and something to look forward to. But I know this is the easy part, the hard part is keep fighting when I'd much rather wither away in my own filth. Unfortunately, I have more days of the latter kind. But I have to focus on these better days, burn them into my memory to always remember when I feel like crap and wanna tear the world in pieces. That's the hardest part.
Yeah I think I'm finally starting to actually realise this problem and how in affects my life. And also what I can do to improve things. I've always thought that since my hearing is on a normal level and therefor not an actual hearing problem. I do remember that when I was together with Robin, he thought I should get some help for it, since his sister was also hearing impaired and his whole family had some knowledge about it. But I just discarded it, for whatever the reason was. The problem is the way I percieve what I hear (or don't hear), and that problem is in fact real and it won't go away by denying it. Nor will I out grow it. It's kind of permanent, and sometimes I think I'm a little too used to it. Almost expecting everyone to have a full understanding and undeniable sympathy. As I said, time to stop being an asshole, perhaps. After all, it's MY problem, not everyone elses.
So I'm planning on stop whining and making excuses. And maybe... just maybe I'll actually pay a visit to some ear-doctor or whatever and find out if there's any hearing aid I can get. Might be worth trying, I think. I mean what's the worst that could happen? If it doesn't work then nothing has changed. Would I be scared of hearing differently? Probably, but I do a lot of scary things to myself on a daily basis so I don't see why not really. I have to at least try to look forward and not only wallowing myself in self-pity.
I just love these little moments of clarity! They're so... clear! in lack of a better word. Maybe Im really not a hopeless case after all. Maybe all I needed was a little faith in myself and something to look forward to. But I know this is the easy part, the hard part is keep fighting when I'd much rather wither away in my own filth. Unfortunately, I have more days of the latter kind. But I have to focus on these better days, burn them into my memory to always remember when I feel like crap and wanna tear the world in pieces. That's the hardest part.
In which way I'm hearing impaired and what it means
When I was four and did the first hearing test it was stated that I can't hear anything with my left ear, but they didn't know why, so nothing could be done about it. And they didn't seem to care either. "It's just the way it is, live with it" - kind of attitude. An important note is that the level of hearing I have is normal. I don't really know how that works though.
I mostly just live my life like any other hearing person, and most people are surprised when they find out about it. I'm not sure to exactly to what extent I'm impaired, cause I can't really compare (what should I compare with?) But the most significant difference is that I can't filter out sounds. For example, if I hear a buzzing sound and a slamming one at the same time, I won't be able to tell if both those sounds came from the same thing, or two different. It's exhausting trying to keep up with conversations in a group of people talking at the same time, cause everything becomes a blur and I can't tell what is said or who said what. Every sound goes into the same channel and overlaps completely. I've been told that it somehow is otherwise for people in general, and I've tried to imagine what that sounds like. How is it hearing in different channels? Sounds like fiction to me!
The other thing is that I can't locale sounds. For example, if I cross a street and hear a car I can tell how far away it is, but not if it's coming from the left or the right. So I have to rely on my eyes for that. This is very annoying when I'm meeting up with someone and I can't find them, and they're yelling "I'm here!" It makes me feel like an idiot running around everywhere trying to find them, at the same time as I think that person is an idiot who thinks that would help me in anyway what so ever just by yelling.
High and low pitches are also a little messed up. When I was sixteen I had another hearing test and found out that I hear about 10% on my left ear, and no bass sounds at all. It's some sort of unspecific nerve damage I've had since birth, and there's nothing that can be done about it. So I can basically not hear anything on my left, except for really high noises. So whenever there are any of those, really high sounds it sort of escalates sevenfold in my head, while the bass tones are kind of weak. Maybe that's why I always up the bass to maximum when listening to music and still think it isn't enough. And why I generally prefer male singers before female. And darker brands of music with a lot of bass like goth, dark electro, darkwave and so on. So... me being goth is a medical condition?
Another thing is that I can't hear in stereo. It does actually make a tiny, tiny difference if I wear only one or both head phones when I listen to music, but only if it's really loud, and that's not even close to stereo anyway. It's very annoying when I find a really good song when I listen to it without head phones, and then realise that they cut the song in different layers so it sounds completely different in each ear. That means, I can only hear half the song when wearing head phones. A great example if you want to know what I mean: search for the song "Eternal" by Evanescence and put on only one head phone at a time. Two different songs! I've looked for mono head phones for an eternity, but this media world doesn't care about the hearing impaired and only stereo head phones exists on the market. Unless I'm really lucky and find an antique pair from the 50's. I've even gone so far as trying to shove in both ear phones in my right ear. Didn't work.
For last, but not least, is that sounds seem to clutter a bit. It's hard to hear what people say if they mumble. Well okay, most people find it hard to make sense of spluttered words, but it's really difficult for me. It's seems the most common thing I say in conversations is "va?" (or "what? I didn't catch that" in English). I usually get annoyed when the person I talked to repeats the word or sentence in the exact same way, or just louder. I'm not deaf, speak clearer! But I don't want to start a fight everytime, so I mostly just repeat my "va?" three times and if I still don't get it I just discard it. Obviously repeating it didn't work, for either of us.
Oh, one more thing! (This list is getting a lot longer than thought it would...) Since all sounds I pick up goes through my right ear, even though sounds from the left finds it's way around my head, it's hard to hear what a person standing or sitting on my left is saying. I tell them to remember being on my right side instead, but no one remembers it. Not even my parents. How hard can it be to keep a track on which way is right or left!? Seems to be pretty common problem, take traffic for example. So I end up running around myself instead, sighing when people confusingly wonder what the fuck I'm doing that for.
Consequenses and stuff:
I tend to get quiet in social gatherings because of all this, cause my jaded brain can't sort out all the different sounds and voices and the murmur gives me headaches. So I just zone out instead, until someone notices and suddenly wants my opinion about something someone said that I couldn't catch in the middle of it all that (white) noise.
But over all I usually pass as a normally hearing person, and most of the time I don't even think about it. Embarrasingly enough, I sometimes even forget which ear of mine that is not working as intended. As a reminder, both for myself and others: it's the pierced ear that works fine.
I once met a person who basically had the same problem as I, but with her vision. She said she couldn't see depths, that everything sort of looked two dimensional. That got me thinking and we had some really interesting discussions! I who never have been able to hear in stereo and can't imagine what that sounds like - and she who had no depth perception and couldn't imagine what that was like. Her description of that made me realise a lot, and I think she realised a lot of what I described to her. So much in common but so different. I never saw her again though, and I don't even know her name. But that conversation will probably never leave my memory!
I sometimes envy those that aren't hearing impaired and what I miss out on (music in stereo for fucks sake!!!), other times I feel like it's a gift. Because despite all of these things that makes it a small piece of hell, it isn't all bad. For instance: if you're in a class room listening to something boring the teacher says and they ask you to at least take one of the ear phones out so you can hear what they say while still listening to music - I'll gladly take out the one in my left ear! Same if it's something I don't want to listen to at all, I just put a finger in my right ear and put the rest of my hand in a resting pose on my chin. No one would even notice that I'm blocking out all sounds! Long hair also helps this a lot of course. Also if I'm trying to sleep and there's a lot of noise, I just simply lie down on my right side with my right ear buried in the pillow. Problem solved :)
And it's a perfect excuse when I'm not paying attention and the talking person annoyingly tells me to listen up: "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm hearing impaired, can you repeat that?"
It's just the way I am!
I mostly just live my life like any other hearing person, and most people are surprised when they find out about it. I'm not sure to exactly to what extent I'm impaired, cause I can't really compare (what should I compare with?) But the most significant difference is that I can't filter out sounds. For example, if I hear a buzzing sound and a slamming one at the same time, I won't be able to tell if both those sounds came from the same thing, or two different. It's exhausting trying to keep up with conversations in a group of people talking at the same time, cause everything becomes a blur and I can't tell what is said or who said what. Every sound goes into the same channel and overlaps completely. I've been told that it somehow is otherwise for people in general, and I've tried to imagine what that sounds like. How is it hearing in different channels? Sounds like fiction to me!
The other thing is that I can't locale sounds. For example, if I cross a street and hear a car I can tell how far away it is, but not if it's coming from the left or the right. So I have to rely on my eyes for that. This is very annoying when I'm meeting up with someone and I can't find them, and they're yelling "I'm here!" It makes me feel like an idiot running around everywhere trying to find them, at the same time as I think that person is an idiot who thinks that would help me in anyway what so ever just by yelling.
