Drugs and priorities

Aw, fuck. WoW shut down for updates and won't be playable until 11:00 pm. It was the only thing I could find that helped me think of something else than all this fucking pain. That's why I play, that's why I play that stupid endless game! I hate you Blizzard.

One good thing worth mentioning though: I don't seem to be hypnophobic anymore. Maybe you already figured out, since I'm obviously back on my old sleeping pattern. My fear of sleeping just disappeared just like that. I gave up. Totally and completely gave up on trying to stay awake and trying to fall asleep. I finally found a way to "let go".

Still over medicating in order to fall asleep though. Lergigan, Mirtazapin, Zyprexa and Imovane combined in large quantities. You're not supposed to take 15 mg of Imovane every night for longer than two weeks, but I just don't give a fuck about those stupid regulations. Just gimme the fucking pills so that I can fall asleep within 30 hours, is that really too much to ask of?

Nowadays I fall asleep when I'm... what was that word again? (Anna says: you don't remember the word you've been over using for months?) ...lethargic. And I get out of bed when I can't fall back to sleep again or wake up from a nightmare. Usually awake for 20-26 hours and sleep/stay in bed for 12-16 hours at a time. I can't fit into a 24 hours circadian rhythm, but nor do I care either. At least I vary sleep with being awake in some sort of acceptable pattern that doesn't make my brain melt. I believe this will be my last post tagged "hypnophobia".

Still wanting antipsychotic medicine, but keep dreaming huh? I'd rather fall apart mentally and die with a masculine body than perking up and die because I hate my body as it is now. Either way I'll die from suicide eventually, but still. That thing about leaving a beautiful corpse behind, perhaps. No it's all about priorities. And these fucked up priorities say something about what I would do to feel complete, body and soul, don't they? That I'd rather die than fuck up my chances on getting that surgery done. Any time anyone asks me if I really want to change my body to match my gender identity, I'll just answer that. I have my parents in mind, especially my mother seem to still have doubts about my certainty. If only she knew...

Sleepless tonight

I think maybe my arm warmers will grow stuck my arms in due time. I didn't even notice I have them on today, until now. And being without them, even for just a minute feels weird and sort of naked. Dreading the day I will have to wash them. Three whole hours that I won't be able to wear them! Catastrophe!

I've started another embroidery piece, as I got the tip on making band patches. Found that FGFC820 has a pretty simple logo, so I start off with that one. Besides, they have become one of my favourite bands now. Though I listen to so many different band's music nowadays, it's hard to figure out which ones to make patches of. Maybe it will just come to me.

It's five o'clock again and I'm still awake. Just waiting for the Imovane to kick in, and listening to Sigur Rós that has a calming effect on me. Sad songs, but calming in a way. I just had a re-run on "Vanilla Sky", one of my favourite films all time. I recognise myself so much in the main character, except for him being rich and pretty, and I'm not. So many good quotes in it that sticks to my mind. Like when Julie asks David "What is happiness to you?" and I sometimes try to answer that question myself, but I still can't find an answer.

I'm one of those hopelessly tragic people who could wait a whole lifetime for that one true love, to have a perfect body, to live a happy life. Those are nice dreams for sure, but they're unrealistic. To make this one special person fall in love with me, to change body into looking a lot more masculine, to live on a constant hight rush of creative energy and inspiration.

It's seven o'clock and I'm still awake. Think I broke my record of too much cutting in only one day, today. It's like I can't stop once I've started, and I never really know what gets me started either. But just checking the healing process of my earlier made wounds can be a trigger, I guess. That, and this horrible night time anxiety which is related to my hypnophobia. It's still there, and still making my life shit.

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.

My dark paradise

Oh, the fuck is this? I’m tired again, with elusive feelings. It's like I’m changing between being energized and lethargic, several times a day. This insomnia is starting to take its toll, my mind just start separating its parts and they drive apart. Somewhere. Divides me and makes everything intangible and hazy. At least I can somewhat focus on my embroidery, but of course I did a few mistakes, but I just work around them instead of correcting. It's a fucking tree, it doesn't need to look perfect. Then I need to figure what to do after I’m finished with the tree.

An open door, I think. And the door should be made of really old broken wood planks, golden handle and antique hinges. Brick wall around the door, just by the edges, fading out. Cats. I’ve gotta have cats in the picture! What should be shown on the other side of the door? First I thought bats, but it'll be better if they are outside/around the door instead. Since it's gonna be a dark, sorta gothic picture, maybe the door leads to a light, green garden or something like that? Can't be too much details though, there's a limit to how small cross-stitches I can make. About 2 square millimetres, so it is a little finicky. It's gonna be my dark paradise.

That's about as far I’ve got regarding planning what the final picture should look like. A little of everything, in other words. Perhaps a little Alice in Wonderland inspired. Or just old houses, and the dead trees and bats in Tirisfal Glades in WoW. Love that zone, by the way, the starting zone for Undead. Which also is my favourite playable race. We'll see how far I’ll get with this embroidery before I’ll run out of inspiration...

Wake up, your world is just an illusion

I fell asleep and slept for 9 hours. Now I feel even worse than when I went to bed. I hate how I always feel right after waking up. Like drowning, sedated, hurting, clogged throat and nose. It took five minutes for my eyes to get used to the light from the computer screen.

I've been thinking about what wrote this morning, about opening up about the hallucinations to my shrink, and what a relief it would be to get that out and get help for it. But I’m also stupid and vain, thinking I wouldn't wanna take antipsychotics for the single reason that almost all of them cause weight gain, and increases my appetite. Risperdal also took away my creativity. I don't know, but it could be worth a try, and maybe I could just ask to get the pills without spilling my guts? But how the hell did I think that could work? Can't just go there and say “Hey, I want some antipsychotics! I'm not psychotic or anything, but I want the pills for it!”

