Day Three - no goodbyes yet

Friday. I didn't get much sleep during that night either. I had nightmares and I woke up in the middle of the night and threw up because I had a panic attack. I was still a wreck and spent all morning in bed, crying. I was so sad and scared. I was scared because I was going to be sent home. I just didn't feel like I would be safe at home. I was still suicidal and at the same time I realized that I had to start fighting. 

My room-mate had her meeting with J and she told me that he seemed to be in a good mood. You know, I was totally convinced that he would send me home. He had said he would. I had the meeting quite late, it felt like he was avoiding me. I had already packed my bags and basically only waited for him to discharge me. But he didn't send me home! He had talked with the staff and from what he had heard, he didn't think I was ready to go back home yet. I was quite relieved. I mean, I hated being there but I knew I wasn't ready. He told me that he wouldn't let me switch units, that I'm not allowed to have a choice when it comes to these things. He also said that he had heard that I don't feel like we get along. But according to him, a patient and a doctor don't need to like each other. It is his job to help me and we should have a professional relationship, no matter if we like each other or not. I really respected that and was quite shocked that he actually brought that up. He also tried to explain what he meant with that I don't have a personality. He basically meant that I don't know who I am and where I am in my life, where I am heading. He thinks I'm lost and kind of lost touch with myself. He might be right about that. Since my mental illness had gotten worse, I questioned everything about myself. My life-long goals now seem unreachable. I have lost touch with myself in the sense that I don't know who I am right now. I knew before who I was and knew who I wanted to be. But now I don't even think who I can be, I am stuck in the now, without any real sense of identity. I have been eaten up by my mental illness, it's not like that I am my mental illness, it is more like that I am nothing anymore since I have become ill. So how do I actually find back to myself? Will I ever be able to find myself again or will I be lost in nothingness forever? Oh, and we talked about my restless legs and spasms and how much that is contributing to my current state of mind. He decided to contact a neurologist for me so I could get a proper examination and the right meds. He knows me and how sensitive I am to medication so he didn't want to just give me something. I was really grateful for that because damn it, this nerve-spasm/restlessness is really destroying my life!

My husband was really disappointed that I wasn't coming home. He had basically just waited for me to call him and tell him to fetch me. I am really not all that open to him when it comes to how I am feeling and what has been going on at the hospital. Just a few days ago he had threatened me to leave me because he couldn't take my suffering and inability to fight anymore. So I didn't want to make things worse by telling him the total truth. He came to visit me in the evening again. We even went out for a walk. But my legs gave in, they were shaking and I had to sit on a bench for 15 minutes before we could go back in again. So terrible! 

I spent the night studying. I had fallen behind so bad! So I had to write a short paper on Nietzsche's perception of history and I actually managed to do that. At a freaking psych unit. Someone should give me some credit for that! I had taken all my sedatives that day so I was pretty calm  when I went to bed. Well, apart from my legs, they were driving me crazy! I watched some Dexter-episodes, took my Zoplicone and actually fell asleep before three a.m.!

Day two - still not better

Thursday. I woke up way too early but my restless legs and my anxiety didn't want to let me sleep anymore. I tried to read, listen to music, distract myself. I didn't want to be at the hospital. I felt like a total wreck and all I wanted was calm and peace in my body and my mind. My husband called me to let me know that his phone had died (he was at his sister's so he called from her phone) because my mum had been calling him all morning long to discuss how she should do with the Stockholm-trip. I didn't get it, I told her I didn't want her or my sister to come because I was in a really bad state. I was at the hospital, how did she think I could handle them visiting me? I really felt like it was a lack of respect. So I went on Skype and videochatted with my mum. I told her that she couldn't come, that my husband couldn't deal with it all either right now. It just wasn't the right time because our life was in chaos. She tried to explain to me that my sister and her really needed to get away from Germany. They were both really down because of the divorce and all the tension and intrigues in the family. I got that but I suggested that they could travel somewhere else. Anyway, she saw that I was doing like shit and basically just said that she will discuss it with my sister. I don't get why I had to be the one solving problems, I was in a bad state and I barely had any energy left to keep myself alive to begin with.

One staff-member convinced me to try and eat some lunch. So I went into the dining room, filled a glass with water and waited for my microwave-meal (yup, we are getting microwaved food at the hospital, at least they had a vegetarian option) to get ready. But then I got a really bad panic attack. I just ran out of the room. I couldn't be there and I most definitely couldn't eat with all the other patients. So no food for me. I had another breakdown after that. I tried to find someone to talk to but the staff was having lunch and I didn't want to disturb them. I saw one nurse that I knew from the unit, L, and asked him if he had a minute. I felt bad because I was sure that he was on his way to lunch but I needed someone to talk to. I just cried and cried, I was shaking and I was desperate. I just couldn't see how they were supposed to help me at that shitty unit, I wanted to be transferred to the other unit. I just couldn't see how anyone could help me with my problems at all. At the same time I was really afraid that I was going to be sent home the next day because J had decided that. I just wasn't stable enough to be at home. L went to talk to one of my contacts, the nurse who is friends with my friends. I waited for 15 minutes but no one came back so I went to my bed and just stared at the wall.

