Society and addictions

I don't know if I like my purging or not. I guess I like having that ability but hate the act. It's so gross and it's sometimes scary too. Three things that have or should have scared me about it: 1, when I almost passed out from it. 2, when I couldn't stop puking even after I stopped trying to. 3, when I threw up blood. Yet, despite those three things, I do find comfort in it. It's definitely an addiction too and I wonder if I can abstain from it for these two days now. Or if I'll have something small just to purge it.

I don't know if I should still count it as fasting if I get it all up. Probably not, causing eating means breaking a fast, not necessarily being on plus minus zero of eaten calories. So I'm not counting yesterday as a fast, but I do count today cause I haven't eaten anything yet. Just had a cup of coffee, some diet coke, some but not enough water and some of this vitamin drink. I could never do a water fast with my caffeine addiction.

Me and my addictions... some come and go, some always stay. My smoking feels like a permanent addiction, my caffeine habit more or less stays, and now also purging. One more horrid than the other. Other addictions I've had/gone through are cutting, alcoholism and painkillers. Am I an addict? I would say so but a fairly functioning one. I don't do any heavy stuff and I've never been hooked on actual, illegal drugs. I'm thankful for that, but I've always been curious to try.

There's a lot I've been wanting to try, I don't really have any limits when it comes to danger. I want to live a short and dangerous life, but instead I'm stuck in this rat hole with a declining eating disorder. Maybe my experimenting days are over, or maybe there will come more opportunities. Benzo... I've always wanted to try that. And I don't mean the tiny Sobril that I got ages ago, I mean the heavy stuff that has a definite kick to it. And at least that is legal, if that matters to anyone.

But mostly I've just had to make do with what's been available to me. Anyone can get a hold of razor blades and coffee, and everyone over a certain age can get a hold of alcohol and cigarettes, and everyone can get an eating disorder. Pills are harder to get but potentially you could get a hold of basically anything legal from a doctor. I've just had bad luck in that department. I think my overdosing days are over. I can't get anything more dangerous than antihistamines these days.

Right now I stick to those three previously mentioned. Cigarettes, caffeine and my eating disorder. I still don't cut. I don't need it and why just create scars for the sake of nothing? Maybe I'm done cutting myself with that realisation, I don't know for sure. But addictions of any of the already mentioned kinds have been a huge part of my life for the past 10 years. It started with cutting when I was 15 years old.

It's all just been a long escape from my own brain and the monsters living in it. An escape from my curse, actually. There's only so much I can take of it. Has it ever worked? No and yes. If it was utterly useless I wouldn't have continued with harming myself. But it was never enough. I've always been one step behind my curse.

And still I won't stop as it's still chasing me. Still making my life hell as I desperately try to control my own mind. But I can't. I know that much but I still need something that's effective enough to at least make my life somewhat livable. I don't exactly want to live a long and happy life, I've just been trying to survive for as long as I need to, or have to. To keep myself somewhat sane in this insanity of a life.

Sex has of course also been an addiction. How could I forget? Mostly with myself, it's a compulsive habit I haven't been able to break for the last 17 years. It was awful starting that when I was 9 years old, and I did it only to punish myself for what had happened to me. Once a day is apparently a lot, but I've been at it for up to 5-6 times a day when I was at my worst. And slept with strangers only because they liked me and they were available. Slept with anyone who wanted me.

Now that was never an infinite amount of people, but I think I've been with 13 or 14 different people between ages 17 and 24. It was mostly self destructive and repeating the abuse I've been through, so I wouldn't call it just an active healthy sex life. Not even close, not at all healthy also because the number of times I used protection are very easy to count. Luckily I got away with it, no diseases, no pregnancy.

Ah, the good old days! I don't even know how many different addictions I'm up at now. It's almost every addiction you could possibly have, but it hasn't been all at once. Usually I feel best with three at a time. More and I just feel like I'm completely losing control over myself, less and the darkness devours me.

I don't even know how much I can write about sex addiction here, with the new blog rules that I haven't read. Don't want my blog shut down for downright indecency but I think it's a problem more common than most people would think and it should be addressed. I'm not all that ashamed of my past and present behaviours, it's just that there's so much freaking hush-hush about it. It drives me crazy. Why shouldn't we be able to talk about it?

Perhaps if we did not so many would fall for that way of life, or they could get help for it. I don't know, but what I do know is that keeping quiet is rarely a good idea. I mean, like at school we're not even allowed to talk about alcohol, like mentioning a drink and the whole room goes crazy. Like seriously what the fuck? Okay I know there are more than just one or two previous addicts going there, but come on? I think some rules are just made because of convenience. That anything that could upset someone should be kept quiet about.

I think that's the wrong approach entirely. Banning words? What, do we suddenly live in the 1950's?! I try to follow the rules, but I'm a compulsive rule-breaker since early childhood so it doesn't exactly come easy for me. Perhaps some people need rules, but I've always only felt hindered by them. To not be allowed to express myself my way mostly, that really bothers me.

To not be allowed to talk about and discuss things that are of importance because some dickhead thought it was a good idea not to. Maybe that's why I prefer alcohol combined with parties instead. Where words can flow almost completely freely and never once have I gotten in trouble for speaking my mind. Maybe once or twice in my whole life time but then I was too drunk, pushed into a corner and didn't know what the fuck to say, so it was hardly my fault.

The point is, freedom of speech is so important like oh my god. Sometimes I miss the old me that was less hindered by stupid rules and social codes. That me got friends for life, that me had some fucking stamina. Now... it's like this awful society finally managed to shrink me. I do still have my moments, but my words don't flow as easily anymore. Afraid of stepping on toes, afraid of getting banned, kicked out or hit in the face.

Now my only place is this blog. My only fucking place to say exactly what's on my mind at all times. That's why I let anyone read it, that's why it doesn't have a password. Cause I think you need to hear some of this honesty from time to time, whoever you may be. A friend, a stranger, a former friend, who knows. Only people I'd like to keep out of this blog are my family members and my shrink, basically. I don't want to shock them with way too much TMI that they most likely don't even want to hear about.

I don't even have an off-button when I'm on here. I could literally go on forever cause I have so much to say that can never pass my lips. Maybe this is a petty attempt to make the world a better place, at least to let some people know that there's nothing I'm scared of mentioning here. Except maybe just a handful of things, I'm writing down more than 99% of all that's crawling around inside my brain.

