Entrapped

The razor blade lies alluring on my desk in a small box for matches, and I'm so close to reaching for it. Alphaville sings "sometimes I wish that you were dead" in Wishful Thinking and time stands still.

I wake, waiting for the storm to come once again. She's silent, but I can feel her presence, hovering over me, inside me and around me. Instead I reach for another cigarette, place it between my lips and light it. The smoke fills my lungs as I hold it in for 5 seconds before breathing it out again. Not much smoke comes out, as most of it stays in my lungs.

It's grey and cloudy outside, and at 11:00 o'clock when I went outside, small rain drops hit my face and hair. I tried to see the solar eclipse but the sun was deeply hidden behind the clouds. Soon, my love and enemy, will come back in full strength. Laughing, cursing, telling me to do something awful that I'll refuse, tell her no and tell her to shut up. Again and again until I'm out of air, out of words.

The hassle of words, always awakening the monster in us both as we yell and call each other names. I hate you so much, and you hate me too, we use to say as if we were lovers being sarcastic. It's exactly 14:00 o'clock on my computer screen and the cigarette is burnt halfway through. She kept me up last night, speaking through the music that I had on extra loud. As if it ever mattered, nothing can shut out the sound of her voice.

Like a searing blade slicing through my every thought. I'm so used to it by now, 17 years entrapped in her mind, and for 17 years she's been entrapped in mine. I poke my cell phone screen to keep it from fading to black. I always hate it when it does that, and I tell it to stop, as I have a thing for always yelling at inanimate objects to do as I want them to. As I always have a thing for yelling at her for the same reasons, I'm doing it out of habit. Just as useless.

I put out my cigarette in a cup filled with cold water and put the butt in an ashtray. I can't go on like this, time is running out and I don't want to die because of her. Her words can kill me and I don't have the strength to resist them. My words run off her like water on a goose but her words soak into me like water to a sponge. Why does it have to be that way? How I curse my cold sensitivity.

I light another cigarette and willingly let it poison me. I'm drowning just to be. I casually overdose on Zyprexa. Just like any other drug, I'm not meant to be. And she was my guardian angel one day 17 years ago, how did she become my enemy? Just wouldn't leave me alone, kept traumatising me with her words for years and years and never once stopped.

But who would I be without her? Incomplete, just half a person. Am I only half a person out in public, when no one knows about her? When all they see and hear is John but John is incomplete without Anna. I'm two and I am half.

Thinking about coffee but can't make myself make any. From Alphaville to Linkin Park and the music fills up my whole head. Almost. It's too loud and and too low at the same time. How can I even exist like this?

Mess

I failed purging just now. I failed it so miserably. I tried possibly over 20 times before I just gave up. Hit something, cursed, screamed. I'm so fucking disappointed in myself I feel like fucking killing myself. I'm such a failure, can't even purge successfully. My gag reflex doesn't exist. Or, it's very damn weak. You could probably face fuck me for an hour and I wouldn't even gag. I just wish it was a bit more sensitive, you know. That reflex. Instead it takes showing down a fucking fire truck down my throat for anything to come back up. And I'm all out of fire trucks. And efforts. I'm just so damn exhausted, pissed and feeling the hopelessness just rain over me.

I'm tired of living today. Today, life is not worth fighting for. Today my life is so god damn sucky that I wouldn't even trade it with my worst enemy. Cause here, have a mass load of incurable and intolerable anxiety, here have some horribly annoying and distressing eating disorder crap, here have the worst fucking memory of your entire life summed up in tens of neat little flashbacks. Today, I wish I wasn't alive. This day can go and fuck itself.

Fuck, my throat hurts now, and drinking alcohol really gives it that extra sting, you know? I swear a lot, I know that, it's just that today has been really awful and I can't deal with it. My anxiety levels hit the roof, my purging and my whole eating disorder is a joke, I'm dreading Valentine's Day like never before and I'm just... a complete fucking mess.

Love of my life

I met this guy on tumblr, and he seems to like me a lot. Also seems to be ftm as far as I can tell, but I haven't actually asked anything about it. He just wrote me a poem and I don't know what to do quite with myself.

How come really nice strangers come to me like flies to sugar sometimes but I can't get the ONE guy I actually want? I'm doing everything right. Or am I? Cause sometimes I doubt that I'm doing everything right with K. I try not to lie, to not keep important information from him. He's always the first to know when something new is up in my life. I try to be there all the time for him but the thing is: he's never there for me.

And it hurts, cause I need him so fucking much and he's basically never there. I know he's not well, and I want to be the strong one between us two, I want to take care of him at the best of my ability, but don't I too get to get taken cared of sometimes? I'm not well either. Now I'm not asking for an extra shrink, all I want is his shoulder to simply lean on when it's extra rough for me.

We've been close friends for at least 6 months now and good friends for much longer than that. I know, I just know that things are going in the right direction although slowly and I really hate to complain, but my aching need for him is kinda turning into a searing pain that I simply don't know how to handle.