No, that won't work. Lying always entangles me into more lies, but I can't think of anything to say in that case. You give antipsychotics to people who are psychotic and that's it. And I’m starting to give up believing I could somehow get better without treating this broken part of my mind as much as the for stuff that I’m being open about. How can I learn how to think more positive or controlling my emotions when the voices are constantly disturbing and hallucinations and delusions controls my emotions? How can I get better when I don't know what is real?

I’m not doing well at all, and I have to figure out a way to deal with it. Figure out if this is worth the risk. Cause somehow I think reality is again catching up with me, leaving me with two yet no choices. If I keep being quiet I will be able to get the surgery and the ones following and eventually get my gender changed legally – but if I keep on lying I won't get any better, thus I won't get mentally stable enough to go through with that. Who does major surgery on a psychotic person who can't sleep or eat? The other choice is to confess and risk everything. But I’m sure that once that's sorted out they will still know I’m truly transsexual and really need the treatment for that, but it might take a little longer. Thus that is the only choice I have, cause I can't just get better on my own. If I don't actually get better on my own that is.

Cause maybe, just maybe things will get back to normal (my normal, the usual me) again once I get to sleep and eat again, and stop OD'ing on caffeine. But a part of me doubts that. This has been going on all summer and late spring, I had a psychosis under the most stable week during this time, a week I didn't drink or cut, I ate healthy and slept healthy. I’m constantly balancing on the edge between reality and psychosis, and I self diagnosed myself as Schizophrenic for a reason. It's not something I want or wish that I had, far from it. It's a conclusion of past and current experiences. And then we have my undying curiosity for getting to the bottom of this and once and for all finding out what it really is. 

*title: Pretentious, Moi?

Hallucinations getting worse

I've passed 40 hours now and it feels like something's crawling inside me. I should be prepared for more hallucinations the longer I'm awake, but it's just that I never know what to expect. I’m extra sensitive and the world seems so fragile. The seams between this world and the others are coming apart, like a rift between dimensions. It reminds me of the welsh/british tv-show “Torchwood” when they discovered time rifts, like wounds in this reality opening doors to the past and the future, letting people from the medieval into our present time and people living in present time being sucked into the past or the future.

Such is my reality, but not related to time, just different places, or rather different versions of the same places. If I sit in my apartment and the reality as I know it comes apart, I don't go to another world, I go to a twisted and distorted version of my own apartment. Walls changing colour, bugs which shouldn't be there suddenly appearing from nowhere, pictures distorting and their faces change into other people, dead, decaying or even moving. Hollow eyes, screaming teeth less mouths, grey peeling skin. Lights flickering, shadows flapping. Or everything just becomes fake, like a theater scenery, a stage play. Like it was made for someone else and I ended up in the wrong universe.

My delusions and hallucinations aren't that harmless and cute anymore. There are no horses dancing in my tea, sparkling flowers or caramel tasting cigarettes. Now there are insects, shadows and distorted faces; decay, mold and everything I fear. The darkness within me that I fear colours my unreality, for I didn't fear it before, didn't even know about it. It changes my dreams into nightmares, my vague memories into traumas, my weirdness into insanity. My nightmares are coming true. I may not believe in what I see, but it doesn't change the fact that it scares the hell out of me.

I’m scared that if I look into the mirror I will see a decaying monster in my reflection, that the pictures of my love will distort and show me an entirely different person, that the crawling feeling in my body will show itself as bugs crawling out of my skin, that the next time I feel worms in my eye I will try to dig them out and end up blinding myself, that I will cut myself and see that I have no blood in my body and keep cutting until I bleed again. These aren't irrational fears, I have experienced all of this but in a smaller scale that I’ve been able to handle. Perhaps I will keep being able to handle it, but what if I don't?

Most of all I’m not scared of this, but the consequences if it would lead me to a full blown psychosis and everyone at the psychiatric department would have know about it. But for how long will I be able to keep it a secret? For how long if I'm already getting scared of my hallucinations, instead of just fascinated or annoyed by them?

I’m not just seeing shadows in the corner of my eye, there are real, vivid vision hallucinations. I don't just telepathise with Anna, I talk out loud to various voices in public and I don't even know how many there are of them. At least six of them altogether, but there could be more. How can I tell for sure it isn't real? It feels so very real.

At least I feel safe around Anna, but the other voices can be a little tricky at times. I’ve been threatened, told that I’m gonna die and felt haunted. I never thought me and Anna would become best friends again, but I’m clinging to her, seeking her comfort and sometimes I even think she is the only one I’ve really got. It's not true of course, but in the middle of the night, scared of my fucked up mind's twisted games, she really is the only one I have. And she's not real either. But I’ve known her since childhood, we've been through everything together, I know her and I know when I can trust her and not. And she's always by my side, for better or worse.

Everything is so screwed up and intense I don't know up from down. If this gets any worse I’ll just have to suck it up and start confessing. If I’m not alive for my sex change then how the hell would it be worth it?

I’m still fooling myself that I’m “fine”. I’m not bloody fine! I drink 2 liters of coffee a day, smoke 3 packs of cigarettes and cut my arms as deep as I dare fifteen times a day, I can't sleep and I can't eat. Is that my definition of fine!? Yeah, I’m the picture of health. I won't ever be fit enough for that surgery unless I do something about this first.

They were right all along to rule out psychosis before getting me treatment for my transsexualism. I just had different priorities. I still do, but this is getting out of my hands. I’ll give it a week or two, and then we'll see if I end up in all of three psychiatric departments in Visby: neuro psychiatric, personality disorders and psychosis. Fuck it, fuck my fucking life.