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.

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.

This madness will eat me alive

The song "This maniac's in love with you" by Alice Cooper just popped up on the playlist, and wow that song speaks to me now! "My heart has been strapped in a straight jacket love..." I suppose it needs no explanation. Sometimes those songs I've been listening to for years suddenly get a new meaning to them.

Gosh, I can't even focus on writing a few sentences. What's up with me today? These days I mean, or these weeks, no these months... alright, I get it. I've slowly been losing my mind for months. Been getting worse than before lately. "It takes all I got to survive, this madness will eat me alive." Maybe I should let Alice Cooper speak for me instead?

Yeah, so things have been getting worse. First off, increased mood swings. Then self harm/destruction got out of control. Alcoholism, starvation, sleep deprivation and what not. Then more psychotic stuff emerged, experienced a few delusions, started hearing more voices than just Anna's and had what I believe was a full blown psychosis. Then followed lovesickness and hypnophobia. I started to sum these things up with my past and made the self diagnosis Schizophrenia which I think is the most accurate self diagnosis I've made.

And now I'm just living all the symptoms of it, in various degrees. Like incoherent thoughts, weird delusions and not knowing if things are real or not. Oh, and telling all the voices to shut the fuck up. Still telling myself it might be something else than Schizophrenia, but I suppose it's just or mostly because I don't want that.

I'd rather have something else that is actually fixable. Something that isn't quite that horrible and condemning and will last for the rest of my life. And the only treatment is medication that makes me a zombie. Hoping that I can come up with a more pleasant self diagnosis, but I doubt that I will.

I'm having tactile hallucinations lately, and they're very annoying. Yesterday I felt the floor was shaking, like someone stomped around in my apartment, but when I looked around obviously no one was there. I'm losing sensation in various body parts as well, which is kinda creepy. Though only for a while and then it comes back. There's this spot on my back, one on my right thigh and one on my left arm. It doesn't tingle or anything, just completely numb, as if it was frozen but it's warm. Very strange.

I just hate it how Schizophrenia fits so perfectly. Cause if Borderline really was the right diagnosis then I wouldn't have gotten worse from the treatment for it, for symptoms that I don't have.

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...

Trying not to drown

I'd rather be alone, than with anyone else than him. God, I'm so pathetic... how did I get this way? I promised not to fall in love, but I did it anyway. I tried for a while, I really did, but it was harder to not love him than it is to love him.

It's been getting worse lately. The feelings are more often overwhelming, and it's hard focusing on anything else. I do try though... sometimes. Other times it's just easier to wallow in the emotions, for some reason.

I'm drifting in and out of various states of apathy, longing, hopelessness, wanting, lack of appetite, some appetite, sleeplessness, sorrow, greed, wishing and hoping. I want those feelings to go away but I don't know what I want to feel instead. Some things I just can't get. His love in return, feeling complete, loved, appreciated, beautiful and content with myself and the life I live. That's never gonna happen, so I suppose I'm trying to make the best of what I do have in a bizarre, potentially fatal way.

Giving in... that has never been a good thing to do when it comes to my decisions in life. That's what has lead me to addictions, self destruction and suicide attempts in the past. When I just let go and let my mind and heart tear me to pieces. Or maybe I'm just mixing up "giving in" with "giving up" cause they tend to look a bit like twins from where I stand.

I can't help but wonder how much longer this can go on. Weeks, months, years? I can't be in love with him for years, right? That sounds so damn... painful. It's been two months already and I can barely endure it as of now. It's growing stronger, and every day it becomes a little more painful, a little more fatal. And by fatal I do mean suicide.

I'm gonna try to avoid that though, but lovesickness isn't something shrinks understand, it's not in their hands. But suicide is, and whatever the reason. It's just that if they have no idea how to handle a patient with severe lovesickness, then how would they be able to help me if it was to come to that?

I suppose I will have to help myself as usual... and that's gone well in the past... not. Sometimes I wonder that if I had ever gotten any useful help from the psychiatry I wouldn't be so fucked up as I am today. I've been thinking on and off that I should just cut off all contact with the psychiatry, they're just making everything worse. And I ask myself why I'm even going there.

So... (yes, this entry will go on forever) I really don't have a solution to what I should do if this gets any worse. I can take medication and seek comfort in others, but that's about it. And sad to say, but that has never been enough. I don't know what would be enough, I just know what isn't working. I'm tired of constantly trying to find new methods in how to survive, and repeating the old ones that didn't work. But what else can I do? Maybe this is what living is?

Try, fail and repeat. Over and over and over until there won't be any more repeat. I don't know how to sleep or eat, I don't know how to feel and think, I don't know how to be social or keep friends, I don't know how to heal or function, I don't know how to love and sometimes I forget to breathe. I don't know how to live, or even if I want to live. I'm mentally disabled and it's screwing with my soul.

