I'm AWAKE

I'm listening to David Bowie and I'm happy. Maybe not over the top happy but I'm content. Gradually stopping to take the Propavan was the best idea I have had in years. Okay, I don't sleep much. I think I got about four hours of sleep last night. I just couldn't fall asleep. But I had expected that and I'm fine with it. I could have taken a Zoplicone but 4 a.m. seemed like the wrong time to do that. 

I have so much energy, it's unbelievable! I didn't walk around like a zombie all morning. I was almost clear in my head when I woke up and I got lots of things done. During the last two years my mornings have been a drowsy mess. I needed two hours to wake up, to even start the day. But today, today I woke up and after 10 minutes I started cleaning, doing the dishes, baking some breakfast-buns, taking care of the laundry, cuddling my cat, planning lunch, reading the news, having a deep discussion about the faults of capitalism with a friend on Facebook and sitting on the balcony having a fag in the sunshine. 

What the heck?!? I mean, I'm tired because I have slept too less. And I'm a bit on the edge anxiety-wise. But it feels "natural". I feel like I have been released from a constant slumber. I can't imagine the energy-levels I'll have when I'm totally off the Propavan. Was this me before I started taking sleeping-meds?!? I can't remember. I used to be able to get up at 8 a.m., exercise an hour, clean, go to university for some classes, meet a friend for coffee, study for five or six hours, cook a lovely meal, write a long letter and watch a movie. All in one day. That was bascially my every day life. Maybe that was the real me?!? 

All these zombie-like mornings are a thing of the past now. I'll get off the Propavan, that's for sure. I know that my try last autumn didn't work out. But this time I'm doing it gradually. And I don't care about lack of sleep, increased anxiety or even cramps. I'll get off it. I still have the Zoplicone to fall back onto if I don't sleep at all.

On a funny side-note: my boyfriend took half a Propavan last night because he wants to get off his Zoplicone. So I gave him half a Propavan. And he is still in bed. Haha. He was up for an hour or two but was all drowsy and tired so he went back to bed. Funny, I take half a pill and I get filled with energy, he takes half a pill and turns into a zombie!

Of course I'm now thinking if I'm hypomanic. Could that be? You know, this every day life I had for about two years could have been hypomania. I just don't know. My stupid psychiatrist totally confused me with the bipolar diagnosis. So, could I be hypomanic right now? I feel happy, I have lots of energy, I feel like dancing on a meadow. I have lots of ideas. I feel really creative. I have deep discussions, discussions like that I haven't had in months. I feel like Popeye who has just eaten his spinach. Can the reduced dosage of the sleeping medication have triggered hypomania? Help?!?

That's it, bye bye Propavan

I have had enough with the Propavan. Last autumn I tried to stop taking that medication but I ended up getting weird seizures every morning. That freaked me out so I took Propavan again. Everywhere it says that you won't get any withdrawal-symptoms from Propavan. But I and my stupid uber-sensitive body disagree. I actually think that you can get withdrawal-symptoms from any medication out there if you have taken it long enough. I have taken Propavan since December 2010. That's a long time! Most people take 50 mg, I only take 25 mg. 

Anyway, I think that Propavan is giving me nightmares. And it gives me a terrible hangover every morning. It takes me about two hours to wake up. And I feel dizzy and slow all day long. I still wake up a lot during the night. I still don't sleep properly. And it gives me a dry mouth. The one thing it helps me with is my evening-anxiety. It calms me down a bit.

This time I'm doing it in a smart way. I won't stop cold turkey. I'll gradually take less. So last night I broke a pill in two and took only half the dosage. And I'll only take those 12,5 mg for 10 days. And then I'll stop taking it. Hopefully I won't get the seizures this time. 

I don't feel like I have slept worse last night than with the full dosage. I'm actually more awake today. I don't feel as hungover. My anxiety is stronger though. So far I have done the dishes, replied to three e-mails, helped my boyfriend with the laundry, had breakfast, taken care of the cat and read the news on the net. And I have only been awake for 2 and a half hours. So somehow I have more energy. 

