Never give up

I felt happy for two months before I started falling apart again. Somehow I wish I had done more to prolong that happiness, but instead I kept isolating myself, starved and disappeared into my computer. But I respect that, I respect that I was afraid to go all out at the risk of losing the little happiness I had instead of gaining more. Because stress is never a good thing when it comes to my mood.

But I haven't lost all hope, I guarantee you. I still hope and dream and almost kinda expect a better future now. Just almost on that last part, but it's better than it used to be before in my life. But I'm falling again, into the old and new dark places. I know I'm not meant to be happy, but I'm trying to beat the odds. I'd rather die trying than give up, you know. But I don't know how or what to do. I need to ask my shrink that, maybe she's got some advice.

Cause just trying not to do things isn't quite working anymore. I don't know why, but I fall into temptation and it's hard when I lose control. So many things upset me, everything from my acne to my inability to be a part of the society and all else in between. And being so easily upset upsets me even more.

It's like maybe my lack of eating habits is finally taking control over me. Being constantly hungry can make anyone upset. It's not the best thing trying to lose weight when you're feeling like shit, but when else am I gonna do it? It's in my state of mind, it is my mind to feel like shit. Whenever, wherever, all the time. I know I take risks by doing so, and I also know it's not recommended to starve at all.

I'm slowly developing an eating disorder and I just sit here and do nothing about it. Cause if I get an eating disorder I will definitely lose weight. And yes, I realise just how wrong that sounds. I'm not stupid, I know I'm taking huge risks by keeping this from my doctors. I keep fooling them, telling them I eat very little and try to lose weight but I don't tell them that I'm desperate to lose weight, obsessed by it, willing to do anything for it. About my very poor body image or that I'm pro-ana.

I play a twisted game with doctors, manipulating and fooling them to believe what I want them to believe. I'm not quite in my right mind. Cause I seek doctors to help me but then I don't let them help me. I've been in this carousel for too long, too long to know how to fool them. That I know they make the priorities about what I should get help for first and I don't like that. So I only tell them about what I want to get help for and keep the rest from them. If I wanted help for my eating problems I would gladly discuss that. If I didn't have to worry about telling them about my psychotic tendencies, I would gladly tell them about that too.

But they are just as much stuck in a rut as I am. They have their guidelines and rules to follow. To them, my self harm and suicidal tendencies come first, and my basic needs like food and sleep come second. Then the psychotic stuff seemed to have come third when I was open about that several years ago. My priorities is everything else. At every damn meeting there is truth I have to withhold, and it completely drains me, trying to figure out what to say in denial. I've had some practise, but I have no idea if I'm a good liar or not. Maybe it depends on who I'm lying to.

The darker half

I had a meeting with that welfare officer again today, and I was pretty blunt with her. She noticed my personality change and said I was different this time. I don't know what to think of that, didn't think it was actually that noticeable.

Anyway, I finally asked her why we're having these meetings, what's her role in this whole deal. She said my doctor (who left me) wanted me to have someone to check up on me meanwhile I'm waiting for another doctor. Especially regarding self harm and suicidal thoughts. She got worried, that welfare officer, that I wasn't gonna see my shrink until August again. I told her I could just get in contact with my shrink whenever if I needed her. She still didn't want to let go of me.

Fucking cunt, I despise her. I don't need more people who think they need to look after me. My whole life is care takers and shrinks and doctors and I'm so sick of it. So sick of being treated like I'm a fragile little glass doll. I might not be able to take care of myself, but I'm very capable of making my own decisions.

I'm on a waiting list to see my new doctor, which will probably be sometime in June. I really need to see her, cause I think I need to up my Abilify, but don't know how to handle that. I need it for my psychotic tendencies, but I can't mention that. Seriously, I'm shifting personalities and seeing signs and messages everywhere. I'm on the brink again and I really don't want to fall down into that black abyss again.

So I don't know how to handle that. I finally succeeded to get antipsychotic drugs, but they're not doing shit and I can't tell doctors that I'm psychotic. Someone please kill me now... I don't know how much longer I can handle this on my own.

Shit, I'm still the dark me and I can't shift back. What if one day I get stuck like this? If I one day can never shift back? I realise that when I was reckless and didn't care about anyone, when I had thoughts of cannibalism and murder with sociopathic tendencies, when I was cold and heartless: I was the dark me. I don't want to fully become that. It scares me. Maybe I have no reason to worry, but it still scares me.

Even if I don't need to worry, I still believe there is a small chance of that to happen. I've heard about it before, in other people's cases. So I have heard about it before then? Not necessarily personality shifts as such, but of people who have been through traumas that they start to shut down eventually, gradually, until they're not themselves anymore. I'm afraid of that happening to me.

I'm just making it worse by not doing anything about it. I'm getting desperate. I'm not even sure that antipsychotic drugs can help me with that. I need to talk it out with my shrink, but first I need to survive the summer and the autumn and possibly the winter as well. Yeesh, things are going so damn slow and I'm falling so fast.

I really hoped I could meet them in Huddinge and fill out the papers for Rättsliga Rådet already this summer, but of course they're all on leave/vacation. I really hoped I could get my gender reassigned before the autumn, but no. And then things will take even longer after that. I have don't have all the time in the world, okay? Don't think they realise that, cause I won't tell them why. Just hurry the fuck up you fuckers, I don't wanna be stuck like this forever.

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.