I'm chain smoking again. That was a while ago. Well, not that long, come to think of it. Literally chain smoking, lighting a new cigarette right after putting the one before out. Today started out alright, but then I fell again. I should eat, take some pills, cut myself, whatever will help. I'm way past distractions now, but still far from an anxiety attack. I hope...

Everything isn't hopeless. Why do I keep forgetting that?! I'm eating, at least once a day. Though all I eat is pancakes and frozen microwave meals, but still. It could be classified as food. I have a circadian rhythm, though it's very hard for me to fall asleep and I don't get enough sleep, but still. I'm on hormones legally and supervised, and I will go in for surgery in the somewhat near future. Everything points to that at least, though it's been awfully quiet from the hospital. The point is: everything really isn't hopeless. It really isn't. It isn't hopeless. It isn't hopeless. Mantras, I've been doing that a lot lately. Doubt they help, but you never know.

Wanna see how much I can write at once without taking a break or deleting anything? Of course you do. Pausing for lighting a cigarette doesn't count.

I realise I really can go on forever with this. Weighting the pros and cons of being in love, of being alive. It's sad to say that no matter how I count, the negative always weighs more. But what am I gonna do about it? I have to own the whole world and be loved by everyone for the scale to tip the other way. But I don't want that, sounds strenuous... My dreams are too big and my hopes are too small. No, my hopes are also sky high.

My mind takes me to strange places when I think about meeting him in person. I just can't keep it on a realistic level. Just can't stop hoping, for what will never happen unless I'm EXTREMELY lucky, and I'm never extremely lucky. Not even close. Basically everything that I have to be thankful for in my life came to me because I put in a lot of effort, took a lot of risks and was very patient. So why am I hoping for a miracle, it will only hurt more than it already does because I know that won't happen. Not in this reality.

Perhaps it's because this is the last hope I can have in regards to this lovesickness: how he would react if or when I tell him. Cause after that there is no more. Then I can go back to hating everyone and blocking my own Facebook account again. Realising that being around people just makes everything worse, and that I'm better off far away from people.

Cause that's what the end of lovesickness reaches to. I break into even smaller and sharper pieces and shun the world and all that resembles it. At least I know what to expect this time. I just want it to be over, just want it to be over... and maybe that's the real reason why I wanna tell him, cause it might be the first step to some sort of recovery. But in that case it is selfish, and why place such a burden on him, the person I love so damn much I just wanna rip my heart out?

I don't understand myself, or the thoughts that I'm thinking. Nothing makes any sense! Believe me, I just want to do what is right, but I don't know what right is. I keep confusing right with wrong and all the shades in between. Is telling him wrong, is it right or just somewhere in between? If it's selfish, then it is wrong. But if not telling him is breaking me apart, isn't that also wrong? Is letting him know righteous, would he even want to know?

I'm completely analysing this into mashed potato. One moment, one feeling, one meeting that hasn't even taken place yet, analysed into a 1297 words long blog entry. Wow.

Incoherent thoughts

How can I finish anything I ever start? Every little or big project I start goes very fast in the beginning and I just love doing it ...until I lose all inspiration and creativity, just like that. I can't concentrate, I can't even concentrate on this passage of text I'm writing right now. It feels like I have a lot on my mind but yet no clear thoughts come to me. I'm sifting through my love's every picture on Dayviews, but I don't know what I'm looking for. My comments perhaps, or I just wanna see how he's changed over the years.

What else is on my mind? Caffeine and sleep, I think. As I said, I can't snap up any clear thoughts, it's all just a vague murmur. It reminds me, in the shower before going to bed yesterday, I said out loud "You know you're schizophrenic when even your voices have disorganised speech". It holds some significance, but I'm not trying to talk myself into believe I'm schizophrenic, and I'm not intentionally parading it either, it was just something that came to mind when I realised that I and Anna often start conversations like in the middle of a sentence and then I ask her (or the other way around for that matter) what hell she's talking about.

That happens quite a lot, several times a day, multiple times a day, maybe 20 or something. I don't know. So yeah, I have very disorganised, incoherent thoughts that just seem to pop up from nowhere. I think they are someone else's thoughts that I snap up from the air or something. Like radio waves.

I'm not saying that I can read other people's minds, cause I can't. It's just that maybe some of our thoughts can be transported, detach and end up in someone else's head. Like radio waves. No, I'm not gonna wear a helmet of tin foil to protect myself from these thoughts, simply because it's nothing I need to protect myself from. But now I suddenly understand why some schizophrenics do that, put tin foil on their heads. It makes perfect sense! How delusional am I now again? I mean one must be a little bonkers to suddenly think that severely mentally ill people actually are having great ideas in dealing with mystical forces that I also believe in. Like some sort of shared delusion or something.

They're just random, jumbled up words and sentences with no reason or rhyme. Like: "I should get promoted because of how my kitchen looks. Maybe there could be a way to change that." to which Anna replies "What the fuck are you talking about?" and I just say "I have no idea".

I've lost my train of thought again. Well then, that'll have to be all for now.