Sometimes I wish I could do more, other times I think I do enough. I do pull my weight in society too, even if it is just a fraction of what I could do. I live on your tax money with no intention of ever getting a job, I go to school which you also more or less pay for, I live on medication that you also pay the most of, I go to psychiatric meetings and doctors appointments that you also pay the most of.

I don't have any money. I'm a scum of society but at least I'm not intentionally making it any worse than it is. Except from those few laws I've broken. But I try to do what I actually can do, which is trying to talk to people and communicate, and I also do these kind of research questionnaires that the state or whatever randomly send to people. I get "randomly" selected about once a year since I was about 14 or 15 and I've done them all, except two cause they didn't apply to me in the least.

So yeah, I do mostly sit on my ass being half a financial crisis to society but I also do try to do good things. You can't just tell a poor, mentally handicapped person to just get their ass of the couch and start doing volunteer work or whatever. Or well, some people really do think they have the guts to do that. In which cases I usually just let my jaw drop slightly and then proceed to stare at them for five minutes, before I manage to get a grip on myself and gently explain to them why they're a complete dickhead.

I'm not doing anything wrong by just being me with the disabilities I have. I didn't choose to have them. I will never earn my own money, I will never have that kind of capacity to do so. It doesn't bother me, the one actually suffering from it, so why the hell does it keep bothering everyone else?! It's the society that's fucked up, not people like me just trying to live a decent life when we can't.

Wow this turned into ranting I could never have foreseen... I guess I'm just mad at people who are mad at me for stupid reasons. Am I a burden for society? Heck yeah, one of the worst kinds even. But you know what? I don't care cause I don't consider myself a property of society, I'm merely borrowing this body in this little phase called life. I don't care how many people has to work around the clock just to keep me alive, it's their fucking job. And I don't care how much tax money I waste on diet coke and cigarettes, you know you have to pay tax money, I do too.

Really trying to end this rant now... feel free to stop reading at any point cause I doubt it's gonna get better or more coherent than this. Maybe I'm just complaining that I'm being looked upon as a piece of useless trash. You would too if you were in my situation after a bunch of years. I've never been a productive member of society, never going to be. It's my life, and I neither can nor want to change it. I'm comfortable and I don't like taking huge risks that can make all hell break loose. I'm stuck, but not willing to move. I've given up and just counting the days, weeks and months.

I think I'll stop here, before this ranting becomes something else. I've covered a lot in just one blog entry today. I might come back later on to write more shit, but probably not on this topic.

Habits

That cigarette craving comes and goes, and today it's really strong, pestering me with its presence. Can't I just have one tiny little cigarette? Nope, I know what it's like with relapses: it gets worse afterwards. Yeah, I actually had a tiny relapse before the surgery, as I smoked one (last) cigarette on February 14th. Totally justified, I hope you can agree on, but damn it was so hard to continue being smoke free after that relapse.

So I went to the doctor/nurse for my check up today, and now I can finally take a shower! I got some instructions on how to care for my wounds and she said it looks fine and heals up nicely, which of course is very good to hear. I had like a thousand questions to ask as well, thought that it's better to be safe than sorry. And I'm free to call them if I have more questions or if there's any change for the worse about my wounds.

Though that binder thingy is starting to smell a bit now... and I'm supposed to wear it for two or three more weeks 24/7 so I won't be able to wash it. Why can't they have given me two so that I could wash one after the other to keep it a little cleaner? Though I suppose I could use my old binder for the same purpose for a single day while washing this one. I see no reasons why not, but I'll have to think about it.

I had absolutely no problem flashing my chest to the nurse, by the way. It just felt natural somehow, nothing embarrassing about a young man's chest. Isn't it funny how fast you can get used to something positive? And before you think it, no it's got nothing to do with the fact that it was a nurse, I'm equally embarrassed or not no matter who I'm with or in what situation. Because when it comes right down to it, we are all human beings no matter what we do for a living or how sterile the room we are in is.

It's still healing up really good. No swelling or bruising. Nothing odd at all. It does seem a bit weird to me, I mean I have the worst luck ever in so many places and ways that I just count on everything to get complicated. So when something good finally happens I think that it's because of magic or the gods doing some neat tricks to keep me alive just a little bit longer or something. However, it is very nice when things go well, I'm not complaining. Just that I have a hard time believing it.

Make it through

I cannot torture my body enough for all the hatred I feel towards it. I couldn't find my binder as I was about to go to Visby and see my shrink earlier today. You should have seen the despair in me, I can't leave the house without it. I cried out to my mother on the phone, then she's helped me find it. I told her I simply won't go if we didn't find my binder. Then should I ask her if she still thinks the surgery won't do me any good?

It's like nothing can calm me down these last two weeks. I'm a nerve wreck, constantly on the edge. My body aches more than usually, I forget to eat more often, my sleep only seems to make me more tired, it's hard to focus, it's hard to think. Why am I supposed to have this much anxiety? There's not enough room for it inside me.

Well, the anxiety hardly only exists because I misplaced a piece of clothing. No, it's always here. Like my shadow, it's following me everywhere I go. And sometimes it attacks me with full strength, beats me to the ground and I forget how to get up again. Sometimes that happens several times a day.

I have a sensation that February is gonna be a very long month this year. Even though it's technically the shortest. I couldn't tell my shrink about tomorrow, it's just too damn private. Yeah, there's my logic, cause it's easy to write about it online and a whole different matter to sit one on one in a white office and talk about it. But I'm pretty sure she noticed something was up with me, cause it's hard to lie when you're shaking like a leaf. Didn't stop me from trying though, cause it's my life damn it, and I'm just not ready to open up about that yet.

And why isn't that in my chart by the way? I've told shrinks before. Maybe they didn't believe me. Of course they didn't believe me. Why would they? It doesn't matter if I'm shaking and crying, I have no real proof that it actually happened. It was never documented at the time, I never went to a hospital or anything after. I just tried to bury it in the past. All I've got is my words, and that's all I've ever had.

