You're probably way annoyed with me ranting mental disorders by now, but sorry, I have an obsession I need to feed. So here we go again... you may maim me later, I have to get this out of me. It started about three hours ago in the shower, as I thought it might be a good idea googling the phrase "I talk to people in my head". I can't believe I'm still shifting between thinking I have DID or Schizophrenia! I maim people mixing those conditions up, and I can't even figure out which one of them I have! Self diagnosing really can be fucking difficult... psychology class next? I wish I could get into such a course, but maybe I could at least buy a book on the subject?
I know my mom has a few. We are are quite alike me and my mother, on many levels. Though I don't really know what she finds interesting about psychology, she always disregards all disorder and whatever shit I'm ranting, saying we're just people when it comes down on it. She rejects labels like an electrical fence while I'm obsessed with them and collecting them like any aspie obsesses about his or her special interest. I suppose there's a reason for that as well, that we are opposites on that fact. I don't really blame her, but I think her rejecting labels and keeping my asperger diagnose from me until I was sixteen somehow sparked my interest for labels like some sort of rebellious act. Or I don't know, it's certainly not her fault however.
Anyway, I stumbled upon Schizophrenia again and now that suddenly fits a lot better. I know online quizzes really should be taken with a huge grain of salt, but the thing is, I scored so damn high I tipped the charts on like twenty different ones. Things, or symptoms, I have but didn't realise until now. Before I used to think that: nah I don't think people can read my mind, I don't have special abilities that people are jelous of or don't believe in, I'm not antisocial and lock myself indoors for as longs as frigging possible, I don't think I was reincarnated as someone special with some special purpose... but I do. That's spot on, along with other stuff like talking to people in my head, have difficulty seperating fantasy from reality, weird beliefs and a weird way of thinking, acting out emotions strangely, don't belong anywhere, and even procrastinating seems to be a symptom! But I don't hallucinate, or do I? Sure I might have delusion or two and acting a bit weird, but come on... that can't be enough for a diagnosis! If someone points out to me that something I experienced as real is not, I believe that person. I know that Anna isn't real in the sense that she is not a person on her own, though she is real in the sense that she's a part of me cause I am real. Sometimes I think this world is just an illusion or a dream/nightmare, but that's closer to escapism or wishful thinking rather than hallucination. I don't have any psychotic episodes, I don't consider myself psychotic and I don't think anyone else does either.
Arghhhh, damn! Why does this have to be so fucking hard! If I could just wrap my head around it and think! Step outside myself and see what others see! I wish there was just one disorder or whatever that could explain everything that is wrong with me. Maybe I should invent one? No, that would hardly help. I fucked up so bad, coming here. I should have known as a demon that being human would be purgatory. I wish I'd known. I wish that pinching myself and telling myself to wake up would actually work. But I've tried that for about twenty years, but a part of me will never stop believing that one day it will really work.
That's just great! I'm feeling homesick again. Thank you, thank you, thank you fucking brain, soul and body for making thiss mess of a life so damn fucking hard to stay in. No I have no plans for suicide, but the thoughts are still with me every day. They are. Memories of previous attempts flashing before my eyes, what I felt, what I did, what I wrote. The sweetness of being so close to death and the bitterness of leaving everyone I love behind. I fantasize sometimes, I admit that, but I don't want to go through that shit again. I want to make this life meaningful, or at least survivable on a mental level. I might not be dying like the starving kids in whatever country, or the cancer patients that aren't responding to treatment. But I'm dying in the way that my insanity might lead me to suicide at any given moment, with or without warning. And there's no treatment for that.
The psychiatrics don't know how to treat a person with different disorders constantly interlocking and over weighting each other, cause they aren't educated to tackle different areas like that. They all know one area and it won't help seeing three different specialist if none of them can put me together. They just drive me apart until I don't know why I'm going there in the first place. I haven't completely given up, I'm just expecting the worst, but hoping they can someday help me help myself before I meet my own demise. I don't want this life to be a failure, a constant aching longing for my long lost home, a road to tough to walk on, a river constantly drowning me, an endless chase for impossible things to happen, a disappointment or that I will simply leave unfinished without having any of my goals completed, that life is a game that no one can win. I don't want it to be like that, that I would have lived here for x number of years at it was all just a waste. I don't want to kill myself, I'm not sure I even want to die but I just don't think my life is worth living. Goddamnit, I have to make my life worth living. But how...?
I don't have the advantage of remembering a time when I was happy, that I'd have something to go back to. I've never been happy for more that like a few months altogether in my entire life. As I've said a gazillion times already, I didn't want to be born here. I was born with a broken heart, as I realised I had lost my home. I don't know what happiness is, I don't know what non-destructive romantic love is, I don't know how to party without antidepressants or pills for anxiety, headache and the entire list of medicine and drugs I take to cope. I don't know what it's like to have my needs met, physical or emotional. When people say things can get better, I can't even visualise it. What does that look like? Me being healthy and happy? Not relying on pills, booze, razorblades and cigarettes to stay alive? Not entering a destructive relationship with some psycho and then ending it a little too late? Not being on an emotional roller-coaster that ends in eating disorders and insomnia? Not hooking up with strangers from bars or the internet that sexually abuses me or that I manipulate or try to? Not isolating myself for months and thinking myself to a madness I can't break without trying to commit suicide? This list can go on forever.
My point is, I just don't see it will ever change. Maybe I want it this way. Maybe I want to risk my health, my life and live fast and die young. To get it over with, do as much as I can possibly do in as short time as possible. That is my purpose, the meaning of my life, or at least that's what I believe. I can't slow down, life is boring without insane adventures including dangerous relationships and a dangerous way of living. Life is just not as fun without self destruction, wild parties and casual sex. But it drains me so much I need to isolate from the world at times. But not all of my antisocial behaviour is voluntary. Sometimes I want to see my friends, but not up for a wild part cause the last one really took the best out of me, and no one wanted to see me outside the walls of dMz. Other times I wanted to see you, but I didn't have the strenght or courage to pick up the phone out of fear of rejection or that you'd think I was clingy. Now I haven't seen anyone except my family, the other patients in the psych-ward and in the DBT-group, the people working where I live and one stranger I met online - for over a year. Perhaps it's not so strange that I'm falling apart. It's like I'm completely alone and all I want is a fucking beer and a hug from someone who chose to be my friend. I don't know. Right now I really don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. Some days I seem to have all the answers, but tonight I'm just puking over all that crap.
If I keep up this drinking habit, I'll have to check myself into some sort of 12 step treatment. And what does "keep up" mean? I don't know, but certainly before I start having vodka for breakfast again.
*I'm firing off questions like missiles, but they aren't actual questions. Merely directed to myself or I don't know. Just don't take it personally okay? It's not a quiz, I promise.
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