I eventually asked for a sedative because I started to lose it again. Th nurse told me that she couldn't do anything about switching units at the moment. In the early afternoon I had to switch rooms though because there were some new incoming patients. I came into a two beds room which was nice. There wasn't anyone in the other bed yet so I had a few hours for myself. I closed the door, hid under the blanket and waited for the sedative to do its thing. I tried to eat dinner. They had allowed me to eat a few minutes after everyone else so I wouldn't have to face another panic attack. I didn't eat much but at least something. 

My husband came and visited me in the afternoon/evening. Visiting hours are between 5 and 8 p.m.. As I didn't have a roommate yet we stayed in my room and talked about unimportant things. I didn't want to deal with our issues, I didn't want to know if he was going to leave me or not. I tried to be cheerful and I was really happy to see him. I tried one of those bloodpressure meds for my restlessness and spasms. It felt safer to have my husband around when I tried it. I'm just so scared of side-effects. It didn't help me and after an hour it almost felt like it has made it worse. I also got a bad asthma attack from it. So nope, that med wasn't working. It made really sad because I needed help with the restlessness and the spasms so bad!

My husband left at 7 and I decided to try and study a bit. I felt a bit calmer because of the sedative so I thought it would be good to try and do something productive. But I couldn't focus at all because of my legs and arms and then my new roommate arrived and my social anxiety set in. You know, I felt like I didn't want to disturb her so I tried to breathe as flat as possible, tried not to move around too much and to be as invisible as possible.

R, my favourite nurse from the other unit, came over later that evening. That was so damn nice of him! We hugged and I just told him what was going on and why I was at the hospital, how J had treated me again, my restless legs, my stupid therapist, the fight with my husband, the suicide thoughts. It all just came out of me like a waterfall. He listened and tried to calm me down. It was so good to see him, to be able to talk to him. He really makes me feel safe and calm and always reminds me of that I'm worth something. I don't know why, but he has high thoughts of me, he thinks I'm capable of a lot of things. And whenever he tells me that I somehow believe him. Every nurse should be like R!

A new patient had arrived, an autistic woman with her carer. She was really upset because, well, autistic people can't really deal with a change of enviroment. So she freaked out and threw fruit and chairs around. It was quite scary and some of the other patients got panic attacks and even one staff member started to panic and just left the unit saying "a person like that shouldn't be at a unit like ours". I somewhat agreed with her but honestly, where else should you put an autistic person with depression? So the whole unit was wide awake and many people were scared. I just felt sorry for the autistic woman!

I took a sedative later that evening because I just knew that I needed a proper night's sleep. My new roommate was really nice but I could see that she was doing like shit so I kept quiet. I just didn't want to bother her. I watched a few episodes of Dexter and had some hot chocolate. I talked to one nurse that I knew from the other unit, a lovely Polish lady who really loves her job. I took my sleepingpill. I couldn't fall asleep, I went to have a smoke a few times, I cursed my legs and watched another episode of Dexter. At around 2 a.m. I could finally close my eyes.

My wedding day. Anxiety-hell

I got married two days ago. But I've been doing so badly with the damn restlessness in my legs that I couldn't be bothered to  write a post about it. Actually, I have gotten so far in my thoughts that I would like to surgically remove my legs. It's just driving me insane. I don't think this will ever go away so hopefully I'll get used to it with time. I could take sedatives because they tend to help but how is that a solution? Right, now I've started this with a lot of complaining again. All I wanted was to write about my "wedding".

So we had booked an appoointment at the town house/citizen center at 4 p.m. on Thursday. We didn't want any huge celebration or an actual party. There were three reasons for that: 1. we didn't have the money to actually host a party with a venue, music and food  2. I just didn't want my dad to be there because that would have meant that I had to dress and behave the way he wants to, and I didn't want my mum to be there because she would have overdone it. I mean, she called me the day before we got married and asked if I was going to have any flowers. It would look beautiful on the wedding-pictures. Erm, no. and 3. I have social anxiety and I just wouldn't have been able to get through a whole day where the focus is on me. I can't even meet friends or take the subway, how could I  able to survive my own wedding? So yeah, it was only me and my boyfriend.

I spent two hours to fix myself up. I didn't want to be overdressed. I just wanted to look "proper" and beautiful for my boyfriend. I wasn't overdressed, I looked goth but wasn't looking like I was on my way to the clubs. I was quite satisfied with the way I looked although I would have loved to weight around 20 kg less. I had terrible spasms in my arms and legs and felt really weak. I could barely stand on my legs. I started to worry that I had gotten some serious nerve damage due to the meds. That caused me some extra-anxiety. I was already anxious about the whole procedure. I had expectation-anxiety: I was imagining myself throwing up in front of a lot of people because of anxiety, or just running away because of a panic attack.

