Ah, finally a good night's sleep! And waking up almost alert at 9:11 (no kidding, that was what the time was when I opened my eyes, and I sleep with my cell phone right next to my pillow). So today I'm heading off to my family's place, sometime during the afternoon. Time for some listening to Concrete Blonde, as I lately kinda discovered them. Friends, you expand my music preferences. Just so you know.
My headache has gone down to a manageable level though still a bit intense. More than usual, that is. I think I'm still a bit drugged from the pills I took last night as well. Oh well, I took them for to get high but didn't think the effect would last for ten hours. Not that I complain though. Pathetic, I know. It's too hot in here and I crave more oxygen than normally.
And I smoke too much. Gonna go back to using nicotine patches again so maybe I can keep it down a bit. Need to go to the drug store to buy more. That, and more bandage, pledgets really. But who many knows that word? I didn't.
They changed my favourite diet drink. I don't like it. I think it's all the protein that makes it taste weird. I'm hungry, don't know what to do. The thought of food disgusts me and I don't think I can eat. Anything. My food and sleep problem still persist even though I feel better these days. Though those problems sure tries to bring me down. Sometimes they succeed. Now back to WoW.
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Friday, 18 April 2014
Friday, 17 January 2014
Title
Only three hours of sleep tonight... I'm definitely getting sleep deprived, but right now I feel alright. Tired, head and stomach hurts, but my mind is kinda clear and I don't feel so down mood wise.
The internet is so quiet at this early hour, even though it's basically lunch time and people should be chatting, reblogging, uploading, updating and generally annoying. Oh, well.
Yeah, I'm tired and bored. Not tired enough to sleep, not alert enough to be awake. I'm somewhere between being asleep and awake. More or less constantly though. My mind usually so full of thoughts now appears to be empty. Filling it with music and intense levelling in world of warcraft.
Halfway to level 86 now. Is it too big a goal to reach 87 today? Cause in this speed it's absolutely doable, but it gets harder with each quest, each level and each zone. Though the day has just begun, and I'll be at 86 before the sun starts going down, maybe faster.
I slowly drink my breakfast, three hours after I woke up. I still like the taste, haven't gotten bored with them drinks yet. I wanna keep bleaching my hair, but I know that I should let it rest for a while. After at least two washings. Time wise that is somewhere around a week or two.
I'm impatient! I wanna be blonde now! Holding my horses at the best of my ability... Don't wanna ruin my hair too much. Of course it's gonna get even more damaged after each time I bleach it, but I wanna save as much as possible of it.
The internet is so quiet at this early hour, even though it's basically lunch time and people should be chatting, reblogging, uploading, updating and generally annoying. Oh, well.
Yeah, I'm tired and bored. Not tired enough to sleep, not alert enough to be awake. I'm somewhere between being asleep and awake. More or less constantly though. My mind usually so full of thoughts now appears to be empty. Filling it with music and intense levelling in world of warcraft.
Halfway to level 86 now. Is it too big a goal to reach 87 today? Cause in this speed it's absolutely doable, but it gets harder with each quest, each level and each zone. Though the day has just begun, and I'll be at 86 before the sun starts going down, maybe faster.
I slowly drink my breakfast, three hours after I woke up. I still like the taste, haven't gotten bored with them drinks yet. I wanna keep bleaching my hair, but I know that I should let it rest for a while. After at least two washings. Time wise that is somewhere around a week or two.
I'm impatient! I wanna be blonde now! Holding my horses at the best of my ability... Don't wanna ruin my hair too much. Of course it's gonna get even more damaged after each time I bleach it, but I wanna save as much as possible of it.
Thursday, 16 January 2014
I cannot cope at night
Is it gonna be like this every night, or what? I get more sensitive with the darkness, and somehow my loneliness becomes more potent. As of now that is a bad thing. I hate that I'm so fucking sensitive. Toughen up, already! Crying like a little girl, I should be ashamed of myself... but this anxiety is eating at my soul, this sadness is tearing me inside out.
I fear that I might start getting afraid of sleep again. Afraid of dreams and nightmares, of waking up in distress several times a night, of not waking up at all. Afraid of losing control I jump out of bed as soon as I'm awakened by the crew in the morning. Won't allow myself to sleep the day away. I fight to stay up as late as possible and I fight to get up as early as possible. It's a viscous circle.
And this fucking lovesickness. Ripping, tearing, aching, hurting, screaming inside me. I'm out out of words for it, cause I've already explained it a thousand times. A thousand tears each for my inability to cope, for the dream that can't come true, for the painful reality that he'sd taken and lives so far away and why would he even glance in my direction the way I want him to?
A thousand words to describe what I cannot put into words. I'm full of paradoxes and ambivalence, but this is so crude, so through and through. Filling up every space in my heart until no one else matters. No one else and nothing else. I neglect my friends, I neglect my family for an impossible dream, for a guy I cannot have.
I so hoped this was all just temporary, I wish that I would have died from it much sooner. Cause then I wouldn't have to suffer. Isn't that what death is, that you no longer have to suffer? Eight months in this mess, it's like a tangled cobweb I can't get out from, I just keep entangling myself deeper and deeper. And nothing makes any sense anymore.
I don't know who I am, I don't know what sort of life this is I'm trying to live. I live in his shadow. Cautiously following him around every corner, trying to hide my true feelings, always afraid of coming off as either too cold or too creepy.
Aching for his presense, his spoken words in my ear, his gentle touch that I can never have. For him to notice and find out that we have more in common than he realised. My endless thoughts are spinning aimlessly, devoured by too strong emotions, too much of everything that I cannot handle.
I just don't know what the fuck to do. I'm so lost and I feel as though I'm just getting more and more lost every day. I just have to get out of here, just have to get out of here...
I fear that I might start getting afraid of sleep again. Afraid of dreams and nightmares, of waking up in distress several times a night, of not waking up at all. Afraid of losing control I jump out of bed as soon as I'm awakened by the crew in the morning. Won't allow myself to sleep the day away. I fight to stay up as late as possible and I fight to get up as early as possible. It's a viscous circle.
And this fucking lovesickness. Ripping, tearing, aching, hurting, screaming inside me. I'm out out of words for it, cause I've already explained it a thousand times. A thousand tears each for my inability to cope, for the dream that can't come true, for the painful reality that he'sd taken and lives so far away and why would he even glance in my direction the way I want him to?
A thousand words to describe what I cannot put into words. I'm full of paradoxes and ambivalence, but this is so crude, so through and through. Filling up every space in my heart until no one else matters. No one else and nothing else. I neglect my friends, I neglect my family for an impossible dream, for a guy I cannot have.
I so hoped this was all just temporary, I wish that I would have died from it much sooner. Cause then I wouldn't have to suffer. Isn't that what death is, that you no longer have to suffer? Eight months in this mess, it's like a tangled cobweb I can't get out from, I just keep entangling myself deeper and deeper. And nothing makes any sense anymore.
I don't know who I am, I don't know what sort of life this is I'm trying to live. I live in his shadow. Cautiously following him around every corner, trying to hide my true feelings, always afraid of coming off as either too cold or too creepy.
Aching for his presense, his spoken words in my ear, his gentle touch that I can never have. For him to notice and find out that we have more in common than he realised. My endless thoughts are spinning aimlessly, devoured by too strong emotions, too much of everything that I cannot handle.
I just don't know what the fuck to do. I'm so lost and I feel as though I'm just getting more and more lost every day. I just have to get out of here, just have to get out of here...
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Just killing time I guess
Only got 5 hours of sleep tonight as well. Now I'm seriously getting sleep deprived... Yeah, depression seems likely. Cause even though my living habits are uhm, a little odd, it's not usually quite this bad. I go to bed 4 or 5 in the morning, and wake up at 9 or 10. Of course it's connected to my lovesickness as well, they are probably even interlocking, showing the same symptoms. Depression and lovesickness, I mean.
It's getting harder to concentrate on anything I try to do. Gaming, drawing, writing this, the music I'm listening to. I end up just staring into the empty space, watching but not actually seeing. That "watch the walls" thing, you know. In times like these I can sometimes sit and do nothing, just literally staring at a wall and think and feel, for hours at an end. Well, at least if I got cigarettes.
I'm thinking maybe I should do another round of bleaching my hair today, but only on the parts that didn't get bleached at all. Like higher up on my head closer to the roots, and a little here and there where it's still black. Leave the rest of the hair be for at least a week. If I have any bleach left, that is. Two packages it took to cover almost all of my hair. I've got a lot of hair now, being almost waist long and all.