High and low pitches are also a little messed up. When I was sixteen I had another hearing test and found out that I hear about 10% on my left ear, and no bass sounds at all. It's some sort of unspecific nerve damage I've had since birth, and there's nothing that can be done about it. So I can basically not hear anything on my left, except for really high noises. So whenever there are any of those, really high sounds it sort of escalates sevenfold in my head, while the bass tones are kind of weak. Maybe that's why I always up the bass to maximum when listening to music and still think it isn't enough. And why I generally prefer male singers before female. And darker brands of music with a lot of bass like goth, dark electro, darkwave and so on. So... me being goth is a medical condition?
Another thing is that I can't hear in stereo. It does actually make a tiny, tiny difference if I wear only one or both head phones when I listen to music, but only if it's really loud, and that's not even close to stereo anyway. It's very annoying when I find a really good song when I listen to it without head phones, and then realise that they cut the song in different layers so it sounds completely different in each ear. That means, I can only hear half the song when wearing head phones. A great example if you want to know what I mean: search for the song "Eternal" by Evanescence and put on only one head phone at a time. Two different songs! I've looked for mono head phones for an eternity, but this media world doesn't care about the hearing impaired and only stereo head phones exists on the market. Unless I'm really lucky and find an antique pair from the 50's. I've even gone so far as trying to shove in both ear phones in my right ear. Didn't work.
For last, but not least, is that sounds seem to clutter a bit. It's hard to hear what people say if they mumble. Well okay, most people find it hard to make sense of spluttered words, but it's really difficult for me. It's seems the most common thing I say in conversations is "va?" (or "what? I didn't catch that" in English). I usually get annoyed when the person I talked to repeats the word or sentence in the exact same way, or just louder. I'm not deaf, speak clearer! But I don't want to start a fight everytime, so I mostly just repeat my "va?" three times and if I still don't get it I just discard it. Obviously repeating it didn't work, for either of us.
Oh, one more thing! (This list is getting a lot longer than thought it would...) Since all sounds I pick up goes through my right ear, even though sounds from the left finds it's way around my head, it's hard to hear what a person standing or sitting on my left is saying. I tell them to remember being on my right side instead, but no one remembers it. Not even my parents. How hard can it be to keep a track on which way is right or left!? Seems to be pretty common problem, take traffic for example. So I end up running around myself instead, sighing when people confusingly wonder what the fuck I'm doing that for.
Consequenses and stuff:
I tend to get quiet in social gatherings because of all this, cause my jaded brain can't sort out all the different sounds and voices and the murmur gives me headaches. So I just zone out instead, until someone notices and suddenly wants my opinion about something someone said that I couldn't catch in the middle of it all that (white) noise.
But over all I usually pass as a normally hearing person, and most of the time I don't even think about it. Embarrasingly enough, I sometimes even forget which ear of mine that is not working as intended. As a reminder, both for myself and others: it's the pierced ear that works fine.
I once met a person who basically had the same problem as I, but with her vision. She said she couldn't see depths, that everything sort of looked two dimensional. That got me thinking and we had some really interesting discussions! I who never have been able to hear in stereo and can't imagine what that sounds like - and she who had no depth perception and couldn't imagine what that was like. Her description of that made me realise a lot, and I think she realised a lot of what I described to her. So much in common but so different. I never saw her again though, and I don't even know her name. But that conversation will probably never leave my memory!
I sometimes envy those that aren't hearing impaired and what I miss out on (music in stereo for fucks sake!!!), other times I feel like it's a gift. Because despite all of these things that makes it a small piece of hell, it isn't all bad. For instance: if you're in a class room listening to something boring the teacher says and they ask you to at least take one of the ear phones out so you can hear what they say while still listening to music - I'll gladly take out the one in my left ear! Same if it's something I don't want to listen to at all, I just put a finger in my right ear and put the rest of my hand in a resting pose on my chin. No one would even notice that I'm blocking out all sounds! Long hair also helps this a lot of course. Also if I'm trying to sleep and there's a lot of noise, I just simply lie down on my right side with my right ear buried in the pillow. Problem solved :)
And it's a perfect excuse when I'm not paying attention and the talking person annoyingly tells me to listen up: "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm hearing impaired, can you repeat that?"
It's just the way I am!
Emptiness and ranting
This has been a strange night, cause I can't feel anything. No moodswings, no moods at all. I must say I'm quite baffled. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary. I slept okay, only woke up about five times, and dreamed about my old classmates from the gymnasium, which by the way was a pretty strange dream, but funny. As my dreams usually are, and I don't care much for analyzing them anymore. So I miss my old classmates, so what? I got up around 21.00 o'clock when I got tired of people calling me all the time. "Are you up yet?" "Do you want to meet up today?" "You have laundry in an hour" and "Will you take your medication?" til' I just snapped at them saying I don't care about the laundry, no I'm not up yet, no I don't want to see you and yes I've taken my medication, now please fuck off. Then I parked my ass by the computer with a cup of tea and the regular chain-smoking (yeah I'm a chain-smoker. I'm awake barely 12 hours aday and during that time I smoke around 50 cigarettes. That's like ten minutes between every cigarette). Then I made some breakfast. Back to the computer, tried playing some WoW but got tired of it, returned to various internet forums for some scrolling.
Posted a few comments, wondered why Dayviews suddenly seemed dead, or at least everyone that I stalk there. Thought of perhaps making my own chicken soup and googled some recepies but they all seemed complicated so I dropped that thought. I mean I can't cook anyway! It's hard enough to boil rice and throw a chicken filet in the oven. I'm quite surprized I can do that even. So I listened to some music and googled phobias, but couldn't find a shit about the fear of distortion, so I declared I must be the only one who has it. Then I remembered I wanted to watch Fight Club again, so I rifled through my shelves of movies certain I have it in there somewhere, but I didn't find it so I looked it up on 1channel. Started watching, and got tired of it every five minutes. My attention span is quite short nowadays.
I suddenly got a craving for coffee so I fixed myself a cup of that. Obviously I must have made it too strong (I'm prone to do that, cause it tastes better and cause of my endless need to get high or whatever. I always welcome a good rush of whatever sort) and got dizzy, nauseous and it feels like my clothes are choking me. Perhaps not the smartest choice of dinner. Perhaps I'm not the smartest person either.
And that's all there is, and that's usually what my uncreative days consists of. Cause trying to write without inspiration is like trying to enjoy music you're not interested in. Or something like that, I don't know what it's like not being creative. I feel empty, not interested in anything, apathetic and somewhere between uncaring and bored. No I don't think I'm bored, cause there's nothing I feel like doing. Nothing is amusing and I can't even focus on a few rows of text even if it's something I'd normally find interesting. I'm reading too slow and if I skim I won't remember what it said. No point reading it then. No point even opening that page.
My thoughts move so slow I'm almost starting to wonder what part of my brain I've killed this time. It actually goes seconds between every thought, which is an extremily slow thought process in my case, cause I'm used to tackling ten thoughts a second. At least. That's kinda sweet, but I feel like I'm brain dead.
The sun is starting to rise and I can feel the intruding headaches already. I wish it could stay down a little longer, can't even be five hours of darkness at night anymore. I hate the summer. Especially summers on Gotland are a real pain in the ass. It's extremily hot, the sunlight is lacerating my brain and burns my skin and the population is increased by 300%. Not kidding, that's how many turists this little island gets every fucking summer. It wouldn't surprise me if it sinks a bit deeper into the ocean every june and then rises a little again in september. I don't miss the daytime at all, but I really have to do something about my bedroom window, cause I can't sleep when the sun is shining through those useless blinds and with one curtain short. I taped up some tin foile, but that didn't make much of a difference. And of course it's a south view. I wish buildings didn't have a south side, or at least that those stupid architects should maybe put a little thought into planning which side the bedroom is facing.
I seem to notice a lot of architecture "mistakes" in apartments and houses nowadays, and often wonder how the fuck they wre thinking when they planned the place. Like the house I grew up in, that had 17 different rooms, hallways, closets and lofts here and there, but only two of those could be used as bedrooms. The bathroom was a nightmare, it always rained in throught the roof, the ventilation was terrible and it was a miracle it didn't fall apart. The electricity was also a bit fucked up, wired up sometime during the 50's and then re-wired a dozen times over the course of years with various results. I suppose I just got into understanding what my parents discussed about that and picked up on a few things myself. Okay, this is turning into literally endless ranting. I should probably stop before I end up making a book out of it.