But as always when I make a decision, I need to reflect if the decision is rational or impulsive. Do I want to stop taking the Propavan because I'm feeling alright right now? I know a lot of people who stop taking their meds because they feel good and think they don't need the meds anymore. Then they crash because it was the meds that made them feel good in the first place. But Propavan is a sleeping pill not an antidepressant or

moodstabilizer. My psychiatrist even suggested that I could stop taking the med. I feel okay with my decision. I am also prepared that I'll sleep badly for a few weeks. And that I'll probably have more anxiety. I still don't want to take Seroquel. Sorry for dwelling on and on about my meds.

I'm still not taking my meds ...

I still haven't taken the Seroquel/Quetapine. I am a wuss. I have realized that I have come up with a lot of avoidance-strategies and excuses. I still don't know if it's the fear of the side-effects or the feeling that I don't want to be ill so I ignore the fact that I could need a strong medication. I had the meeting with my psychiatrist a week ago, I have had the pills at home for six days now. I haven't opened the package. It's in my medicine-cabinet, in the back, in the dark, where I can't see it. 

I think the main reason for not taking it is fear. And P's seizures because of the Wellburtin really made that part only worse. I'm afraid of side-effects. Before I had started with psych-meds I had never been afraid of side-effects. I had seen them as part of getting better. I get dizzy and I feel sick from simple painkillers. Still, I  took them when I had a headache. I took antibiotics although I threw up because of them. Those are not side-effects, psych-meds give you really fucked up side-effects. The first psych-med I have ever taken was Prozac. I could barely eat for three months. I could barely sleep. I was manic and restless. I was shakey. I threw up every day. And I got even more suicidal. First imprint of a psych-med in my memory. And then Zoloft, Lamictal, Effexor, Abilify, Zyprexa, Wellburtin. They all made me worse, much worse. Effexor gave me a feeling of electric shocks through my whole body, I didn't leave the bed for a week. Zyprexa made me really really fat. The nodrenaline in Wellburtin gave me so much anxiety that I was going mad for real. I had someone sitting with me for two weeks because I was so suicidal. Nope. No good experiences at all. So yes, one of the reasons I don't want to take Seroquel is because of the side-effects. Okay, it's probably the main reason. I just don't believe that meds can help me. I'm too sensitive to medication. And if you don't believe that a medication can help, it probably won't help. I won't even get a placebo-effect out of it. And well, Seroquel can make me fat just like the Zyprexa did, it could make me lose my mojo, just like Zyprexa did. And it could make me more suicidal, like all other psych-meds did. Gosh, I even got panic when I took my first Valium ever. It didn't calm me down, it made me panic because I was so afraid of it being bad for me. I hyperventilated, because of a sedative!

The second reason which is kind of a result of the first reason is that I don't want to get admitted to the hospital again. I didn't get better there. I hated being there. And everytime I left I was feeling worse than when I got there. There are people there, lots of people! You need to share your room with three others, you need to share a bathroom with six others. You get crappy meals. The staff is always stressed out and the doctors want to send you home as soon as possible because they need your bed for someone else who is waiting in the ER. It's never about getting better, it's about getting you out of there as soon as possible. Like the last time I was there I tried to commit suicide three times while being there. And they still sent me home, a day after a suicide attempt. They needed my bed. They could see that I was doing like shit and that I had lots of anxiety. But yeah, there are other patients waiting to be treated. Being at the hospital is not for me. It is really hard to be around that many people, patients, staff, cleaners, when you have social anxiety. And I do exactly the same things there as I do at home: I surf on the net, I write, I sleep, I watch TV, I read. So really,  it makes no difference where I am. And I know that if I take the Seroquel, I'll do much worse. All meds have made me worse, why should the Seroquel be any different? Me being worse means me being suicidal. Me being suicidal means me being sent to the hospital, either after a suicide-attempt or because someone realizes how badly I'm doing. I don't want that. And I just know it will be that way, experience tells me. Reason tells me. Statistics tell me. 

I'm not doing so bad right now. I have felt much worse. Right, I'm not sleeping much, I have strong anxiety every now and then. I get into petty fights with my boyfriend. I haven't thought of suicide for a few days now though.  I don't feel that depressed. I have trouble focusing. I don't get my routines done. But still, I have felt worse. So why should I take a medication if I'm not in a very bad state?