This is gonna be expensive... It will probably, most likely, require at least four rounds. And it takes two packages each time, which becomes eight. They cost around 80 kr each. That is 1600 kr altogether, if not more if it requires more than just four rounds. Perhaps I should have gone to a hair dresser instead? Cause that would probably be just as expensive, if not even cheaper.
It's getting harder to concentrate on anything I try to do. Gaming, drawing, writing this, the music I'm listening to. I end up just staring into the empty space, watching but not actually seeing. That "watch the walls" thing, you know. In times like these I can sometimes sit and do nothing, just literally staring at a wall and think and feel, for hours at an end. Well, at least if I got cigarettes.
I'm thinking maybe I should do another round of bleaching my hair today, but only on the parts that didn't get bleached at all. Like higher up on my head closer to the roots, and a little here and there where it's still black. Leave the rest of the hair be for at least a week. If I have any bleach left, that is. Two packages it took to cover almost all of my hair. I've got a lot of hair now, being almost waist long and all.
This is gonna be expensive... It will probably, most likely, require at least four rounds. And it takes two packages each time, which becomes eight. They cost around 80 kr each. That is 1600 kr altogether, if not more if it requires more than just four rounds. Perhaps I should have gone to a hair dresser instead? Cause that would probably be just as expensive, if not even cheaper.
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Summing up today
4:30
I hate being in this mindless state. So tired I can just barely hold my head up. Almost dropping my cigarette. Can barely focus on playing WoW, or even just scrolling on Tumblr. I'm speed levelling my Priest, by which I mean I'm only in a zone for as long as necessary, and then take off to the next when I've reached the proper level. Don't bother finishing questlines or even trying to do the tricky and or annoying quests. He's only my fourth character I've ever brought this far into Northrend. That's saying a lot coming from someone who's had probably hundreds of characters altogether.
9:40
Okay I'm getting irritated at stuff in WoW. That's good, a sign of life in this gooey brain of mine. I'm finally waking up! Just made the Frozen Shadoweave Robe in game in less than hour (got most materials off of auction house). The first time I made this robe it took a week... This is my second favourite robe in the whole game, and I've only had it for a short time with one other character before. Missed it a lot. Now I wanna do the matching shoulders! Alright, I'm onto the shoulder piece now. I though I might as well. This is what WoW always should be like: fun, thrilling and making me smile. You can see the whole set on my blood elf on a picture I uploaded on Dayviews. Not that anyone's interested, but still.
13:10
I haven't eaten anything today, since I got up at 2:00 this very early morning. Only had cigarettes and diet drinks. Not to worry though, those are supposed to replace meals. Extra good when I wanna lose weight also. They won't make me fat.
17:50
I'm just whining about food and sleep all the damn time, am I not!? Well, I'm yet again in this awful state when I neither can nor want to eat. My brain likes it, my body absolutely hates it. There's this constant war going on between my mind and body, and then another one within my mind. It's like my subconscious won't accept that my body can't take care of itself without food and sleep. There's something fundamentally wrong with me...
I hate being in this mindless state. So tired I can just barely hold my head up. Almost dropping my cigarette. Can barely focus on playing WoW, or even just scrolling on Tumblr. I'm speed levelling my Priest, by which I mean I'm only in a zone for as long as necessary, and then take off to the next when I've reached the proper level. Don't bother finishing questlines or even trying to do the tricky and or annoying quests. He's only my fourth character I've ever brought this far into Northrend. That's saying a lot coming from someone who's had probably hundreds of characters altogether.
9:40
Okay I'm getting irritated at stuff in WoW. That's good, a sign of life in this gooey brain of mine. I'm finally waking up! Just made the Frozen Shadoweave Robe in game in less than hour (got most materials off of auction house). The first time I made this robe it took a week... This is my second favourite robe in the whole game, and I've only had it for a short time with one other character before. Missed it a lot. Now I wanna do the matching shoulders! Alright, I'm onto the shoulder piece now. I though I might as well. This is what WoW always should be like: fun, thrilling and making me smile. You can see the whole set on my blood elf on a picture I uploaded on Dayviews. Not that anyone's interested, but still.
13:10
I haven't eaten anything today, since I got up at 2:00 this very early morning. Only had cigarettes and diet drinks. Not to worry though, those are supposed to replace meals. Extra good when I wanna lose weight also. They won't make me fat.
17:50
I'm just whining about food and sleep all the damn time, am I not!? Well, I'm yet again in this awful state when I neither can nor want to eat. My brain likes it, my body absolutely hates it. There's this constant war going on between my mind and body, and then another one within my mind. It's like my subconscious won't accept that my body can't take care of itself without food and sleep. There's something fundamentally wrong with me...
Decisions decisions...
Ugh, I feel sick, nauseous. Woke up at 1:00 am and couldn't go back to sleep. By then I had slept for 9 hours. I also awoke at around 21:00 and it took a long time to fall asleep then too. Gave up and got up at 2:00. Too many numbers in such few sentences...
I'm listening to INXS while trying to wake up mentally. Maybe I should listen to something more catchy, but urgh I don't want to. Trying to down a diet drink and decide if I'm gonna open a window or not. That even such a simple decision is nagging at me. I'm very indecisive nowadays.
Also I'm thinking about bleaching my hair to a light blonde tone that at least somewhat suits me. Though, my hair is so damaged I'm afraid it would break off. But oh, I really want to have long, blonde, elvish-like hair.
I've never had that before. Well okay, I was blonde with short hair for a short time, some time in spring 2006. But it was a horrible yellowish tone, and my haircut wasn't so nice either.
I didn't know much about hair care and dyeing of it back then. A natural looking blonde colour is the hardest to get when starting out with dark dyed hair. But if I do decide to go for it, it will take a very long time to get there. It would require at least 4 or 5 rounds of bleaching, with at least 2 weeks between every time to let my hair "rest". And then go with silver balm for quite some time to get the right tone. And then also care for my hair extra much with balms and keep it in braids for protection when I'm sleeping and such.
It would be a full-time work, but then I also like fixing with my hair. Oh well, we'll see what I decide for.
I'm listening to INXS while trying to wake up mentally. Maybe I should listen to something more catchy, but urgh I don't want to. Trying to down a diet drink and decide if I'm gonna open a window or not. That even such a simple decision is nagging at me. I'm very indecisive nowadays.
Also I'm thinking about bleaching my hair to a light blonde tone that at least somewhat suits me. Though, my hair is so damaged I'm afraid it would break off. But oh, I really want to have long, blonde, elvish-like hair.
I've never had that before. Well okay, I was blonde with short hair for a short time, some time in spring 2006. But it was a horrible yellowish tone, and my haircut wasn't so nice either.
I didn't know much about hair care and dyeing of it back then. A natural looking blonde colour is the hardest to get when starting out with dark dyed hair. But if I do decide to go for it, it will take a very long time to get there. It would require at least 4 or 5 rounds of bleaching, with at least 2 weeks between every time to let my hair "rest". And then go with silver balm for quite some time to get the right tone. And then also care for my hair extra much with balms and keep it in braids for protection when I'm sleeping and such.
It would be a full-time work, but then I also like fixing with my hair. Oh well, we'll see what I decide for.
Monday, 30 December 2013
Pessimystic
Damn you mind, why did I have to get extreme lack of appetite over the Christmas holiday? I think I've even lost some weight. Cause all of a sudden my favourite hoodie seems two sizes too big. I really know how to complain about everything, don't I? I want to lose weight, but I also want to indulge a little in the end of December.
Today I'm quite a mess. Couldn't sleep at all tonight, so I've been awake for around 26 hours and the last time I ate something was around 6 or 7 last night. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not trying to starve myself, I just don't try to eat either.
I try to listen to my body, somewhat. I look at the time and say to myself "I should eat something" but then I try to figure out if I can go on a little longer without food. And usually I can. I'm just very lazy really. Too much effort to fix food, even just smearing butter on a piece of bread.
And then it's the thing that I don't know what to do while I'm eating. Can't play WoW, draw, write or anything really. I so hate just sitting on my ass and chew on something more or less boring until I stop only because it's too damn boring.
Hah, I bet you could compare me with the starving children in Africa now. That I have a fridge packed with food but I rather go hours and hours without eating because it's boring. But it's always been like that with me. I don't take these things for granted, and I hate being bound to always, every day for the rest of my life eat, sleep, wake up, going to the loo, and so on. Those basic needs. I'm just so fucking tired of doing them, and I wish I didn't have to.