Hoping

I'm still bargaining. Still trying to understand why this happened. Why me? Okay that is a stupid question. But I just counted on it to go so well for some reason, cause you know I should have known better by now. Though I just somehow knew it was gonna take two operations. Maybe more now, I don't know. I don't know how this can be corrected. Maybe they can take skin from somewhere else and hope that will stick. Or I'll just have scars instead of nipples.

That chest piece tattoo I want suddenly seems more alluring to get. And maybe somehow expand it to cover the scars. I don't know. Maybe they won't turn out so bad? Yeah, keep hoping. I scar so easily and they show. Even though my skin is almost as pale as the healed scars, at least on my arms. But it's different kind of skin there. I don't know. I don't know anything as of now.

I'm trying not to think about it. Fill my head with world of warcraft and tumblr instead. But scrolling makes my head hurt more, so not so much tumblr then. Just gonna play some more and then go to bed. Wash my face, brush my hair (it's easy these days) and brush my teeth. Aiming for a shower tomorrow or the day after. Hopefully I can sleep well tonight too. Doesn't hurt to hope at least. For better days, I mean.

Denial and bargaining

Started a little with my coat/robe today, but my head is killing me so I couldn't continue. Took some measurements and cut out a large piece of fabric for the back part of it. I bought 4 metres of a lovely deep purple, velvet fabric. Fake of course, but very nice still in a thick, very smooth texture. Only a tailoring nerd like myself would find something to complain about it, if you catch my drift.

I still feel weird from yesterday and hesitating to take a shower, though I probably need one. Detached words from yesterday's conversations with the doctors and with my mother echo inside my head like little stones in an empty barrel. I can't understand. I knew my body reacts weird with healing, I knew it from all the piercings I've tried to have and I yet I went for the transplanted procedure.

I should have known, shouldn't I? Yet, there wasn't that much of other options, I knew that too. But couldn't I at least have thought about it? I mean I've had that surgery on my mind since I was 19 at least. Some time during those years from then on that thought should have popped up, shouldn't it?

I'm going through the five stages of grief and I'm currently shifting between denial, isolation and bargaining. Skipped anger though, or just haven't gotten there yet. Losing my tits was just getting rid of something that wasn't supposed to be there to begin with, like a tumour or something, but losing my nipples... well, that sort of feels like actually losing something. And I can't describe it, I'm not even sure if I want to.

So I'm trying to fill my head with nonsense instead. Something, anything, to keep my thoughts off that subject. But I feel so weak, physically, like as soon as I try to do something away from the computer I get tired so quickly and my head starts hurting more than I can handle. I can't focus on movies or books or embroidering right now. Can barely focus on WoW, barely on anything at all.

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.

How many obsession do I have really...

I feel guilty eating sweets, like I'm asking for a weight gain. I know that thought is possessing my mind these days, poisoning my mind, but I let it. I let it torture me until I've reached my goal. I know that without trying I can steadily keep a weight, any weight really. It's just getting there that is hard.

I didn't gain weight because of bad habits, I gained it as a side effect from my medication. First from Risperdal in 2006 when I went from 55 to 70 kg. Then I got down to 60-63. Then from Lyrica or Cymbalta, I don't know which one, I got up to 80 kg. And now I've gone down to 68.

Now I'm very careful with what I put in my stomach, including medicine. Every time I try a new drug I'm very keen on being absolutely 100% sure it won't make me fat. That's why I'm not taking Zyprexa so much anymore, cause if I take too much or too often it has that side effect. I have Abilify instead, which is much safer.

I can see the smirks on people's faces when I tell them I really wanna lose weight. They only see above my waist and make the conclusion that I'm thin enough as it is. Not that I like it when people stare at my ass, but how can they not see that I'm overweight? My BMI is at 26, I'm not lying or anything. Normal weight BMI is between 19 and 25, so go figure. I wanna be at 19.

So I might not be fat, but I'm not exactly thin either. And I hate my body so painfully much I just can't stand it. And now I'm living on diet shakes, tea and a small sandwich every other day but still can't lose weight. I have to eat even less, get sweeteners for my tea instead of real sugar, not "cheat" with sandwiches and definitely no candy.

"I don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control. I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul" like Abney Park sings in their song "Creep". I so relate to that right now. I got so angry when I saw that I had not lost any weight since last time I weighed myself right after New Years. This isn't a punishment though, just that I realise that I have to be harder on myself if I'm gonna make it work.

At least I'm dedicated, but it takes more than just will to make dreams come true, right? I've been at it for more than six months and all I've lost is 10 kg. Might seem like a lot to some people, but that isn't very helpful. What would be helpful? Change my metabolism, that would be good...

The fury within me

I can't deal with this. I just freaked so horribly because my computer decided to have an emergency shut down right when I was writing and playing WoW. Sure these simple note pad programs are handy and easy to use, but if it's lost somehow, it's lost forever. To be honest I don't really know what I lost, nor do I even care about it.

It's just that the way inanimate objects tend to live their own lives drives crazy. And I mean screaming, crying, hitting things, hitting myself, drinking, cutting, cursing kinda crazy. The sort of pure fury no one cant really understand unless you've experienced it yourself. And there is nothing more destructive than that. I somewhat managed to control myself this time though.

Yes, I both screamed and cried and also hit things, but I didn't touch the computer. I didn't know what to do with myself, almost tore off my eyebrow piercing even. It's like that extreme anger is a life force on its own, possessing my body, making me unable to control any of my muscles. It's like a directed spasm, stronger than a fucking orgasm even. It's that overwhelming, but I can't make anyone understand. I'm not me when I get that angry, I become something else.