So I wasn't happy and excited. I guess that's what most people are on their wedding-day. I just wanted to get it over with and get back home. The spasms were painful, my legs were so weak and I had a lot of anxiety. So we drove to the place, walked in there (I actually had to wear socks in my high-heels because of some weird reason, my feet have shrunken and my shoes were too big all of the sudden. But as I was wearing black stockings, no one could really see it). I was shaking and just wanted to get out of there. I tried so hard to focus on my boyfriend so I wouldn't totally panic. You know, I wanted to marry him. I just wasn't happy about the whole procedure, me having to go out, having to actually be present and all that. I would have preferred to do it over the internet, some clicks and done. It has nothing to do with that I'm not romantic. Actually, while writing this post I discussed the issue with my boyfriend. I would (and he as well) have been much happier, more content, more excited about getting married via the internet. I wish that option would have been avaiable. So I didn't have to deal with all the negative symptoms of my illnesses. I hate anxiety and it kind of has destroyed my wedding day. But I hadn't expected anything else.

Anyway, we walked in there and there was this huge waiting area with wooden benches. And there were at least 50 people sitting, waiting for their appointment with the social services, the health insurance and the police. We were told to sit down somewhere and wait. So that was when the little bit of romantic feeling that I had got killed. Instead panic won! I was sitting there, my legs were involuntarily moving and I had the big urge to just run away. I focused on my boyfriend, held his hand, stared at the floor. I didn't even think about that I was getting married. I was indifferent to the whole thing. I started to dissociate and still damn worried about my legs just giving up on me. I wanted to get home. I hated the children staring at me. I was convinced people were whispering about us. I wanted to get away.

After about 15 minutes we got called in to a room. It looked like a room that was barely used. It was really dark in there. No one had bothered to turn the lights on I guess. Two women and a man followed us in. The man was the wedding officiant, the other two were witnesses to sign the papers. They didn't ask us for our ID-cards, nothing. We gave them all our papers, they got stamped, things were printed out. Then he asked us if we wanted to have the long or the short version. We both replied silmuntanously "short". You know, my boyfriend has anxiety iusses too and he was white as a ghost. I was worried he would faint or just throw up. Anyway, he asked us if we wanted to marry each other. We said yes. He said that we could exchange rings now. We didn't have any rings. He signed the papers. We didn't have to sign anything. We shook hands. We asked him to take a picture of us (my mum would have KILLED me if there hadn't been a picture). And that was that.

Then we went to sit in the car and smoke a cigarette. We kissed and both said that we were glad that it was over. We didn't want the "getting married" thing, we just wanted "to be married". So now we are married. We went home and had some cake. We got tons of phone-calls, sms, cards and Facebook-messages that day. Honestly, we counted, over 250 people contacted us. I have a lot of friends because I have lived in two countries and my family is huge. So yeah. Anyway, think if all those people would have come to our wedding. It would have been terrible for me. We later just sat on the bed and watched two movies. We ate junk food. We cuddled the cats. That's what makes me happy. Being together with my little family. Not a huge fake-romantic party!

So I'm married now. It doesn't feel any different to just being together. I have handed in papers to change my last name to my husband's (how weird it is to write "husband") and they said it will only take a few days for it to be approved. So I'll get rid off the name that connects me to my father. It will be the best feeling in the world, to see my  new name on an envelope. It's like finally getting my dad out of my life. He actually called me on my wedding-day. We maybe talked for a minute and he congratulated me. I was surprised about that. In some way I was happy that he at least had the decency to call. My mum had texted me all day long and we talked on the phone a few times. My brother wrote to me on Facebook and my sister and I skyped for an hour the next day. So my family didn't forget about me, despite all the shit that is going on right now with the divorce of my parents. 

I'm happy to be married. I think. I'm actually still a bit indifferent which has a lot to do with the weird spasms, the restlessness, the anxiety. I haven't had a moment where I could actually feel what it's going on inside of me. So yeah, my illness has destroyed my wedding-day for me. I couldn't focus on being happy. But it doesn't matter. I have done it, it's behind me and our relationship is in a new phase now. Sadly enough we didn't have any wedding-sex. We never have sex anyway. So yeah.

After a week of silence

My last entry is from a week ago which is kind of shocking because I have so much to talk about and so many thoughts in my head. So I guess you'll get more than one entry today. You are all so lucky! Haha. My mum has left two days ago and I'm enjoying the freedom of being on my own. My boyfriend is still off from work but around him I can be myself. When someone else is in the same apartment, I always have to put my mask up and pretend that I'm alright. Really, only with my boyfriend I can be myself. I can't believe that he has actually stayed with me through all these years of poverty, depression, suicide attempts, throw backs and drama. This is one of the reasons why I have agreed to marry this man. Because he knows me. He knows how bad I can be doing. He hates my mental illness and he often says that he can't take it anymore. But still, he stays with me. And he has learned to give me my space. He knows that I HATE if people give me attention when I'm not doing well. So yeah, around him I can be myself. And use the bathroom without closing the door, run around in my underwear, without make-up. As nice it was to have my mum here to visit us, it was also really exhausting and I'm glad that things are back to normal now.