There has been some confusion around my diagnosis. I have anxiety-iusses which Seroquel won't help against anyway. My doctor thinks I'm bipolar. But on the package it says that I should take the Seroquel for sleeping and against anxiety. Say what? I thought I was supposed to take it as a mood-stabilizer? I thought I should take it instead of trying out Lithium? I could call my doctor and ask him what he thinks it is for. I know that I want to get rid off the Propavan so maybe that's why I'm supposed to take Seroquel? I could call him and ask him to clarify this for me. But well, I never call others. Social anxiety issue.

And then there is a reason I have discussed with P. He said that I unconsciously don't want to get better. It has to do with my expectations of life. It has to do with my acceptance of my illness. I know that I have lots of potential. I get it to hear that all the time. I have succeeded at university after all. But I know that I'll never be able to use my full potential. So unconsciously I think that it's not worth the fight, worth the side-effects, if I don't get where I want to get: to be a normal healthy human being who can try out her potential, see how far she can get in life. On a scale from one to ten when it comes to functionality I am maybe at a three at the moment. With years of therapy and lots of meds I might be able to reach a 7. But I want to be a ten. And because I know I will never be a ten again, I don't see it worth the fight. I don't want to face the truth, I don't want to accept that seven is all I can get. So I rather stay at a three and and don't face the truth, still hoping for the ten.

So my avoidance-strategies are: 1. Ignore the fact that I have the medication at home, don't think about it, push it away  2. Find arguments that speak against the medication and believe these arguments even though they only come from personal experience 3. Convince myself that I'll end up in the hospital so the fear gets bigger, listen to fear 4. Don't call the doctor to get reassurance and a better explanation, better believe that there is no reason to take it 5. laugh about my own fears (I texted with my social worker the other day and I joked about my fears) 6. Convince myself that I'm just doing fine 7. If I won't get fully functional with it, why even try?

I personally find my avoidant strategies and my arguments quite convincing. But a little little little part of me thinks I'm just a stupid wuss. My psychiatrist is a professional after all, he probably knows what he is doing. Maybe I'll sleep better with it. Wouldn't it be great to finally get rid off the Propavan? I know I should, even though I don't get why I should. This is just fucked up. Fucked up.

Scary incident

The other day something really scary happened. My initial reaction to scary incidents is silent panic but outer indifference. I can't show feelings, I have lots of feelings, but I just don't show them. It's called affect-phobia,. fear of feelings. I'm afraid of what they do to me, what they make me do. I often just push my feelings away. I want my head and reason to lead me. I don't trust my feelings. The feelings I surpress are the ones that could be classed as "negative", anxiety/fear, sadness and anger. People can't tell when I'm having a panic attack or strong anxiety. I can hide it well. That has often lead to the problem that many professionals haven't taken me seriously because I don't act like a drama-queen. I bascially never cry in front of others. I don't cry much on my own either. And I never scream at people. I don't know how to express anger. When someone is having an argument with me I'm always calm and reasonable, which often makes others even more furious because they see me as condescending. But when I'm down, really down, like totally down, I can't control my feelings. I shake because of fear, I can't control my restless body, I can't control my breathing. I cry, cry, and cry. I scream of fear and inner turmoil. Those moments are rare. Those moments are dangerous. That's when my emotions have taken over, let me believe they are my reason and lead me to do dangerous things. Like trying to commit suicide, hurt myself.

Anyway, so the scary incident the other day. I was sitting on the sofa, my cat in my lap, reading a book. My boyfriend was taking a nap after work. And our room-mate was in his room, surfing on the internet. Suddenly there is a lot of commotion coming from his room. Lots of things falling down, crashing on the floor. And a strange noise that I first thought was him laughing. More things crashed on the floor. My cat got really scared and went hiding under our bed. I knocked on P's door but he wouldn't answer. So I opened the door and there he was, laying on the floor, having seizures! Oh my gosh! I didn't know what to do. His upper body was under the bed so I couldn't really see his face. I woke up my boyfriend and together we tried speaking to P. I wanted to check if he had swallowed his tongue (I once read that that can happen to people who have seizures) but still couldn't see his face. I only saw his legs who moved like a half-dead fish on dry land. Then he fainted and was unconscious. We called for an ambulance. I was somehow freaking out. P woke up and tried to get up. We tried to tell him what had happened but he didn't understand a word of what we were saying. He was totally lost. All he said was: "What?". The ambulance came and they took him to the hospital. He had injured his shoulder badly. They also checked his head and kept him for a night for observation.

