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.

The ghosts in my mind

I'm feeling misplaced. Like I'm supposed to be somewhere I can't remember, like I'm supposed to do something, be something that I cannot become, have something I cannot retrieve. I feel so lost. Wandering, echoing like a shadow in the distance. Floating, detached, lonely. I don't feel like myself at all. Where am I? Who am I?

How much better am I really? I can't tell what's real anymore, I still can't differ dream from reality, am I dreaming? Maybe it's not my dreams that are so real, but my reality that is so dream-like. I can't put my feet down, it's like I can't feel the earth no matter how far down I try to reach. Do you ever get that feeling, like you're so detached you've forgotten how to re-attach yourself?

I wonder. Am I happy somewhere inside, am I really gonna give life a chance? Yes, to the latter. But I don't know how. I know what I need to do but I just can't. Can't, can't, can't, can't. I'm so scared I don't know what I should do. What would be right, should I try to hold on without help? I can't keep this up much longer. If I don't act, I'm afraid I'll fall apart again.

But that's the thing: I know I have to fall apart again, really hard, for the doctors to take me seriously, for them to understand how fucking serious this is. And I'm depending on their understanding, I always have been. I'm depending on their opinion because how else are they gonna help me? But I'm afraid it will be too late by then.

That I know I will need to stress myself enough to trigger a psychotic episode, get into the emergency psychiatric ward again and then get some sort of diagnosis and help. It's a sick world we live in, believe me, but I do know the psychiatric system pretty well by now. I've been involved in it for ten years after all. I know that is the only way, to let them see it with their own eyes.

When that day comes, whenever that will be. I have a sensation that it will be sooner than I can wait. I don't think I'll die from it though. No, what I fear is worse than death. Death would be freeing, a solution to an endless problem. What I fear is imprisonment in my own mind. That I will make it worse by not getting any treatment for it. It started already about a year ago, (not counting in Anna) and though I have been feeling fine in longer periods of time, it has struck me out of the blue several times and I just had to pretend it was just anxiety, worry, too many "thoughts" (yes, read voices) and that my actions were self harm alone.

Cause it wasn't, you know. I have come to my doctor saying I have anxiety when I was delusional and fearful of things that weren't there. I have harmed myself to get rid off bugs crawling under my skin, worms in my eyes and mysterious tingling feelings allover my body. I told people that my head was filled with more thoughts than usual when it was voices I was hearing. Even in a meeting I had to bite my lips hard to not scream at the voices to shut the fuck up because I couldn't hear what my doctor was saying.

Desperately popping more pills in an attempt to control all those things, thinking more anxiolytics could control my fear of the scary unknown territory of my own mind. My head hurts like hell, I can't stop chain smoking and I just took some Zyprexa. But does it help? Well, it does sometimes, for a little while. Zyprexa is also an antipsychotic medication, I can't do much else than hoping it has some effect on my ghosts. Shit, I really need to get to a doctor... hopefully I can hold on until June, it's not so long after all, just a few weeks...

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.

Split in black and white

My mind is never at peace. Am I a humanised demon, or a demonised human? Does it matter? I've always felt a bit like the super heroes who have a darker identity that they sort of switch to at certain points, when something triggers them. I'm not saying I feel like a super hero, rather quite far from it. But it's like I'm two people sometimes, and even though pain and madness drives me to the darker me I like him better.

Hard to say why, cause that me isn't much stronger or wiser or anything really. Just different. Braver, perhaps. More confident, selfish and solitary. The other me is bright, more fun and easy going. Insecure, kinder and more social. Isn't that rather schizo though? I don't know, I haven't really come across this phenomena before. I will do some digging in that area, but I doubt I'll find anything useful though.

I've always been split between black and white, and now I see why. I am both, but not at the same time. It's not like I have alter egos, they're both me. Just that one side enhances the dark and the other enhances the light. But since the darker is only present when triggered, that could be a clue of something. That it is developed, not something I was born with. Doesn't make it any less real though, but I think I've just been through too much damn darkness, like what the fuck is happening to me?!

I'm split in so many ways it's getting hard to keep up with everything. First there's me and my body, an eternal war to be honest. Secondly there's me and Anna, which can also be a war sometimes but mostly we're like siblings. Siamese twins that never got our own separate bodies. I don't morph into her, I don't become her, we're like two different people entirely. And then there's this. Where I see myself as two sides of a coin, one dark and one light. Not as in negative and positive, think more like night and day.

I've been trying to describe this like a gazillion times before, but I think I nailed it now. I'm the dark side of me now, can you tell? Triggered by my past and my worries about K, I just sort of morphed. I don't know how that happens, suddenly I'm just there.

This isn't new, I've just not been able to describe it before. I've tried. I've tried so hard for probably about twelve years or more. How the usual me can change into something else. Most people only see that me, as to why I refer to as the "usual", and I suppose there isn't that much difference between them both.