Last weekend we spent on the beach here at Alby lake. The lake is just around the corner from where we live, it's a two minutes walk from our building. I'm not so much into summer, beach, sunshine. I actually hate it. It has a lot to do with my body-issues. I have gotten really FAT and I would never show myself to anyone in a bathing suit. And no, I'm not whining, I think I weight between 90 and 95 kg so I'm actually obese. We packed down a blanket and some water and just went down to the beach. The first day we only sat there and enjoyed the view over the lake. We walked through the water with our bare feet and later sat down, smoked a few cigarettes and watched other people. There were two huge parties going on. One was some kind of Nigerian wedding and the other ones was a Sri Lankian party with a band and everything. The next day my mum and my boyfriend packed their bathing clothes and actually swam in the lake a few times. I was listening to music and reading a magazine and randomnly talking to a guy next to me. I love water, it always calms me down. I don't think I have ever had a panic attack close to water. I come from a sea town and I am used to the soothing sound water makes, the wind, the birds. So I actually enjoyed myself. It was a bit too hot for me though and on the way I got a minor panic attack because of that. I have low blood pressure and the hot sun tends to make me dizzy and that caused the panic.

My boyfriend and me at the lake on Saturday (I usually don't post pics of myself but you can only see my fat ass so I'm fine with it)

On Monday it was my boyfriend's birthday. We left in the morning and took the car to Mariefred. That's a small but cute town about 100 km South-West of Stockholm. We wanted to visit Gripsholms Castle which is one of the royal castles. It was so hot that day! USH! First we walked around the castle, looked at runestones they had dug up there and checked out the premisses.

One of the runestones. I love Swedish runestones. They always tell a story. I particulary love this one with the beautiful snake. It's about someone dying in a war.

They are really old, this one was from the 11th century. 

View from the castle-premisses over Mariefred. So beautiful!

It was quite expensive to get into the castle but we really wanted check it out. The castle is known for its huge collection of portraits from the 16th century and onwards. There are over 4000 paintings in the castle. The castle was built in the 16th century and has since then been part of the series of royal castles and has been rebuilt many times. For a while it was a prison.. It was so beautiful! We walked around the different rooms, looked a the paintings, the interior, the painted and decorated ceilings, the wallpaper, the beds, the prison-cells, the tower. I think we were in the castle for over three hours. Unfortunately you weren't allowed to take any pictures inside the castle. But many of the paintings were so wonderful and it was awesome to see the changes through the years, in the clothes of the people portrayed, in the style of the paintings. I really loved the castle. I think my favourite room was the theatre. They had their own theatre! It was so serene and beautiful. 

The inner courtyard with a wishing well in the middle

The castle from the back

Then we went for a walk in the park, looked at statues and the beautiful (but small) garden. It was really hot so we spend some minutes on a bench in the shadows. We then walked over to Mariefred. It wasn't a long walk but in the hot sun it was quite exhausting. Mariefred is such an idyllic and calm place. The center is exactly how someone would imagine a Swedish town would look like. There are only around 3000 people living there but many tourists were in town. Many of the movies based on Astrid Lindgren's children-books were filmed in Mariefred. We checked out all the small cute shops and finally found a place where we could have lunch. I had the most yummy smoked salmon. We sat outside, just looking at people passing by and later had some coffee and cake. We walked to the lake-side and there I found my favourite place in Sweden so far. It was so calm! There were all the small red and yellow houses in the back and there was open water. You could hear the water splash on the stones of the beach. It was so calm! There were barely any people around. I felt so calm and it was such an intense feeling. I really loved that spot. Anyway, later we walked back to the car and because I was so tired and it was so hot, I was quite anxious and really only wanted to get back home. 

The town house of Mariefred

My favourite spot

The last day of my mum's visit we spent mostly at home. We just went grocery shopping. My mum wasn't feeling too well. I think she realized that she had to get back home, to her problems, to the divorce, the money-problems and all that. So we just hung out, watched a movie, cooked lunch and my mum later took a walk to the lake. And then on Wednesday we drove her to the airport. I talked to her today and she is ill. She has a uterus-infection and high fever. She has gotten bacteria from somewhere. I assume it's from the lake. I guess I'm lucky I didn't take a swim in there.