Posted a few comments, wondered why Dayviews suddenly seemed dead, or at least everyone that I stalk there. Thought of perhaps making my own chicken soup and googled some recepies but they all seemed complicated so I dropped that thought. I mean I can't cook anyway! It's hard enough to boil rice and throw a chicken filet in the oven. I'm quite surprized I can do that even. So I listened to some music and googled phobias, but couldn't find a shit about the fear of distortion, so I declared I must be the only one who has it. Then I remembered I wanted to watch Fight Club again, so I rifled through my shelves of movies certain I have it in there somewhere, but I didn't find it so I looked it up on 1channel. Started watching, and got tired of it every five minutes. My attention span is quite short nowadays.
I suddenly got a craving for coffee so I fixed myself a cup of that. Obviously I must have made it too strong (I'm prone to do that, cause it tastes better and cause of my endless need to get high or whatever. I always welcome a good rush of whatever sort) and got dizzy, nauseous and it feels like my clothes are choking me. Perhaps not the smartest choice of dinner. Perhaps I'm not the smartest person either.
And that's all there is, and that's usually what my uncreative days consists of. Cause trying to write without inspiration is like trying to enjoy music you're not interested in. Or something like that, I don't know what it's like not being creative. I feel empty, not interested in anything, apathetic and somewhere between uncaring and bored. No I don't think I'm bored, cause there's nothing I feel like doing. Nothing is amusing and I can't even focus on a few rows of text even if it's something I'd normally find interesting. I'm reading too slow and if I skim I won't remember what it said. No point reading it then. No point even opening that page.
My thoughts move so slow I'm almost starting to wonder what part of my brain I've killed this time. It actually goes seconds between every thought, which is an extremily slow thought process in my case, cause I'm used to tackling ten thoughts a second. At least. That's kinda sweet, but I feel like I'm brain dead.
The sun is starting to rise and I can feel the intruding headaches already. I wish it could stay down a little longer, can't even be five hours of darkness at night anymore. I hate the summer. Especially summers on Gotland are a real pain in the ass. It's extremily hot, the sunlight is lacerating my brain and burns my skin and the population is increased by 300%. Not kidding, that's how many turists this little island gets every fucking summer. It wouldn't surprise me if it sinks a bit deeper into the ocean every june and then rises a little again in september. I don't miss the daytime at all, but I really have to do something about my bedroom window, cause I can't sleep when the sun is shining through those useless blinds and with one curtain short. I taped up some tin foile, but that didn't make much of a difference. And of course it's a south view. I wish buildings didn't have a south side, or at least that those stupid architects should maybe put a little thought into planning which side the bedroom is facing.
I seem to notice a lot of architecture "mistakes" in apartments and houses nowadays, and often wonder how the fuck they wre thinking when they planned the place. Like the house I grew up in, that had 17 different rooms, hallways, closets and lofts here and there, but only two of those could be used as bedrooms. The bathroom was a nightmare, it always rained in throught the roof, the ventilation was terrible and it was a miracle it didn't fall apart. The electricity was also a bit fucked up, wired up sometime during the 50's and then re-wired a dozen times over the course of years with various results. I suppose I just got into understanding what my parents discussed about that and picked up on a few things myself. Okay, this is turning into literally endless ranting. I should probably stop before I end up making a book out of it.
Phobias
I was just lingering around on the otherkin forum when I spotted a thread about weird phobias, and it kind of inspired me to post also here what I posted in that thread. I have no "official diagnosis" on any of my phobias, but they are very real to me, and I think that is reason enough. And they are kind of weird! Or at least, so I've heard.
The most specific, rare phobia I have is the roots of plants. Not the plants themselves, only the roots. It's hard to explain what makes me think of this as a phobia, but what goes for the rest and all of my phobias is that cold string of chills running through my body when I'm exposed to them. Usually followed by feelings of dizziness, nausea or anxiety and a disgust so strong I puke or almost faint. So gardening isn't really my thing :P I don't think many people notice I have this phobia, and I don't usually have to deal with it either.
The one that most makes my life hard is my dysmorphophobia - fear of distortion, especially distorted faces. Due to this I am afraid of mirrors cause I'm afraid I'd see my own face distorted in some way or a completely other person. I can look in mirrors obviously, but not without that awful daunting feeling first. Another meaning of this phobia is body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), which I also quite certainly have and due to that I also avoid mirrors, among other things. This of course has a lot do with me being transsexual, but as far as I've noticed I seem to hate my body a lot more than most other transsexuals I've met. I'm very happy with the way my face looks, hands and feet, but everything else is just awful. This literally bothers me every day, every minute, for all the time I'm aware of my body's existence.
Another phobia I have is the one of stairs, worst are those really steep, and of falling in stairs. Most people who knows about this thinks it's really weird and funny. I remember two horrible occasion I've been through related to this. The first one (I think I was five) was when I climbed up on the loft in the stable where I grew up and I just couldn't get down from there. The only way down was through a firm ladder and I just froze up, terrified. It was particularly that ladder that scared me somehow, from that day on. My parents and little sister thought I was silly. I had nightmares about it for years. The other occasion was when I was in my last school in Uppsala on a field trip. I was doing my best to go down a very long and steep stair in an old castle, to the brink of puking and fainting and my class mates laughed at me. Not so fun for me. Normal stairs in modern buildings are okay though, as long as there's a handrail and that I'm not rushed by someone, and they have to have wide steps and they can't be open. So okay, stairs always freak me out to some degree, but I'm working on it!
This is quite common, but I'm also absolutely terrified of heights, to the point that I can't even stand on a firm chair without feeling very dizzy, nauseous and afraid I will fall. But it's not the fall itself I fear, it's basically just standing on a higher spot looking down. And in my case, a few feet is enough. This also impacts my life rather much, but as long as I don't have to change light bulbs in the ceiling and stuff, I get by rather fine. I'm not exactly sure what caused this phobia, but it might have something to do with that loft in that stable too.
So... there's a lot of weird thing I fear that I can't really make sense of. I think I might have more phobias than these four, but thankfully I can't recall them right now. Especially that dysmorphophobia seem to include a lot of things! When I think about it, my fear of wax statues does, for example. And rot, mold, why I'm horrible scared of being injured in an accident, and that list can go on forever... But this is the basics!
The most specific, rare phobia I have is the roots of plants. Not the plants themselves, only the roots. It's hard to explain what makes me think of this as a phobia, but what goes for the rest and all of my phobias is that cold string of chills running through my body when I'm exposed to them. Usually followed by feelings of dizziness, nausea or anxiety and a disgust so strong I puke or almost faint. So gardening isn't really my thing :P I don't think many people notice I have this phobia, and I don't usually have to deal with it either.
The one that most makes my life hard is my dysmorphophobia - fear of distortion, especially distorted faces. Due to this I am afraid of mirrors cause I'm afraid I'd see my own face distorted in some way or a completely other person. I can look in mirrors obviously, but not without that awful daunting feeling first. Another meaning of this phobia is body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), which I also quite certainly have and due to that I also avoid mirrors, among other things. This of course has a lot do with me being transsexual, but as far as I've noticed I seem to hate my body a lot more than most other transsexuals I've met. I'm very happy with the way my face looks, hands and feet, but everything else is just awful. This literally bothers me every day, every minute, for all the time I'm aware of my body's existence.
Another phobia I have is the one of stairs, worst are those really steep, and of falling in stairs. Most people who knows about this thinks it's really weird and funny. I remember two horrible occasion I've been through related to this. The first one (I think I was five) was when I climbed up on the loft in the stable where I grew up and I just couldn't get down from there. The only way down was through a firm ladder and I just froze up, terrified. It was particularly that ladder that scared me somehow, from that day on. My parents and little sister thought I was silly. I had nightmares about it for years. The other occasion was when I was in my last school in Uppsala on a field trip. I was doing my best to go down a very long and steep stair in an old castle, to the brink of puking and fainting and my class mates laughed at me. Not so fun for me. Normal stairs in modern buildings are okay though, as long as there's a handrail and that I'm not rushed by someone, and they have to have wide steps and they can't be open. So okay, stairs always freak me out to some degree, but I'm working on it!
This is quite common, but I'm also absolutely terrified of heights, to the point that I can't even stand on a firm chair without feeling very dizzy, nauseous and afraid I will fall. But it's not the fall itself I fear, it's basically just standing on a higher spot looking down. And in my case, a few feet is enough. This also impacts my life rather much, but as long as I don't have to change light bulbs in the ceiling and stuff, I get by rather fine. I'm not exactly sure what caused this phobia, but it might have something to do with that loft in that stable too.