Of course it's Valentine's Day coming up closer and closer, slowly choking me from where I am. And I just need him so much that day it's like I don't know if I can hold solid without him that particular day. The time draws near and I don't know what to say to him. I wish he would come to me, ask me to come over to the main country just to see him. I would be over there in a heartbeat, and he would (hopefully) know that he can count on me. Whatever it is about.

Have I ever judged him? Have I ever laughed at him, thought something mean about him, ever done anything wrong? Yes, well I have done something wrong, but I would literally do anything I can to make up for it, if at all possible. I would do it even if it's not possible. He doesn't yet know about that mistake, but my heart tells me that it would be the right thing to tell him one day. And you should know I kick myself bloody almost every day for that horrible mistake that I seem to have done not once, not twice, but fucking three times. I suck so bad and I honestly feel like I don't deserve him.

Cause I honestly believe that I'm a bad person compared to him. Yeah, I already get mad at him sometimes, but it's all forgiven. Anyone can be annoying, even the love of my life. That's what I mean: I know that he's not perfect, yet I love him endlessly and all his faults too. I could literally live with all his faults for more than a lifetime and be the happiest person on Earth.

I know that it's real. When I've in fever dreams imagined telling him that I will always stay with him, that he can always count on me and I'll always be there for him in every single way I can and I wake up and know that is still true. I'd rather die alone than stop waiting for him. In May, 2 years will have passed and I still somehow love him more for every single day that passes.

And he's not even with me to know or experience it. In my aching heart, I can't help but wonder: will he ever know the true love that I feel for him, before everything is too late? I'm so scared, day and night, that everything will one day completely fall apart. I will deny every request I'll ever get from other people to be with me. Sexually, romantically or both. I want no one's hands on me but his, and my heart belongs to no one else than him. No matter how fucking shattered it is, every single piece of it belongs to him. Every. Single. Piece.

Why I don't care anymore

Love isn't supposed to come easy, especially not when you fall in love with a broken person. You've gotta be careful not to hurt them, to not cause them more pain and confusion cause you're a clumsy idiot who doesn't know at all how to handle other people and delicate situations.

Ugh, love makes me feel sick. But I don't wish I didn't love him, he needs that love, and I need it just to have a reason to stay alive. But it's killing me. It's been slowly killing me for 18 months even though I have gotten used to it by now. I can't even imagine not being in love with him.

It's become such a huge part of who I am now. I have become external reasons. Love, mental instability and headaches. That's what I am, that's what's left of me. No actual personality, just those three components in various doses throughout the day. I wouldn't exist without those three, I would be an empty shell.

I don't know who I am anymore, cause there's nothing left of me to be. I've been consumed, erased, replaced. Now tumblr posts, cigarettes and self destruction shape me throughout the day. I don't know any other way to live. Now I just exist and breathe automatically.

Am I sad? I don't know the answer to that question, but I know that I'm not happy. And I know that I never will be. And for the moment, I'm fine with that. I don't care. I don't think life was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be a lesson. Something you learn and grow from. And now I know that I can probably survive just about anything.

Is that dangerous? I don't think I'm invincible, hardly, I really don't think I am that anymore. But I know that I can endure a lot. Probably most people can, they just don't think that they can, cause they've never been so close to the edge as I have. And for so many times.

I've learned a lot during 2013 and 2014, that I'm much stronger than I ever thought before. But I don't smile about that, cause I know what that means. It means that more shit will come and keep coming and I will learn new tactics in basic survival that will sooner or later ironically be the ones to kill me before the shit does. Cause my survival tactics are far more dangerous than what I feel threatened by.

I'm not even sure what it is that I feel threatened by. Vague and mysterious feelings and thoughts, mostly. It's all inside my head. Although there have been a few, easily counted, external things that have threatened me in my life up until today, most of it has been and is internal.

There's been some bullying, eviction, sexual assault, money problems. A few things like that but most of it, probably above 99% of everything, can probably be lumped up into the single, vary vague and complicated word: anxiety.

Everything causes anxiety but I don't even know what that word means. I don't even know if it's the right word for it. It's anxiety that is my biggest enemy and I fight it with every weapon that I have, ultimately leading me to nothing but self destruction. I'm destroying myself and my own life, so no matter how or when I die, I believe it will be my my fault either way. Cause I took myself there.

There is no end to self destruction. Maybe the cycle technically can be broken, but I don't believe in the possibility. I don't think I'll ever be ready to even give it a try. I've given up on ever living a decent life. Not because I want to die, but because recovering is too damn hard, requires too much work and I don't care anymore.

I've never known any other way of life. I only still go to see my shrink and other doctors for emotional support, pills to keep me above the surface, someone's figurative hand to hold while I walk through the fire that is my life while I continue to deteriorate.

I don't wish to find other tactics than self destruction, I don't wish to find any better methods, and I certainly don't want to learn how to deal with anxiety without fighting it. I know that now but somehow I've always known it. I wouldn't know who I am without the anxiety, it's such a big part of me. I'm like 90% anxiety and I would even go as far as to say that it scares me to know what I would be without it.