It was all a bit overwhelming for me, to have her around, to be out so much. Yes, I have had some nice moments and but my social anxiety blossomed up many many times. The worst was when we were having lunch in Mariefred and there were these two teenagers who couldn't stop staring at me. Eventually I had to switch seats with my mum, I couldn't take it anymore. But I must say that I'm proud of myself. I managed to go out a few times, I didn't complain and I saw some interesting and beautiful things. Who knows, maybe I'll even have the guts to go down to the lake by myself, with a book and some music. But I doubt that. The week with my mum was quite exhausting and I really need to rest a few days now. Today my boyfriend started a fight with me because he wants to do something "special" on our wedding day. Like eating out or taking a trip. But I don't want that. I want to be calm and happy and not anxious on that day. I want to focus on him and our love and not be overly aware of all the people staring at us because we are overdressed at a cheap restaurant. I think he has understood that now after he talked to his sister on the phone. She has social anxiety too and totally understands what I mean. I need rest, sleep and time on my own (plus with my two cats and my boyfriend) during the next few days. I'll read, write, play stupid Facebook-games and watch movies and series. That's exactly what I need!

*yawn*

I'm on my own right now so I thought I'd spend some time on the internet before I give it a try to exercise. It's really hot today so I'm not too sure how long I can actually sit on my exercise-bike. But a few minutes exercise is better than no exercise at all I guess. My mum has arrived two days ago and since then I really haven't had a calm moment. She's constantly talking. She has been through a lot lately, with the divorce and everything. So I understand that she needs to talk about it. But I'm not that receptive right now. Luckily my boyfriend is there too so he can say more than my "mmmm", "okay" and "I see".

I'm still on the Quetitapine/Seroquel. I tried to call my psychiatrist on Tuesday but he's on vacation. Just my luck. I can't really say yet what the meds is doing to me. The restlessness in my legs comes and goes. And it can really get to the point where I'm just pacing up and down the hallway. It's a terrible feeling and it can drive me crazy. But it's not there constantly so that's good. I'm really tired, exhausted and sleepy. Sometimes I can barely keep my eyes open. That's a side-effect that has just come some days ago. I also still feel dizzy and weak sometimes. I still feel more stable though. I haven't had any suicidal tendencies since I started taking the med. I haven't cried, I haven't been sad. But I have anxiety and panic attacks. It's a bit worse than my normal anxiety. But if I'd take a sedative I'd just fall asleep because I'm so tired already. And at the moment I'm still taking the Propavan too which means a doubled hangover. Something needs to be done about the restlessness in my legs. Maybe it will go away by itself?!? Maybe I can take some med against it?!? Maybe it will disappear once the dosage is increased?!? I really need to talk to my psychiatrist about that but he won't be back until Monday. 

Two days ago we took the car to fetch my mum from the airport. I actually enjoyed the one hour drive. It was raining a bit, we had the windows open, I smoked, listened to the radio and talked nonsense with my boyfriend. It was relaxing. But when we arrived at the airport the sun was really hot and there were way too many people. So all the calm feelings I had inside of me kind of disappeared. The drive back wasn't as relaxing because my mum was constantly talking and well, she sometimes behaves like a teenager. For instance she screamed as if a bee had just stung her when she got some bubble water on herself. That kind of freaked me out. I hate when people scream! We had a nice evening though. I cooked dinner and the three of us just sat at the table in the kitchen and talked. Well, I was mostly staring out of the window but I listened and got really upset when I heard about all the rumours that my father has spread about my mum. 

Yesterday I was forced to get up early. Well, not really early for "normal" people, but early for me. And I was so hungover from the meds! Ush. We had a proper breakfast and then we went to a huge mall close to where we live. We wanted to check for clothes to wear at our wedding. As I said before, we don't want to make a big deal of the wedding, it will only be us anyway. But we both don't really own any "proper" clothes. My boyfriend found a pair of pants at a second hand store which look really good on him. It was just weird to see hm in something else than tight black jeans. I found a skirt at H&M (and a dress with small cats on it, really cute, but not for the wedding) and a pair of high heels with studs at a cheap shoe store. So now we have everything we need. We'll look proper. I was so exhauted! It was hot and buying clothes about the worst thing for me. Nothing ever fits, I always feel the judging looks people give me, like "how can she buy something here, she's way too fat"-looks. It's exhausting to get in and out of clothes and shoes for a few hours. And I was already tired because of the meds. So when my mum and my boyfriend decided that we should have lunch there, I panicked. I didn't show it but I guess they realized it because I got really snappy and grumpy. I hate eating out! We went to do some grocery shopping afterwards and I could barely stand straight anymore. I was so tired and exhausted. I could have just slept right on the floor at the supermarket. Ush. 