The difference has increased though. I dress differently depending on which one I am. I wear light colours, like a white shirt and blue jeans if I'm the light me. And vice versa I wear darker colours like a blood red shirt with black pants if I'm the dark me. It affects my mood more lately. I don't think either side is more prone to psychosis, though I'm not sure yet. I'll make a thorough study on that later.

I think this is another defence mechanism. I have so many of those just to able to survive my own life. I don't think my life sucked quite that hard, I mean there are loads of people who have had a much worse life without becoming Schizophrenic or whatever the fuck I am. PTSD drew me to madness, is quite safe to say. I'm not very sane at all, though I might seem that way to other people. I can't help but thinking it's not so strange since my chaos is more or less locked inside my brain. And it just becomes worse.

Or does it? I'm seeing clearer all the time, especially since about a year ago. Damn my vision has expanded more than I could handle. Literally more than I could handle. But what does this mean? Like I suddenly understand exactly why I dyed half my hair black and bleached the other half blonde on and off for so many years before. But everyone just said that I looked like Berny Pålsson so I suppose that's why I stopped having my hair that way eventually, even though the first time I had it was before I had even heard of her. When I first saw a picture of her at 17 it was like looking into a mirror. I was both allured and creeped out.

This also explains why I want all my tattoos and piercings on one half of my body but not the other. It explains why I'm drawn to black and white patterns, why I sometimes do my make up differently on either side of my face and so on. It explains my ambivalence too. Damn, it explains a lot. I'm split in two.

Bargain

A part of me now believes that I sold my soul to the devil for a nice body and luck in love. The down side would be that I will only live for a few more years, and then I will inevitably kill myself. I accepted that (though it took some time), but it wasn't until recently that I added one plus one, so to say.

Things have gone remarkably well lately, and always when I pray to Satan he fulfils my wishes. But to what price? That's why I didn't understand it before. When I signed that contract in my own blood, things started to change.

Have I not watched Ghost Rider?! Yes, I have and a gazillion other movies that depicts just how much of a bad idea it is to sign contracts with your own blood. Stupid fuck!

I don't know what will happen after I die because of this, but I think I only sold a part of my soul, not the entire kit. I don't even carry around all of my soul. Some of it is somewhere else, and incommunicado, you know.

I couldn't just let myself get ravaged by misery until I break and kill myself because my whole life just became a horrible mistake. I'd rather be satisfied for just two years and then kill myself because I know that my time is up. Leave this world feeling that at least I had something in the end. It's worth it, damn it's worth it.

I realise that for the bargain to work I still have to pray and work my ass off to achieve what I want for the rest of my life. Then what's the point? You might ask. The point is that I will be able to reach my goals without failing. It won't be and it isn't a fairytale magic thing. Satan can't make my scars after the surgery to heal miraculously over night, for example, but what he can do is to make sure that it heals well and without complications. (If that doesn't happen we're gonna have a little chat)

The bargain is about changing two major parts of my life for the better. The trans related stuff, and mostly my dysphoria. My body, in simplicity. Then it's also about my love, K, and my feelings for him. And that's why I still get depressions, nightmares, phobias, sleep- and eating problems and such. Cause that isn't a part of the bargain.

It is much, since my life literally depends on those two things. I can get by with bad habits (especially since I'm not gonna live so much longer) and most of my problems can be helped or fixed with medication and psychotherapy. But my dysphoria, and my fucked up heart... that I really needed some help with.

But of course this could all also be a delusion. It's not normal to believe that you sold your soul to the devil...

Faith in delusions

I haven't been practising much Satanism lately, have I? Yeah, living by it's "virtues" or what to say, but I always have, more or less. I don't even know for sure what it even means to me yet, or what I build my belief on.

There are people who talk to God and hear their lord speak back to them, but I don't know how literally they mean. But if it is literally, and other people don't consider them insane, that it's just their faith... Could that justify the fact that I hear Satan speak to me? Or am I just bonkers?

He still fulfil my wishes, even when he says it might not be possible to do so. He knows I'm so devoted and grateful that my wishes shouldn't go to waste. At least I think so. But the thing is, some times when I hear him speak to me (it sounds a bit like my own thoughts and at the same time not, cause his voice is much different from my own) I can't help but wonder if it's the real Satan. Though he always manages to convince me.

Of what I know about delusions this is a very sticky web I'm in. Cause the exact same thing, that of voices convincing you they are real, occurs. It's tricky because they actually do convince me and I believe they are real. In my heart I believe it, and in most parts of my mind. It's just that my subconscious or some other partially hidden part of my mind tends to wonder some times.

