Stay alive

So... this night turned out to be an adventure that I can't remember. Wat I did was taking 3 Imovane and drank 6 vodka drinks. I read up about it yesterday and it warned me about getting blackouts and sleepwalking and well...

When I woke up I had some kind of mysterious stain on my jeans that I slept with on, same kind of stuff under my nails, the cream cheese tube was on the kitchen worktop (instead of the in the fridge) and I realised that's what was all over me. Also there's a glass of juice on my desk that I have no memory of what so ever. Oh, I used a plate too, but I have no idea exactly what I ate except from that cream cheese. I must have been sleepwalking, and eating in my sleep. Or I went up to eat in an awake state but then blacked it out, but probably the first considering the mess I made.

I don't seem to have done anything serious in that state, however. No new cuts on my arms, my hair is intact and so on. Also I didn't call anyone, according to my phone.

So no, I didn't die, just like I thought I wouldn't. A part of me wanted to die and that's probably why I wrote that letter and kept beside my pillow in my bed. I even slept with my clothes on just in case. Would not want to be caught dead naked. Literally. But I didn't die and now I'm myself again. Sigh. Was this a suicide attempt? I don't know. A very ridiculous one in that case. I mean come on, it was just 3 Imovane and some booze. No one dies on that little.

I found spilled out juice on my desk, but seems my keyboard is alright. I can't help but wonder exactly what and how much I ended up eating during my sleepwalking. Like I managed to do the quite complicated procedure of pouring up juice concentrate and water of decent amounts in a glass, but then smeared cream cheese fucking everywhere. I have to clean up my jeans and my desk and I had to wash my hands pretty thoroughly to get if off my nails. I will so do this again sometime. Yeah, I'm crazy.

I'm still bummed over that I didn't die last night. Although I didn't even try to, and I still don't know if I should count it as my 16th suicide attempt, but maybe I should, cause I did dress up and wrote a note and everything. Ugh, I don't know.

I'm dying on this island. I'm literally dying and my mother thinks I shouldn't return to Uppsala again. She doesn't understand, but I will explain it to her one day. If I survive this year, I'll try to make my mother help me get an LSS apartment in Uppsala or somewhere nearby, so that I can move there next year or the year after that. I just won't stay here longer than 5 years and that's final. I'll probably not even be alive for that long, but still. I try to still do future plans despite knowing that I'm gonna die.

I'm pretty sure that I'll skip having a child and go for surgery right away instead. There's no regretting, I'm not meant to be a parent. How can I? I skip that thought and leave it forever behind me. I don't need a child, I truly don't. It was just an obsession that came and more importantly: went. If I survive this summer, I'm gonna have my mother call the right people to see if I could go for check up for surgery or get a meeting with my surgeon or whatever is required. I'm pretty sure that some kind of consultation would be important.

I just want to be one step closer to complete. I don't want this horrible dysphoria and self hatred. I don't want to look like I'm somewhere between male and female, I want to look completely male. I need it, I think I need it to survive, if I can survive long enough to get to that point.

I don't plan suicide, but my impulsive behaviour could lead me there one day. I always try to hold on, even now, but sometimes I can't. Then I do reckless and stupid things. I want to say that I try as hard as I can, and I want you to not worry about me, but I just can't lie. I don't want to live and I'm constantly on the brink between life and death. I see no future, yet I do, cause my hopes are still not dead. I think those are what's keeping me alive most of the time, the hopes for something better.

But I don't believe in a better future, not really. I think that if I stay, life will continue like it always has. Without the heartache, maybe I could manage that, but not with it. Definitely not with it. I just have one more weekend to survive on my own, since my pens will likely show up on Monday or Tuesday (yes, I finally managed to order them), but if I can't, I'll get my mother to call the hospital and see if they can arrange a bed for me at the psychiatric ward before then. My mother will then just have to come with my pens after I've been admitted in that case. If that's possible. I mean if I lend her my ID-card or something.

But hopefully I'll make it through this weekend. I'm gonna see my psychologist tomorrow, I think, and then talk about all of my annoying feelings. Of course she won't think they're annoying though. I am incapable of finishing this entry. It feels like I needed to say something more but I don't know what that would be.

Oh, now I remember! I had the crew coming over today and apparently they've talked to the person in charge (more or less reported me) because I've refused help from them so much lately. Apparently that was wrong of me, but they didn't even warn me or anything first. That's shitty. I'm feeling like a mess and then they're doing everything worse. Sorry, I'm too shut off by now to even being capable of reacting.

I was close to crying though, when my contact person of the crew told me that. She said she was gonna warn me but she's been away/sick, and that she didn't approve of her colleagues' method. At least she's on my side. I don't know what to expect, cause they have already reported me. I'll probably somehow bring my mother into the mix and then just try to explain that I've been feeling seriously horrible lately and that's why I've been ignoring the staff. I just couldn't handle them. At all.

Yes, I finally let her into my apartment and she helped me with the dirty dishes, swabbing the floors and I vacuumed the floors and put my clean clothes away in the wardrobe. It was tiring, but I think I had a slightly better day and could finally just get it over with.

Long entry becomes long, and you should know that I deleted quite a large portion of it. It doesn't even show. I'm divided. If I talk to my shrink, won't she think that I actually do care and want help, which I really don't? And if I shut up I'll suffocate cause I think I really need to talk it through with her. She's not nearly as annoying as my contact person at the eating disorder unit is though. She's more laid back and understanding, although we do have our misunderstandings sometimes.

Like she once thought that I was actually in a relationship with K, or that she thought I wanted to get instantly better from my eating disorder as soon as I told her about it. But it's okay, it's understandable misunderstandings. So maybe I'll just have to be clear, that I've lost it, my ability to give a fuck about how much I'm ruining my body for a peace of mind I can never get. But also that I'm thinking about the psychiatric ward and possibly also mention my half assed suicide attempt last night.

I might not mention exactly what I took though, in fear of them taking away that medication from me. I might not even mention the sleepwalking for the same reason. Just say that I took an overdose with alcohol, put on make-up, dressed up, wrote a suicide note and went to bed. It sounds very much like a suicide attempt if I tell it like that. But oh, well.

I only have 1 Imovane left now so can't do the same thing this night. Next time I'll take 4 or 5 pills instead of 3. See if I can get an even better/more interesting effect. But not tonight. Tonight, I don't know what I'm gonna do. But I'm not gonna try suicide cause I want to be alive for that meeting with my shrink. I need to be, I just fucking need to be.