I'm one of those few pessimists who compares eating with cleaning the house. Like: why should I clean the house when it gets dirty the next day anyway? And I'm like: why should I eat when my stomach always becomes empty again? It's like trying to fill a god damn black hole. Argh.. enough complaining for now.
*Title is from a song by Alice Cooper.
Today I'm quite a mess. Couldn't sleep at all tonight, so I've been awake for around 26 hours and the last time I ate something was around 6 or 7 last night. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not trying to starve myself, I just don't try to eat either.
I try to listen to my body, somewhat. I look at the time and say to myself "I should eat something" but then I try to figure out if I can go on a little longer without food. And usually I can. I'm just very lazy really. Too much effort to fix food, even just smearing butter on a piece of bread.
And then it's the thing that I don't know what to do while I'm eating. Can't play WoW, draw, write or anything really. I so hate just sitting on my ass and chew on something more or less boring until I stop only because it's too damn boring.
Hah, I bet you could compare me with the starving children in Africa now. That I have a fridge packed with food but I rather go hours and hours without eating because it's boring. But it's always been like that with me. I don't take these things for granted, and I hate being bound to always, every day for the rest of my life eat, sleep, wake up, going to the loo, and so on. Those basic needs. I'm just so fucking tired of doing them, and I wish I didn't have to.
I'm one of those few pessimists who compares eating with cleaning the house. Like: why should I clean the house when it gets dirty the next day anyway? And I'm like: why should I eat when my stomach always becomes empty again? It's like trying to fill a god damn black hole. Argh.. enough complaining for now.
*Title is from a song by Alice Cooper.
Saturday, 14 December 2013
Apathy
I'm still apathetic it seems. I respond to things with thoughts, or words, but not emotionally. Like "oh, that's terrible" or "how adorable" or "that's annoying" but I don't feel sad, happy, angry or anything. It's like I'm trying to tell myself what to feel. I hardly even complain nowadays. It's all just brief statements. And what's up with the short sentences?
If I do feel something, it's just briefly. A few seconds smile, if I get angry it's over so fast my heartbeats don't even increase. Sadness that never creates tears. It's just snap shots.
Yes, I might be a bit over medicated, but usually I can just barely keep my wild emotions in check even with all those drugs. So this isn't because of them. Unless they just suddenly increased massively in strength all by themselves, which is of course highly unlikely, which is my point.
It's weird being back at my parents' place, even though it's just for the weekend. And I slept through all of yesterday, so it feels like I've been here shorter than I actually have. I keep no circadian rhythm, just wake up and go to bed whenever I feel like it. No pressure. Cause I need to stop worry about things that don't matter.
My sleeping pattern really doesn't, you know. Why? Cause it really shouldn't be such a big deal when I sleep or not or for how long. As long as I do sometimes. It's not like I have a schedule to keep up with or something.
If I do feel something, it's just briefly. A few seconds smile, if I get angry it's over so fast my heartbeats don't even increase. Sadness that never creates tears. It's just snap shots.
Yes, I might be a bit over medicated, but usually I can just barely keep my wild emotions in check even with all those drugs. So this isn't because of them. Unless they just suddenly increased massively in strength all by themselves, which is of course highly unlikely, which is my point.
It's weird being back at my parents' place, even though it's just for the weekend. And I slept through all of yesterday, so it feels like I've been here shorter than I actually have. I keep no circadian rhythm, just wake up and go to bed whenever I feel like it. No pressure. Cause I need to stop worry about things that don't matter.
My sleeping pattern really doesn't, you know. Why? Cause it really shouldn't be such a big deal when I sleep or not or for how long. As long as I do sometimes. It's not like I have a schedule to keep up with or something.
Wednesday, 11 December 2013
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...
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...
Wednesday, 27 November 2013
Finally a change
I haven't even been up for a whole day, yet I feel beyond lethargic and apathetic. I feel broken, hollow, like I'm just a shivering and aching shell. Since I've started sleeping again I've been feeling worse. A lot worse. I can barely focus at all, feel more stupid and thick headed than usually, I can't eat and I'm shifting between being freezing cold and sweaty warm all the time.
Sure these nutrition drinks are a good thing and all, but there's a hole in my stomach that hurts when I'm hungry, eating and full. I'm tired, dizzy, nauseous and I just wanna disappear. But I have no wish to sleep so I don't sleep for as long as I used to. No 30 hours at a time anymore, now it's about 10, which is better I suppose. But I have a feeling it's gonna take time before I get better again.
Sleep deprivation and a messed up circadian rhythm can really fuck you up. Three months and I've reached my breaking point. Luckily, I'm apathetic enough to forget about my hypnophobia somehow. Cause I just do and fuck the rest. Tired and can't stay awake? I just won't then. Scared of sleeping, sure as hell, but I've got bigger monsters to fear.
Sure these nutrition drinks are a good thing and all, but there's a hole in my stomach that hurts when I'm hungry, eating and full. I'm tired, dizzy, nauseous and I just wanna disappear. But I have no wish to sleep so I don't sleep for as long as I used to. No 30 hours at a time anymore, now it's about 10, which is better I suppose. But I have a feeling it's gonna take time before I get better again.
Sleep deprivation and a messed up circadian rhythm can really fuck you up. Three months and I've reached my breaking point. Luckily, I'm apathetic enough to forget about my hypnophobia somehow. Cause I just do and fuck the rest. Tired and can't stay awake? I just won't then. Scared of sleeping, sure as hell, but I've got bigger monsters to fear.
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
Make up my mind
This ambivalence drives me crazy. On one hand I really do want to go to sleep, I pine for it, miss it. On the other hand I want to keep staying up, cause what fun is sleeping anyways? I'm equally torn between those two and I can't make a decision. I just can't. I've tried for three hours to make up my damn mind, but it seems impossible.
This 100 hours thing is crazy, and I keep screwing it up all the damn time. Pushing myself to the breaking point and then getting angry with myself for not being able to push it further. Idiotically comparing myself to the last world record breaker who stayed up for 18 days and feeling like a failure for not even being able to go through 4 days. Something is wrong in this picture.
I don't know what to do with myself. It's like when you don't know where to put your hands in certain stressful or nervous situations. You keep trying different positions: across your chest, in your pockets, straight down along your sides, holding something, anything, but nothing feels right. I feel like that now, but with my whole body and mind.
This 100 hours thing is crazy, and I keep screwing it up all the damn time. Pushing myself to the breaking point and then getting angry with myself for not being able to push it further. Idiotically comparing myself to the last world record breaker who stayed up for 18 days and feeling like a failure for not even being able to go through 4 days. Something is wrong in this picture.
I don't know what to do with myself. It's like when you don't know where to put your hands in certain stressful or nervous situations. You keep trying different positions: across your chest, in your pockets, straight down along your sides, holding something, anything, but nothing feels right. I feel like that now, but with my whole body and mind.
Monday, 25 November 2013
Resting places
So I went down for a little stroll to the grocery store today, and I was so tired I almost fell asleep while walking. But then I sat down on a bench to have a cigarette and I nodded off constantly, in minus degrees. If I didn't have my irrational fear of sleep and focused on that cigarette, I could easily have fallen asleep right then and there.
Oh damn, I think I fell asleep on the floor. Woke up just a few hours later, so I'm just gonna count this as a nap. Naps are okay, as long as they are under 3 hours long. Especially since I wasn't even aware of what I was doing prior to falling asleep. A dream not yet dreamt made me believe that I had some important mission to do and needed to reach a relaxed state in order to do so. Then I actually dreamt that I went through with that absurd mission. Or was it even a dream? I was pretty gone on my rug with just a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
Today, it seems I have discovered that by this point, I could fall asleep just about anywhere and anytime. Not at all dangerous... Just keep in doors away from flammable objects then. And hope I won't fall asleep while smoking somewhere. Would be such a drag if I torched the place and myself in it.
Oh damn, I think I fell asleep on the floor. Woke up just a few hours later, so I'm just gonna count this as a nap. Naps are okay, as long as they are under 3 hours long. Especially since I wasn't even aware of what I was doing prior to falling asleep. A dream not yet dreamt made me believe that I had some important mission to do and needed to reach a relaxed state in order to do so. Then I actually dreamt that I went through with that absurd mission. Or was it even a dream? I was pretty gone on my rug with just a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
Today, it seems I have discovered that by this point, I could fall asleep just about anywhere and anytime. Not at all dangerous... Just keep in doors away from flammable objects then. And hope I won't fall asleep while smoking somewhere. Would be such a drag if I torched the place and myself in it.