I'm a very rational person, and it does seem a little weird hearing the voice of Satan, right? Cause how can I tell how many screws I've got loose if I can't count? I still haven't told my mother about these extra voices I've been hearing since the summer. Maybe I'm a bit embarrassed, or maybe I just don't wanna hear what I think she would say about them. I wanna keep them to myself, what they say and what they promise me.

So what do I really base my satanic belief system on? Is it a delusion, a book or something so strong inside me I just can't describe it? If I would somehow get confirmation that the voice I hear is entirely a hallucination, would I then question my choice of religion? I honestly don't know. Cause what if I swore my life over to a hallucination? That... would really be quite an inconvenience... talking about letting my illness take control over my life. Whatever it is that I have.

If it's not Schizophrenia I still have hallucinations and deeply embedded delusions that I most often can't tell apart from the reality. Most of them I've had since childhood. That's why they're so deep and complicated. They've had years and years to develop and poison my mind, heart and soul.

The scary thing though, is that there might be more delusions that I live with every day just that I can't tell them apart from reality. Ever.

When I listen to Funker Vogt's song "Schizophrenia" and recognise myself so painfully much in it. Some times I can't even stand to listen to it because of that. Here's an example:

"I'm living in a real nightmare
my two worlds will collide
I don't know who I am

You will never understand
the way they think and act
a schizophrenic person
we treat without respect"



It's not so strange that I choose to flee from reality, but it's not your reality that I want to escape from.

Impossibly possible

I love my paradoxes sometimes. How they overlap and extinct each other. Like red and green just becomes brown, but sometimes brown can become red and green separately. Figuratively. Did you know that once I was told that you can't mix colours to create a primary colour, and that I said fuck that and with purple and green I got red. Not a very clear red, but it was a shade of red. Like a matte scarlet shade. Perhaps that is a fake memory, a delusion (I was ten, how schizo could I have been?) or my magic powers (okay, maybe I was a bit schizo already then...)

Ah, I really don't understand sometimes. Or I just can't explain, those magic powers. How can they be, and how come no one believes me even when it's right in front of their eyes? My hair is supposed to be light/medium brown, unchangeable, but now it's dark brown naturally. Just look at my eyebrows, I haven't dyed them since the summer! And my eyes, they turned green over night. I created a primary colour from two secondary, which is supposed to be impossible.

Maybe that's it. It is impossible. Period. Even if it actually happens, no one will believe it. That's how you humans work, you don't believe in anything unless you are the one experiencing it, no matter what that is. I don't work the way you do, I believe there's a possibility for absolutely everything to exist. I don't need proof, I don't need first hand experiences. Maybe it's not me who is crazy, maybe it's just humans that are too dumb to stop pretending to be blind and deaf.

This is, and has been hard for me. My whole life I have never known what is real or not. What actually happened or not. I think the breaking point between my past life and this, along with bullying and abuse, made me Schizophrenic at a very young age.

I was a very private person as a child, and I hid all of my rather severe mental problems. I was already then, in my soul, old enough to understand that it was not something you talk about. I really went out of my way to hide the fact that I heard voices and practised magic in the living room at home when everyone was asleep. I didn't tell people about my odd experiences, maybe just my parents, but they don't even believe in mental illness. They just see it as we are all different.

I only see the world through my own, rather impaired eyes. What should I compare with? How can I possibly know what reality is? Is it like a boring dream with less time jumps, or more like a hollywood movie with less drama? Or am I fishing again?

I know "regular" people usually don't experience previously mentioned stuff, but what about all the rest? There are too many gaps to fill, too much chaos I cannot define. I mean I don't even know what psychotic means! I've read so much about it, but I still can't understand. I think that is because I'm already in it. A light form of a permanent psychosis. So deeply embedded delusions that more or less have come to define the person that I am today. And that's why it's so difficult, so painful, to look beyond it. Cause what is left? Is there anything left?

I think I've built everything on what actually isn't real. All of my beliefs, my hopes, dreams, goals, wishes, fate, everything. Goddamn hard it is to get off this chair and go to the store today...

I believe in ghosts

I think I'm becoming psychic again. Or more attuned perhaps. I can foretell small things, like with the Spotify queue lists, or things in WoW that are completely randomised (like a roll the dice sort of things). And I know how long time things will take, like a telephone queue that you haven't been told in which order you stand. Also I get these feelings that it's something, rather weird or seemingly pointless, that I "have to" do, and it turns out to have been a very good choice. I don't find it freaky, rather it's thrilling and nice.

One more thing that just "happened". A friend of mine texted me on Facebook and I looked at their profile picture and thought to myself that they should change their profile picture. A couple of hours later they did. Some day I might start seeing ghosts as well, but if I do it's probably time to check myself into an mental hospital. Or try to communicate with them. Lots of Schizophrenics claim to be interacting with ghosts, or spirits...