So... there's a lot of weird thing I fear that I can't really make sense of. I think I might have more phobias than these four, but thankfully I can't recall them right now. Especially that dysmorphophobia seem to include a lot of things! When I think about it, my fear of wax statues does, for example. And rot, mold, why I'm horrible scared of being injured in an accident, and that list can go on forever... But this is the basics!
Friday, 7 June 2013
Astaroth
Through the little demonology I cared to study, a few demons seemed like a possibility, but it's just one of those names I can recall now, and that is Astaroth. A male demon prince from "The lesser key of solomon" (a grimoire on demonology). Often depicted with wings, wearing a crown, holding a snake and rides a dragon. Seduces with laziness, vanity and rationalized philosophies. Well, that's me. Or at least a damn close call! I've always remembered riding a dragon in a past life, and this depiction is just too real to be true. I know that sting in my heart when I know it is true. Yes, I'm Astaroth.
By the way, I'm eating again and especically slurping chicken soup every other hour. After starving for almost 80 hours my body kinda collapsed. Could barely make it to the bedroom this morning and felt like I was severly hungover when I woke up. Note to self: don't starve for more than three consecutive days. I'm fine now though, except from the usual crap, of course.
By the way, I'm eating again and especically slurping chicken soup every other hour. After starving for almost 80 hours my body kinda collapsed. Could barely make it to the bedroom this morning and felt like I was severly hungover when I woke up. Note to self: don't starve for more than three consecutive days. I'm fine now though, except from the usual crap, of course.
Why I moved to Gotland
My moodswings are making me really confused and I can't answer how a single day has been (or night, more accurately). I'm shifting between feeling fine and creative one moment, the next I'm sad and selfdestructive and another moment I'm pissed off and hating myself. Just to mention a few that occurs every day/night.
Annoying thing about those that work where I live: Every morning they ask me if I have been up all night, as if that's a crime. Well I have to be awake sometime!
Okay this is kinda sad, but I've been thinking about why I decided to move to Gotland and the phrase that came to me was: "I have a hundred friends and no one wants to be with me." Cause that's the truth. I didn't see anyone except for my psychiatrist every week and my best friend every other month - for a year. I had all the time in the world, morning, afternoon, evening and night every day of the week, every week. I tried to hook up with some of my friends, but was declined. How busy can they be?, I thought to myself, realizing I had no reason to live in Uppsala anymore. No, I don't know if that was true, that nobody wanted to hang with me, or if I just caught everone at bad timing. I want to believe that isn't true, but I honestly don't know what to believe. That's why I avoided Facebook too, was too damn upset to care about anyone or anything outside of my parents house. I still don't know what's going on, but I just missed you all. And if Facebook entries is all I'm gonna get, that's better than nothing.
Annoying thing about those that work where I live: Every morning they ask me if I have been up all night, as if that's a crime. Well I have to be awake sometime!
Okay this is kinda sad, but I've been thinking about why I decided to move to Gotland and the phrase that came to me was: "I have a hundred friends and no one wants to be with me." Cause that's the truth. I didn't see anyone except for my psychiatrist every week and my best friend every other month - for a year. I had all the time in the world, morning, afternoon, evening and night every day of the week, every week. I tried to hook up with some of my friends, but was declined. How busy can they be?, I thought to myself, realizing I had no reason to live in Uppsala anymore. No, I don't know if that was true, that nobody wanted to hang with me, or if I just caught everone at bad timing. I want to believe that isn't true, but I honestly don't know what to believe. That's why I avoided Facebook too, was too damn upset to care about anyone or anything outside of my parents house. I still don't know what's going on, but I just missed you all. And if Facebook entries is all I'm gonna get, that's better than nothing.
Demon otherkin
I just made myself a bloody rare beef for dinner, and for sauce I used the "left over" blood, spiced it a little, but nothing to go with it. Just the beef. I've almost forgotten that awesome rush I get from consuming blood. Missed it so much! I have to stop watching vampire movies, they always make me thirst for blood. No I don't think I'm a vampire anymore just because I get high on blood, that's just stupid. Anna says: and being a demon otherkin is not stupid then? -No, it isn't. It's one thing thinking you're a blood sucking, superstrong, superfast and sun allergic creature of the damned and it's a completely different matter knowing for sure since you were four years old that you are not human, never was, never going to be, and prefer the night over day, enjoy blood and okay I'll give you a list of reasons:
Chaotic
Misanthropic behavior
Detailed oriented
Stalking
Telepathy
Interest of human behaviors and concepts
The need for knowledge
Tend to frighten people without reason
Pride
Sense of entitled freedom
Capricious
Failure in life
(I found this list on an otherkin forum)
... and I also have phantom limbs such as horns, tail and wings. I just couldn't make sense of all that until rather recently. I went from thinking I might be a dragon, vampire, fallen angel and what not until I found this information about demonkins. I was terrified, cause I've always thought of demons as evil, so I didn't really like the idea at first. It took some time for it so sink in and for me to accept it. Almost like a diagnosis! Once it did though I started to study demonology (but I got tired of it quite quickly) to find "my kind", but I haven't made much progress. There are so many different kinds of demons based on folklore, myths and different religions. I sort of gave up on it. Thinking maybe I should dress up as my true demonic form for Halloween, if I have somewhere to go that is.
It does make a lot sense as to why I've never felt at home on this planet, and 24 years later I still haven't gotten used to living in a human body. Cause that I am sure of, that my body is human, even though it's behaving a bit strange at times. When I was a child I thought otherwise, that I was an alien or a some sort of mutant. I watched "Roswell" and identified with the human-looking aliens with magic powers. I have, or had, some of those to. Quite insignificant "powers" though. I've bent a couple of spoons like the famous Uri Geller, turned my eyes green and through telepathy moved a pencil once or twice. I'm still working on making my hair black naturally, but no progress so far.
Nowadays I can't even heal people (or animals) with my hands anymore, I think it might have something to with me be being a wreck. I really miss it though, even though I mostly hid it from others to avoid confrontation, but it was still meaningful to me and always made me smile. Maybe sometime in the future, you never know.
Chaotic
Misanthropic behavior
Detailed oriented
Stalking
Telepathy
Interest of human behaviors and concepts
The need for knowledge
Tend to frighten people without reason
Pride
Sense of entitled freedom
Capricious
Failure in life
(I found this list on an otherkin forum)
... and I also have phantom limbs such as horns, tail and wings. I just couldn't make sense of all that until rather recently. I went from thinking I might be a dragon, vampire, fallen angel and what not until I found this information about demonkins. I was terrified, cause I've always thought of demons as evil, so I didn't really like the idea at first. It took some time for it so sink in and for me to accept it. Almost like a diagnosis! Once it did though I started to study demonology (but I got tired of it quite quickly) to find "my kind", but I haven't made much progress. There are so many different kinds of demons based on folklore, myths and different religions. I sort of gave up on it. Thinking maybe I should dress up as my true demonic form for Halloween, if I have somewhere to go that is.
It does make a lot sense as to why I've never felt at home on this planet, and 24 years later I still haven't gotten used to living in a human body. Cause that I am sure of, that my body is human, even though it's behaving a bit strange at times. When I was a child I thought otherwise, that I was an alien or a some sort of mutant. I watched "Roswell" and identified with the human-looking aliens with magic powers. I have, or had, some of those to. Quite insignificant "powers" though. I've bent a couple of spoons like the famous Uri Geller, turned my eyes green and through telepathy moved a pencil once or twice. I'm still working on making my hair black naturally, but no progress so far.
Nowadays I can't even heal people (or animals) with my hands anymore, I think it might have something to with me be being a wreck. I really miss it though, even though I mostly hid it from others to avoid confrontation, but it was still meaningful to me and always made me smile. Maybe sometime in the future, you never know.