He had fainted before. And he had had seizures before. So they suspect that he has epilepsy. They will start doing tests next week. But they also suspect that his antidepressant (Wellburtin) has caused the seizures. He drinks quite a lot of alcohol, he kind of self-medicates with it. And that doesn't work together with the Wellburtin. So he'll have to contact his psych-doctor next week so he can stop taking the antidepressant. And well, he'll try to stay away from alcohol for a while. And that probably sucks a lot for him because it's Midsommar in Sweden today, the day of the year where all Sweden get really really drunk. So he'll stay at home with us, we'll have a typical Midsommar-meal and then maybe watch some movies. No alcohol involved. I mean, we have vodka and wine at home but I don't think we'll drink any of it. I rarely drink alcohol (I used to drink a lot of it when I was younger though) these days, I don't want to lose control

This whole thing scared the shit out of me. I thought for a second that P was going to die. So after he had left with the ambulance, I actually cried for a bit. And then I manically cleaned his room. Lots of stuff got crashed and I thought he should have a clean and nice room when he comes back from the hospital. It is not just that I thought he was about to die. It's also the indifference I felt in that moment. And I wonder if that indifference was just shock or maybe my affect-phobia. Well, I cried afterwards. I guess I was just in shock.

And another thing: if the antidepressant has caused those seizures, how much should I really trust that meds will do me good? This is just another example of things that contribute to my fear of psych-meds. Psych-meds have bad side-effects. I have seen it once again. But without meds I won't get any better. I think P has similar thoughts. He said that he doesn't want to try out another antidepressant for now. Once he is off the Wellburtin, he wants to stay away from psych-meds. Which I know is bad for him as he has several psych-diagnosis. So if I see that it's bad for him, why can't I convince myself that it's bad for me too?

Nightmare

I woke up at 7 a.m. this morning. After about 4 hours of sleep. And do you know what woke me up? The feeling of intense fear and utter disgust. I had nightmares, again. I still haven't figured out if those nightmares are because of the Propavan or if they are actually coming from my own fucked up imagination.

My nightmares are never about monsters or any kind of fantasy-worlds. They are about reality. And that's what makes them so scary. They seem real. So this time I dreamt that my father raped me. Isn't that just jolly?!? My father and I aren't close. We never were. I talked to him on the phone yesterday. It was more of a mistake than a planned thing. I wanted to call my mum but he answered the phone. They are still living together. My mum will move out in about three weeks. Anyway, we hadn't talked in 6 weeks or so. I told him that I'm going to get married. He didn't say anything about that. Whatever.

When I was a child my dad constantly beat me and my sister up. Not my brother though because, well, my dad is an Iranian and boys are gods while girls are whores. He beat us up a lot. We were never allowed to voice our opinions. He was basically a total dickhead. He stopped beating me because I threatened him to contact the police if he beats me one more time. I think I was 14 years old. He continued beating up my sister though so she moved out when she was 17, just to get away from him. My dad is a drug-addict. He is 70 years old. And he is still a drug addict. He has smoked opium for the last 40 years or so. And that's why he was such an asshole to us. Well, I actually think he is a psychopath too, you know, has antisocial personality disorder. My mum told me the other day that he now uses MY CHILDHOOD-ROOM as a growing place for fucking cannabis. He is just really fucked up. He basically should have spent the last 30 years in jail, in my opinion. For child abuse, for beating up my mum, for domestic violence, for possession of drugs, for dealing with drugs. But it was difficult for me to see all that, for anyone in my family to see all that. We were involved, we couldn't look at it objectively. Now we can. And it's now that I'm not angry anymore,  I'm just shocked about what a fucked person that man is!!