My thoughts are mostly very scattered. I can hardly finish one before the next pops up and then the third and so on. It's like I'm trying to do fifteen things at the same time and it's impossible to keep track of it all. So I just zone out and let it slip away instead. That's why I don't put up everything I write here. It's too much and too little and I don't have the attention span to read it through. Though I'm gonna try to keep you posted, at least once a day or so, especially since things are happening and such nowadays.

I've been smoke free since Friday last week, and it's Thursday now so it's already been a whole week! A little over three weeks left until the surgery, and I still don't know how the hell I'm supposed to survive that. No smokes, no pain killers, no cutting... no nothing? I'll make it, cause I just fucking have to.

But love isn't fair

It's only two days left now, and the anxiety is holding a firm grip around my throat, suffocating me. It's the "Love is in the air" thing in world of warcraft now, and all the pink hearts popping up everywhere make me feel sick. Was it always like this? I don't remember.

This just struck me, what am I gonna do without the cigarettes this time? How can I endure this without the sweet smoke? Blood, alcohol, anxiolytic drugs, chocolate, blankets and warm showers, movies, more video gaming and whatever I can think of. Whatever I can think of...

I just got a phone call, and the person on the other end said they were calling from "Socialstyrelsen" and my heart missed a beat or two. I snapped at them and didn't know what I was feeling. But after they had explained who they were, I was like "oh... it's you" suddenly feeling utterly embarrassed and unnecessarily evil. Or something. It's just the LSS people, no worries at all.

I'm a bit jumpy and freaked allover today. Hardly know what I'm doing and I think I forgot to eat too. My head is spinning and I'm trying to calm down, but it's not easy. A thousand things run through it and I can't keep up. Maybe I shouldn't even try.

At first I thought this might not go so bad at all, considering I seem to take it better every year, but then this about the cigarettes. I'm in abstinence and quite a mess mentally. This... hopefully I don't go and do something stupid that I will regret after. It's just a memory, why do I let it kill me?

I miss my blood elf priest. Gonna go and do some pointless quests now. I know I don't write here that often nowadays, but trust me I do write, I just don't post it. Well, until now that is. The title, I just thought "love is in the air, but love isn't fair". No other reason, or whatever.

Wake up and endure

I think there will be a lot of coffee drinking today. I've been up for three hours but I can't wake up, can't stop yawning and can't focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. I've already had three nicotine gums and put on two patches of the strongest kind. Singing along to up beat songs and having caffeine pills with my coffee. Something just has to work.

God damn, I want to smoke! But it's not the nicotine that I'm craving. I'm over dosing on it, I can't need any more, that would be beyond crazy if I do. Trying to just hold a cigarette and pretend to smoke it (it looks really silly, I can assure you) to see it that can help even remotely. Nope, didn't work, I lit it. Second and last for today... (How the hell I'm supposed to survive this I don't know.)

My psychiatrist said yesterday that she will write in my chart that I'm officially smoke free as of now. I don't know if that should make me feel good or guilty, cause I still smoke. Very little, which I told her, but still. Had three cigarettes yesterday and there will only be two today and one tomorrow. Then I will be smoke free for real the day after tomorrow, on Friday.

Falling fast

Smoking today's first cigarette is like a kiss, gentle and deep. I will miss this so much. Will only be three today as well, so the next one won't be until 5 pm. I'm seeing my psychiatrist today, I hope she can help me somehow.

I'm so tired and nothing can make me more alert. It's hard to focus on WoW, even though I really want to play, I zone out and forget what I was doing. Killing more monsters than I need to and not realising the quest is complete, killing the wrong monsters, flying in the wrong direction and so on.

What a way to start a day. Great, now I feel miserable because of my own fucked up way to deal with anxiety. I had not cut in about two weeks now, so this was my first relapse, and perhaps for a so-so okay reason. But it still makes me feel guilty. I know my cuts take about a week to heal up completely, so if I stop before the beginning of March it should be "fine" considering the surgery.

I've gotta buy more nicotine supplements, cause this just isn't working. I'm very addicted, I realise. Very, very addicted. And wearing two or three patches of the strongest kind simultaneously barely takes the edge of it. So... need more patches and chewing gums and whatever I can possibly find at the drug store, before my meeting in Visby. I really don't know how much longer I'll be able to go through this. I mean, I'm a damn mess even with the cigarettes to rely on.

I'm starting to wake up a bit now, finally. Yes! These chewing gums combined with all those patches helps a bit. I saw an instruction advise note in the drug store, that for those smoking more than 20 cigarettes a day should de-escalate a under three months period. Well...

Down there again

Why do I feel that way, why do I feel the need to be broken? I'm tearing myself apart. The will to die, will it always linger in me? Constantly tempting me with freedom and rest, being pain free, at peace, become one with or leave Anna, coming home. Will I be suicidal for life? Intentionally or subconsciously constantly shortening my own life with bad habits, just in case I won't die within those three or four years, or just because of that.

Am I always suicidal, just more or less? Don't I wish for that next cigarette to give me lung cancer, for that next dose of pills to kill my liver, for that next breath to be be my last? That maybe if I starve myself long enough I'd eventually die from malnutrition, or that at some point if I manage to stay awake long enough my body will give out completely. Without taking more pills than I should, or slitting my arms too deep, or anything directly deadly, don't I still have that vague hint of a feeling that I just wish this could be my last day in this hell? Yes...

A memory from when I was in a psych ward in Uppsala two years ago that will never leave my mind. A guy there, he was funny, a truck driver in his late 30's. I can't remember his name, or even what he looked like except from blue jeans and shaved head. He said something, can't remember the exact words, or the word, but I can't forget it. Something about us smokers committing suicide methodically or contemplated. I had never until then thought about it that way, but he was so right.

It's amazing what truly amazing people you meet within those walls. When we are the most vulnerable, broken or uncontrollable. Sharing cigarettes and slipping pills when the staff isn't looking. It's a world of its own.

I'm falling again. Thought I was in bad shape yesterday? Well today it's even worse. I've stopped eating and started popping caffeine pills again. I won't take my sleeping pills or sedatives or do anything that will calm me down too much. I'm feeding my anxiety and sadness instead of trying to ease it. Why? I don't know, but I seem to purposely make myself feel worse.

Maybe it's like when you get angry and accidentally break something that you like, so you get even more angry, but instead of trying to fix the thing you broke, you break it even more.