Yet another theory

Coldness. It can really set loose almost any emotion known to man inside me. Fear, hopelessness, eagerness, hatred, comfort, and right now it's pissing me off. Like: get the fuck warm or I'll do something I'll regret! I realise I'm actually talking to myself sometimes, and not only to Anna. Yes, this is an actual realisation. Maybe I've done that all the time but just didn't realise it until now, but it could be baby steps in trying to think for my own a little. Whatever that could be good for.

She is my emotional support and has been for as long as I can remember, or well, before I couldn't handle my thoughts at all, so in a way it was good that she came along. I've never really doubted that it was good she showed up in the first place, I was a terrible mess by that time. But I do think it might have been good if she had left before she became the problem. My post traumatic stress disorder is only masked by her existence.

I found out, a few months ago, that there is a kind of PTSD that causes dissociation and that is one of my many theories about Anna that in some view could be possible. About an imaginary person showing up right after a trauma, as a type of defence mechanism, and it's closely related to dissociative identity disorder. I'm definitely still fucked up over what happened all those years ago, so dissociation or not, PTSD is more than likely.

But a part of me still believes this is an exceptional thing that is a bit out of the ordinary, and can't really fit into just one particular diagnose. A dissociation wouldn't be permanent, as extended, deeply embed and developed as this. While at the same time a hallucination or a delusion wouldn't be so alike my own thoughts, permanent and constant. Cause I'm absolutely certain this is permanent, we will never become one again. It's like a fictional movie thing about split personality with the vast exception that we coexist as two different people. That is where DID doesn't fit in either. This is a mystery that I just can't let go of, okay?

I think maybe listening to Emilie Autumn sparked my thoughts this time, and reading a bit about her on Wikipedia. Thinking that maybe I should buy her book, cause apparently she wrote one, and it seems it could be interesting.

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...

Who I was supposed to be

I hate being so dependent. On things, people, money, schedules, society, anything. While most of those things I can't just break the connection with (though I've tried), some of them I've on and off been believing I could break off with. Like medicine, for example. Why should I not be able to live without that? I'm not terminally ill, I can't die from some unspecified, undiagnosed mental illness, and I'm handicapped either way. What if it would be better? What if I could think clearer, crawl out of my shell?

And people. Everyone is more or less dependent on other people; your boss to give you pay checks, your landlord to not kick you out of your apartment, your dentist or doctor, and even your friends and family to be there for you. But I'm a little bit more dependent than the average joe. Definitely more than I would like to be. That's where my "running away" -thoughts come in, when I think I should just get away from everyone and try to live completely on my own for a little while. Because sometimes it just gets too much.

I just don't want to be so dependent on others taking care of me. That I need to rely on strangers from a special service residence to help me wash my clothes cause I can't manage it on my own. I suppose that really bugs me.

Ever since I was a kid I've always wanted to be able to take care of myself, live on my own terms, drive my own business company, get a driver's licence and go wherever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. It never turned out that way, and a part of me just won't accept it.

Still dreaming of that perfect house close to a town, have my own car (a Jeep would be nice) and a freelance job or no fucking job at all, writing and painting all days. Being happy, pill free, living completely alone and not having to as much as talk to a doctor too often to be able to consider myself healthy. Of course I would have a romantic partner living with me as well though, in a good but not perfect relationship where we grow together as people and sometimes bicker over trivialities.

It would have been an almost realistic dream if I hadn't been a mentally handicapped lunatic. Of course I don't hate myself for being a weirdo, sometimes that can be a real asset, and it does make me kinda interesting. But it costs me my freedom. That, in that dream, that is who I was supposed to be. The eccentric, philosophical artist with a little crazy ideas of a good life, independent and possible to live with.

But something deprived me of that possibility, that life. That freedom and independency that I so much crave. I feel constantly trapped in my own body, in my own mind. And there's no way out. I will most likely just continue to deteriorate and even if I don't end up taking my life, I doubt that I will live to 80. Perhaps to 40, or 50 if I'm "lucky" considering smoking shortens one's life span by 10 years, severe mental illness such as Schizophrenia shortens it by 20 years, and my other bad habits will probably also shorten it even more. Maybe it's not so far off thinking I might not even live to 30...

But it is not living a long life that I want, cause what good is a long life if you suffer? I'd rather have a short life. A short and miserable life or a short and decent life are both better than a long and insufferable life. Of course some things can get better, and I do hope that I'll be able to turn it all around to a brighter path, but deep down I know that my chances of making that happen are very slim.

So I don't really hate myself. I just hate my life and what I've become. How it all turned out, and what it's leading to. I see and hear about my friends getting permanent jobs, finishing their studies, talking about pay checks, moving to their own apartments, getting pets, keeping steady relationships for years, getting engaged, getting married, having children.