So I think the phone-call yesterday triggered something. My father has never sexually molested me. At least not that I can remember. But really, I should remember if something had happened. He is not that kind of person, even if he is fucked up, he is not a rapist-pedophile. But in my dream he raped me. He came in my mouth, he beat me,. he burnt me, I could taste his semen in my mouth when I woke up. And the moment I woke up I was choking on my own vomit. So yeah. Great way to wake up. I have been molested and raped. I have been through some shitty stuff. And that got somehow mixed up with the fear I have for my father, and his control-issues. Terrible, terrible, terrible.

So I didn't get much sleep last night. I have had the most horrifying nightmare. This day is going to suck, I know that. Damn!

Seroquel?!?

I'm a worried mess right now. Even though I'm trying to push the thoughts away, I just can't focus on anything else than my worries. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday. He was just as nice and friendly as the first time. I feel really lucky that he is my doctor at the moment. But he told me that he will quit on September 5th. And the reason why he wants to quit is that he is appalled by how the psych-center works and how they treat their patients. That's kind of worrying for me because I can't leave the center and if a good psychiatrist like him condemns the center like that it really doesn't feel too good to be stuck there. We discussed the Lithium and told him my reasons why I don't want to take it right now. And he said that I was convincing and that it seemed like I had really thought about it. My decision seems rational. So we talked about other options. And I suggested Seroquel/Quetapine because I have never given it a real try. I have only taken it two days in a row some years ago and gave up on it because I didn't feel anything from it. 

So I have the pills at home now and I'm worried to the max. Every time I tried out a new med I ended up in hospital because my suicidality got so much worse. And that's what the information on the package says: if you are suicidal or ever been suicidal you can get worse. I don't want to end up in hospital! I'm not too worried about the other side-effects because I survived Abilify and Zyprexa. I mean, I had to stop taking them because of side-effects but the side-effects went away when I had stopped taking them. My psychiatrist warned me that I might feel like a zombie for a week or so. I'm only supposed to take 25 mg anyway so I don't think it will be too bad. But I'm still really worried. The good thing is that I might be able to stop taking the Propavan. And maybe even the Zoplicone. I mean, how amazing would it be if the Seroquel makes me sleep and stabilizes my mood? But I'm uber-sensitive to medication so well, I might end up in hospital. Is it worth a try? I'll probably stare at the pills for a long time tonight, shaking, being anxious. Damn. I had actually written a note to my boyfriend to not go and fetch the medication because I'm not sure if I want to take it or not. He was supposed to go to the pharmacy this morning. He got it anyway. Idiot. So now I'm really torn, should I take it or not?

I even gave my psychiatrist a poem I had written for his book. He is writing a book about patient-care in the psychiatry-field and he had asked me if I wanted to contribute with a poem about the feelings I had and have when it comes to how people have treated me at centers and hospitals.I think he liked my poem and he said he will definitely use it in his book. 

We also discussed the suspected bipolar-diagnosis and I told him that all the bipolar people I know are slighty crazy and really creative. And he looked at me and asked if "crazy" and "creative" aren't two words that would describe me as well. And he is right. That's what I am, crazy and creative. Still, I'm not too sure about the bipolar thing. I just never have the highs. I don't think I have ever felt hypomania. I have never felt a huge difference between the moods I have, there haven't been huge highs. But maybe that's because I have some anxiety-issues as well? Maybe my PTSD and my anxiety actually hold back my hypomania?!? Who knows. I don't want to think about diagnosis anymore. I'm fucked up and obviously mentally ill. That's enough information for me.

Oh, I have the Swedish citizenship now. The process was supposed to take up to 10 months but I already received a reply from them after a week. Weird! I have dual citizenship now, Swedish and German. That feels good. So in an unlikely event, like war, I have some more options. And I can vote in Sweden which is really important for me. I'm very much interested in politics, some might even call me an acitivist. And as I'm living in this country, I should be able to be part of the decision of whom and which party is leading the country. Yeah.