Sunday, 24 November 2013
Keep trying
Fuck it, I have to start over again. How damn hard can it be? I don't understand. Over coming tiredness shouldn't be that fucking hard. Sure, caffeine had no effect, and neither did sugar this morning right before I crashed. But I could have taken a walk or something. At that point I had been awake around 70 hours and had started slapping my face to the point of it aching, blushing red. But it only helped for a few seconds each time. My last resort is usually inflicting pain, without creating wounds, cause wounds release endorphins which make me relaxed. I want to achieve the opposite effect, I want adrenaline. It's been tricky trying to find out what works.
I'm obsessed with this shit, and especially now. I have less than a week to get this done. I want my hundred hours before I stop trying to be awake around the clock and start trying to get a rhythm including sleep again. My next meeting with my psychologist is on Friday, and by then I must be able to say that I have tried and practised that as I said I would do last Friday. I can't screw this up again.
This time, I've calculated to which time and date I will be finished. Until 2 o'clock at night between Wednesday and Thursday I will have to keep these tired eyes of mine open. So I will only have one day and one night to practice that circadian rhythm, as long as I don't fail again, and I won't fail this time. It's stupidly little time left before the meeting, and I will probably have to lie if I want my shrink to keep believing that I actually want to get things normalised again. Cause I really do want that, it's just that I think I won't be able to let go and give my best unless I've reached my crazy achievement first. Maybe it wouldn't be so stupid to tell my shrink that though. Maybe it's irrational that I have this belief, but I think that maybe she would understand why I have it.
I know myself too damn well, and that gut feeling is most likely correct. That I would have that gnawing feeling that I won't be able to give my best to get back to normal again if I feel like a failure for not having reached those 100 hours of sleep deprivation. Maybe it's not so stupid after all: that is a high number of hours, and it would be difficult to break such a record in the future, so it's possible I won't try to break it later on. I believe it will help me to put this behind me once and for all.
I'm obsessed with this shit, and especially now. I have less than a week to get this done. I want my hundred hours before I stop trying to be awake around the clock and start trying to get a rhythm including sleep again. My next meeting with my psychologist is on Friday, and by then I must be able to say that I have tried and practised that as I said I would do last Friday. I can't screw this up again.
This time, I've calculated to which time and date I will be finished. Until 2 o'clock at night between Wednesday and Thursday I will have to keep these tired eyes of mine open. So I will only have one day and one night to practice that circadian rhythm, as long as I don't fail again, and I won't fail this time. It's stupidly little time left before the meeting, and I will probably have to lie if I want my shrink to keep believing that I actually want to get things normalised again. Cause I really do want that, it's just that I think I won't be able to let go and give my best unless I've reached my crazy achievement first. Maybe it wouldn't be so stupid to tell my shrink that though. Maybe it's irrational that I have this belief, but I think that maybe she would understand why I have it.
I know myself too damn well, and that gut feeling is most likely correct. That I would have that gnawing feeling that I won't be able to give my best to get back to normal again if I feel like a failure for not having reached those 100 hours of sleep deprivation. Maybe it's not so stupid after all: that is a high number of hours, and it would be difficult to break such a record in the future, so it's possible I won't try to break it later on. I believe it will help me to put this behind me once and for all.
Tuesday, 12 November 2013
Strawberry gashes and basic needs
I know my anxiolytics are working when I get so numb and distracted I forget my cigarette and can't hold up my arm. I really gotta eat. I hate eating, I don't want to. Wish there was another way. Another way to shut up my growling stomach, another way to regain my energy and make it last. Have you ever thought about how stupid eating is? You have to shove in a lot of shit into your mouth and then the body is only satisfied for a few hours before you have to do it allover again. And most of it you only shit out anyway.
Maybe I am just crazy, but I think the whole process is so... stupid. Like how did evolution think there? Appetite. I think maybe that is why I can't get around this issue. I have no appetite and haven't had that for a really long time, and therefore I start thinking about it in weird terms.
I just wish someone in my circle of friends could understand this. How I think of food and eating. How I only do it to survive, because dying from starvation is just not such a tempting thought. How I only two or three times a year can enjoy food and all the other times it's just a necessary evil. And of all this I seem to dislike vegetables the most. Hard to eat healthy then. And I'm lazy. My thought around cooking food is this: why spend time and effort on something I'm just gonna shove into my mouth to get it over with?
Ugh... I just hate this so much. It's this thing I just can't understand why people like so much. Maybe I'm just programmed wrong or something. As if anything was programmed right. I'm so tired of never working as intended, complexing my life and life itself just keep fucking me over. Cause nothing is ever simple, especially these basic needs, I just can't do it. I can't eat right, I can't sleep right. Well at least I can breathe on my own, I have that to be thankful over. But not for long if I keep on smoking like a chimney.
And I believe this one really big reason why I can't start living a better life. I don't need the crew or my mother a phone call away, I need fucking room service. Someone who literally drags me up from bed every morning, force feeds me my sleeping pills so that I will fall asleep at night and cooks me three meals a day.
I've given up. That is why I stopped trying to sleep better, stopped trying to eat better. At least I'm awake at all, at least I get some sleep at all, and at least I eat something at all. And that's the best I can do for now.
What do anxiolytics do really? They calmed me down, but I was calm already to begin with. Had enough anxiety to cut my whole arm up and think of how miserable I am with this lovesickness situation and that I keep fucking up my life with sleep and food. But I was calm. I took the pills, felt the effect and then I wrote this. After the effect kicked in. Not long either, just a minute or so. I just don't know what to do. Distraction! Distraction, of course! Let's watch a movie or something.
Maybe I am just crazy, but I think the whole process is so... stupid. Like how did evolution think there? Appetite. I think maybe that is why I can't get around this issue. I have no appetite and haven't had that for a really long time, and therefore I start thinking about it in weird terms.
I just wish someone in my circle of friends could understand this. How I think of food and eating. How I only do it to survive, because dying from starvation is just not such a tempting thought. How I only two or three times a year can enjoy food and all the other times it's just a necessary evil. And of all this I seem to dislike vegetables the most. Hard to eat healthy then. And I'm lazy. My thought around cooking food is this: why spend time and effort on something I'm just gonna shove into my mouth to get it over with?
Ugh... I just hate this so much. It's this thing I just can't understand why people like so much. Maybe I'm just programmed wrong or something. As if anything was programmed right. I'm so tired of never working as intended, complexing my life and life itself just keep fucking me over. Cause nothing is ever simple, especially these basic needs, I just can't do it. I can't eat right, I can't sleep right. Well at least I can breathe on my own, I have that to be thankful over. But not for long if I keep on smoking like a chimney.
And I believe this one really big reason why I can't start living a better life. I don't need the crew or my mother a phone call away, I need fucking room service. Someone who literally drags me up from bed every morning, force feeds me my sleeping pills so that I will fall asleep at night and cooks me three meals a day.
I've given up. That is why I stopped trying to sleep better, stopped trying to eat better. At least I'm awake at all, at least I get some sleep at all, and at least I eat something at all. And that's the best I can do for now.
What do anxiolytics do really? They calmed me down, but I was calm already to begin with. Had enough anxiety to cut my whole arm up and think of how miserable I am with this lovesickness situation and that I keep fucking up my life with sleep and food. But I was calm. I took the pills, felt the effect and then I wrote this. After the effect kicked in. Not long either, just a minute or so. I just don't know what to do. Distraction! Distraction, of course! Let's watch a movie or something.
Memories and irony
I hate it that when I sleep for a whole day and two nights and I have like 500 unseen posts on tumblr... Somehow I feel smarter and more connected when I've been awake for 24 hours or more. My brain is a bit slow started. So this is what it's become of my circadian rhythm. I'm not sure if I like it, more apathetic about it. Like I don't care that I'm pulling three or four all nighters, and sleep two or three days in a week, every week. I can't even remember for how long this has gone on.
I'm thinking about my eleventh suicide attempt again. I do that quite a lot lately, just that one. When I could have died. Thinking about that if I hadn't gone to the hospital I would have died that night. Thinking what I should have done instead so that I wouldn't have to be here today. Should not have gone back home, should have taken shelter at McDonalds or something, just until I started to doze off, then walked away to die somewhere secluded where there were no people. In the middle of Uppsala, yeah I probably wouldn't have gotten that far. But still.