And I'm just withering away. Still dependent on my parents, can't live entirely on my own or with anyone, probably wouldn't be able to hold a job for more than five minutes, can't even study as of now, wouldn't be able to care for a pet, I've been single for two years and I'll probably never be able to have a child.

I try to tell myself that I'm still young, and most of my friends who have gotten that far in life are older than me. And who knows, maybe things will be different in five or ten years? But I don't believe it. The problem is that I don't believe in it because it's so damn unlikely.

*

Sorry for the super long entry. I just go on and on on the same topics. When I try to finish it off I just think of more to add. I'm hopeless in that area.

Green fingers

I'm cold, but not on the outside. Cause it's 22 degrees in here and I'm wearing more fabric than an astronaut in outer space would wear. I'm trying to heat up a coldness that lies beyond skin and flesh, reaches deeper than internal organs, blood and bones. Somewhere in my mind I am being told that I'm not warm enough no matter what I do.

My ivy is just getting bigger and greener every day it seems. I gave it a name and I'm talking it to it as if the plant was a pet. "Muriz", and no it has no particular gender. It is a plant after all. I even stroke its leaves and carefully hug it sometimes. I think maybe my love and care somehow affects it, cause I've never seen ivy's grow and shine like this one before, with leaves bigger than my palms. I've only had it a few months and it's at least twice as big now, and every single leaf is fresh and vividly green.

It doesn't seem to be at all bothered by the cigarette smoke either, which I find rather remarkable, since it can get pretty damn smoky in here sometimes and it almost looks like I'm suddenly in Silent Hill: foggy with ash swirling around.

I suppose me not being able to have pets on my own kinda sparked an interest in plants, as I feel comfort knowing I'm not the only thing alive in this solitude.

So at least I have some form of company, if you could call it that. And I don't feel so alone when I just turn around from the computer and talk to my green, rather quiet room mate. Now I do realise the level of craziness to this, but it almost kinda feels like we're actually communicating in a way. Like the way Muriz thrives is like a response to my awkward cuddling with it (no, not that awkward!)

Whilst I was reading and browsing information about Schizophrenia before, I remember finding out that even that is a trait. Talking to one's plants. Now I'm sure they don't mean "here you go, I have some fresh water for you" kinda talk, but believe me when I say my chatting is vastly more complicated than that. I vary from expressing my admiration of its beauty to telling it jokes and talking to it about how my day has been.

No, I've never doubted that I'm utterly insane, but as of lately it's been almost creeping me out just how much that terrible illness fits me. Always finding out that I experience yet another symptom, finding connections from or to other things in my past or present, and seeing as I more and more fall into weird beliefs and losing my grip on reality. It's like the puzzle of my life is finally starting to connect.

It's in my blood

I dreamt that I had bleached my whole hair, but I didn't understand why, but then I realised that I wanted to become blonde. I was on a trip with my two friends and one one them got furious over me accidentally breaking something of his, and then we had somewhat of a war where he destroyed my things, one at a time, saying that he was only getting even with me.

I don't know if this is a delusion, but I think that when I'm letting myself bleed, I let out more than just my blood. This anxiety, this illness or condition or whatever it is. I think that it's in my blood. Like a hereditary/congenital disease or a virus. And by letting some of it out, I also temporarily free myself from what runs in it. When I feel faint right afterwards, I know that I've succeeded to let out some of it. Again, this could be interpreted as a figure of speech, but I do mean literally. That tapping it out is almost kinda like some sort of cleansing. Perhaps this isn't so weird at all, this idea. But it sounds like something in the lines of psychotic thinking. It's hard to tell from where I stand.

But a belief must be like any other belief, right? I mean, say if I believe in ghosts, then I can categorize that belief as something occult, right? So why shouldn't I be able to know if my beliefs like this one with my blood is psychotic? Theoretically, that should be possible to distinguish. But it's hard. It's hard as hell. Cause no matter how self aware I am, trying to figure out which of my beliefs are normal, unusual or psychotic can be damn frigging hard at times.

Wake up, your world is just an illusion

What started me off with these thoughts on Schizophrenia, was of course Anna. She was the problem, my enemy, my nightmare. I so desperately wanted to find an answer, so that maybe I could get rid of her, before I ended up killing myself in an attempt to kill her, or to "simply" separate us. But I don't have that reason any more. Sure I wanna know who the fuck she is and all that, but it's not because I wanna get rid of her in some way. She has been a nightmare for a lot of the time since we were... I don't know, eleven years old? Something like that. But after every nightmare we have always found a way back to each other, a way to tolerate our situation and even be friends.