But I won't kill myself. Not more than I already do at least. I'm satisfied by these means of self harm that will probably harm me in the now as well as in the long run. That was all I was writing about, so don't get any ideas.

Just another addiction

Had a little nap. Just fell asleep on the sofa at eight on Wednesday evening and woke up just now, four o'clock in this early Friday morning. A 32 hours nap, breaking my previous record of the longest time I've been asleep for. Of course I woke up a few times during my visit to dream-/nightmareland, but I didn't want to get up. So I just stayed there. I chose to get up at this early hour because I'm going to see my shrink at 11:00 and I want to have some time just doing nothing before getting ready for that. It's not like I need to sleep more.

So this is it then? My sleep habit summed up in a month or two: awake for 30 to 80 hours, sleep for 20 to 30 hours. Afraid of sleeping and addicted to sleep deprivation for as long as my body and mind can take it. Cause yeah, that's what happened this time. I realised that I'm not just hypnophobic, but also addicted to causing myself sleep deprivation. How I figured that one out? I had miscalculated the hours of awaken time, from what I believed was 4 days, was actually only 3 days. I was upset that I had not at all reached something close to 100 hours, but "just" around 75 hours, barely breaking my old record.

"Was I proud over my imaginary extra 24 hors making me believe I'm close to a 100 hours of sleep deprivation? Was I fucking proud?!" I wrote in my paper diary. The anxiety that realisation gave me was a bit more than I could take. So I took 2 Zyprexa, 2 caff. pills and downed them with a solution of 2 Bamyl Koffein. Hoping that all the caffeine would keep me awake while the Zyprexa usually makes me tired. Failed. So I can't even take Zyprexa for my anxiety anymore? Well that's just great.

I gave up and stopped fighting. I felt like shit after what felt like 95 hours but was only 75. I couldn't do it, keep on fighting with all those feelings of being a fucking failure. Something I shouldn't feel like a failure over. So I took my horrible feelings and lied down on the sofa. When misery wins over misery.

Labyrinth of thoughts

Inside me a whole drug store, and do I feel satisfied? No. Apparently I've made a playlist on Spotify 4 days ago, but I have no idea what band that is, or why I all of a sudden have playlist filled with their songs. Probably found them on tumblr, I'm finding all sorts of music there, what people upload and end up in my news feed. They're really good though!

My brain is doing funky things with me again. And the headless horseman in WoW is annoying the fuck out of me, running and screaming allover Dun Morogh where I try to level a gnome. I don't particularly like that race, but I just gotta have a mechanical chicken mount so. Scattered thoughts again, I take it. Where was I? I'm losing my train of thought before I get it, and it's very annoying, that too. Caffeine, sleep deprivation/hypersomnia or Schizophrenia? Cause maybe all four of them.

I once said that I sort of have both insomnia and hypersomnia: cause I can't fall asleep, but when I eventually do I'm sleeping way too much. Awake for 48 hours - asleep for 20 hours. It's insane, I'm insane. And it's not so weird I'm freaking out, but I'm not. I'm just... complaining. But do I even have the authority to complain? Because for some reason I think this is all my own damn fault.

I know, I know, mental illness is never anybody's fault, especially not the one who has it. But you know that saying "one thing led to another"? This summer... didn't I just mess things up on my own free will? Hmm, this song is good!* What I mean is that I literally allowed myself to fall in love again, I even said it out loud. Then when I wanted to stop cutting I started to self harm in other ways, like sleep deprivation.

All the built up anxiety from tackling too much at once led me to have worse nightmares than ever before and so I kept causing myself sleep deprivation deliberately. That was supposedly "fixed" during my stay at the psych-ward, but then I fell much harder for my crush, to whom I now refer to as my love, because "crush" is just by far not strong enough a word for what I feel for him, and have for the last 2 or 3 months now. Anyways, the lovesickness caused complete loss of appetite (it was so bad I felt disgusted by the smell of chocolate... or well, I still do) and insomnia. The insomnia led me back to my fear of dreaming at night and turned into a bad case of hypnophobia. And here we are now.

So, amidst the chaos I do see a red line here. I caused this! Talking about being a fuck up! What is it, was I bored to tears or what?! I know I shouldn't blame myself, and that I took the "choice" of falling for him just split seconds after I realised my heart alone had already made its own choice. My attempts to not fall for him were futile, and I might not be a seer, but I knew. I knew this was gonna get just as bad as it was back 2010/2011. At the exact same time of the year too, well not exact, one month shifted. But in November 2010 I was where I am now, emotionally. Different person, different kinds of feelings, but the same fucking scenario.

So what I'm trying to say is, maybe it was just a way of accepting the reality, when I bowed to myself and sincerely declared that I allow myself to fall for him. Oh, god... I can't believe I just sifted through all of everything I liked on tumblr just to see if I could find that band on my playlist. Where is my mind, really? I lost it so many years ago I don't even know where to look... somewhere in a since long demolished playground in Alunda? There's my first bet.



*The song I'm referring to:  "Big bad wolf" by Aesthetic Perfection.

Hating this addiction

I hate it that I cut so much nowadays. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Hate that I'm so dependent on it, that I can't hack it without it, no matter how much medicine I take (no, not over dosing). Fall in blood pressure, the fuck?! I haven't bled that much... or have I? I'm not counting it in millilitres, but it could have been a drip or two too much today. Damn it.

Also I'm a little anaemic all the time. Barely noticeable for a doctor, but I'm this hyper sensitive sort of person, so I notice it quite much. Besides, it's bright red leaning to pink in colour. So what I'm saying is that me bleeding just a little more than any other person would think is "not a big deal" could technically make me a little dizzy and cause fall in blood pressure. But I'll survive though, don't worry, I always do, don't I?

I'm fighting this war against myself, so much I'm really starting to wonder who the hell is gonna win. My body usually does, one way or another. There's only so long you can resist your body's needs until the body gets what it needs no matter the fuck what. Sleep deprivation? Crash on the floor 75 hours later. Starvation? Pass out wherever you happen to be after around 3 days. Blood loss? Faint. Over all the crashing part seem to be the first logical choice when I've been abusing my body to the absolute breaking point. Just "sobering up" no matter what shit I've been doing, seems to do the trick.