Out of order - but somehow functioning

I've been really uninspired during the last few days hence the lack of posts. I have discovered a website where you can play old Nintendo games for free (nesforever) so I have been playing Super Mario Bros 3 all weekend long. And I really didn't do much else. It actually helped me a bit to get out of the dark valley of depression because it kept me busy. I didn't have to think much, I could just focus on pressing the right button and making the little plumber jump. I have gotten tired of the games now though because I can't get past a certain level and that makes me frustrated. So now I'm trying to tackle reality again, no more brainkilling games and no more wasting whole days with sitting in front of the computer.

Yesterday I went to the Peter Murphy-concert in Stockholm. He was playing Bauhaus-songs and I really couldn't have missed that. The moment we arrived at the venue someone called out my name and some of my friends were sitting outside, eating kebab. Don't people usually eat kebab after a show?!? Anyway, we went in and there were lots of people and I started to panic. I felt sick to my stomach and I was sure I was going to throw up. But I'm good at holding up a mask and I don't think anyone noticed. Actually, I was close to panic during the whole night. I tried to push the feeling away. I told myself that I won't throw up. I have never thrown up because of a panic attack and only once because of anxiety. But the horror-scenarios were in my head, the embarassment I would feel if I threw up in a crowded place, how everyone would stare at me and think that I'm disgusting. Despite that I actually enjoyed myself. I goofed around with my friends, talked with a lot of people and it felt good to be social.And I felt pretty. This seldomly happens. I am really ashamed of my body because of the huge weight-gain. And yeah, my stomach looked big last night but I didn't care much. I had a jacket on that hid it a bit. My hair looked amazing, the purple turned out well and I fixed my goth-mohawk. I also loved the dress I was wearing and my make-up was perfect. So yeah, I felt pretty and somewhat confident. And it was kind of cool that a lot of people asked me if they could take a picture of me. Oh, and the concert was fantastic. I was in the first row and I was often just closing my eyes, listening to the music, singing along. There were some awkward moments though. There was no barrier between the stage and the crowd so I was really really close to the band and Murphy. And I don't like someone singing and looking into my eyes. And that happened a few times. That's really the kind of attention I hate getting. Yeah, and all the time I was thinking about how embarrassing and catastrophical it would be if I threw up right on stage. I also zoned out a few time, I slipped into some kind of dissociativ state. Still, I enjoyed myself. Our friend K came with us after the show because she lives close to where we live so we dropped her off at her house. We talked about cats. Random, I know.

I'm really exhausted now. My cat woke me up at 9 a.m. which is basically the middle of the night for me. That little monster hopped around on me and when I had gotten up she went to her favourite chair and fell asleep. So I have been chatting with people on Facebook. And I have read up on streaming. It is not illegal in Sweden to watch streamed film and series. So I'll be busy the next few years, watching movies. And I think I'll start with the third season of the Walking Dead tonight.

I have tried out the Diazepam. And it felt like I couldn't breathe. I don't know if that was due to the pill, my fear around new meds and or the bleach in my hair. I had bleached my hair earlier that day and I can get a bit wuzzy from the bleach. It was probably a combination of the three. I also felt really dizzy and my arms and legs didn't really follow me. I was basically in bed for an hour, hyperventilating. I am sensitive to medication after all so I thought the Diazepam was too strong for me and it would stop breathing at any second and just drop dead. I just fell asleep after a while. I will give it another go. Next time my anxiety is really really high, I'll take another one. And I'll have my boyfriend around in case I really stop breathing. I think I just overreacted and panicked. Diazepam is stronger than Oxazepam after all.

Tomorrow T will come over. He will have three weeks off in July and asked me if I want another person visiting me during those weeks or if it is enough with a person I can call in case I need help. I don't think I want to meet yet another person and T and I only sit and talk anyway so I'll be fine with a number I can call. On Friday I have an appointment with my psychiatrist. I have decided I don't want to try out the Lithium because 1. I don't have an official bipolar-diagnosis 2. I'm afraid of side-effects, especially the weight-gain, and I have always ended up in hospital when I tried a new med 3. I don't trust that there will be any follow-ups when he is not working at the center anymore and I'll have yet another psychiatrist and 4. I have PCOS and I'm afraid that it will mess up my thyroid. I don't know what he will say to this. It might seem like I don't want any help and that's not true. I just want the right kind of help and I am too afraid of new meds. I'm quite sure that he will be disappointed and a bit helpless because there basically isn't much he can do. We'll see how that goes.