Cause maybe I would be terribly bored and boring? A simple human being without character? I'd rather be a mess than that. Sometimes I even think that I want to be a mess, that I like who I am with the mess included. Of course though, it frustrates me a lot from time to time how incredibly disabled I am thanks to it. There's so much that I can never do. I can't travel how I please, I can't afford anything worthwhile, I'm technically trapped in this apartment with very limited moving abilities.

It's like I'm in an invisible, mental wheelchair. I can walk, take the bus or even jump on a plane if I want to. But it takes a lot of planning, money I personally don't have, and a lot of effort. I don't function very well in any social settings, and you could almost say that my disability is anxiety. It's simple, cause it explains everything and not a daft at the same time. Disabled by anxiety? Yes... it can have quite some crippling effects on you in the long run.

But of course that wouldn't suffice for a full answer. I've got my headaches too, I've got a whole range of mental problems that I don't care to list right now. And I believe that is why I've given up on trying to get better, because all it does is getting worse and more complicated. In new ways that I didn't expect before. And I've become quite laid back about it now. I won't say this out too loud, in case it comes up and bites me in the ass, but I don't think that anything can surprise me anymore.

Strong reactions

That damn crew, they put away my things so that I can't find them again! Thanks a lot, assholes. I have major anxiety regarding food and eating today, but figured I can fix some chicken and make a simple sandwich with that. After many worries and but's I decided to go for it. It's okay food, lean meat and slow carbs.

But then I couldn't find the olive oil which I never put away. It's always by the stove. Always. Except for now that is. So in frustration after looking in every cabinet in the kitchen without finding it, I had to take butter instead. And oh my gosh, you can't imagine the anxiety over finally deciding for something okay to eat and then you realise you have to add butter!

I hardly even eat sandwiches anymore, cause I don't like them without butter and I don't want to eat them with. Gotta buy more olive oil or question the crew about where they fucking put it. They can't do that, and I'll fucking make sure they won't anymore or I'm not letting them anywhere near my apartment again. I have trust issues and a hell of a lot of paranoia. This really isn't helping.

I wish something could help me feel better, but I don't know what could. I have to get that sandwich done first, and eat it with my anxiety and then maybe I can do something about it. Right now I'm stuck in a downward spiral. Upset because I haven't eaten and upset because I have to eat.

Now I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth just to get the taste of food out of my mouth. I've never brushed my teeth that hard ever before. Then I put my plate in the kitchen so I wouldn't have to look at it. Don't wanna be reminded by it, by what I've eaten and when and how much. Is this crazy? Cause I can think of a million reasons why this isn't right.

I don't know why I feel this way, why I react the way I do to this. I'm still not even full, just terribly disgusted. I don't know why, it turned out okay. For being the horrible cook I am, it turned out really nice. So why do I feel this way? I don't understand.

Out of control

I don't want to play WoW, I don't want to do anything. I think I'm shifting again. But what can I do about it when there's nothing I want to do? Should take a walk. Buy a sandwich. Eat it. Smoke some more. Write some more. Maybe draw something, I don't know, anything.

Well, that didn't make me feel better. I'm kinda sad today, though not dark, not yet at least. I worry a lot. About the present and the future. I rarely worry about the future, but now I apparently do. There's something nagging at me, something I can't control, that I can't do anything about. It pains me, that it makes me feel so helpless. I can't control my fears and they are rising.

I wish I could just feel better sometime and not having so much to worry about all the time. All that anxiety that will probably never entirely leave me. And because it keeps changing all the time it's so hard to find a way to deal with it. So many different things causes my anxiety, like it's a life form of its own. And as soon as I think I understand it, then it changes again.

The reasons change. One day I'm having anxiety over one thing and the next day it's something else. It's very confusing. And to be perfectly honest, I'm not even sure if it is anxiety. It could be something else. Despite how it may seem, I can't even define half of all my complicated emotions. They are in control over me, and I'm just desperately trying to tag along wherever they lead me.

Oh, I'm not done yet. I feel so lost, and I realised that much of my pain today is because I miss K. I miss him more than ever before and if I let my guard down I think I would break down and cry. But I don't want to. I'd rather stay strong, trying not to switch to the dark me again and just hold on to the here and now. I'm such an asshole when I'm the dark me and I don't want to be that. That cold and confident, it sickens me. So I resist it as far as I can, even though I know I would feel better if I shift.

*

Suddenly I'm just cold. Defence mechanism activated. One of them many. But this thing, I don't even know if it's new, or that I just realised it very recently. How new can it be? I don't remember shifting like this before. Not with such a clear difference between these two polar opposites, as it is now. Maybe it has just become this way gradually. It's possible, cause I think it yet is to become even worse.

I hope it doesn't turn into something like DID, that wouldn't be good at all. I really hope I won't get that divided. I'm trying to gather all of me and put into one jar, somewhere confided where I can just collect myself and become a whole person again. How many am I now? I don't really know. Am I me and Anna or are we divided and I am light and dark? And the voices I hear, are they me too?