Today my mum and my boyfriend are in the town, taking one of those boats which goes around in the archipealague and then in the center of Stockholm. I called them an hour ago and they really seemed to enjoy themselves. My boyfriend loves to go out and my mum loves touristy things. I have decided that I'll go out with them tomorrow instead. The Pride Festival is going in Stockholm right now. You know, the LGBT-festival. And tomorrow they will have the parade so we will go and look at it. I don't know how long I can actually stand on my legs and if the heat will be bearable. But I'll give it my best. I want my mum to have fun and my boyfriend should enjoy his days off from work. I didn't complain anything yesterday (apart from being grumpy before lunch) and I won't complain tomorrow. Somehow I'm looking forward to it, somehow I'm not looking forward to it. Then on Sunday we'll have a day at home, maybe just take a walk down to the lake in the afternoon. The laundry needs to be done and we need to do the grocery shopping. On Monday it's my boyfriend's birthday and he wants to do something, to be out. So we'll take the car to Mariefred and visit Gripsholm castle. I guess I can always go and take a nap in the car if it gets too much. We'll either take picnic things with us or I'll pay for a meal. I still have that much money that I can pay for three lunches. On Tuesday we'll vist my boyfriend's aunt. And on Wednesday we'll drive my mum to the airport in the morning and in the early afternoon, T, my social worker will come and visit me. I actually cancelled on him this Tuesday because I hadn't slept much the night before and the restlessness in my legs was unbearable. So yeah, I have losts of things planned. And I still feel side-effects from my med. We'll see how that will work out.

I've been thinking about baking some chocolate-buns that we can have for tea and tomorrow for breakfast. And then there's still the exercise. I also need to make/create a birthday card for my boyfriend. I've also promised to cook dinner tonight. I guess I'll start with the card, then the exercise, then a shower, then bake the buns and then start dinner. I also want to read today, and watch another episode of American Horror Story. So I won't have a lazy day in my bed. Although that's actually what I wanted this morning. But instead I had breakfast with my mum and my boyfriend and once they left I cleaned the apartment a bit, opened the balcony windows, watered the flowers, took care of the cats, done the dishes and applied for student benefits. It's funny how people always think that the mentally ill are lazy bastards and do nothing. I can't even remember the last time I've just sat in front of the TV doing "Nothing".

A pill to make you numb, a pill to make you dumb

I have been stupid enough to let myself be convinced to give the Quetiapine/Seroquel a try. I have had an appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday. We talked for about thirty minutes. And he was of course disappointed that I hadn't given the med a try. I think he was also confused. Most sick people probably get happy when they get meds that can make them feel better. But I'm the opposite of that. At least nowadays. Some years ago I still thought that there is some medication out there that could actually have a positive effect on me. But after all my horrifying experiences I am just really careful. Anyway, my doctor had some good arguments. For instance, that at the moment he is still responsible for me and I trust him. So I can feel like I'm in good hands. And he also said yet again that he doesn't think that I could get any better without medication. So last night I was sitting in the kitchen, a glass of water and the little orange pill right in front of me. It took me half an hour to get the pill into mouth, drink some water and swallow it. I'm still not sure if I really should give it a go. I'll see for a week and if I get any strong side-effects, I will stop taking it right away. I can't go through side-effects again. I just don't have the strength.

My psychiatrist said that I just shouldn't think about side-effects. I shouldn't feel for them, I shouldn't think too much around them. But I have GAD?!? Of course I'll think about it and interprete every single weird thing in my body as a side-effect! I haven't read up on the side-effects again though. I just don't want to worry more than I already do. Reading about all the terrible things that could happen to me would just freak me out. Well, I remember one side-effect that I heard of some years ago when I tried Seroquel for the first time: sudden inexplainable death. Let's just hope that that won't happen to me. 

So I took the pill and went to bed. I had already taken my Propavan some hours before. I didn't get any more sleepy of the Seroquel. But I'm only on 25 mg so the dosage is probably too low. I didn't feel more hungover this morning either. I woke up many many times during the night but I think that was due to the heat. And a kitten trying to cuddle with me. I felt really weak this morning though. After a cigarette and a cup of coffee I was close to fainting. And of course I panicked, got a panic attack and went straight back to bed. But that passed. Right now I'm still a bit weird and detached from reality. I'm getting weird cramps in my arms and legs. I'm shaking a bit. And my anxiety is really high. It could be that I'm just freaking out because I'm taking a new med. I mean, it is really hot today. I can't deal with heat because I "suffer" from low blood-pressure. So of course I felt a bit fainty this morning. But still, something feels odd and off. I can't really explain it. Uncomfortable is the only word that I can come up with. Yep, I feel uncomfortable. But I haven't given up yet. Fortunately my boyfriend will be off from work for three weeks soon so I'm not alone at home. And my mum will come to visit us for a week. So if something bad is going to happen, someone is there to help me. That makes me feel safe.

I mentioned to my psychiatist that the whole reducing of the Propavan-dosage went to hell. He laughed when I said that the reason why I got manic/hypomanic was the medication and not any underlyring bipolar illness. He explained to me that he thinks that I'm atypical bipolar II. I don't care anymore. I am what I am. He also said that he doesn't officially give me a diagnosis because he is more interested in treating symptoms than actually putting labels on people. I like the guy. I'm supposed to call him either on Friday or on Monday and tell him how it is going with the Seroquel. I have real issues with having to call people but I guess I'll have to do it.