So in that sense I guess I kinda want to die. In the sense that I wish that I had died then and there. Still going over it in my memory, replaying every detail. How cold it was, how I sat there on the pier writing suicide notes to my mother, my boyfriend at the time, to my best friend and to the authorities; while eating a sandwich and downing pills with cheap wine, how I lied down and wrapped my leather coat closer to me.
And when that weird domestic worker from where I lived came by and started talking to me. He had a crush on me and wouldn't leave me alone. I lied there dying from suicide and he sat there unknowing, talking to me as if it was just another lovely day. I didn't have the guts to tell him to fuck off. He had just a few days earlier tried to kiss me, and I thought he must be very lonely, that not many people wanted to talk to him. He a was kind man of African heritage in his 50's or so, though I could only understand a few words of what he said with a broad accent. Can't even remember if we talked in Swedish or English. Can't remember what we said at all. You could say I had other things on my mind at the time. Though he was quite peculiar and I couldn't understand what he saw in a young androgynous goth with obvious mental problems.
When I think about that day, I think of a few parts of that memory more at one point, and other parts at another point. It's seldom I think about the whole day and following night. I don't remember at what time I went down to that pier, but I think it was around 6 or 7 pm. And I don't remember when I ended up in the hospital, but they were done at 3 am. So yeah, it was more a night than a day. Mostly I try to remember what I blacked out. The ride in the ambulance, what they said in the hospital, things like that. If I try hard, I can remember when they arrived at the apartment I lived in, and when they helped me down the stairs. But I must have passed out somewhere around there, cause the next thing I remember I'm on a gurney in the intensive care unit, and my memories from there on are very vague.
Why do I keep going on about this particular memory? It holds a certain significance, like the first time I was actually close to dying, so close that some days I even think that I actually did die that day. And I'm just a ghost now. Cause it feels like I am just a ghost and I've been so ever since then. And I can't let go.
So maybe that's why my twelfth suicide attempt doesn't bother me that much, cause of course I couldn't die, I'm already dead. Silly, really, cause I know that I'm still alive. Don't I...? No, I still doubt. There was a risk, but not so high, that I could have died that time too. When you stop breathing by your own hand, like I did, you pass out and let go of the grip, your body automatically starts breathing again. But it's not a 100% chance of it doing so. So that's what I mean, I could have died, but it wasn't likely, and I knew that. I knew that when I took that choice of trying it anyway. So I was more desperate to do it as soon as possible, and thought I'd give it a shot, even though I knew it wasn't likely going to work.
And maybe that is also why I don't think so much about that attempt. It was deadly, but my intentions were a bit wacky and so was my choice. It wasn't even thought through, but alas, my choices were a bit limited because I was in a mental institution.
My opinions about that ward sank a bit after that night. I mean come on, a patient of theirs tries to kill themselves and what do they do? They didn't even notice. I had a huge fucking wound across my neck and spoke with a sore voice that barely held and they didn't say anything. I eventually told them and what did they do? Nothing. So it wasn't so strange that I tried it again the next night. And again the night after that. And again. Four times all and all, until I just gave up on that. I'm just glad I didn't have a room mate!
So I never think about that, huh? I obviously do. But I don't even know half the stuff I'm thinking about, so I guess it just slipped my mind or something. It's so weird though, the psych wards just seem to get worse and worse. "Back in the day" when I was admitted as a minor in 2005 it was really good. They took good care of me and they noticed whenever I was upset, had cut myself or cried. In 2011 I was admitted thrice and they were from bad to worse, but at least they noticed if something was terribly wrong with me. This time... I had to become mute for them to even notice, but nothing bothered them. Not my muteness, not my self harm or my four suicide attempts.
I'm not trying to seek attention. Well, I do, but in the sense that I seek medical attention. That wasn't fake, anything that I did or that happened to me there. It was all real. And after all that had happened I wanted their attention so they could help me. But they couldn't. I hate that damn place, and I see no reason going back there. Everything is out of their jurisdiction and all they can do is talk and change my meds. I already have a psychiatrist, a shrink and a supportive mother, so what can they offer me that I don't already have? I was in for being suicidal, and I was very suicidal, and they couldn't even be on suicide watch. Couldn't help but wonder how many patients there had killed themselves. In that ward, in that room where I slept. It's not like in the movies, you should know.
I'm slightly obsessed with suicide I realise, especially my own futile attempts. This day disappeared too, it's dark for so long and so much these days. I went up at 8:00 after I had slept for 30 or so hours again. I don't remember when I went to bed, nor do I care. Around midnight to the 10th I think. I didn't really want to get up, but I couldn't sleep any longer and I thought that if I was gonna get up, I wanted it to be daylight. So I did get all daylight that I could today, yet it wasn't enough. I'm tired of all the darkness. Do you realise just how much darkness it is when you're awake around the clock and you only get 5 or 6 hours of light a day? Most of my time I write, listen to music, surf on the web, eat, drink coffee, embroider and so on in darkness. I barely turn off the lights before I have to turn them back on again.
Just made myself this insanely strong cup of coffee. I've had like two gulps and I feel dizzy. I bought these kind of powder cappuccinos you mix with hot water. Alright I took one of those in a smaller cup, and mixed in two spoons of regular instant coffee, more sugar and more cream. Like four cups in one! Now that oughta keep me up tonight.
I realise that I really like German as of lately, or for a few months or so now, and especially in music. Many nice industrial bands seem to have a few songs in German, so I whipped up a playlist for that on Spotify. I really do make playlists for everything, don't I? Well, every mood deserves its own music. And I still have many moods.
Maybe it's not so strange that I suddenly like German, cause that's the kind of language I like, in general I mean. Now "that kind of language" is a pretty loose concept when it comes to me. What I mean is hard consonants, powerful and a little complicated in a way. Like Russian, German or Czech. Not those generally considered "beautiful" languages like French or Spanish, that I can't say I like much at all, and I certainly don't find them to be beautiful. Just another thing people consider me to be weird because of. To me it isn't weird, merely uncommon perhaps.
Now I've written nearly half a novel for a blog entry, but I can't seem to write anything productive lately. My inspiration is on hold, but I know it will come back to me. It always does. Still I can't help but wonder why that is, why I've suddenly lost my inspiration. I wrote and created things before, when I was a wreck this summer, so it can't be that, or can it?
I'm more stable now, my mood is stabilised due to medication and oh, how damn much medication I take for my mood swings... 300 mg Lamotrigin and 200 mg Tergretol a day. So how stable am I really? Taking half a drug store every day just to keep me from going from super depressive to manic to agressive to scared shitless anxious fifty times a day. I'm still feeling a lot, not at all zombified and lethargic. I mean, I could even up the dosage further without reaching that state. Not that I need to though. Even I need to feel something every once in a while. And wow do I feel! But just that now my emotions are controllable, except from my undying love for my crush and my fear of sleep that is. How can I even feel so damn much anxiety every night with all that medication in my blood stream?!
However, even though I'm stabilised mood wise, I do doubt that I'm completely in my right mind now. I'm staying up for days in a row, then sleep for an entire day and so it goes on. I get super anxious every night because of a phobia of sleep. I cut every day (except when I sleep for a whole day that is) and deeper and more severe than ever so I'm constantly on a slight blood loss, smoke like a chimney and don't even care about quitting any more, live on microwave meals and don't care about eating healthy, I've stopped taking daily walks and I'm a caffeine addict.
So yeah... I'm medicated enough to appear more stable and together and all, while I'm actually breaking apart piece by piece. It's like my subconscious or something still knows I'm a wreck and will do any wacky thing I can come up with to simply stay alive. This is so ironic I don't even know where to begin. In order to stay alive I do every possibly damaging thing I can think of, or at least if you would sum up this whole last six months or so, that would really be the case. I've tried every possible dangerous, and even deadly thing I can think of really, and then I complain of why it's so hard to survive? I mean what the fuck is wrong with me?! The definition of crazy: can't think straight, like ever.
Wow, now I've really written half a novel...
I'm thinking about my eleventh suicide attempt again. I do that quite a lot lately, just that one. When I could have died. Thinking about that if I hadn't gone to the hospital I would have died that night. Thinking what I should have done instead so that I wouldn't have to be here today. Should not have gone back home, should have taken shelter at McDonalds or something, just until I started to doze off, then walked away to die somewhere secluded where there were no people. In the middle of Uppsala, yeah I probably wouldn't have gotten that far. But still.