Such a complicated mess and I don't even know half of it. I'm still pondering, wondering if I should come clean to my shrink about this. Still very much hesitating, but I don't want it to get even worse. I fear for my mind, the seams that are ripping, the tear in my soul. I'm breaking apart and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

How my whole personality just keeps on splintering into smaller parts. All those parts by themselves are easier to handle, but together make a mess out of everything. It's hard to describe, this way of falling to pieces. Like I'm literally falling to pieces and I can't put it back together again. I'm losing control, I'm losing my mind.

This is very confusing. It's like I'm becoming two different people, yet I already am two different people. That my soul got split the first time when I was 9 and the other half of me became Anna. And now what, the half of me that truly is me is also splitting up in two? I don't know who I am anymore, where I end or begin, what is me and what isn't.

And if this is true, what could it mean for my future? If I'm suddenly three people and I shift between two of them, this could just go on forever and I could keep splitting into more personalities. So do I really have Schizophrenia or DID or do I very much unlikely have both? Just bits and pieces of both conditions and I can't figure it out. I'm dissociating as well as hallucinating with delusions. I'm quite a chaos.

This is a very long entry, but I think it is important. I've never written an entry first as the light me then continued writing as I shifted to the dark me. If not else, I need it for some documentation. To see how much I change, if the difference between the two will grow or fade or stay the same over some time. I know I'm thinking far ahead, I'm just worried.

I was playing WoW when I shifted, and I felt it the entire time. It's hard to describe it, but it was a bit like walking into another room. It might not sound very special to you, but believe me, it was quite interesting. Though having Anna constantly bothering me during the process was a bit annoying. It was almost like she was scared of it.

Open doors

I finally brought it up with my psychologist. That I wanna talk about my traumas. Only took me about eight months to muster that... I lightly (well, maybe not so lightly) write about some of those ordeals, what I'm okay with sharing, but it's a whole different thing talking about it face to face with someone. Especially when I'm sober. I might even tell her not only about what I've been put through by others (which I have shared here and in real life) but also about what I've done to other people.

I'm not such an innocent little flower, you know. Or well, I don't know what got into me exactly at those times when those things happened. Probably must have completely lost my mind for a day or two. I still don't know why I did what I did, it's beyond me. I'm kind and caring and would never harm another living creature on purpose, would I? Except that I have.

And I can't wrap my head around that. Maybe there is evil somewhere inside all of us, just that I happened to be one of those who acted out on it. There's so much I don't understand about myself, but those things... I really wonder what the hell is wrong with me when I think about it.

Maybe I shouldn't, you know, think about it. If it pains me so much and I just get nowhere when I'm trying to sort it out. I just entangle myself in it and the problem only grows bigger. The problem that I can't accept myself for the awful things I have done, and I wouldn't accept anyone else for having done the same things either. There was a time when I thought "those people" should be locked up in prison, or even be executed. Would that justify a suicide? I don't know.

But I wouldn't wanna kill myself as an excuse to society, and those I've hurt by my deeds would only become devastated if I die. That is a problem. I suppose you're figuring out that it's someone I'm still in contact with, someone who knows me. Then you're right, but I won't say more than that. There's only two people by the way, that I hurt, if that's of any consolation at all. Better than three or five or ten, I mean. Though I'm not diminishing it.

I don't want to kill myself, and especially not for something that happened several years ago. I've had reasons, millions of reasons for suicide, but this has never been it. Is that wrong of me, thinking that I don't deserve to die, but that I have in my past thought that people who have done the same things rightfully deserved to die?

I mean look a society. We have a criminal justice system, and the state or something decides who should be locked up or not. I was too young for my first deed but had I been older and gotten reported I would most likely have ended up in prison or a likewise place depending on age. But then my gender would also likely have been confusing so you never know. Cause "girls don't do that" kinda crap, not that I was a girl, but you get it. There are certain things you wouldn't accuse a girl of doing. All I know is that most sane people don't want creeps who have done such things walking around on the streets. I could do it again, right?

Isn't that what the criminal justice system is made for, to stop criminals from acting out again? I can safely say that I will never ever lose my mind like that and do something like that again. Ever. But the thing is that I have already done it and once things are done they cannot be undone. I would if I could though. Oh, I so definitely would undo it if I could...

But back to where I was going with this. I'm very divided around the subject of right and wrong because of this. Cause if I would firmly stand by my words I would go against my own deeds, if that makes any sense. My sense of right and wrong is colliding. I'm the kid in a candy store telling everyone it's wrong to steal but still has stolen candy before in that store. But now we're talking much worse things than stealing candy. Very hush hush.

It's the only things I have never ever told anyone about. That's why I'm so nervous and hesitating to tell my shrink. I don't even know if I should. Things could get worse, if she decides she needs to "save" or whatever, the persons I hurt, then it could get really complicated. Really, really complicated. Of course I'll ask her if there's any chance she would do that first. Really push it out of her if I have to, cause I just can't take that risk. It would mess things up not only for me, so I'm not completely selfish.