Oh, and he is done writing the book on psychiatry and psychiatric help in Sweden. And my poem is definitely in the book! The book will be published in fall. My big dream is to become a published writer. But I really want (and I am actually doing it) to write books and short-stories. They are just way more thought-through and are more complicated to work with. A poem is something instant for me, I can write a poem in 20 minutes. So far I have written two novels and both of them took me almost a year. Anyway, I'm really glad that something that I have created will be published. I'm proud of myself. 

I'm trying, really trying, I promise

I'm anxious and restless. But that's nothing new, is it? At least it's not the kind of restlessness I had when I tried to get off the Propavan. I have slept 9 hours last night and that's exactly what I needed. So at least I'm not too exhausted today. I still feel really hungover though. As always I had lots of things planned for today but I really haven't done much yet. I just washed the dishes and tidied up the the bedroom. Let's hope there's more that I can do today. I have a lot to write, a letter, reply to an email and finish a short story I have been working on for some time now. 

The anxiety feels a bit increased which could have to do with that I'm supposed to get my period soon. All my mental issues get worse when I'm pms-ing. My period hasn't been exactly regular lately though. So I don't know. The day before yesterday I was really suicidal which also tends to happen before I get my period. So I just hope that's the reason why. I  read up on suicide-statistics and some discussions on why suicide is selfish. But I'm not in that state of mind today. I have actually started planning my mum's visit. We don't have any money, she doesn't have any money. So we have decided to fill the car with petrol with our last savings so we can get out while she is here. I was thinking about doing a picnic somewhere in a park, taking a walk somewhere in nature, on my boyfriend's birthday we'll visit his favourite café. Yesterday I have also been checking up on exhibitions and museums which are free. I have seven days to fill with things. We'll stock up on food before she comes so we don't have to eat out. My mum hangs a lot on chatrooms on the internet so she can use my netbook. I already have fixed a cable through a wall into the guestroom so she'll have internet there. I think we'll somehow make this week work. My boyfriend is also off from work that week so if I'm having a bad day, the two of them can go out together. I'm never happy about my mum visiting. I have to be pretend to be okay. And my routines get disturbed. I have to get up early in the morning for instance. I have to be social. I have to go out. But yeah, she only comes around once a year so it's okay.

I have been outside the appartment yesterday! For the first time in five weeks. I just needed to get some things at the supermarket, beauty things, hairdye. And it felt good to put some make-up on, fix my hair, put some decent clothes on. For the last five weeks I have been running around in long shirts and leggings.My boyfriend told me several times how good I was looking It went alright although I had a panic attack in the parking lot. So my weeks of isolation are over! Next week my social worker is back from his vacation so I'll have to meet him once a week. Well, but I'm still having trouble meeting friends. I still haven't replied to A's message. And yesterday P asked if he could come over but I told him I was busy. I hate myself for that! 

At the moment I'm trying to force myself to call my father. His grandmother has given my mum two very expensive necklaces. She is from Iran and she visited us once when I was maybe 10 years old. That's the only time I have ever seen her. She died in the early 90s. So those necklaces are for my sister and me, for the day when we get married. I'm getting married in August and I really want that necklace. I have nothing else to remind me of my Iranian grandmother. So I told my mum I want her to bring it along when she comes to visit us. But my father refuses  to let her take the necklace. He thinks that she wants to sell it. My father is delusional! She would never do that! So he told her he wants to give it to me. But I haven't been in Germany for three years and I'm not planning to go there any time soon. And he knows that. So he said he'll send it instead. As if that was safe?!? So I need to call him (should have done that days ago) and tell him that I want my mum to give me the necklace when she is here. I just don't have the courage to pick up the phone right now. I know it's going to be a difficult situation. He'll badmouth my mother. But I want that necklace because I want to have something to remember my grandmother by!

I have an appointment with my psychiatrist next Tuesday. I'm a bit scared of that meeting to be honest. I mean, I haven't done anything he had told me to do. I still haven't tried a whole Valium one more time. I haven't taken the Seroquel. And I have been isolating myself, been suicidal and didn't call any helpline or asked for help. I just know that he'll give me that disappointed look. I wonder if he will say that it seems like I don't want any help. Or if he'll say that he can't help me anymore. I have even thought about cancelling the appointment. I just hate to admit that I'm complicating things.

I'm having my third cup of coffee for today. It's time for lunch/dinner soon. I think I want to read until then. So far I'm not hating this day yet.

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.

Bipolar?!?

I wanted write an entry yesterday but I was just way too tired. I couldn't focus on anything, let alone write in a language that isn't my mothertongue. I'm having a bad headache today, I took a painkiller this morning, got all drowsy, went back to bed, slept for another two hours and now I think I'm well enough to tackle this day.