Thursday, 6 June 2013
Wishes (poem)
These scars really run deep
to the essence of my soul
from childhood I've been taught
to stay in my role
That bullies are stronger
and I'm out of control
I wanted to be special
noticed and tall
But then came depression
and I hated them all
grew stronger and safer
before I started to fall
Obsessed with labels
so they'd know who to call
It turned to a chaos
I couldn't control
I'm forced into alienation
and I regret it all
but once wishes are made
they're made once and for all
to the essence of my soul
from childhood I've been taught
to stay in my role
That bullies are stronger
and I'm out of control
I wanted to be special
noticed and tall
But then came depression
and I hated them all
grew stronger and safer
before I started to fall
Obsessed with labels
so they'd know who to call
It turned to a chaos
I couldn't control
I'm forced into alienation
and I regret it all
but once wishes are made
they're made once and for all
Wishful thinking
Sunday: 306 kcal. Monday: 300 kcal. Tuesday: 112 kcal. Wednesday: 64 kcal. I don't know where this is gonna end, and I don't care. The last two days are only the sugar I have in my tea, cause I haven't eaten. I don't know if I'm ranting this as a means of trying to get my senses back, or if I'm just fascinated. Might be both. I think it's safe to say I'm on a little thing commonly called a downward spiral, though I might be wrong. Cause I feel indifferent. My body aches for solid food and sometimes my stomache rumbles, but my mind is as clear(?) as ever. In fact, I feel more energetic and alert. Maybe it's because I have this insane feeling of excitement when I'm counting hours without food and dreadfully stepping on that scale every day to see if the numbers have changed. It just feels so good to be hungry for hours, days and nights in a row, that pain... my sweet, sweet pain. Maybe that's why I feel so calm, I need pain to feel calm, and what better way than to have it constantly and under my complete control?
It feels like I can't even grasp the degree of insanity I've recently reached. At least I'm aware of what's going on and the risks I take, and just because of that I declare myself insane. I've often wondered if perhaps I'm one of the most self aware persons with psychiatric diagnoses. But alas, I'm also a hypochondriac in that area. I believe I have at least ten different psychiatric conditions, and the list is only getter longer as the years progress. I constantly ask my therapist, psychiatrist or doctor: "do you think I have dysthymia?" or "I think I might hade ADD" or whatever. They all look at me like I'm nuts. They seem to think "you already have borderline, asperger, transsexualism and depression and you still think you have this one too?!" I believe it's a rare form of hypochondria, cause I haven't yet found another one like that. I suppose I just like to collect labels. Perhaps what started that was my parents complete rejection to any kinds of labels.
Well that's just typical me... What's wrong with being normal? I want to be normal! Please, if anyone have an instructional manual on how to be normal, don't hesitate to give me a call. I mean it. I'm tired of being so fucking weird I can't even go unnoticed wearing bland and boring, H&M clothing in the middle of Uppsala at rush hour. I just want to blend in... I want to be able to blend in. I even tried giving up on looking goth cause I just can't take all those people staring anymore. I don't want that, trust me, I love looking goth! Just adore those bloodred dress shirts, sister of mercy t-shirts, black leather coat, my Invader boots and I do have long hair dyed black for a reason. I just want to have that upportunity that most people who has an alterative choise of clothing. That they can just put on a pair of blue jeans, a yellow t-shirt and a cap on their head and nobody would even glance at them taking a walk to the corner store for groceries. Cause I don't have that opportunity. It doesn't matter what I wear.
I've been a freak for a lifetime, I hate people and their stupid ignorant questions. They either ask if I'm going to a funeral, if I'm in pain, if I'm a guy or a girl, sad, angry, high, drunk, lazy, stupid and even the attention I get when someone accidentally see what I'm drawing bugs me. Why can't just people leave me the fuck alone!? I'm wearing a track suit on my way to the corner store to buy milk and I don't want to answer if I'm high or not!
I don't know what to do. I don't think there is anything I can do. My weirdness is glowing in neon. To think, when I was a kid I craved to different, to be special. Be careful what you're wishing, it might just come true.
It feels like I can't even grasp the degree of insanity I've recently reached. At least I'm aware of what's going on and the risks I take, and just because of that I declare myself insane. I've often wondered if perhaps I'm one of the most self aware persons with psychiatric diagnoses. But alas, I'm also a hypochondriac in that area. I believe I have at least ten different psychiatric conditions, and the list is only getter longer as the years progress. I constantly ask my therapist, psychiatrist or doctor: "do you think I have dysthymia?" or "I think I might hade ADD" or whatever. They all look at me like I'm nuts. They seem to think "you already have borderline, asperger, transsexualism and depression and you still think you have this one too?!" I believe it's a rare form of hypochondria, cause I haven't yet found another one like that. I suppose I just like to collect labels. Perhaps what started that was my parents complete rejection to any kinds of labels.
Well that's just typical me... What's wrong with being normal? I want to be normal! Please, if anyone have an instructional manual on how to be normal, don't hesitate to give me a call. I mean it. I'm tired of being so fucking weird I can't even go unnoticed wearing bland and boring, H&M clothing in the middle of Uppsala at rush hour. I just want to blend in... I want to be able to blend in. I even tried giving up on looking goth cause I just can't take all those people staring anymore. I don't want that, trust me, I love looking goth! Just adore those bloodred dress shirts, sister of mercy t-shirts, black leather coat, my Invader boots and I do have long hair dyed black for a reason. I just want to have that upportunity that most people who has an alterative choise of clothing. That they can just put on a pair of blue jeans, a yellow t-shirt and a cap on their head and nobody would even glance at them taking a walk to the corner store for groceries. Cause I don't have that opportunity. It doesn't matter what I wear.
I've been a freak for a lifetime, I hate people and their stupid ignorant questions. They either ask if I'm going to a funeral, if I'm in pain, if I'm a guy or a girl, sad, angry, high, drunk, lazy, stupid and even the attention I get when someone accidentally see what I'm drawing bugs me. Why can't just people leave me the fuck alone!? I'm wearing a track suit on my way to the corner store to buy milk and I don't want to answer if I'm high or not!
I don't know what to do. I don't think there is anything I can do. My weirdness is glowing in neon. To think, when I was a kid I craved to different, to be special. Be careful what you're wishing, it might just come true.
The night is my day
My heart aches. I can feel the razors cutting it to strings that slowly suffocates me. My own heart is suffocating me. Over and over and all I can hope for is that I finally stop breathing. Yes, I am in love again.
My nights are devided into three parts, like the day is for most people. I don't have mornings, afternoons or evenings. I have twilight, early night and late night to the brink of dawn. During twilight, when the sun has just started to go down until it is dark, I'm usually in a quite good mood. It only takes a few minutes until I'm digging into some fancy project or just enjoying a nice cup of tea and ten cigarettes. In the early night, somewhere between ten and two, I get low and feel rather horrible, but strangely comforted by the night. Then there is the late night, as I like to call it, during what most people would call early morning, occurs between two and five. In this time I'm starting to feel a bit lighter, usually, but tired. After that I get more and more tired until I fall asleep, somewhere in the morning. This has always been the part of the day I feel most tired. Whether I've been up all night and slept during the day as a part of a daily scedule, or have a normal rythm. Or anything inbetween. The time between six and eleven in the morning I am a zombie just risen from the grave. And I mean that literally of course.
It's also the coldest time of the day, and maybe that plays into it. Being cold has always made me more tired, but I can't fall asleep if I'm not warm. I'm basically a reptile, so my bedroom has to be either really warm or I need a shit load of duvets, comforters and blankets, usually at least one of each, sometimes more. Sometimes it's not enough no matter what I do and desperately I end up trying to sleep in my winterjacket, mittens, wool socks and scarf. When I'm freezing like that I'm going through hell. I remember one particular winter that was just like that. December 2010, I shall never forget you.
My nights are devided into three parts, like the day is for most people. I don't have mornings, afternoons or evenings. I have twilight, early night and late night to the brink of dawn. During twilight, when the sun has just started to go down until it is dark, I'm usually in a quite good mood. It only takes a few minutes until I'm digging into some fancy project or just enjoying a nice cup of tea and ten cigarettes. In the early night, somewhere between ten and two, I get low and feel rather horrible, but strangely comforted by the night. Then there is the late night, as I like to call it, during what most people would call early morning, occurs between two and five. In this time I'm starting to feel a bit lighter, usually, but tired. After that I get more and more tired until I fall asleep, somewhere in the morning. This has always been the part of the day I feel most tired. Whether I've been up all night and slept during the day as a part of a daily scedule, or have a normal rythm. Or anything inbetween. The time between six and eleven in the morning I am a zombie just risen from the grave. And I mean that literally of course.
It's also the coldest time of the day, and maybe that plays into it. Being cold has always made me more tired, but I can't fall asleep if I'm not warm. I'm basically a reptile, so my bedroom has to be either really warm or I need a shit load of duvets, comforters and blankets, usually at least one of each, sometimes more. Sometimes it's not enough no matter what I do and desperately I end up trying to sleep in my winterjacket, mittens, wool socks and scarf. When I'm freezing like that I'm going through hell. I remember one particular winter that was just like that. December 2010, I shall never forget you.