So in that sense I guess I kinda want to die. In the sense that I wish that I had died then and there. Still going over it in my memory, replaying every detail. How cold it was, how I sat there on the pier writing suicide notes to my mother, my boyfriend at the time, to my best friend and to the authorities; while eating a sandwich and downing pills with cheap wine, how I lied down and wrapped my leather coat closer to me.
And when that weird domestic worker from where I lived came by and started talking to me. He had a crush on me and wouldn't leave me alone. I lied there dying from suicide and he sat there unknowing, talking to me as if it was just another lovely day. I didn't have the guts to tell him to fuck off. He had just a few days earlier tried to kiss me, and I thought he must be very lonely, that not many people wanted to talk to him. He a was kind man of African heritage in his 50's or so, though I could only understand a few words of what he said with a broad accent. Can't even remember if we talked in Swedish or English. Can't remember what we said at all. You could say I had other things on my mind at the time. Though he was quite peculiar and I couldn't understand what he saw in a young androgynous goth with obvious mental problems.
When I think about that day, I think of a few parts of that memory more at one point, and other parts at another point. It's seldom I think about the whole day and following night. I don't remember at what time I went down to that pier, but I think it was around 6 or 7 pm. And I don't remember when I ended up in the hospital, but they were done at 3 am. So yeah, it was more a night than a day. Mostly I try to remember what I blacked out. The ride in the ambulance, what they said in the hospital, things like that. If I try hard, I can remember when they arrived at the apartment I lived in, and when they helped me down the stairs. But I must have passed out somewhere around there, cause the next thing I remember I'm on a gurney in the intensive care unit, and my memories from there on are very vague.
Why do I keep going on about this particular memory? It holds a certain significance, like the first time I was actually close to dying, so close that some days I even think that I actually did die that day. And I'm just a ghost now. Cause it feels like I am just a ghost and I've been so ever since then. And I can't let go.
So maybe that's why my twelfth suicide attempt doesn't bother me that much, cause of course I couldn't die, I'm already dead. Silly, really, cause I know that I'm still alive. Don't I...? No, I still doubt. There was a risk, but not so high, that I could have died that time too. When you stop breathing by your own hand, like I did, you pass out and let go of the grip, your body automatically starts breathing again. But it's not a 100% chance of it doing so. So that's what I mean, I could have died, but it wasn't likely, and I knew that. I knew that when I took that choice of trying it anyway. So I was more desperate to do it as soon as possible, and thought I'd give it a shot, even though I knew it wasn't likely going to work.
And maybe that is also why I don't think so much about that attempt. It was deadly, but my intentions were a bit wacky and so was my choice. It wasn't even thought through, but alas, my choices were a bit limited because I was in a mental institution.
My opinions about that ward sank a bit after that night. I mean come on, a patient of theirs tries to kill themselves and what do they do? They didn't even notice. I had a huge fucking wound across my neck and spoke with a sore voice that barely held and they didn't say anything. I eventually told them and what did they do? Nothing. So it wasn't so strange that I tried it again the next night. And again the night after that. And again. Four times all and all, until I just gave up on that. I'm just glad I didn't have a room mate!
So I never think about that, huh? I obviously do. But I don't even know half the stuff I'm thinking about, so I guess it just slipped my mind or something. It's so weird though, the psych wards just seem to get worse and worse. "Back in the day" when I was admitted as a minor in 2005 it was really good. They took good care of me and they noticed whenever I was upset, had cut myself or cried. In 2011 I was admitted thrice and they were from bad to worse, but at least they noticed if something was terribly wrong with me. This time... I had to become mute for them to even notice, but nothing bothered them. Not my muteness, not my self harm or my four suicide attempts.
I'm not trying to seek attention. Well, I do, but in the sense that I seek medical attention. That wasn't fake, anything that I did or that happened to me there. It was all real. And after all that had happened I wanted their attention so they could help me. But they couldn't. I hate that damn place, and I see no reason going back there. Everything is out of their jurisdiction and all they can do is talk and change my meds. I already have a psychiatrist, a shrink and a supportive mother, so what can they offer me that I don't already have? I was in for being suicidal, and I was very suicidal, and they couldn't even be on suicide watch. Couldn't help but wonder how many patients there had killed themselves. In that ward, in that room where I slept. It's not like in the movies, you should know.
I'm slightly obsessed with suicide I realise, especially my own futile attempts. This day disappeared too, it's dark for so long and so much these days. I went up at 8:00 after I had slept for 30 or so hours again. I don't remember when I went to bed, nor do I care. Around midnight to the 10th I think. I didn't really want to get up, but I couldn't sleep any longer and I thought that if I was gonna get up, I wanted it to be daylight. So I did get all daylight that I could today, yet it wasn't enough. I'm tired of all the darkness. Do you realise just how much darkness it is when you're awake around the clock and you only get 5 or 6 hours of light a day? Most of my time I write, listen to music, surf on the web, eat, drink coffee, embroider and so on in darkness. I barely turn off the lights before I have to turn them back on again.
Just made myself this insanely strong cup of coffee. I've had like two gulps and I feel dizzy. I bought these kind of powder cappuccinos you mix with hot water. Alright I took one of those in a smaller cup, and mixed in two spoons of regular instant coffee, more sugar and more cream. Like four cups in one! Now that oughta keep me up tonight.
I realise that I really like German as of lately, or for a few months or so now, and especially in music. Many nice industrial bands seem to have a few songs in German, so I whipped up a playlist for that on Spotify. I really do make playlists for everything, don't I? Well, every mood deserves its own music. And I still have many moods.
Maybe it's not so strange that I suddenly like German, cause that's the kind of language I like, in general I mean. Now "that kind of language" is a pretty loose concept when it comes to me. What I mean is hard consonants, powerful and a little complicated in a way. Like Russian, German or Czech. Not those generally considered "beautiful" languages like French or Spanish, that I can't say I like much at all, and I certainly don't find them to be beautiful. Just another thing people consider me to be weird because of. To me it isn't weird, merely uncommon perhaps.
Now I've written nearly half a novel for a blog entry, but I can't seem to write anything productive lately. My inspiration is on hold, but I know it will come back to me. It always does. Still I can't help but wonder why that is, why I've suddenly lost my inspiration. I wrote and created things before, when I was a wreck this summer, so it can't be that, or can it?
I'm more stable now, my mood is stabilised due to medication and oh, how damn much medication I take for my mood swings... 300 mg Lamotrigin and 200 mg Tergretol a day. So how stable am I really? Taking half a drug store every day just to keep me from going from super depressive to manic to agressive to scared shitless anxious fifty times a day. I'm still feeling a lot, not at all zombified and lethargic. I mean, I could even up the dosage further without reaching that state. Not that I need to though. Even I need to feel something every once in a while. And wow do I feel! But just that now my emotions are controllable, except from my undying love for my crush and my fear of sleep that is. How can I even feel so damn much anxiety every night with all that medication in my blood stream?!
However, even though I'm stabilised mood wise, I do doubt that I'm completely in my right mind now. I'm staying up for days in a row, then sleep for an entire day and so it goes on. I get super anxious every night because of a phobia of sleep. I cut every day (except when I sleep for a whole day that is) and deeper and more severe than ever so I'm constantly on a slight blood loss, smoke like a chimney and don't even care about quitting any more, live on microwave meals and don't care about eating healthy, I've stopped taking daily walks and I'm a caffeine addict.
So yeah... I'm medicated enough to appear more stable and together and all, while I'm actually breaking apart piece by piece. It's like my subconscious or something still knows I'm a wreck and will do any wacky thing I can come up with to simply stay alive. This is so ironic I don't even know where to begin. In order to stay alive I do every possibly damaging thing I can think of, or at least if you would sum up this whole last six months or so, that would really be the case. I've tried every possible dangerous, and even deadly thing I can think of really, and then I complain of why it's so hard to survive? I mean what the fuck is wrong with me?! The definition of crazy: can't think straight, like ever.
Wow, now I've really written half a novel...
Friday, 8 November 2013
Just another addiction
Had a little nap. Just fell asleep on the sofa at eight on Wednesday evening and woke up just now, four o'clock in this early Friday morning. A 32 hours nap, breaking my previous record of the longest time I've been asleep for. Of course I woke up a few times during my visit to dream-/nightmareland, but I didn't want to get up. So I just stayed there. I chose to get up at this early hour because I'm going to see my shrink at 11:00 and I want to have some time just doing nothing before getting ready for that. It's not like I need to sleep more.