This anxiety is eating me alive, tearing my insides apart and I can't get rid of it. Like a virus infecting my every cell and fibre. For almost 24 hours I've been awake and roughly 20 of them have been riddled with anxiety. It glows in neon on my face. No it doesn't, none of my feeling ever show. Or at least very seldom unless I really want them to be seen.

I feel like I'm trapped in a maze and after looking for a way out for hours and hours I'm starting to try climbing up the walls. I don't know what to do with myself. It hasn't been this bad for a long time now. Or well, a few weeks tops, but still. I'm gonna stop saying "this fucking summer" and start saying "this fucking year" instead...

Impressions

I have on and off thought about going incommunicado sometime. Just for a few days or so. I have no idea when, where or how though. Just that it would be so sweet being alone without any contact with other people, for a little while. Instead of going nuts and lashing out on everyone who don't wanna leave me alone, because they "care" or whatever.

Steal my mother's car and head off to... well, nowhere. Cause sometimes I just get so damn tired of people. They talk, they judge and they have opinions. Besides, there's only one person that I want to be with, and care to listen to, but he's not exactly around here.

I think I've come down with a slight case of a rhino virus, and if it wasn't for my smoking it would have been over in a day or two. But oh well, a little coughing, the occasional throat pain and extra snivelling doesn't bother me much.

I'm back home after my trip to the main country, and it was really nice. Way over my expectations! Yeah, I had some, pretty vague expectations. Two awesome party nights after each other, lots of booze, caffeine, nicotine and socialising. Though many nights were riddled with anxiety basically no matter what I did. There's only so much you can do with Mirtazapine, Lergigan, Imovane, Zyprexa, cutting and listening to calming music. It took about 3-5 hours to fall asleep most nights. Then I slept until late afternoon. So that was the negative part, but my sleep was bad already before my trip.

I'm so tired from the flight and such now, still I can't sleep. Maybe too much impressions to process or whatever. I may have physically left Uppsala and Stockholm behind me, but mentally it feels like I'm still there. It's hard to explain, but I think you can understand the thing about wherever you go, you leave something behind. Cause it feels like I left a part of me there, a feeling, energies or an impression of sorts.

Disconnected

I've only had three cups of coffee today and as a result I got some nasty tremors. My crazy body seems to think that I'm detoxing... wow, I must have quite an addiction, huh? How did that happen? Oh... never mind.

Am I getting dumber every day or just more and more scatter minded? I can't put my thoughts together, they're just disconnected sentences. One of the really weird ones that popped up was "Trying to save an infinite amount of people just by licking their toes." I have no idea what that was supposed to mean. I'm writing them down, all these incoherent, random thoughts that doesn't belong to any sort of context.

I'm not lazy, I'm lethargic. Don't know in which context though, just thought of it. That might be another one of those weird sentences, by the way. Though it could be some truth in it. Can't bother analysing every little thing that invades my brain. Today I can't seem to analyse anything though, it just passes by and I'm sitting here confused. Like, I don't even know what's confusing me. I'm that confused...

It's drowning me

I’m filling up my seventh cup of coffee for today now. A mixed feeling of bitterness and sadness is slowly drowning me, and for the first time in weeks I have to resist the urge to pour myself a drink. Can't remember if I've eaten anything today, that probably means that I haven't. Something shatters inside me when I have to cut more than once a day. Isn't that enough? Why can't that be enough?!

Obviously something is extra tough today. My mood still swings, but to the darker side more. I have no creative energy, just don't wanna do anything at all really. I'm jaded by the thought of sleep constantly on my mind, and how I try so hard to escape it with caffeine, cutting, cigarettes and music. I’m popping the last Lyrica I have with a Sobril. How the hell am I gonna manage this? Soon I’ll be a benzo addict as well, just because my fear of sleep is ripping my insides apart. It's horrible being afraid of something you have to endure every day. You seriously can't imagine it if you haven't experienced it yourself. It ruins everything.

It's worse now, cause now I’m actually trying to sleep at night. I succeeded this night, but it wasn't easy, not easy at all... I took my Mitrazapin and Lergigan at 22:00 as I was supposed to, but resisted the effect without caffeine. Held the jar with caff pills, just wanted them, craved them, but forced myself not to. Around 01:30 I freaked out, cut and swallowed two Sobril and one Imovane, got in the shower and stayed there until I couldn't stand up any longer when the effect had kicked in. I went to bed and lied there for at least an hour, scared as hell. Shifted between trying to close my eyes and go to sleep – and staring at my phone, right into his eyes on the picture on my cell phone screen, with jaded heartbeats, trying to force myself to stay awake. Around 03:30 or so I finally fell asleep, and got up at 09:50 when the crew woke me up.

So now I’m even more scared and stressed out, cause it's nine o'clock and the night is coming slowly closer. I’m fighting with all my strength, but it just doesn't seem to be enough. Will I stay up tonight or will I repeat the last? Don't wanna think about it, but it hurts less than seeing a picture of my love with his girlfriend. Thinking of how far far away he is, imagining him holding me, comforting me without words, just being here. My fantasies are so pointless, I wish I could just fall out of love. I hate my fucking heart! Why do I always have to repeat the same mistake of falling for unobtainable people over and over again? What's the damn fucking point in that?!

I just don't know what to do. What could possibly make me heal and move on when I just keep moving backwards all the time? I’m right where I was three years ago again, right in the same fucking mess. The only difference is that I live hundred miles away from my friends and the person I’m in love with now, and I don't go to school. I wear the same clothes, listen to the same music, wear the same feelings, going through the same addictions. Still can't fucking sleep or eat, I'm still filled to the brim with anxiety and struggling with the psychiatry that doesn't have a shit to give me. So what's the point of it all, what's the god damned point?

I've lived this far, I know I can survive it, but that's not the question. This has got nothing to do with suicide. All I want is to figure out a way to endure it without resorting to another failed suicide attempt. Cause that is also kinda pointless. All a failed suicide attempt brings me is shame, distress, feeling like a failure, apathy and complete, utter hopelessness. It's like even my heathen god laughs at me for being so pathetic. I just don't wanna feel this way, and I wish there was a cure for lovesickness. Cause it's drowning me.