Perfection in a moment
What I like best are feelings of slight sadness, but not overwhelming. When realizing that I don't need to know everything about myself. That it's fine just the way it is. Just the right amount of bitterness and a calm that runt right through my body, mind and soul. Genuine emotions that holds a significance. At the moment, and for the rest of my life.
That was what I felt last time I tried to commit suicide.
That was what I felt last time I tried to commit suicide.
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Degrees of awfulness
I'm starving myself as a means of self harm. Two days without any kind of food, 60 hours to be precise. Just wanna see how long I can resist the urge to eat, wanna see what happens and how long I can go before crashing. I drink tea though, and water, but that's it.
I can't tell if it's food or newly cut grass I smell from outside my window. Just realizing how smoking effects my sense of smell. Can hardly remember what it was like to be able to smell someone's perfume from across a long corridor, the smell from the pizzeria a block away or my one day old garbage from the stairs outside my apartment. That I'm glad for. I still have an enhanced sense of smell, but a lot less prominent.
I'm down on 74 kg sharp now, the lowest since my weight gain. I'm just scared I will gain weight again when I start eating, cause let's face it: I won't be able to live on tea and cigarettes for all eternity.
I think I figured out why I can't seem to learn from my mistakes. Cause even though I remember very clearly what happened and when, I can't remember what it felt like. I've read through some of my old diaries from times when I was the most unstable, depressed, assaulted, chaotic and I read about how I described what I felt, but I just can't remember it. Maybe I on some subconcious level block it out cause of the particular degree of awfulness. That would be understandable, but it's still annoying. I want to feel every horroble emotion I've ever had over and over again, really dig deep into it and maybe I'll actually learn something from it, or at least remember to avoid going through that exact same thing allover again. But no...! Repeat and repeat and repeat. Until I'm so damaged I have to live a padded cell for the rest of my life. In a straight jacket. Pumped full with medicine enough to kill a horse. I think I would beg for euthanasia.
I can't tell if it's food or newly cut grass I smell from outside my window. Just realizing how smoking effects my sense of smell. Can hardly remember what it was like to be able to smell someone's perfume from across a long corridor, the smell from the pizzeria a block away or my one day old garbage from the stairs outside my apartment. That I'm glad for. I still have an enhanced sense of smell, but a lot less prominent.
I'm down on 74 kg sharp now, the lowest since my weight gain. I'm just scared I will gain weight again when I start eating, cause let's face it: I won't be able to live on tea and cigarettes for all eternity.
I think I figured out why I can't seem to learn from my mistakes. Cause even though I remember very clearly what happened and when, I can't remember what it felt like. I've read through some of my old diaries from times when I was the most unstable, depressed, assaulted, chaotic and I read about how I described what I felt, but I just can't remember it. Maybe I on some subconcious level block it out cause of the particular degree of awfulness. That would be understandable, but it's still annoying. I want to feel every horroble emotion I've ever had over and over again, really dig deep into it and maybe I'll actually learn something from it, or at least remember to avoid going through that exact same thing allover again. But no...! Repeat and repeat and repeat. Until I'm so damaged I have to live a padded cell for the rest of my life. In a straight jacket. Pumped full with medicine enough to kill a horse. I think I would beg for euthanasia.
A good day
I'm feeling a bit better today! No more suicidal thoughts! Today I'm okay with being alive, looking at nice clothes on internet for "this I'm gonna wear when I've lost some weight" and stuff like that. Cause what's the point buying really nice, expensive clothes if I can only wear them for a few months?
Bought some fabric/cloth I intended to make a scarf of, a few weeks ago. Now I'm actually doing it. Making a scarf. It's kinda easy, all I have to do is cut the fabric in a square and put a welt on. Shouldn't take too long. But it kinda did, cause my sewing machine was having a slight case of stupidity. It's finished now though.
I'm hoping this isn't gonna lead to another manic episode, just because I have some energy today, and feeling alert and happy... and I haven't eaten i over 24 hours... Yeah it's probably a manic episode going on... crap. Gonna go for a walk later tonight. Just hoping I can fall asleep in the morning.
This roller coaster thing in my mood is really making me dizzy. I was on top of the world last Friday, was okay on Saturday, fell into severe depression on Sunday and Monday, and today I'm happy and alert. It makes no sense what so ever. It could just be a phase, or if it persists... I don't want to think about that.
Bought some fabric/cloth I intended to make a scarf of, a few weeks ago. Now I'm actually doing it. Making a scarf. It's kinda easy, all I have to do is cut the fabric in a square and put a welt on. Shouldn't take too long. But it kinda did, cause my sewing machine was having a slight case of stupidity. It's finished now though.
I'm hoping this isn't gonna lead to another manic episode, just because I have some energy today, and feeling alert and happy... and I haven't eaten i over 24 hours... Yeah it's probably a manic episode going on... crap. Gonna go for a walk later tonight. Just hoping I can fall asleep in the morning.
This roller coaster thing in my mood is really making me dizzy. I was on top of the world last Friday, was okay on Saturday, fell into severe depression on Sunday and Monday, and today I'm happy and alert. It makes no sense what so ever. It could just be a phase, or if it persists... I don't want to think about that.
Monday, 3 June 2013
A bad day
Burned myself with cigarettes again. It's the best quick fix pain cause burn wounds are one of the most painful things, and it lasts for days.
Then I took some pills. Just wanna kill this pain inside me, I'll do anything to make it go away, and I know of no other way.
Guess I'll end up hospitalized in Visby as well, after all. The thought has crossed my mind, that I would fall apart again so that others would have pick up the pieces again. I'm such a mess. We'll see what happens though. I'm not so keen on living in a steralized ward locked up without my computer, have a snoring room mate and stupid rules that I would break ten times a day, being force fed and all that hassle. I mean there are better ways to spend the summer.
I'm shaking. Don't know if it's because it's freezing in here, the pills, the complete lack of food today, or something else - or all the above. Listening to my "guilty pleasure" music: Tokio Hotel. Shame on me, I know! But they're good, and besides, I can listen to whatever the fuck I wan't. Guilty as charged or not.
So this me having a bad day... imagine what a really bad day is like. Or by the way, don't.
Then I took some pills. Just wanna kill this pain inside me, I'll do anything to make it go away, and I know of no other way.
Guess I'll end up hospitalized in Visby as well, after all. The thought has crossed my mind, that I would fall apart again so that others would have pick up the pieces again. I'm such a mess. We'll see what happens though. I'm not so keen on living in a steralized ward locked up without my computer, have a snoring room mate and stupid rules that I would break ten times a day, being force fed and all that hassle. I mean there are better ways to spend the summer.
I'm shaking. Don't know if it's because it's freezing in here, the pills, the complete lack of food today, or something else - or all the above. Listening to my "guilty pleasure" music: Tokio Hotel. Shame on me, I know! But they're good, and besides, I can listen to whatever the fuck I wan't. Guilty as charged or not.
So this me having a bad day... imagine what a really bad day is like. Or by the way, don't.
Regret
I'm thinking of quitting DBT and stop taking my medication. I'm just not receptive for help. I'm not willing to work for a better life. I've just given up. I will let the darkness consume me.
All I want to do is write about my miserable life and self harm until I won't be able to repair. Smoke until my lungs are so thick with tar I can't breathe. Listen to music so loud I'll become deaf. Close the blinds, shut the door, shun the world outside and disappear. I'm too weak to live, and I'm too weak for suicide. I won't be able to live it through, I never be fulfilled, I will never be okay. I'm giving up on ever finding medicine that works, giving up on hoping for a painfree day, giving up on a decent life and ever getting better.
The truth is, I wish I had killed myself on my 13th birthday. Would have spared me a lot of pain. Cause it's been down hill ever since. Every year a little harder. My greatest regret is being born here, I made a horrible mistake and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I can. I'm afraid suicide will make things worse, that I'll end up in an even more awful place than this, or having to do it all over again. I know when I came here I had a lot to learn, I know I didn't want to reincarnate again, that I had no choice. As a bargain I chose to pack in as much experience as I could in this one life, a crash course, so I won't have to reincarnate a third time. But I don't know if it was my own choice or if I had to. I don't know what would be worse, cause if it was my own retarded idea I'll hate myself for that, and if I was forced to I would hate everything else. I don't know what would be worse.