So I had the appointment with my new psychiatrist yesterday. It was really difficult for me to get up at 7 a.m., my boyfriend literally had to drag me out of bed. I had two panic-attacks, one in the car on the way to the psych-center, I calmed down and we went inside and I had another panic attack in the waitingroom. As I'm a controlfreak, I can control my reactions to some extent. I don't start crying or screaming. So most people don't even realize when I have a panic attack. Maybe if they sit next to me and they hear me hyperventilating. 

The psychiatrist is a man in his 50s. He was really friendly and I felt at ease right away. He has worked in the pharmaceutic industry for years, doing testings with Abilify and Seroquel. That might make some people suspicious but I thought that was cool because that means that he has a lot of knowledge concerning meds, something that most psychiatrists don't have. He had read my whole (!!!) file which I found very surprising. Most psychiatrists I have met can't even remember your name and they tell you to give them a summary of your life and the meds you have taken. We talked for almost an hour, another positive thing, I often only had gotten 15 minutes of a doctor's time because they are so stressed out. 

So what did he say? He was very honest and said that he doesn't think that I'd be getting any better with only therapy. He said that the therapy will have to last for years and years and that psychodynamic therapy probably is right for me because it has an intellectual perspective. But it won't be enough. I can agree with that, I have done the DBT for a year after all and I haven't improved a bit, nope, I even got worse. He also said that he doesn't look at diagnosiseses in the first place but at the people and the symptoms that he can do something about with medication. And that's fair in my opinion, there is no medical cure for any mental illness and there is not much known about the brain's functions anyway. He told me that after having read my journal he suspects that one of the main illnesses I have is Bipolar Disorder. He doesn't think that I have any personality disorders. He said that my main problem is the anxiety, so I definitely have all those anxiety disorders. And the PTSD is pretty obvious as well. 

So we talked about the Bipolar thing for a while. He said it is Bipolar 2 and that my hypomanic phases just never caused any huge trouble for me because they made me more effective and creative and that that had been a good thing for me, my studies and my writing. And I think that could be true. I have times when I am way more effective and creative, almost obsessed with things and I succeed with about everything I do. And then I have times, mostly when I'm really depressed, when I can't focus at all and I feel like all my abilities and talents have just left me. I just never connected it all together. It's the same with being talkactive. Damn, I can talk a lot and really fast at times. But then I have periods when I don't say much at all. But I'm not impulsive and I never think that I'm a genious or anything. I'm not too sure what to think of all of this. Do I even want to have yet another diagnosis? This is what happens when you have to switch psychiatrists all the time. Everyone says something else. At least no one thinks I have Borderline Personality Disorder anymore. So yay.

Medication. We didn't speak much about sleepingpills because I have already tried all the ones that are out there. He said that I could try to cut down on the Propavan for a while and then take it again, maybe my body will react to it better then. So I'll try to be without it for a couple of nights, maybe next weekend. The most amazing and baffeling thing happened. Well, we all know that psychiatrists are against benzodiazipines, mostly because there are some low-lifes out there who take them illegaly to get high ( hate hate hate those people, they are really making it more difficult to get help when you actually are in need of sedatives). But nope, my new psychiatrist actually offered me a stronger and more long-lasting benzo than the one I'm usually taking. He actually couldn't believe that no one had taken my anxiety seriously before. He of course gave me the talk: not to take the med too often, not overdose, not take it with alcohol. Anyway, I have Valium now. I also convinced him to give me a prescription for the Oxazepam, in case the Valium doesn't work for me. Well, and then he suggested Lithium. He said that it could level my feelings out and that it will do something about my suicidality. I asked him to give me some weeks to think about it. I did a google search, talked with two of my friends who are bipolar and I read up on side-effects. And I have decided to not try it. I have gained sooooooo much weight due to hospital stays and medication, I just can't gain anymore. It's not good for my self-confidence and most importantly, it's not good for my body. And I have PCOS so I don't even think I can take Lithium with that. And there is this HUGE fear of side-effects that I have. The things I have gone through with other meds, I just don't want to re-live that. Nope. The only two meds that actually made me feel better were Lamictal and Abilify, both moodstabilizers, both work for people who are bipolar. Are there any more moodstabilizers out there? What am I to do!?! I know antidepressants haven't worked on me at all so far ...

Uh, and then he gave me the phone-number to his office. I was in shock. I have NEVER gotten the number of a psychiatrist. I never had the possibility to contact them. I almost hugged him because I was so overwhelmed by all of this. I mean, he has read my file, he actually gave me and my problems some attention and real thought. He wasn't demeaning, he treated me like a person. Oh, and he is writing a book right now and as he has had read in my file that I'm good with words he asked me to write a poem or a short prosa-piece on how I have been treated by psych-professionals. I'll give that a try. I'll meet him in three weeks again and hopefully he has another suggestion than Lithium. 

I'm really confused right now. Am I really bipolar? Should I try any more medication? I'll try not to think about it this weekend. At the moment I'm just glad that I've met the first friendly psychiatrist since my journey with mental illness started. Sadly enough, he'll only work at the center until autumn. Now that's my luck!