Addictions

You know you have an addictive personality when you've been dependent on alcohol, cutting, caffeine, smoking, painkillers and a lot of other things that aren't even addictive. Now I “just” struggle with cutting, caffeine and cigarettes. Three “c”, what are the odds? I usually only have two or three addictions simultaneously. It's manageable, but not optimal, and as long as I stay away from drugs and alcohol I'm fairly functional. After all, both cigarettes and caffeine are socially acceptable, and cutting is rarely anyone else's business. As long as I don't start bleeding allover the place. First year of gymnasium comes to mind...

I wore short skirts combined with tights back then, and had moved on from cutting my arms to my lower legs. I had less sensation there (well, not anymore cause my arms are basically scar tissue now, and all the cutting has destroyed some nerves) so the gashes ended up deeper and thus they bled more. Often I remember bleeding through those tights, leaving little puddles of blood on the plastic floors in classrooms and corridors. I never got any comments though, I guess they all knew it was self inflicted wounds.

Now I’m back to my lower arms, cause it's easy access and well... it might sound stupid but it feels good to cut there. But it's getting hard to break through the scar tissue, so I suppose I’ll have to move on to another area again. Skin is the largest human organ, so it shouldn't be so fucking hard to find a “good” spot. First I wanted to go for my chest (since I kinda hate that part of my body) but I do realise that would not be so damn smart considering I’m gonna get operated on right there in the nearest future... think it through, think it through...

Thankfully, my episodes of alcoholism have been brief, for just a few months at a time. I really don't like being a drunk, to be honest. Sure, the rush of being tipsy 24/7 is quite nice, and it has also helps me sleeping and as a medication for my anxiety (and that's why I've been doing it). But in the long run it just harms more than it helps. It's expensive, you get dehydrated, it's complicated when traveling, it's a hell trying to hide it and on top of all you feel really pathetic.

Smoking cigarettes is by far my favourite drug. Easy access (as long as I remember to bring my ID-card, cause I still look like 17), socially acceptable to some degree and it's not as harmful as the other things I’ve listed. Sure it's dangerous, but you can't die from overdosing it. I have slowly increased the amount I consume it over time. When I was eighteen I smoked my very first cigarette and then had around five a month, then it escalated to about a pack a month, then a pack a week. When I was twenty one I learned how to take deep drags which made me physically addicted to nicotine and upped the dosage to about a pack a day. This spring I took it even further as I could finally smoke inside my apartment, and I’m now up at two to three packs a day. Mostly somewhere around 50 cigarettes, or one every fifteen minutes. Which basically means I’m holding a cigarette between my fingers sort of constantly.

My caffeine addiction comes and goes like my alcoholism, and the two are strangely often combined or succeed one another. What often drives me to detox from it, is as simple as that I get tired of, or feel disgusted by coffee all of a sudden. Though, this is my extreme caffeine addiction periods. Come to think of it, I’m always addicted to it. Just that most of the time I settle for tea and or coke. In that sense I haven't been caffeine free since I was 12 or something... but the caffeine addiction I have now is quite more severe, with 10 or up to 20 cups of coffee a day.

Painkillers. That was a short period of roughly four or five months back in late 2010 (at that time I was addicted to everything: alcohol, cutting, caffeine, smoking and painkillers). I had gotten Citodon prescribed for my headache that had gotten vastly more severe than usually, which is not so strange, all things considering. It was one hell of a time in my life. That Citodon didn't help much for the headache, but it sure made the pain funnier, so to say. It was so easy to overdose it, add booze and caffeine and head off to School... I’m still baffled that no one noticed anything. Except for painkillers I did some tripping on the mood stabilising drug Lyrica, about a year later, until the rashes became unbearable. I’ve abused almost every kind of pill I’ve gotten prescribed legally by various doctors over the years. And also over the counter meds that weren't prescribed for me, but legal in its own sense.

Just the act of abusing medicines like that in general, could almost be considered an addiction in itself. I can be kinda freaky like that, overdosing and combining pills wildly without having the slightest clue of what effect that will or won't give me. Mostly I just wake up with a headache the next day though. I still do it, but not in the purpose of killing myself, just for a rush of some, or any sort. What can I say, risk taking and surprises intrigues me. Just in it for the rush!

I feel like a pitiful being, when thinking about all of my addictions and what I’ve done to myself. What extreme lengths I go and have gone to, to achieve some relief from my own mind. When my meds aren't enough, when no meds are enough, when I try to live independently, when the psychiatry leaves me high and dry, when I can't stand living with myself. Maybe my self esteem has hit rock bottom, but I feel kinda pathetic. Like boohoo, I hate myself so much I’m gonna drink myself to death. Or whatever. I just don't know how to live, how does one do? I’m in pieces and instead of patching them up I just cut them into even smaller pieces. And I will probably always be addicted on one thing or another, just have to pick the least dangerous addiction and stick with that.

Shaping up

I finally had a talk with my mother. I had an anxiety outbreak and taking my pills for that made the whole experience even worse. So instead of spiraling completely out of control I called my mother yesterday. I ended up confessing about one thing and the other, and then I also explained that about her not believing me. Also Schizophrenia came up, but to my utmost surprise it wasn't I who mentioned it! How interesting that she also had been thinking of that possibility. We cleared up our misconceptions and I got a few answers to my queries. I didn't tell her about my Satanism, but I did tell her about my previous alcoholism, hypnophobia and cutting. So I got a little off my chest.

Had an appointment with my psychiatrist today, and told her about my messy addiction journey I had going on this summer, my sleeping problems and what more. Got a different type of as needed meds for my anxiety and she sent a referral to someone who can help me quit smoking, on my request of course. I also whined about the psychiatry not doing a shit to help me heal my mental wounds. Not much she could do about that though, but I’m off to Vuxenhabiliteringen on Friday so I can keep on whining there instead.

The solution we agreed on, about my sleeping problem, is as follows. Stop consuming caffeine after 5 o'clock in the evening, start taking my sedatives/sleeping pills again, get a circadian rhythm again with help from the crew. I asked them if they can wake me up a bit more brutally in the morning, and they said they can absolutely do that. They're handy like that. I also got a higher dosage on my mood stabilisers, to get my extra extreme mood swings under control again. My motivator for getting in better shape is to be fit for surgery, and so we all (me, my mother and the psychiatrist) agreed that is a good motivator. So it's high time for me to pull myself together a bit again.