All I have left is my soul, if even that. Eleven suicide attempts, maybe the 12th will be the charm? I don't know, I'm not up for that right now. It's freaky scary for some reason, especially cause I'm certain my next attempt will be as close to 100% deadly as can be. I won't survive it, unless someone finds me within ten minutes, and even by then it might be too late. I'm through with overdoses and trying to bleed to death, I'm going for a new, more effective method. But I don't want to, not now. It's much talk and not much action really, but I fantasize about it. I guess it's just who I am, born to be miserable.
I'm pathetic, I really am. I'm really, really, utterly pathetic. Just look at this?! And I've been at it for a decade! Just get yourself together John, just get a grip and realise just how ridiculous this is, for crying out loud! How long is this gonna go on for? Everytime I wake up after another attempt I feel so guilty, ashamed and horrible for causing the ones I love so much pain and worry that someday I'll succeed, but more because I'm still alive.
That's the horrible truth: I feel worse for being alive than the fact that I've hurt my friends and family. That I'd rather die than live here with you. It can't be easy being friends with me, it can't be easy loving me. I realise that, I really do, and I am so sorry.
All I want to do is write about my miserable life and self harm until I won't be able to repair. Smoke until my lungs are so thick with tar I can't breathe. Listen to music so loud I'll become deaf. Close the blinds, shut the door, shun the world outside and disappear. I'm too weak to live, and I'm too weak for suicide. I won't be able to live it through, I never be fulfilled, I will never be okay. I'm giving up on ever finding medicine that works, giving up on hoping for a painfree day, giving up on a decent life and ever getting better.
The truth is, I wish I had killed myself on my 13th birthday. Would have spared me a lot of pain. Cause it's been down hill ever since. Every year a little harder. My greatest regret is being born here, I made a horrible mistake and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I can. I'm afraid suicide will make things worse, that I'll end up in an even more awful place than this, or having to do it all over again. I know when I came here I had a lot to learn, I know I didn't want to reincarnate again, that I had no choice. As a bargain I chose to pack in as much experience as I could in this one life, a crash course, so I won't have to reincarnate a third time. But I don't know if it was my own choice or if I had to. I don't know what would be worse, cause if it was my own retarded idea I'll hate myself for that, and if I was forced to I would hate everything else. I don't know what would be worse.
All I have left is my soul, if even that. Eleven suicide attempts, maybe the 12th will be the charm? I don't know, I'm not up for that right now. It's freaky scary for some reason, especially cause I'm certain my next attempt will be as close to 100% deadly as can be. I won't survive it, unless someone finds me within ten minutes, and even by then it might be too late. I'm through with overdoses and trying to bleed to death, I'm going for a new, more effective method. But I don't want to, not now. It's much talk and not much action really, but I fantasize about it. I guess it's just who I am, born to be miserable.
I'm pathetic, I really am. I'm really, really, utterly pathetic. Just look at this?! And I've been at it for a decade! Just get yourself together John, just get a grip and realise just how ridiculous this is, for crying out loud! How long is this gonna go on for? Everytime I wake up after another attempt I feel so guilty, ashamed and horrible for causing the ones I love so much pain and worry that someday I'll succeed, but more because I'm still alive.
That's the horrible truth: I feel worse for being alive than the fact that I've hurt my friends and family. That I'd rather die than live here with you. It can't be easy being friends with me, it can't be easy loving me. I realise that, I really do, and I am so sorry.
Hurt *trigger warning*
I don't think I've realised just how much I'm self harming. Cause, yeah I haven't cut myself for five months up until recently, but I've definately been self harming. Just thinking about it, I do it all the fucking time. All the time.
- Usually when I get angry I hit things, bang my fists into furniture, walls or whatever is closest, and I know I do it for the pain.
- Same with banging my head, in walls mostly, or the floor depending on where I am. That is highly effective cause of the headache I already have, and I'm scared of making it worse, but I just can't stop.
- My fingers are always on my lips ripping them to pieces. Most of you who have met me IRL knows what I'm talking about. I do that all the time, every day, and it's definately a form of self harm. Most don't peg it as that, cause it doesn't look like that I suppose, but since my lips are always aching and bleeding... yup.
- Even my smoking is a form of self harm for me, since one of the strongest reasons why I smoke is because it's supposed to be dangerous. If I'm really lucky, I'll even die from it... some day.
- I take overdoses, mostly of my medication, every now and then. Poisoning myself one way or the other, I've even drunk sink cleaners. I don't recommend that one. (Or the others for that matter!)
- Sometimes I get really damn drunk cause of the same reasons, fuck myself up on purpose.
- When I don't have razors and need that "quick fix" it can happen that I burn myself with cigarettes.
This list can go on forever. Most of these are some sort of pseudo-suicide, by which I mean I don't try to kill myself, but try kill something inside me, a part of me. But it may look or seem like a suicide attempt. Like when I at a point took an overdose of my sleeping pills with the motivation "I just want to sleep, it doesn't matter if I'll never wake up", which ment the intention wasn't to die, but it would have been a bonus.
I never really new on a consious level just what the fuck I'm doing to myself. Maybe I didn't want to know just how self destructive I am. I've been doing this since I was a kid, I think what started this was when I leaned my head towards the window in the car-door and it hurt from it being kinda bumpy and stuff on the road. Instead of stop doing that, I kept doing it, cause I liked how that pain felt. I think I was about seven then.
- Usually when I get angry I hit things, bang my fists into furniture, walls or whatever is closest, and I know I do it for the pain.
- Same with banging my head, in walls mostly, or the floor depending on where I am. That is highly effective cause of the headache I already have, and I'm scared of making it worse, but I just can't stop.
- My fingers are always on my lips ripping them to pieces. Most of you who have met me IRL knows what I'm talking about. I do that all the time, every day, and it's definately a form of self harm. Most don't peg it as that, cause it doesn't look like that I suppose, but since my lips are always aching and bleeding... yup.
- Even my smoking is a form of self harm for me, since one of the strongest reasons why I smoke is because it's supposed to be dangerous. If I'm really lucky, I'll even die from it... some day.
- I take overdoses, mostly of my medication, every now and then. Poisoning myself one way or the other, I've even drunk sink cleaners. I don't recommend that one. (Or the others for that matter!)
- Sometimes I get really damn drunk cause of the same reasons, fuck myself up on purpose.
- When I don't have razors and need that "quick fix" it can happen that I burn myself with cigarettes.
This list can go on forever. Most of these are some sort of pseudo-suicide, by which I mean I don't try to kill myself, but try kill something inside me, a part of me. But it may look or seem like a suicide attempt. Like when I at a point took an overdose of my sleeping pills with the motivation "I just want to sleep, it doesn't matter if I'll never wake up", which ment the intention wasn't to die, but it would have been a bonus.
I never really new on a consious level just what the fuck I'm doing to myself. Maybe I didn't want to know just how self destructive I am. I've been doing this since I was a kid, I think what started this was when I leaned my head towards the window in the car-door and it hurt from it being kinda bumpy and stuff on the road. Instead of stop doing that, I kept doing it, cause I liked how that pain felt. I think I was about seven then.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
What I am
"Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you need
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul" - from Abney Park's song "Creep"
That song really speaks to me right now, on several different levels. Yeah I'm a fucking creep, whenever I start liking someone I become this smooth stalker. I've been stalking various people for quite many years, it's like an obsession. Very creepy indeed. And that about wanting a perfect body, a perfect soul... yeah I think you know what I mean. I'll run three miles a day and stop eating to get thinner and then I'll hit the gym and probably won't leave it until my final goal is achieved. It doesn't matter if I'll faint ten times a day, constantly sore and short of breath. I like pain, and it's better if something good will come out of it too. I do want a perfect soul, always trying to become a better person and ending up losing the best of me. It's always been like that, all I do is trying to change to the better, but it ends up getting worse instead. I guess it's in my nature.
Whatever you need
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul" - from Abney Park's song "Creep"
That song really speaks to me right now, on several different levels. Yeah I'm a fucking creep, whenever I start liking someone I become this smooth stalker. I've been stalking various people for quite many years, it's like an obsession. Very creepy indeed. And that about wanting a perfect body, a perfect soul... yeah I think you know what I mean. I'll run three miles a day and stop eating to get thinner and then I'll hit the gym and probably won't leave it until my final goal is achieved. It doesn't matter if I'll faint ten times a day, constantly sore and short of breath. I like pain, and it's better if something good will come out of it too. I do want a perfect soul, always trying to become a better person and ending up losing the best of me. It's always been like that, all I do is trying to change to the better, but it ends up getting worse instead. I guess it's in my nature.