So this is it then? My sleep habit summed up in a month or two: awake for 30 to 80 hours, sleep for 20 to 30 hours. Afraid of sleeping and addicted to sleep deprivation for as long as my body and mind can take it. Cause yeah, that's what happened this time. I realised that I'm not just hypnophobic, but also addicted to causing myself sleep deprivation. How I figured that one out? I had miscalculated the hours of awaken time, from what I believed was 4 days, was actually only 3 days. I was upset that I had not at all reached something close to 100 hours, but "just" around 75 hours, barely breaking my old record.
"Was I proud over my imaginary extra 24 hors making me believe I'm close to a 100 hours of sleep deprivation? Was I fucking proud?!" I wrote in my paper diary. The anxiety that realisation gave me was a bit more than I could take. So I took 2 Zyprexa, 2 caff. pills and downed them with a solution of 2 Bamyl Koffein. Hoping that all the caffeine would keep me awake while the Zyprexa usually makes me tired. Failed. So I can't even take Zyprexa for my anxiety anymore? Well that's just great.
I gave up and stopped fighting. I felt like shit after what felt like 95 hours but was only 75. I couldn't do it, keep on fighting with all those feelings of being a fucking failure. Something I shouldn't feel like a failure over. So I took my horrible feelings and lied down on the sofa. When misery wins over misery.
So this is it then? My sleep habit summed up in a month or two: awake for 30 to 80 hours, sleep for 20 to 30 hours. Afraid of sleeping and addicted to sleep deprivation for as long as my body and mind can take it. Cause yeah, that's what happened this time. I realised that I'm not just hypnophobic, but also addicted to causing myself sleep deprivation. How I figured that one out? I had miscalculated the hours of awaken time, from what I believed was 4 days, was actually only 3 days. I was upset that I had not at all reached something close to 100 hours, but "just" around 75 hours, barely breaking my old record.
"Was I proud over my imaginary extra 24 hors making me believe I'm close to a 100 hours of sleep deprivation? Was I fucking proud?!" I wrote in my paper diary. The anxiety that realisation gave me was a bit more than I could take. So I took 2 Zyprexa, 2 caff. pills and downed them with a solution of 2 Bamyl Koffein. Hoping that all the caffeine would keep me awake while the Zyprexa usually makes me tired. Failed. So I can't even take Zyprexa for my anxiety anymore? Well that's just great.
I gave up and stopped fighting. I felt like shit after what felt like 95 hours but was only 75. I couldn't do it, keep on fighting with all those feelings of being a fucking failure. Something I shouldn't feel like a failure over. So I took my horrible feelings and lied down on the sofa. When misery wins over misery.
Wednesday, 6 November 2013
Haunted by my own ghosts
I notice that I eat more now, since I'm awake around the clock. Usually I ate brunch and dinner. Now I get two brunches and two dinners. Keeps me going, and probably part of the reason why I'm still able to keep awake for so long. I take less caffeine and eat food, use chewing gum and sing along to the music to keep myself awake instead.
Got the tip about chewing gums from the film "Insomnia" and it's actually working! Wonder what the director and film crew would think if they would find out they just handed out a trick to help a hypnophobiac to stay awake.
Still trying to figure out what to say to my shrink on Friday, during our next meeting. I don't know if I will have slept anything until then. I think I have, to some degree let go, and now just go with the flow. Cause I have less anxiety about sleeping because I tell myself fuck that shit, fuck it if I sleep or not! And I think the anxiety itself made it harder to stay awake, so I tried even harder with more caffeine and grasping at any straws I could find.
Now I sit here in my fourth night slowly sipping an energy drink and trying to figure out which film to watch next. I'm not so worked up about my sleep issues because I choose to simply ignore them. Instead of trying to keep the car on the road I just let go off the steering wheel and sit back and enjoy the show. I won't die from sleep deprivation, though there hasn't been much research in that area. Some say "of course it's bad for you, cause you feel like road kill if you don't get enough sleep". Others say that "the worst that can happen is that you get a little slow and lethargic but that's about it, the body will regain it's need for sleep sooner or later, so no need to worry".
I miss him. I miss him so much these days, and keep playing up and replaying scenarios about a perfect future together with him. They're fairly realistic, though it's hard to think of realistic conversations when I don't know him so well. I feel so terribly lonely when I think about how much I miss him though. Just wanna go back to the main country ASAP, but I'm broke and can't even afford my own food and cigarettes. He's all I can think about. Or, he's the only positive thing I can think about in excess of my mental problems. It's quite a contrast, though even in that department we have a little in common.
Did I just fall asleep for a few seconds? Is that even possible? Just like that I am a female blood elf in WoW about to talk to some NPC's in something that could have been a dream, right after I had closed my eyes and then instantly snapped back to reality, eyes wide open. It didn't even take a minute.
I can't fucking believe it, I'm actually hallucinating a song that is stuck on my mind. I heard it first in the kitchen, but the buzzing from the microwave suffocated the music, I couldn't even figure out that it was music. So I kept walking around in my apartment, listening intensively, trying to figure out where it came from. Until I got into my bedroom.
The bedside lamp was still on, so I turned it off and leaned towards the wall furthest from the kitchen. I pretended that I lied on the floor, with my arms curled under my chin. The bedroom, that gives me so much anxiety, seemed to let off heavy energy of wasted sleep and unfulfilled dreams as I stood there. To actually be in there, not just go in for picking up something in the wardrobe or fixing with something, but to just be there. So much negative energy. For all those nights I achingly fell onto the mattress, wrapping my entire body tightly in the duvet, collecting my arms and legs as close to my torso as possible, just waiting for the long lost, hated sleep to devour me. And all those nights of terrifying dreams, waking up screaming, or waking up scared and not knowing where the fuck I am. Afternoons and evenings when I finally got enough willpower to drag myself up from there, put on clothes and leave the bedroom behind me again. It's haunted now, and the ghosts won't leave me be.
I had my ear against the bedroom wall and from it I could hear "Thanatophobia" by Funker Vogt. I can really hear it, like it's coming from somewhere in reality! I can't get it into my head that the sound I hear is coming from inside it. Reality is slowly turning up side down, as I count the hours to 92.
Got the tip about chewing gums from the film "Insomnia" and it's actually working! Wonder what the director and film crew would think if they would find out they just handed out a trick to help a hypnophobiac to stay awake.
Still trying to figure out what to say to my shrink on Friday, during our next meeting. I don't know if I will have slept anything until then. I think I have, to some degree let go, and now just go with the flow. Cause I have less anxiety about sleeping because I tell myself fuck that shit, fuck it if I sleep or not! And I think the anxiety itself made it harder to stay awake, so I tried even harder with more caffeine and grasping at any straws I could find.
Now I sit here in my fourth night slowly sipping an energy drink and trying to figure out which film to watch next. I'm not so worked up about my sleep issues because I choose to simply ignore them. Instead of trying to keep the car on the road I just let go off the steering wheel and sit back and enjoy the show. I won't die from sleep deprivation, though there hasn't been much research in that area. Some say "of course it's bad for you, cause you feel like road kill if you don't get enough sleep". Others say that "the worst that can happen is that you get a little slow and lethargic but that's about it, the body will regain it's need for sleep sooner or later, so no need to worry".
I miss him. I miss him so much these days, and keep playing up and replaying scenarios about a perfect future together with him. They're fairly realistic, though it's hard to think of realistic conversations when I don't know him so well. I feel so terribly lonely when I think about how much I miss him though. Just wanna go back to the main country ASAP, but I'm broke and can't even afford my own food and cigarettes. He's all I can think about. Or, he's the only positive thing I can think about in excess of my mental problems. It's quite a contrast, though even in that department we have a little in common.
Did I just fall asleep for a few seconds? Is that even possible? Just like that I am a female blood elf in WoW about to talk to some NPC's in something that could have been a dream, right after I had closed my eyes and then instantly snapped back to reality, eyes wide open. It didn't even take a minute.
I can't fucking believe it, I'm actually hallucinating a song that is stuck on my mind. I heard it first in the kitchen, but the buzzing from the microwave suffocated the music, I couldn't even figure out that it was music. So I kept walking around in my apartment, listening intensively, trying to figure out where it came from. Until I got into my bedroom.