Creativity rush

“My next project will be advanced and take longer time” I remember babbling about in another entry. Well, I’ve been working 3-4 hours now and I’m almost half done with this last project. Didn't really count the fact that I’m constantly high on caffeine and don't sleep. This will all the done by tomorrow, most likely. And believe me, I’m methodical, careful and precise in every cut or stitch. Working with layers of fabric, thread and steel. Twisting, wrapping, sewing. Measuring and trying to not completely entangle myself in the messy little threads the fabric lets off. The latter completely fails though, it's like fighting with cobweb, it sticks everywhere except where it's supposed to be: in the fabric.

I’m having a little smoke break now, and enjoying the rush. The positive thing about these severely increased highs and lows that shifts multiple times a day, is that when I’m on a high it feels really fantastic! A bit like being on speed, except that I’m also creative, confident, have good self esteem and a constant smile on my lips.

That is not the caffeine by the way, because I get just as severe lows on the same (well I can't know exactly) doses of it. It could of course be that the caffeine is contributing to the increased variations between these polar extremes, but it doesn't just make me manic, is my point. It just increases, well everything it seems.

Alrighty then, back to work!

How to have fun in misery

I'm not sure whether the pictures I take of myself actually have become better lately, or if it just feels that way. Does the pictures look better cause I think that I'm actually looking better or is it the other way around?

Things are starting to look strange again... I’m torn between the fear of sleeping and the fear of hallucinating. I can't escape both, and I don't think that I can choose. What an obvious choice, perhaps, but it's never quite that simple when it comes to me. My fear of sleep is equally strong as my fear of hallucinating, thus making the decision impossible for me to make. I just wish I didn't have to make such a choice. But stupid as I am, I can feel it in my gut that I will choose to rather fight off imaginary insects to going to bed tonight. That's how far off the edge I am right now.

At least I got an appointment to see my therapist on Wednesday, so maybe I can get a tip or something on how to straighten myself out a little. If I will have to be admitted it will have to be a short visit cause I’m heading off to Uppsala the week after that! I really think I need that “perk me up” and it's better than any medicine or hospital bed. I even feel as if I have a slight case of energy going on these last few days. I’ve been taking a walk once, sometimes twice a day and my walk is light, steady and even faster than usually.

I’m making some stuff, sort of a Halloween outfit, but it's not a full costume. It will just be few items, quite outstanding ones, but still. Things I could, if I wanted to, find in one of those crappy stores selling cheap costumes, but I just want it to look right. And a little eye-catching perhaps. I know it's silly, but this will be my first Halloween as a Satanist and according to their bible it's the one holiday to be celebrated. I've always loved this holiday and so I thought, why not actually go out as something a little less boring than a vampire or zombie?

I’ve been planning on making something for Halloween all summer, even if it meant I was just gonna stalk the streets in Hemse wearing it. If I could just get it right... need to buy some light steel wires/net or something for my next part of the project. And lots of more fabric. It would have been neat with thin, smooth leather, but I haven't found any such. All they have on this island is rough sheep skins the farmers themselves fixed up, and that won't do. So I’ll just go for fabric that might resemble it a little. Maybe I’ll even mix up different materials... ah, the ideas are many! It's amazing what you can make out of simple pieces of cloth you have lying around in the house, if you just put your mind to it. Though I’m running out of such items, and I can't trash any more clothes for that purpose either.

I’m high on caffeine. Gulped down three large cans of energy drinks since midnight. If it wasn't for them I would not be awake by now. Sometimes when I’ve forgot to drink for a little while the tiredness comes right back at me, and I desperately drink half a can to “shape up” again. Oh, this week... it's been a whole week now, can you imagine? I don't know if it's worth any sort of comfort or anything, but just so you know, it's not a game or a world record competition for me to stay awake. Seriously don't know where that idea came from. It's an endless chase from an irrational fear that is somehow connected to my sleep. That's as much as I know at the moment.

(This is why self psycho-analysis is so addictive: it gives results.)

I keep mistaking objects in my apartment for cats. I wanna paint my nails, but I wanna finish my crafting first. Can't do that with newly painted nails. Oh well, I suppose I’ve got all night for that... but now the anxiety is starting to catch up with me again, at every time a day I went up last time. Now it was almost two nights ago I got up from bed, and the anxiety hits me again, counting the days and hours of awaken time passed. Cause I know that the longer I stay awake, the harder it will be to not fall asleep. I’ve been having such awful anxiety around midnight almost every night this week, cause that is when it hits me. When I have been awake for 18-23 or 42-47 hours and the tiredness hits me in the face and I feel like I can't stay up any longer. The feeling is so powerful, it's like it eats me alive. And I don't even know what it is I fear so badly I’ve been popping Zyprexa like a maniac just to stop hyperventilating and the feeling of being close to fainting. Feelings like that shouldn't come unnoticed.

At least now I know what I’m dealing with, approximately what it is I fear. But how the hell can one be afraid of sleeping?! Isn't that against human nature or something? Well, all of me is apparently in some way or another against human nature... though at least I’m not the only one with this particular problem. Just hoping my doctors will take me seriously this time. Not just the obvious sleep deprivation issue, but the fear that lies behind it. Cause it doesn't matter what pills they give me for my sleep when I won't even take them.

I feel like a train of misery, passing or picking up every nasty experience I come by.

I'll smoke you like a cigarette

I’m less drowsy now, that took a while to wake up from... For some reason I am more, or most often

tired at night instead of day nowadays. That's odd. I don't remember it being like that since my childhood. Am I losing my nocturnalness? Hope not, that would make me sad. I adore the night, the darkness, the calm, the stars and the silence. And I keep inventing words... well, at least they're understandable...

I’m burning my favourite incense called “Dragon's blood” but I’m not sure what it smells like. A little woody maybe. It has a thick, sweet, metallic, kinda heavy smell. Almost a bit like blood. Smoked, spiced and burned blood. No, I don't know, and it doesn't say on the box.

I’ve noticed that while sleeping I always have to lie on my side, cause it feels like I’m lying uncomfortably on my wings and tail when I’m on my back, and like I’m pulling my neck out of joint when I’m on my stomach. That's one of the reasons I hate sharing bed with someone if it's a small bed and I can't room if I lie on my side. I basically can't sleep at all if I'm forced to lie in any other position. Then it's more comfortable on a pile of clothes on the floor. I'm fat enough to make that fairly comfortable...