Unpredictably unstable
My mother called my doctor about the medicine causing my manic episode, and when I called her today she said she had gotten a hold of my doctor. Her reply was that it is very unlikely, almost impossisble for the medicine to have caused that.
I didn't know what to say. I thought I knew myself pretty well by now... but shit just keeps on happening! I have no idea what so ever why this occured! It's creeping me out, and I'm getting more and more scared of myself. First all those heinous thoughts and fantasies about murder and turture and now this. I'm fucking creeping myself out completely. What the hell is going on exactly?
I'm completely unpredictable, even to myself.
From one thing to another... I've been having these feelings for someone, almost as if I'm falling in love. I hate it, I don't want it and I'm definately too unstable already as it is. But I think this is starting to get out of hand, though I've tried everything I can to prevent this. I haven't been in love for two and a half years, and that was the best there is. I can't handle this, cause I know where it's gonna end, the way it always does. Only once in my life have I been in love with someone who loved me back and that relationship turned to a complete disaster. Love is the most painful feeling I have ever felt and since my last heart break led me to five suicide attempts in eight months, I really want to stop this ASAP. Did I mention he's unobtainable? No, well there it is then.
I'm always living on borrowed time just a heartbeat away from suicide, but it can always get worse. And I'd feel like an idiot if I know my next heart break was something I had literally caused myself... well, I think you get the idea.
I didn't know what to say. I thought I knew myself pretty well by now... but shit just keeps on happening! I have no idea what so ever why this occured! It's creeping me out, and I'm getting more and more scared of myself. First all those heinous thoughts and fantasies about murder and turture and now this. I'm fucking creeping myself out completely. What the hell is going on exactly?
I'm completely unpredictable, even to myself.
From one thing to another... I've been having these feelings for someone, almost as if I'm falling in love. I hate it, I don't want it and I'm definately too unstable already as it is. But I think this is starting to get out of hand, though I've tried everything I can to prevent this. I haven't been in love for two and a half years, and that was the best there is. I can't handle this, cause I know where it's gonna end, the way it always does. Only once in my life have I been in love with someone who loved me back and that relationship turned to a complete disaster. Love is the most painful feeling I have ever felt and since my last heart break led me to five suicide attempts in eight months, I really want to stop this ASAP. Did I mention he's unobtainable? No, well there it is then.
I'm always living on borrowed time just a heartbeat away from suicide, but it can always get worse. And I'd feel like an idiot if I know my next heart break was something I had literally caused myself... well, I think you get the idea.
Bones
Me and Anna are having some strange conversations today. Somehow the thought about the ivory bone colour got into me. I started thinking that since all skeletons basically have the same light yellow-beige tone, it's weird that some people can't wear clothes or make-up in that colour. Me, for example. Those that can are springs or autums and they can only wear warm colours, such as ivory. I'm a winter, and both winters and summers can only wear cool colours, such as purple for example. So it got me thinking, does that mean my skeleton doesn't go with my skintone? Or is it in another hue that does go with my skintone?
Annas reply is: Do you want to find out?
Obviously she means harming myself bad enough to see my bones.
My immidiate reply to her insane question is: NO! ... but of course now I can't get the idea out of my head. Thanks a lot!
Annas reply is: Do you want to find out?
Obviously she means harming myself bad enough to see my bones.
My immidiate reply to her insane question is: NO! ... but of course now I can't get the idea out of my head. Thanks a lot!
Saturday, 1 June 2013
My two obsessions
This is general and mostly directed to people who are not my friends but that I have to deal with anyway. I wish those people would just:
- stop complaining about me smoking. I'm not gonna quit, period.
- stop asking if I have eaten.
- stop assuming my self harming is in any way life-threatening. (I've been at it for eight years so I think I'd know when it's getting dangerous).
- stop assuming I don't lose weight cause I'm eating unhealthy, cause at this point even a body builder would ask me to chill and have a cookie.
Just made myself happy finding out my weight is down to 74.9 kg! This is what keeps me going, this is all that matters right now. That and the writing, of course. Those are my two obsessions right now.
The endless flow of words that become text. Everything I remember that I scale down a notch if I'm uncomfortable going into detail. And the more I write about what I remember, the more I seem to remember about things I thought was long forgotten. Like when I thought I've forgotten almost everything from the school years when I was ten through thirteen. That I didn't have enough to fill out a whole chapter. Five pages later I realise I remember more about that time than everything up until then. This is very interesting! When I wrote about basically all my school years up until I was fifteen, I've felt every single moment as if I was there now, one by one in a streaming flow. It's really a new way for me to experience my life. And I think I kinda like it. A normal dosage of everything in the right order, and I realise most crazy things I've done and been through was in perfect timing and syncronisity. Kinda amazing!
I think this is really gonna be some interresting, though kinda heavy, reading. I will select a few of my friends to read this through (yes, you have to!) to get some input, feedback and reflection. I mean, I can't just write a 300 pages book and send it to different publishers without having anyone else reading it through first. No matter how many times I read and correct it, I will still need others opinions. As simple as that.
- stop complaining about me smoking. I'm not gonna quit, period.
- stop asking if I have eaten.
- stop assuming my self harming is in any way life-threatening. (I've been at it for eight years so I think I'd know when it's getting dangerous).
- stop assuming I don't lose weight cause I'm eating unhealthy, cause at this point even a body builder would ask me to chill and have a cookie.
Just made myself happy finding out my weight is down to 74.9 kg! This is what keeps me going, this is all that matters right now. That and the writing, of course. Those are my two obsessions right now.
The endless flow of words that become text. Everything I remember that I scale down a notch if I'm uncomfortable going into detail. And the more I write about what I remember, the more I seem to remember about things I thought was long forgotten. Like when I thought I've forgotten almost everything from the school years when I was ten through thirteen. That I didn't have enough to fill out a whole chapter. Five pages later I realise I remember more about that time than everything up until then. This is very interesting! When I wrote about basically all my school years up until I was fifteen, I've felt every single moment as if I was there now, one by one in a streaming flow. It's really a new way for me to experience my life. And I think I kinda like it. A normal dosage of everything in the right order, and I realise most crazy things I've done and been through was in perfect timing and syncronisity. Kinda amazing!
I think this is really gonna be some interresting, though kinda heavy, reading. I will select a few of my friends to read this through (yes, you have to!) to get some input, feedback and reflection. I mean, I can't just write a 300 pages book and send it to different publishers without having anyone else reading it through first. No matter how many times I read and correct it, I will still need others opinions. As simple as that.
Back on track
I've just sworn my life over to Satan. Well, yesterday, actually. So now I'm a satanist, definitive. Bad idea? We'll see about that. I feel better already. He gave me good advice and it worked like a charm. Maybe it's just me being psychotic as well as neurotic, moody, hyper or whatever the fuck I was feeling. But it doesn't matter, I'm grateful it worked however the idea came to me. The idea was to change the music I was listening to, to a specific band and a specific playlist.
It feels good to not be an agnostic anymore, it was like trying to balance a scale that would always tip over one way or the other. Made me dizzy. Just wanna add that this is a decision both me and Anna agreed to, which makes it even more right.
Yesterday I only did what my mind wanted, so I'm gonna make it up today by only doing what my body wants and needs. It's only fair. Started out with a breakfast of yoghurt, a piece of full grain bread and two cups of tea. I must have been very tired when my mania calmed down at 5.00 o'clock yesterday, cause an hour later I crawled into bed, fell asleep and didn't wake up until 14.30 today.
We'll see if I'm up for some more writing today. If I can just mellow out the shakes from the nicotine deficiency I created yesterday, and by sleeping for 20 hours.
It feels good to not be an agnostic anymore, it was like trying to balance a scale that would always tip over one way or the other. Made me dizzy. Just wanna add that this is a decision both me and Anna agreed to, which makes it even more right.
Yesterday I only did what my mind wanted, so I'm gonna make it up today by only doing what my body wants and needs. It's only fair. Started out with a breakfast of yoghurt, a piece of full grain bread and two cups of tea. I must have been very tired when my mania calmed down at 5.00 o'clock yesterday, cause an hour later I crawled into bed, fell asleep and didn't wake up until 14.30 today.
We'll see if I'm up for some more writing today. If I can just mellow out the shakes from the nicotine deficiency I created yesterday, and by sleeping for 20 hours.
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