Much more lately, as she's been taking my part in this roller coaster this spring, summer and autumn. She's definitely a cold hearted bitch; but she's also right, wonderfully sarcastic and truly supportive. Perhaps she's finally realised that I'm the only one she's got, and "gotten over" her own depression. Now she fights beside me, and my battle has become ours, and we fight on the same side. Perhaps the sad part about it, is that what brought us to this point was when Vargyl showed up. And more precisely, when he started to turn against me.

But it wasn't until that bus-trip from Arlanda that I really understood her true agenda. When she had with both Vargyl and Satan been arguing and commenting and mentally torturing me for about two hours, suddenly helped me "snap out of it" with kindness. True, selfless, caring kindness. Now that doesn't come easily from her!

And to be honest I'm not sure if she even would fit in as a valid symptom of Schizophrenia. I'm starting to realise you have to be quite conversant in that and various other disorders to be able to even have a slightest clue of what a Schizophrenic hallucination is compared to a dissociation, a delusion, a depersonalization or whatever other kinds of defence mechanisms that I haven't yet dwelt into.

So what I'm trying to say is that I don't primarily base this Schizophrenia thing on Anna, but because of everything else. So if I should count her out, how far back in time can I go to find a point where I can say "that is when I lost my mind"? To be honest, I've never had such a good grip on reality to begin with. So the only answers I can provide is either very early onset Schizophrenia (hello, nine?!), or various mental illnesses leading up to Schizophrenia. Such as Asperger, PTSD, OCD, dissociation, transsexualism (it itself has nothing to to with this, but it can put some restrain on you, especially if you weren't right in your mind to begin with) and depression.

And since everything started so early, it's not completely out of the question to think that I have learned to live with it, and there for function considerably well. For I have never known anything else, and it didn't hit me all at once.

The thing is, I realise, I can't cut Anna out. Just imagining, or rather trying to imagine my whole life without her in my past just isn't possible. Everywhere I've been, she's been. Every thought I've thought, she's answered.

Another meaningless post that led me nowhere. It feels like I'm so clouded by all these mental problems blending in together in an indistinguishable fucking mess, and where the hell did I fit into it? I've never been human simply because I've never been sane. I was born into a mental disorder. What was just normal kids' behaviour like imaginary friends, a fantasy land, shyness, clumsiness. Weighted by a bullying too rough for anyone to endure, I never "out grew" my childhood beliefs. Still have the same imaginary friends, still believe in my fantasy land.

So my only question is this really: when does childhood fantasies become a mental disorder? That would be when I got sick.

I never really lived in the real world. I've always clung to the beautiful memories of a past life, talked to people in my head and tried to convince people that I actually can perform real magic. Though I'm not completely gone in my madness, I still have one foot in this reality, or so it appears, how the hell should I know? I mean I do have friends, somewhere there across the ocean, and when I do (or did) see them I am/was still able to have fun, talk about ordinary stuff and dance to a beautiful song by The Cure at a night club. So I'm not completely lost, I know that, but I'm not really there either, am I?

Choices and voices

So today I'm starting over again, whatever that means I'm not sure yet. Was at my shrink's today and now I've got it confirmed that I actually have a phobia for sleep. It's about time! I told her I thought of my new addiction to sleep deprivation probably is a defence mechanism for my hypnophobia, which is also in itself a defence mechanism. A defence mechanism for a defence mechanism. She said my analysis was very accurate.

Alas, it took her three meetings so acknowledge my hypnophobia, it also took me three meetings to understand what she wanted me to do about it. (There's a motion image of a dancing female blood elf on my mind, very distracting). So, what she wants me to do is to simply let go. Stop thinking about sleep or the lack there of. Stop thinking that I "have to" sleep at night and be awake at day or at all. I did that for one night, and it made me feel a bit better, but I wasn't sure that was the right thing to do. Sometimes I don't get her, my new shrink, I have to admit that.

Am I gonna keep counting hours again, or really try to let go and... yeah, do what exactly? How does "letting go" actually work in practice? Haven't figured that one out yet. Now I've gotta eat again... annoying, but I get so cranky if I don't, and this pain in my stomach is close to paralyzing.

I don't feel very well today/tonight. I've messed up too much again. To the point of it leaving me apathetic. The glue on the bandage tape is starting to irritate my skin, after days and days of constant usage. I don't feel pathetic or tragic or sad or distressed. I don't feel anything. I'm doomed to feel this way, like this week, this summer, this decade - for the rest of my life. It both scares and comforts me. The fear is self explanatory, I take it, but the comfort? This is the life that I'm used to living, knowing it well and knowing what to expect. And if it keeps being this way, at least I know what to expect, sort of. I know myself better than most people know themselves. Yet, or maybe because of that, the void I'm staring into is staring back at me.