I’m feeling a bit disorganised today, forgetting things and it's hard to concentrate on anything, even the fun and or interesting things. I even forget my cigarette, that I’m holding one and when I wanna take another drag it has gone out. So then I light a new one and the same thing happens. Goddamn waste of good smokes! But I hate relighting them after they've been put out. I’m still highly sensitive to smells (I can sense the difference between the smell of the smoke and the one from the cigarette itself from several decimetres away) and the sour bitterness disgusts me. And just that the taste/smell difference between brands is so immense I can't stand most of them. Only the best for me! And that is obviously Lucky Strike. I’m picky that way.

People seem to often be fascinated by my choice of cigarette brand, some even asking where I buy them. Well, almost every tobacco store and some convenient stores sells them... I don't even know why I like them so much, just that I started smoking them because Berny Pålsson wrote about them in her first autobiography. Also the way I smoke seem to surprise people, because I hold the smoke in for between 3 and 15 seconds normally. Breath control. I think the smoke stings too much in my mouth when I don't do that. I really don't do anything normally, do I?

Another pointless entry I realise, but I can't be interesting every minute of the day. Just wanna vary the pointless scrolling with some pointless writing, and what better way to do that than to ramble on my blog? Don't wanna fill out my paper diary with nonsense, after all those are quite expensive. They have to have blank pages in A5 size and not be too thin so that they can last a little while. They usually cost between 70 and 150 kronor, and some of them are filled to the brim with words within a week. Though that rarely happens, only if I’m left without access to a computer in a longer period of time. I do a lot of that, just writing down thoughts and feelings for no purpose or real meaning behind it. Some of it I post here, but most of it I just store on the computer. I’ve written somewhere around 30.000 words within this week alone.  

I’m addicted to writing. That sounds a bit absurd, I know, but it's also somewhat true. You can basically become addicted to everything and if you write thousands of words a day, I'd say you're pretty darn addicted!

I'm talking more to Vargyl nowadays (why does an American/Australian guy have Swedish name, by the way? Or is it pronounced “war-guile”? Really should just ask him, if I get around to that... is it silly that I feel embarrassed asking him that? I mean, since he's a figment of my imagination and all.) I'm still a bit scared of him sometimes, he's quite tricky, and I always have a sensation that he's up to something. But he's sweet and kind, though he doesn't talk much and always with short sentences. Our conversations often die out after a few exchanges of words, or how to say it.

Me: You're so sweet.

Vargyl: Thank you.

Me: I love you.

Vargyl: No you don't.

Me: I'm sorry...

Vargyl: It's okay, you don't need to.

Thrill me or kill me

I'm drinking liters of coffee every day (5-10 cups in 24 hours) and slicing my arms until they are nothing but scar tissue, and somehow that is better than drinking the same quantities of booze a day without cutting. Though it's a little sad I had to choose between those two. Major back steps this summer. From cutting to drinking to caffeine and back to cutting. It just goes round and round! So altogether I ended up fucking up my already chaotic life even more. To think that I even for a second thought that it was a good idea to give up cutting by any means possible. Was I daft?

Breathe, damnit! I find myself gasping out of breath over his little notes. What am I gonna do with my hands? They're suddenly everywhere. Light a cigarette, that always works. Mutilate my lips a bit. I'm smiling and giggling again. Just wrote a poem about him, or my love to him, but it's too revealing so I can't post it. Listening to Funker Vogt, can't believe I've totally missed that band! It's getting more and more obvious that industrial music lies closest to my heart. I always keep finding, or rather get tips about, more amazing EBM artists. It's by far the genre I listen to the most, but I’m not sure which would be my favourite industrial band. It's leaning towards either FGFC820, Leaether Strip, VNV Nation, Nine Inch Nails (or do they count? Aren't they more of an mixture between alternative rock and industrial?) or Apoptygma Berzerk.

By the way, I really love tumblr! I've been a member there for a year but didn't start actually using that site until recently. People keep saying I'm attractive there! I'm not used to that, and it puts lasting smiles on my face. I'm in a complicated state these days. Starving insomniac, half the time I'm crying and screaming inside, cutting myself and writing depressive shit. And half the time I’m smiling and laughing, dressing up nice just to go to Ica, I feel handsome and energised. I live on coffee and cigarettes, basically only exist online, more self destructive than ever, lovesick and lack inspiration for basically anything except following my love allover the internet. Why do I feel so happy? Don't get me wrong, it's very appreciable. I’m just high on adrenaline, endorphins, caffeine and nicotine: creating an interesting chemical imbalance in my body. And what the lack of sleep and food does to me I’m not entirely sure, but it's probably also playing an important part.

I haven't been this single-minded and absorbed by just one thing, one person for a long time, I had almost forgotten what it's like. To be so high on love you can't even see the ground beneath you. Cause up here all I see is him and everything else becomes hazy. How everything he does, says and thinks become the most important things in the world. It's like I can live on these feelings alone, that I don't need that other stuff to stay alive. It's a stupid thought, I know, but it just seems like it. Maybe that is why you lose your appetite and sleepiness when you're lovesick, cause the feeling alone is so powerful you think you need nothing else. To think, that a love so strong can actually kill you. Now that is powerful! There's no doubt that being lovesick can lead to suicide. Been there, done that, and I’m living proof that love can actually kill you. Oh, that's some paradox...

Today this lovesickness feels good, real good! I don't feel like it's hopeless, not entirely. I’ll wait for him, I can be patient, don't need to rush things. Maybe I can make him fall for me? It's not impossible, just need to tone down my creepiness a notch. Heck, I’m not that creepy. I’m being friendly, appreciative, caring and interested, but I keep my appropriate distance. I might post lists with random questions where I’m asked to describe the person I love, and add a few things that could be... but then you'd really have to have a creative imagination to figure out who it is I describe. And I don't think he is interested enough to carefully read between the lines in all of my Dayviews and tumblr posts.

There really isn't much else on my mind. For every message I get I think it's him, I don't even turn off my computer anymore so that when I wake up he'll be right there in front of me, I bring his picture with me in my phone everywhere, it doesn't even pass five minutes without me thinking about him. It's like I’m possessed. So expect more blog posts about him here. It cannot be avoided!