The bedside lamp was still on, so I turned it off and leaned towards the wall furthest from the kitchen. I pretended that I lied on the floor, with my arms curled under my chin. The bedroom, that gives me so much anxiety, seemed to let off heavy energy of wasted sleep and unfulfilled dreams as I stood there. To actually be in there, not just go in for picking up something in the wardrobe or fixing with something, but to just be there. So much negative energy. For all those nights I achingly fell onto the mattress, wrapping my entire body tightly in the duvet, collecting my arms and legs as close to my torso as possible, just waiting for the long lost, hated sleep to devour me. And all those nights of terrifying dreams, waking up screaming, or waking up scared and not knowing where the fuck I am. Afternoons and evenings when I finally got enough willpower to drag myself up from there, put on clothes and leave the bedroom behind me again. It's haunted now, and the ghosts won't leave me be.
I had my ear against the bedroom wall and from it I could hear "Thanatophobia" by Funker Vogt. I can really hear it, like it's coming from somewhere in reality! I can't get it into my head that the sound I hear is coming from inside it. Reality is slowly turning up side down, as I count the hours to 92.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Keep me awake
I'm falling apart. How the hell is this day gonna be? I'm supposed to wash my laundry in the afternoon and I already feel like a wreck drenched twice. I'm so damn cold, and just waiting for the temperature to rise is obviously not gonna give any result, it won't exceed 20 degrees just by itself. But at the same times I'm too warm, like feverish almost. Too damn much caffeine, I've exceeded the max limit dosage for 24 hours in 3 hours and more so. Almost twice that even. Aw, fuck my life...
Can I even call "this" a life? Feels like I'm on the railway station between reality and insanity, waiting to aboard one or the other train. For me it's not a thin line between those two polar extremes, it's a whole fucking world and I'm stuck in it. Though sometimes I step over completely into insanity, but I don't think I've ever completely been in reality.
Fuck, this shit is wearing me out, I don't wanna do this any more. I just wanna stop being scared of sleeping and being able to keep a circadian rhythm for once again in my life. This is ruining so much and I feel like shit for every hour that passes in this agony, for every night and counting that I've been awake for, until I completely lose conception of time (I had to count how many nights I've been up) and my body aches so much I can't even sit up straight. And I can't even tell if I need to eat cause I can't for the world remember when was the last time I ate or even if it's hunger that I feel somewhere in all this pain.
Still so many hours left... I can't eat. I haven't eaten in the gods know how many hours and I can't even get down a lousy pancake. Need to buy some nutrition shakes or anything. This is too much. I've cut down on the caffeine, don't need it any more, hunger and pain keeps me awake. Nervous breakdown bound to happen any day now... fuck everything damn it.
Can I even call "this" a life? Feels like I'm on the railway station between reality and insanity, waiting to aboard one or the other train. For me it's not a thin line between those two polar extremes, it's a whole fucking world and I'm stuck in it. Though sometimes I step over completely into insanity, but I don't think I've ever completely been in reality.
Fuck, this shit is wearing me out, I don't wanna do this any more. I just wanna stop being scared of sleeping and being able to keep a circadian rhythm for once again in my life. This is ruining so much and I feel like shit for every hour that passes in this agony, for every night and counting that I've been awake for, until I completely lose conception of time (I had to count how many nights I've been up) and my body aches so much I can't even sit up straight. And I can't even tell if I need to eat cause I can't for the world remember when was the last time I ate or even if it's hunger that I feel somewhere in all this pain.
Still so many hours left... I can't eat. I haven't eaten in the gods know how many hours and I can't even get down a lousy pancake. Need to buy some nutrition shakes or anything. This is too much. I've cut down on the caffeine, don't need it any more, hunger and pain keeps me awake. Nervous breakdown bound to happen any day now... fuck everything damn it.
Friday, 1 November 2013
Power of gods
I'm taking too much sleeping pills now, cause I can't wake up in the morning, at noon, or in the afternoon. I didn't wake up today until my mother called me at ten in the evening. I'm spacing out the dosages too much, as I took the second Imovane at six this morning and it took two hours to reach full effect. The effect isn't supposed to last for twelve hours, so I can't conceive of why I couldn't wake up despite several alarms and the crew calling me multiple times. People must have almost declared me dead...
I can't remember if they went in to my apartment and woke me up that way though. It's possible, since that's what they're supposed to do. Besides, the lid to my cup of water at my bedside table was taken off but not put back on it, which I always do, so I have my suspicions that I actually did wake up and took my pills some time in the morning.
I'm thinking so much about self harm and preferably cutting these days. It can't be healthy. Thinking about it, I mean, though I'm sure the act of doing it isn't so healthy either. It's like I'm triggering myself. Right now I'm in an uneven state of anxiety and hopelessness, it's scratching and tearing inside me, and alternative rock band Manic Street Preachers from Cardiff in Wales takes the edge off it. I remember they were a part of a question/quiz in the Swedish tv-show "På spåret" a year or so ago, and I was the only one in my family who could answer them. Got no credit for it though.
Sad to say though, I discovered this band after looking up famous people who self harm, and found out their former guitarist Richey Edwards was one of them.
I got "homework" from the smoking cessation doctor I saw yesterday. I'm supposed to write down a little information about every cigarette I smoke until our next meeting in a week or so. Like when I lit up, what I'm doing at that time, what I feel and how important I find the cigarette to be. Taken three in the last hour, so I think there will be a lot of scribbling on that sheet. I'm back to chain smoking again... Damn this anxiety is intolerable.
That relieved the pressure, doing a satanic ritual at this midnight, Halloween. Ain't no better day for it, right? It was quite powerful, and not just that the wind started blowing outside my window as I preprepared the ritual and it increased during it to suddenly just calm down again right after - but the power in the words (Enochian, I think) as I read them out loud, over and over I read them, and the power I felt grew stronger each time. Just wow... It felt like the god above tried to interfere, even though that might sound stupid in a way. I suddenly feel more religious than ever before in my life.
I can't remember if they went in to my apartment and woke me up that way though. It's possible, since that's what they're supposed to do. Besides, the lid to my cup of water at my bedside table was taken off but not put back on it, which I always do, so I have my suspicions that I actually did wake up and took my pills some time in the morning.
I'm thinking so much about self harm and preferably cutting these days. It can't be healthy. Thinking about it, I mean, though I'm sure the act of doing it isn't so healthy either. It's like I'm triggering myself. Right now I'm in an uneven state of anxiety and hopelessness, it's scratching and tearing inside me, and alternative rock band Manic Street Preachers from Cardiff in Wales takes the edge off it. I remember they were a part of a question/quiz in the Swedish tv-show "På spåret" a year or so ago, and I was the only one in my family who could answer them. Got no credit for it though.
Sad to say though, I discovered this band after looking up famous people who self harm, and found out their former guitarist Richey Edwards was one of them.
I got "homework" from the smoking cessation doctor I saw yesterday. I'm supposed to write down a little information about every cigarette I smoke until our next meeting in a week or so. Like when I lit up, what I'm doing at that time, what I feel and how important I find the cigarette to be. Taken three in the last hour, so I think there will be a lot of scribbling on that sheet. I'm back to chain smoking again... Damn this anxiety is intolerable.
That relieved the pressure, doing a satanic ritual at this midnight, Halloween. Ain't no better day for it, right? It was quite powerful, and not just that the wind started blowing outside my window as I preprepared the ritual and it increased during it to suddenly just calm down again right after - but the power in the words (Enochian, I think) as I read them out loud, over and over I read them, and the power I felt grew stronger each time. Just wow... It felt like the god above tried to interfere, even though that might sound stupid in a way. I suddenly feel more religious than ever before in my life.
Thursday, 31 October 2013
Fighting for a chance to sleep
Chain smoking until I crash from exhaustion. Imovane should put me in a coma for the night any time soon now. I'm already tired as fuck, but that isn't enough. I have to be so shitface tired that I get cross-eyed, start dreaming while still awake and faceplant on the keyboard. It usually occurs in that order. Took a couple of Zyprexa again, battle anxiety and lack of sufficient sleep.
That, and I'd probably go to sleep with furthermore cuts and lacerations. Feels like my arms are gonna fall off soon, and I'm always hoping I won't hit a nerve that I need.
Cause yeah, I'm always cutting off nerves, but mostly they are quite small and unimportant. One of the reasons I don't cut far down on the wrists and hands. Enough about that now. I'm obsessing about self harm again.
That, and I'd probably go to sleep with furthermore cuts and lacerations. Feels like my arms are gonna fall off soon, and I'm always hoping I won't hit a nerve that I need.
Cause yeah, I'm always cutting off nerves, but mostly they are quite small and unimportant. One of the reasons I don't cut far down on the wrists and hands. Enough about that now. I'm obsessing about self harm again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)