I'm snapping in and out of trusting in the voices, and my wacky beliefs - and recognising them for being... well, deluded. It's true that I some days do think they are fictions of my imagination, not real and what not. But most days I just can't. I know they are real. For crying out loud, I'm a Satanist, how the hell would I ever believe that the voice of Satan himself talking to me is a hallucination? That Anna who's been with for as long as I can remember, my friend and my foe, to not be an actual person? That I have memories from my past life since early childhood, always believed in magic and that I can do it, always known that I'm not human - to believe that isn't true? But if I'm self diagnosed Schizophrenic, doesn't that contradict those beliefs? Yes, it does. But I suppose that only further confirm my conclusion. And confusion. And more so.

I'm stuck in those thoughts again, still trying to understand. What being Schizophrenic really means, if I could actually have it. What that would make of me, the world as I know it, my fucked up reality. Is it an identity, is that what I'm making of it? Gosh, I hope not... But you never know with me, I never know with me. But it feels, right deep into my heart, like when you realise something important. So my gut feeling definitely tells me this is it, but my gut isn't a psychologist.

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.

Conversations

20:43
Anna: Stop having pretend conversations with yourself.
Me: But you and me are the same person, so technically this is a pretend conversation.
Anna: Oh... never mind. Let's drop that, shall we?
Me: Yes, good idea.

I'm reaping half of Azeroth and don't have so much on my mind tonight. Except for meaningless conversations with imaginary people that is. I do that a lot. Pretending that I meet someone who would ask me weird questions and figuring out how I would reply, and what that person would say to that, and before I know it it turns out to a whole conversation that can go on for hours. Then Anna tells me that is stupid and some time passes until I start again with a new scenario.

It could be a writer's thing, like a tulpa that stays inside my head, or it could be that I'm just "preparing" for being asked weird questions by random people. I hate it when I freeze up in those situations, and I want to have a snappy comment ready in my pocket, so to say.

21:50
Had a laugh with my mother on the phone just now. We talked about that we both didn't like talking to people and how we saw the irony in that. Then also about my sleeping habits and me "coming to my senses" and when that was gonna happen. I said that hasn't happened since I was nine years old, but you never know! Our humour can be a little hard to get sometimes though, I suppose. But I laughed so hard that I cried!

Wrapped up in myself

My nightly dreams are so sweet and romantic as of lately, that they are a cruel joke. They taunt me and my love haunts me in them. I've been hesitating to write more about him in this blog, not sure what to say when I don't wanna say too much, or too little. He's been on my mind a lot more since the last week, and I know why. It's like I can't let go. I cling to a memory, repeating it over and over and keep analysing every little detail of what I can remember. Believe it or not, I'm even more obsessed now than ever.

There's been so much on my mind lately, and I suppose that's why I've been cutting like crazy. All of it just increased sevenfold within a few days and I got from not cutting at all, rarely taking anxiolytic drugs and not being psychotic - to cutting several, multiple times a day, constantly popping pills and drifting in and out of psychosis faster than I can say "pyjamas".

Of course I don't regret going to Uppsala, it's the best thing that's happened in over a year! Yet, yes it had it's downsides as well... I knew I was in pretty bad shape when I went, so I expected to reach a new peak or two, so I did have that in mind when I decided to go for it. But some things I didn't expect. Like... that I would meet him.

And I can just say that my feelings are confirmed, to say the least. He is real, and I'm not in love with an imaginary person, unless I hallucinated away half a weekend. Before, it was only written words, music and pictures that my obsession revolved around. Now it's so much more. I believe that is why I can't stop my mind from racing haywire night and day. Now I'm addicted to his smile, drowning in his eyes, obsessed about his personality and wrapped tightly around his heart.

A lot has been going on. My hypnophobia is as bad as ever, it still takes from 3 to 5 or even up to 8 hours to fall asleep. It usually goes like this:
1) Have minor anxiety until I take Lergigan and Mirtazapine as usual at ten in the evening/night.
2) Have moderate anxiety leading to a few cuts on my arms and an Imovane until around three in the morning.
3) Have major anxiety leading to more cuts, Zyprexa, a second Imovane and music on the loudest possible volume at somewhere between four and eight in the morning.
4) Eventually crashing from exhaustion between five and nine in the morning.

Every god damned night, it has been this way, for over a month now. A part of me just wanna give up, trying to stay awake forever instead of trying to sleep, as I did before. I don't know how to deal with this, and it's not going away, no matter what I do. I turn every room I ever sleep in into a place of anxiety and hopelessness. This fear... it's so irrational and stupid. Why do I have to have an irrational and stupid fear of something so simple and necessary!?

And then this psychosis thing that's been going on as well... Self harm, Schizophrenia, hypnophobia, suicide and my love are things that never really leave my mind. These two weeks those have all attacked me at once, taunting and haunting me. I can't think clear, everything is up side down and inside out no matter how I twist and turn it. It's been a lot of that lately, I don't "shift" between focusing on one thing and the next moment I think about something else. Now it's allover the place and confusing the hell out of me. Noticed that when I was at a meeting with a doctor who will help me quit smoking, and she asked me what mental problems I have. I couldn't think of anything!