I know of only one other person I would possibly tell, and that would be K, if he wanted to know that is. Cause that is how much I trust him, even though I don't know him so well. Though I bet you're all dying to know what horrible crimes I've committed. Or maybe you just want me to shut the fuck up about it already. But here it is. Maybe I am revealing more about it each time, I don't know. It's like it's trying to claw its way out of me, like a crazy bird or something. I have to force myself to shut up.




Maybe why I'm always so open... what if it's compulsive? That I'm sort of forcing myself to the brink, constantly pushing it a little bit further each time. Until literally my whole life is on display. No, I won't include those things in my autobiography. I'll leave a hint in the end of the chapter about when I was in 1st to 3rd grade, but I'll also say that it's not just my story to tell. I'm still trying to control myself as much as I can. I re-read and edit all of my posts and I ask myself, "would I be okay with everyone reading this?" before I decide if I should post it. I think that's it for now. Just needed to vent a bit.

And I'll keep trying

Oh, noodles! It's been over 40 hours since I last ate something and damn one appreciates food like never before after fasting. Even I do. Though with all the cream I add in it there's quite much calories, so I can't eat anything else today. I'm trying to stay under 500 kcal a day. It is very little, but trust me, I know my body too damn well, and as I'm trying to lose weight I have to eat very little.

I don't want to give up on piercings. Just saying I want to try to get some again. I've wanted septum for some time (maybe a few years) but since I'm blowing my nose constantly I doubt it's gonna work cause it would be nearly impossible to keep it clean for it to heal. Giving up on my eyebrow though. It's a superficial piercing and my body hated it from the time I got it in 2010 up until I took it out for the surgery in March. No, can't get it back in again, I tried.

So I'm thinking about getting a new centre labret again. Second time. Take better care of it this time. I might do it when I get to the main country, since there are no good piercing studios here on Gotland. And I need to go behind my mother's back again... But I want to have something in my nose as well, so that I can wear a chain going from my ear. They look so cool, and I've always wanted that too.

Just got back from the gym. I'm still not used to going there, I'm a bit edgy and nervous. Especially when passing through the men's locker room. No doubt about it, that's where I belong, but my insecurity shines like the sun. So anyway, I had been on the bike for 20 minutes (burned 97 calories) and really needed some water. I didn't bring my own bottle so I thought I'd just use the tap in the locker room. But then there was this big guy just standing there and I was like "eeek just gonna have some water oki bye bye". I didn't say that of course, but I must have looked absolutely frightened.

My mind started wandering again and again I can't stop thinking about K. I tried though, thought I must write about something else, finish this blog entry without mentioning K, but who am I trying to fool? Of course I had to mention him again. I'm really spell bound by him right now. Like, what's he doing to me? No I know that it's not actually him doing something to make me feel that way, or at least I don't think so. If it is, then I won't complain at all!

1998

I just realised that I don't remember anything from year 1997. Maybe because everything happened during the year after. When everything changed, forever. Did you know I was raped twice? Though it's hardly a record and nor should it be. It just popped up in my head right now, as I was thinking about the number 97 which is one of my favourite numbers.

Rape, sexual assault. It changes you. And I was so young in 1998. Just nine years old. Did I ever have a childhood? I ask myself. I's almost like I was born unhappy and then people went and made my life even crappier. It's not so strange I hated elementary school. But my hatred towards it wasn't actually directed to schools as such, cause I really liked going to other schools later on. I guess I just hated my class and school mates back then. They weren't so friendly.

They did that to me. Children, younger than I was. Though I can't even remember all of it. Don't remember how the rest of that day went by, how I felt directly after. I don't remember the rest of the day my second rape happened either. I wonder why. My mother remembered it though. Apparently I was kinda upset.

I guess I just like ranting about the horrible things I went through. Maybe it's a way of facing it, of dealing with it. Maybe I am just crazy and find pleasure in reliving the truly unpleasant. I fantasise about it, how it could have gone differently. For the worse and for the better. Trying to get some perspective. Trying to understand what actually happened, why it happened. How they must have thought and felt. What went through my rapists' minds when the did what they did? Did they think they didn't harm me, or were they cruelly aware of it?

Wonder why I didn't defend myself the second time, in 2007. I knew karate for fucks sake. And I just lied there and took it. I don't understand why. Maybe my fear just paralysed me. So much for learning self defence.

And it just brings me down. How fragile I am, so easily broken. And I wonder if it could happen again, cause I have a feeling that it will happen again someday. I don't know why, but it's like I think the world isn't done fucking me around. At least it gave me Anna as a sad act of forgiveness or something. Cause I still think this is why she came to me. PTSD with dissociation, or DID. My best bet so far as to why I have a split personality. The whole of me split into two people. And most of you only know half of me.

Don't be your own therapist, you just end up getting more entangled in the memories of your traumas. But they're just memories now and they can't hurt me. My scars that will never fully heal. I don't think I've ever heard of another rape victim who's moved on completely from their experience/-s. Cause maybe it just isn't possible.

