Choices and voices

So today I'm starting over again, whatever that means I'm not sure yet. Was at my shrink's today and now I've got it confirmed that I actually have a phobia for sleep. It's about time! I told her I thought of my new addiction to sleep deprivation probably is a defence mechanism for my hypnophobia, which is also in itself a defence mechanism. A defence mechanism for a defence mechanism. She said my analysis was very accurate.

Alas, it took her three meetings so acknowledge my hypnophobia, it also took me three meetings to understand what she wanted me to do about it. (There's a motion image of a dancing female blood elf on my mind, very distracting). So, what she wants me to do is to simply let go. Stop thinking about sleep or the lack there of. Stop thinking that I "have to" sleep at night and be awake at day or at all. I did that for one night, and it made me feel a bit better, but I wasn't sure that was the right thing to do. Sometimes I don't get her, my new shrink, I have to admit that.

Am I gonna keep counting hours again, or really try to let go and... yeah, do what exactly? How does "letting go" actually work in practice? Haven't figured that one out yet. Now I've gotta eat again... annoying, but I get so cranky if I don't, and this pain in my stomach is close to paralyzing.

I don't feel very well today/tonight. I've messed up too much again. To the point of it leaving me apathetic. The glue on the bandage tape is starting to irritate my skin, after days and days of constant usage. I don't feel pathetic or tragic or sad or distressed. I don't feel anything. I'm doomed to feel this way, like this week, this summer, this decade - for the rest of my life. It both scares and comforts me. The fear is self explanatory, I take it, but the comfort? This is the life that I'm used to living, knowing it well and knowing what to expect. And if it keeps being this way, at least I know what to expect, sort of. I know myself better than most people know themselves. Yet, or maybe because of that, the void I'm staring into is staring back at me.

I'm snapping in and out of trusting in the voices, and my wacky beliefs - and recognising them for being... well, deluded. It's true that I some days do think they are fictions of my imagination, not real and what not. But most days I just can't. I know they are real. For crying out loud, I'm a Satanist, how the hell would I ever believe that the voice of Satan himself talking to me is a hallucination? That Anna who's been with for as long as I can remember, my friend and my foe, to not be an actual person? That I have memories from my past life since early childhood, always believed in magic and that I can do it, always known that I'm not human - to believe that isn't true? But if I'm self diagnosed Schizophrenic, doesn't that contradict those beliefs? Yes, it does. But I suppose that only further confirm my conclusion. And confusion. And more so.

I'm stuck in those thoughts again, still trying to understand. What being Schizophrenic really means, if I could actually have it. What that would make of me, the world as I know it, my fucked up reality. Is it an identity, is that what I'm making of it? Gosh, I hope not... But you never know with me, I never know with me. But it feels, right deep into my heart, like when you realise something important. So my gut feeling definitely tells me this is it, but my gut isn't a psychologist.