How thinking about everything can lead you to at the same time think about nothing. Total space blank. The music, the screams, the laughter and the cries, the small talk and the big conversations turns into white noise. Blue, black, white, green, red and yellow turns into a grey-brown mass. So there I was, so wrapped up in a million thoughts that I couldn't think about anything at all.

Asking for it

This is kinda weird, but I find myself forgetting where I was all of last week. Uppsala, damn it! How can I forget such a thing, like over and over again?! I only remember bits and glimpses. At night I dream that I wake up in the guest room where I slept in Uppsala, and then when I wake up for real in my own bed I wonder where the fuck I am. And where I was. Even when I'm clearly awake (or am I ever?) I start thinking about last week, and I get so confused cause I've forgotten where I was that entire week.

A part of me thinks that maybe that trip to Uppsala never actually happened, and that that is why I keep forgetting it. Another part of me tells me that I was on the verge of psychosis about half the time, and even did have a psychotic episode once, and that's why it's so hard to remember. Once again I'm having a hard time trying to differ dream from reality.

It's true that I did have some sort of psychosis while waiting for and on the bus from Arlanda to Uppsala last Thursday. The main 4 voices in my head including my own had a third world war for an hour and a half or so. Basically I tried to talk to Anna, Vargyl replied, they started fighting, I told them to shut the fuck up and unintentionally called out "Oh my god!" to which Satan replied, and then all three of them started fighting and talking to each other about me in third person. I tried to separate them, but I couldn't make out what anyone said cause they were all talking at once.

Weird thing though, while I was scared, restless and riddled with anxiety in the midst of all that, it was Anna who calmed me down. She said "You don't need to be afraid, we want you no harm". All the while, I couldn't help thinking what the other passengers on the bus must have thought of me. Constantly talking "to myself" and telling imaginary people to shut up, shaking and twitching and frenetically scribbling in my diary while desperately trying to hide myself under my hair. Well, that was one hell of a trip!

So... if I've counted correctly I have had 4 psychotic outbreaks in 4 months. That is just... I don't know. Not good. I really am getting worse, but at the same time I feel stronger, more grounded and hopeful than before. I'm actually looking forward to things in the future, want to work towards some goals in my life and change. So if I really have Schizophrenia it is actually way better than Borderline/Aspie stuck in a limbo that almost killed me. If you look at it that way...

Well, technically I'm still stuck in a limbo of sorts, but as long as I can endure my hallucinations and weird delusions going a little haywire every once in a while, I can manage. I have to, it's that simple. If life wanna fuck me over it's gotta have to do it properly this time if I'm supposed to go all suicidal again. NOT asking for hell to break loose, just saying that I won't go down easy. I may not have been down in this particular road in hell before, but I've seen many of the dark ones, survived them and come out stronger, so how hard can it be?

Messages

Yesterday I watched the film "Clean, shaven" about a schizophrenic man searching for his daughter. Some weird indie film it was, shown from the main character's perspective, and had I not read about it on Wikipedia I wouldn't have understood a daft, to be honest. However, I did count everything I have in common with this main character, mostly to not get too bored with the film. This is what I got:
1. We both hear voices.
2. And dislike mirrors.
3. Engage in self harm.
4. Littering and collecting junk from the streets.
5. And we're both recluses.
6. Oh, and we listen for messages on the radio, though I'm more for the TV myself.

Apparently I like counting things, and most preferably very unnecessary things that don't need to be counted. I do seem to get more messages lately, especially from the registration plates on cars, and I really need to get a frigging TV. I mean I do pay for the damn TV-licence already, so I might just as well. And I feel it's something important they wanna tell me. Also I could use a little extra guidance.

Cause that's what it is really, almost like a religion, but not really. You get messages from a higher power, you don't really know who or what is sending them, or why you have been "chosen" but it seems legit for some reason.

Yeah, crazy talk, I get it. And I don't expect you to understand either. I mean I don't quite understand it myself.

It seems I'm starting to get dependent on my sleeping pills, though I can keep taking Imovane every night for at least two weeks or so before my doctor is gonna start complaining. But still, it's not good collecting addictions as if they were figurines or something.

I'm sort of drawn to bad habits whether it's adding something or stop doing something. All potentially dangerous and I suppose that's the thrill of it. Or something. To avoid boredom or for self medication, or even contemplating suicide at worst.

I need to finish packing and stuff. Then maybe this will be my last entry for a week or so, until I get back from Uppsala. Can't bring my computer so. It's a bit heavy and not really something you just shove into a backpack. Yep, back to packing.