Starve for control

I think a whole lot about food and eating, don't I? A bit too much I'd say, cause it makes me sick just thinking about it. My relationship to food has become worse, I realise. I still wanna lose weight and not eat, but I wish I could stop obsessing about it. Maybe it's just a phase, maybe I won't get an eating disorder.

At least I hope so, cause I don't want to get new problems all the time. But I know I'm in the risk zone. I've been a bit pro-ana to be honest, though I'm not proud of that. Not at all. I mean I've been jealous of anorexic people, that they can keep such control over what they're eating when I couldn't. That they can stay thin and even if they get better they're not likely to ever get fat. More likely to fall back though, but still. Yeah, I'm fucked up, I know...

I am a control freak, even though it might not be obvious. There's so much that I feel is out of control which drives me crazy, so I have to find things that I can control. And I found out I could control what I'm eating last spring, or at least I tried. I impatiently tried to be anorexic, or at least living that way. I was desperate to lose weight. I still am.

For every kilo that I lose I get inspired to lose more. I starve constantly and have done so for months at an end now. Almost a year (I don't remember exactly when it started). "Good" thing that my metabolism can handle that. I say good like that cause I want to see more results from my lack of eating. I don't just starve cause I hate food, I do it cause I hate my body.

My body image is really bad and my self esteem is low. I can still eat properly when offered food though, unless it's really disgusting of course. I don't eat much, cause there's just not so much room in my stomach anymore. That tends to happen when you eat very little for a long time.

I don't know what happened last spring. What drove me to this way of living. I had been over weight for almost two years by then, so it wasn't a recent weight gain. But for some reason I must have just snapped eventually. That I needed for something to be done about my hatred towards my body.

I've always hated the way I look and thought I was too fat since I was about six or seven years old. It's almost amazing I lasted this long without eating disorders. If you look at it that way. Eating has always been a problem one way or another and so has the way I look been for me, it's just that last year they combined. All I see is a downward hill but it could also still change. I'm not there yet, I could turn it around... if I wanted to. And that is my problem. If I really don't want to have an eating disorder, why don't I do something about that?

Cause it's always been a goal in my life to be thin and good looking, just like for (almost) everyone else. And I'm working towards that goal, so why would I wanna ruin that? I'm one of few who actually said "I've had enough" and went to do something about it. No way I'm gonna stop now. No way, I'm just starting.

Changes

Slept fairly well tonight. Apart from the dreams about embarrassing conversations, illegal immigrants, molested nuns and a guy torturing someone.

So how long am I gonna have nightmares for? It feels like I don't really get any rest from sleeping, like I wake up exhausted in need for some real rest. Though I know that they reflect the fears that I carry. Fears for the present and the future.

What are my fears? I'm not sure. But I think it's about the complications after my surgery, of not passing, of never being able to be anywhere close to happy, about dying. Those are the general, I suppose. The biggest fears that haunt me today.

Anxiety about what may or may not happen. How things will turn out and how long it's gonna take, what is out of my power. I rarely fear what is in my power to change, things that I can change. I'm willing to change now, just give me the possibility to do that.

It's like I think I have the means, but not able to use them. Like I know what to do but have to wait until I can do it. The thought has occurred to me, that maybe I'm willing to take the risks and start anyway, without waiting. Cause I've waited too damn long already.

We'll see what I'll do, if I can figure it out. Cause I've gotta change, while the energy is still in me, before I collapse and give up again. I don't want to allow that to happen, but it's not that simple. It just happens, you know. And I want to remember this year as the year when I finally turned things around. Yes, this year, not the next or the one after that.

If that means beating odds or risking things, I don't care. So be it. There are always risks, with everything that is worth fighting for. But is my life worth fighting for? Well, technically it's the only thing I have to fight for, and that's enough of a reason. I'm done waiting.

When there's no escape

Let's talk about pain. It does things to you. It makes you do things you didn't think you'd ever do. As a kid I never wanted to drink or do drugs, I swore I'd never do that. I never got desperate enough to take a whole bottle of pills or get so drunk I couldn't stand on my own feet cause I couldn't deal with my headache. Because I wanted to escape.

I remember the first few months after it got chronic. I was sixteen and just wanted to lead a normal life, go to school and meet new friends. Become something, have a job that I didn't hate. Of course I still wanted to be different, that's not what I mean. It was so hard to come to terms with it and accept it. It took almost a year before I gave up on trying to understand and cure it.

Now when I take something, recommended dosage of painkillers or something more of a dangerous amount, I just try to get rid of the worst of it. It never works anymore. Not even morphine and I think it's because it isn't physical anymore. There's this thing with our brains, it remembers pain and can make you experience it even if you aren't actually in pain anymore. It's hard to explain, cause I don't fully understand it.

There is no cure, there is nothing I can do. Most days I accept it, try to work around it somehow, anyhow. Find my limits, when to stop or slow down. I can't even go to School anymore. It is that disabling, cause after one or two School days in a row it becomes so strong I have to go home and rest for a week. Aside from the other mental problems that hits the roof at about that time or even sooner. With slight social anxiety, dysphoria, psychotic symptoms and a splitting headache you just don't work in society.