Today I still need to exercise and prepare lunch/dinner/food. I also want to try to write a poem or a short text for my psychiatrist's book. I'm just so damn tired! And my body is really hurting. I'm not used to being outside, I'm not used to meeting people, and I'm not used to stand for hours and then dance for hours. And I'm allergic to my hairspray so I'm sneezing all the time. I should try to get my hair down too. But I'll start with the exercise and then try to write something. I'd rather be in bed and sleep.

Depression - low low low

The last few days I have been really low. My anxiety is stable, somewhere in the middle, not too strong but I can still feel it. I haven't been able to do much at all. I have been in bed way too much, just staring at the ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes I had pictures of the hospital in my head. Pictures of me being restrained, of me being injected medication. When I'm low and depressed my fear of losing it and being sent to the hospital is getting stronger.

I think I'm in the middle of a depression. I guess everything has just gotten too much for me. My parents' divorce, my cousin's suicide-attempt, my boyfriend's father's death. The last few days I've felt like I have been drained of all my energy. I just CAN'T get things done. I don't have the motivation. I just want to be in bed, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to get any attention. I want to be left alone. I want to just lay down and die. Not really die, but just disappear. I don't exercise as I'm supposed to. I can get the easy routines down: I do the dishes, I cook, I take care of my cat. But that's it. I'm constantly close to tears. On top of that  I'm feeling restless in my head. I'm thinking of all the things I should be doing. I'm thinking about how much life sucks. How much I don't contribute. How much I'm a burden. How much I hate myself. I think I'm a fraud. I'm not like everyone else, I can't be human. I really hate myself right now. And I can't focus on anything. My brain-capacity has shrunken. I have terrible nightmares of cats getting tortured and killed in front of me. I am so tired.

I want to do the things I love to do. I still haven't started on the DIY on my jacket although I have everything I need for it at home. I haven't started writing the poem and the text for my psychiatrist's book. I haven't been able to finish writing a long e-mail that is long overdue. Two things I have managed doing during the last two days though: I've started bleaching the parts of my hair that I want to dye purple. So those parts of my hair look orange now. It's not easy to get black hair blonde! And I have sent off the application for Swedish citizenship and the papers needed to be able to get married in Sweden.

It's so weird. I know what I'm doing wrong right now. I understand the circles of my thoughts. I know exactly what to do when I feel like I'm depressed. But I just can't do anything about it. It's like my mind is at war with me. I know that I shouldn't give up and be in bed. I know that these thoughts that I have are not the truth. I know that I'm loved by at least a few people. I know that I'm not stupid. But I can't stop those thoughts! And I can't do anything about the lack of energy and motivation. I'm trying but I just don't succeed. Depression is not something you can think and fight yourself out of on your own. Damn it! I just hope it won't get any worse. If desperation gets mixed up with depression and anxiety it can lead to disaster. 

The other night I had a total breakdown. With crying, screaming and everything else one expects of a breakdown. I had met T, my social worker, in the morning (well, my morning, for others it was early afternoon) and he had tried to talk me into giving Lithium a try. But at the same time he told me about clients he has that got psychotic from that medication. And a woman that gained so much weight that she actually got diabetes. Great. So I read up even more on Lithium, the side-effects and the positive response of some people who are taking it. It's actually not that effective for depression, it's great for mania though. I have never had mania, that is not my problem. I can't deal with any more side-effects. I just can't. I remember when they gave me Abilify at the hospital. I had that little blue pill in my hand and they were waiting for me to swallow it. And all I did was cry. I was sooooooo scared of that pill and the side-effects that it could give me. I eventually took it and some days later I had evolved caged tiger syndrome. I have never felt so restless in my whole life. I haven't taken  a single psych-med (apart from sedatives) that hasn't given me lots of weird and painful side-effects. And I know that Lithium would do the same to me. Maybe I have medication-phobia now?