It makes me nuts sometimes, all of that, but I can handle most of it, with rest and time, but not the headache. Psychotic episodes eventually fade, dysphoria goes down when I'm back at home again, social anxiety goes away when I'm away from social situations. But the headache never goes away. Ever. It doesn't matter how much I rest or whatever I do or don't do.

I wish there was something that could be done about it. My ideas have been everything from crazy to stupid. Like when I want to literally be beheaded or when I cut myself only to ease the headache. Sometimes it works a bit, the latter that is, which is kinda sad.

Right now I'm worried I'd get a fever. Cause if I do it's likely an infection and I have to go to the emergency ward. Don't want to spend my Easter that way.

Anna says: Don't be afraid of your own body.
I respond: There's nothing I am more afraid of.

All the time

My anxiety is not gone. There's something else causing it instead, but it feels the same. Yeah, my body is always making the same anxiety overload signals no matter what the reason is. The reason is unimportant. Just for once I don't give damn why I feel like shit from morning to midnight. Cause I take care of one thing and then the next thing is causing the same problem, and then the next, and then the next. Like fighting off vermin on a frigging farm and your carrots still get eaten.

My ways of dealing with this anxiety goes from bad to good to bizarre. The good is focusing on breathing, make sugar cake and things like that. The bad is drinking obscene amounts of coffee and beating myself up. The bizarre ways of dealing with anxiety would be, for instance, making it worse on purpose. Or masking it with anxiety over something else. Like doing dungeons in WoW just for "the thrill" of it. It's like fighting fire with fire. Well, if you're running out of water you have to think of another way to put out the fire, or watch your house burn to the ground, right?

Every day I wake up with anxiety tearing a hole in me, so I'd rather keep on sleeping until the sun goes down. Eventually I do get up, but it takes tremendous efforts. And then the anxiety keeps wrapping itself tighter around me, it's like it's choking me.

Right now... I don't know. Just need to get through what I can't seem to get through. I mean, of course I survive it, but it never goes away. Ever. I don't know what to do. I don't want to, and I seriously can't, take pills for it every time. It's just like my headache now, there is no "every time" it is all the time. Constantly. When I decide to take Zyprexa the anxiety only goes away for as long as the drug's effect lasts. Then as it fades away, my anxiety is taking over again. In order to stay "free" from anxiety I would have to take about ten doses of Zyprexa a day. Can't do that, won't do that.

It's for the same reason I can't take pain killers every time I get a headache. I don't want to become a drug addict, I have enough problems already. But I can't live in pain either. Survive, yes. But live? It's hard to compare physical pain to mental pain, but if I should, then I say mental pain is the worst. I don't know why, but I think it might be because mental pain is affecting the whole lot of you in a non scientific sort of way. Like it consumes you, becomes you.

The advice my shrink would give me is to let go and not do anything. But if I was to do that, I'd probably be sitting in a wardrobe and rocking myself. And no, that isn't so far off, cause I actually happen to do that sometimes. Perhaps not both at once, or for a long time, but I like sitting in a dark wardrobe, perfectly still, so still that I can't feel my body. It's like I sort of... disappear.

Constant worry

I should be worrying about the right thing, but my brain just sort of picks its choice without my consent. I think that if I really have to worry about something, it should at least be something worth worrying about. I really should do something about that worry, before this anxiety just gets worse and worse. I know that when my stomach hurts and I start rocking myself on a daily basis, it's not a good thing.

Aside from that, there hasn't been much change these last few days. I've started on a new embroidery project again, which I thought was gonna be rather big considering the sketch I drew on a A3 sized paper, but when I calculated it the final result will barely be a quarter of that size. I need to buy more sewing thread in green, pink, grey and blue. I use a lot of shading effects with colours close to each other and blending them to create even closer shades. So when light grey combined with white is too dark, I have to get an even lighter shade of grey.

This is why I keep using normal sewing thread, cause then I have a lot more colours to choose from, than I would if I had used that special kind of embroidery yarn. For the piece I'm working on right now I use: four shades of beige for the skin tone, two green for the eyes, three grey/white for the hair and three red/pink for the lips. Altogether that is twelve different shades for a 10x20 cm artwork.

Overdoing it? Nah, I need to keep it interesting to not get bored by filling in large areas of the same colour. What else do I do? Well, yeah I'm still playing WoW, but not as much as before. I've probably gone from 12 hours a day to around 7 hours. Tried/trying to get highest possible reputation with all horde basic factions, but the blood elves "Silvermoon City" is just a damn pain in the ass, to be perfectly honest. I'm stuck halfway from revered to exalted, and there are no more quests to do. My only option is doing dungeons wearing their tabard.

The thing is that the higher level my character gets, the harder it is for me to do dungeons. At level 15-20 it's easy, I know the map and it's all pretty basic. I can do that with mild to moderate anxiety. Up at around levels 30 through 40 it's getting harder, more confusing and beyond the basics. I can do that with moderate to bad anxiety. Beyond level 60 it's hard, very confusing, I feel embarrassed, guilty, like I'm doing everything wrong and now we're talking really severe anxiety. IT'S JUST A GAME. Well, life is a game too.

Following the pattern

So I figured out that "three days of misery" -cycle yesterday? Anxiety, sadness, anger and then it starts over again. So yesterday was day four with anxiety again, and today... wait for it... I'm riddled with sadness. So I'm "looking forward" to get anger tomorrow then. Seems very repetitive, can't I get something new instead? Oh, have to be careful what I wish for, cause it might just come true.

It's heavy, this sadness. As if there was a weight on me, a pressure of some sort. I don't know why I feel so sad though. If it's the music I listen to, the memories that haunt me, the weather outside my window, or the mess of things occupying this room. Everything I think of becomes sad in a way, I see the gloom in everything.

Starving is like sliding down a hill. It tears you up and wears you out. No... I do try.

Ok, how the hell does one lose a pack of eggs? I hereby resign from life. Seriously, I bought them yesterday, but I've somehow lost them completely. I don't care, I won't look for them, I won't do anything that involves eggs or any other household thing. Just gonna do the only thing I'm good at: sit on my ass and feel like shit.

Yeah, I'm just having a bad day... week... month... year... life. Seriously, this sucks. It's like I'm lost in a darkness somewhere and no matter how much light I bring I still can't see anything. Maybe that means that I'm blind. Figuratively, I think that I am blind, cause I can only see darkness.

I may not have a main character in WoW, but I think that Izanamí is my favourite character. Maybe that counts, and also that I still can't stop playing with him. I log in every day, and I always start with doing quests as Izanamí. I think I'll call him my main. He kinda deserves it.



Soundtrack: "I want it all" by Queen.

Searing thoughts

Everything tastes like metal since I quit smoking. It's like I'm on Imovane all the time, cause when I actually do take it (it's been twice in two weeks) I don't notice any difference at all. I'm thinking myself to madness tonight. Started with thoughts about my magic abilities, moved on to Dala and Caspian, then got to anxiety and ended up in trains and suicide. In a little under two hours.

At first I thought of posting it here, but it's way beyond too much and I don't wanna go through it again. Nor do I want to put anyone else through it, come to think of it... I've had a lot of anxiety today. My days are in a neat pattern of misery of three days as of lately. Day one: anxiety. Day two: sadness. Day three: anger. Now I'm on day four, which is anxiety again.

It's like every day has its own pretty little colour! Anger should be red, and sadness should be black, right... but what about anxiety? Perhaps yellow, it sort of screams a bit, doesn't it? Sorry, you don't have to answer that.

I don't know why, but I googled my headache, the chronic tension-type. Most of it sort of made me a bit upset though. Because it was to me useless crap. Like self help stuff and about the neck and back muscles being the cause of the pain. Like the fuck? If I meant back/neck pain I would have googled for that!

No, the searing pain constantly eating at me originates from my forehead, temples, sinus and jaws. This headache... it's psychosomatic to begin with. Sometimes I even think it might be only imagined, but then other days I can actually see how tense I am when I look in a mirror.

Mostly it's mild to moderate, so I'm not crumbling beneath the pain all the time. Some days I hardly even notice it until someone asks me about it. Then I check if it's still there and then I can't think clearly cause the pain is piercing my every thought. Agony... too much agony in my life.

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.

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...

Well, I kinda knew it

Arghhh, I knew it wouldn't be that easy with the surgery, I just knew it! Just spoke to them yesterday and everything seemed fine, they were just gonna send some information papers. The things mentioned in them (just got the papers) are things I was supposed to have done two weeks before the surgery. They should have sent me a frigging time machine as well! Fuck!

Now I'm having doubts they will take me in on Tuesday... I soooo want it done and then all this crap comes up and things just got really complicated. I'm still smoking and I took salicylic acid (Treo) which is thinning my blood, I could bleed to death in there. Damn, I thought things were going a bit too well...

Just raging now. I put my mother on the phone with them cause I just can't stop shaking, could barely even hold the phone when I spoke to my mother and my voice was trembling. Now I just have to wait for her call and my final judgement. Fit for surgery or not?

I could probably have lied a little if I could muster calling them myself, but I don't know if that would have been to my winning. If my bad habits can kill me on that table or lead to horrible complications it wouldn't be worth it, no matter how damn much I want that surgery.

Being healthy isn't exactly easy for me. I'm a ball of anxiety and reach for anything, however destructive I can, just to survive. They should have told me these things long before, already at the consultation in August. What is it with people not giving out information in time, just expecting everyone to know that stuff? I've never had surgery before, I didn't know anything of that.

Still waiting for my mother call back, and I can't calm down. I'm hysteric, allover the place and can't even breathe right. I need to eat, need to go to the drug store. Need a shower. Close the window, but even that I can't muster. Just writing, only writing and smoking. Rocking myself as I lose sensation in my fingers due to the coldness in here. Just breathe damn it, just breathe...

I didn't know this was gonna come up. All I got was a vague feeling there could be a problem. A very vague feeling. Why can't these stupid instincts work when I really need them?!