So the breakdown was about my fear of medication. But it was also about the awareness that I might never get any better. That I have reached a dead end. If I don't take medication I'm stuck with my depression, anxiety, sucidiality. It is not like I refuse to try medication. Last year I tried out two antidepressants and three moodstabilizers. I thought about what my psychiatrist had said to me: that I will never become a functional person, that I will never get any better if I only do therapy. Therapy will have some positive effect on me but it won't "cure" me. I need medication because I have several diagnosis and I have complicated issues. So I freaked out because I know I will never get any better. There is no help out there for me. The thing that will happen is me killing myself eventually. Well, I'm over that breakdown now. But only because I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to think about the lack of help that is out there for me. I don't want to know. I just can't deal with it. I could try out the Diazepam (Valium). I have to anyway so I can tell my psychiatrist next week if it helps or not. But I guess I just never think of taking a sedative when I actually need it. So today I'll wait for the usual anxiety increase I get during the evenings and then take a Diazepam. If you don't hear from me again I probably have died because of some side-effects. Or I have fallen into a coma. Or I am in happy happy land. 

Desperation

I have been feeling really desperate for the last few days. I can't find a better word to describe my state. I have been detached from reality and I have been close to giving up. I am trying hard to not let my dark thoughts and anxiety drag me down even more. But I'm slowly falling back into old patterns. 

I am trying to remind myself to think of the future, to plan for the long run and to not be too short-sighted. The emotions I'm having right now will pass, they won't stay with me forever. I know that. But my brain somehow doesn't want to work with me. I get desperate, I want it all to end, I see no future, I see only darkness. I can't motivate myself to do the things that I love. For weeks I have been thinking about the DIY-project, my jacket. I love altering my clothes. But I just can't get started. What's the point? I won't go out much anyway. So why do I need an awesome jacket?

My changed patterns scare me. Because I know what they have always lead to: suicide-attempt and hospital. I'm fighting. But my emotions are strong, especially this anxiety that is driving me mad. I am pacing up and down the hallway, wanting to scream out the pain. I have even been crying. I hate crying. I lay down in the middle of the day. Just being in bed, starring at the wall. Feeling gloomy and alone.

I have been detached from reality. I have been detached from my positive feelings. I have been in a bubble of anxiety and sadness. No one can reach me. My boyfriend is worried. I am trying. I promise, I am trying. But I am desperate. I don't want to feel like this ever again. And it probably won't ever get any better. 

The negative thoughts are racing through my head. I'll never be able to earn money, I'll always live off my boyfriend. I'll never be part of society. I'll never contribute to anything. I'm nothing and no one cares if I'm dead or alive. I'll never have real friends again, all the people I know have probably already forgotten about me. I'm just an annoying burden to the few people I talk to. I am nothing and I'll never be something. I've been fooling myself all these years, I'm not smart. If I was smart, I would be something. I would be able to fight this off. I'm weak. Just a burden.

And then I get weird flashbacks and foreshadowings. My head is filled with images from my time at the hospital. Psychotic people, screaming people, lies, pills, side-effects. The feelings I had back then come back, I feel just as desperate, just as sad, just as suicidal, just as anxious. Then I'm thinking about my dad killing my mum. I am so worried about her moving out and how he will react. He will be furious. When I'm in some kind of dreamlike state my mind paints horrifying pictures of my mum getting beaten to death by my  father. Those pictures scare the hell out of me.

And that's not all. My GAD-symptoms have been worse. I feel nautious all the time. I feel like throwing up. My stomach hurts. I have the runs. I am shaking. I can't focus. I hate when my body and my mind both scream "anxiety"!

I can't fall asleep and I wake up constantly. My sleep is not sleep, it's a turmoil. It's nightmares. It's sweat. It's desperation.

I can see myself from the outside and I know exactly what to tell myself. Think about the future. Remind yourself of the good times. You never know what tomorrow brings. You have gotten through such periods before. Activate yourself. Motivate yourself. Don't go to bed in the middle of the day. Eat properly. Exercise. Distract yourself. Do the things you love doing even if they don't bring you that much pleasure right now. Cook. Write. I know all this. But my brain has put up some kind of defensive wall. My brain has lost all of its rationality. 

I'm desperate. And I'm afraid of how far this desperation can push me. I want to die. I don't want to die. I want it to stop. I feel like I deserve feeling like this because I'm a bad person. I just want peace. Desperation. I'm nothing.