Looney bin - how the system works in Sweden

Before I tell you about what actually happenened, how I ended up in hospital and how my time there was, let me explain the Swedish system a bit. There are no mental hospitals in Sweden, unless you are talking about forensic psychiatry. There are facilities for mentally ill criminals who are too ill to be in prison. In some of these hospitals they also keep severe cases of the mentally ill, self-harmers, people who have tried to kill themselves too many times. It's kind of the final destination for the people the system has given up on. It's actually quite a disgrace that they keep self-harming women in the same facilities as schizophrenic murderers. There have been a lot of debates about that in Sweden this year because these young women are treated badly and as it all happens behind closed doors, no one really knows what's going on. So that's the only kind of "proper" mental hospitals there are in Sweden.

They closed down all asylums in the 1990s and let everyone who had been in there out. Yes, they released all mental patients at once from all mental hospitals. Crazy, eh? So since then there is polyclinic and inpatient care. At the polyclinic you meet therapists, doctors and nurses and it's basically built up like a GP's office. Well, apart from all the security, they have lots of codes and locked doors there. The receptionists are bhind glass. I guess some mental patients can get quite agressive so it's good to be precautionary. So that's where you get therapy and have meetings with psychiatrists. They are often huge places, where I go they have around 30 therapists and 10 psychiatrists. They have an emergency number, an emergency pschiatrist and an emergency team to come and visit you. They are only avaiable until 10 p.m.. Mind you, not all polyclinics have that. You go there voluntarily but I also know of people who are forced to attend therapy because they have antisocial personality disorder.

The contact you have with the professionals isn't really personal. I get therapy 45 minutes a week and meet a psychiatrist maybe once every six months. You don't get the number to your psychiatrist and you are only allowed to call your therapist when you are in crisis. They have many patients so they really don't have the time to put a lot of energy into one case. They have time-guidelines to follow, it's all quite capitalistic. Like, CBT is only 12 weeks, then you are supposed to be "cured". Another thing is that most of these polyclinics are owned by private companies now, not by the state. So it's really all about money and efficiency. That's something we have the right-wing government to thank for.

Then there is inpatient care. As there aren't any mental hospitals, the psych units are in normal hospitals. How many units there are is really based upon how big the hospital is and where in the country you are living. The hospital I've been at is the biggest one in the country and it's in Stockholm. So they have 9 units (I think). There is one for intensive care, two for general care, two for psychotic patients and two for affective patients (bipolar, manic). Each unit holds around 25 patients (I think officially there is only place for 20 but they try to "make place" by putting two beds into a one-bed room). The intense care is mostly for violent patients. There is one hospital in Stockholm who has a psychiatric emergency room which is huge and they are open 24/7. You always run into high addicts there which I find quite uncomfortable.

So how do you end up in inpatient care? The most common reason is that you have been sent there by your polyclinic. You will have to have met a psychiatrist who assessed you. They will fix a place for you if they feel there is a  need for that. Then there is the ambulance but they always take you to the huge psych ER which means many hours of waiting with addicts and psychotic patients. And then there is the possibility to call a special crisis number. They will tell you to come in and get assessed by a psychiatrist. I have done that a few times. Well, I didn't call, my man did and they told me to come in. That's how I got admitted the first time ever.

And there's voluntary and involuntary treatment. Either you seek help or they section you. There are quite strong laws when it comes to sectioning but if you had been sectioned once, it is easier to section you again. Bascially, you have to have serious mental illness, you need to be a danger to yourself or others and you need to refuse to get admitted. I have always been at the inpatient care voluntarily. But it's not easy to get in in the first place. A depression won't do it. A panic attack won't do. You need to have hit rock bottom, you need to be a milimeter from suicide. Oh, and after a suicide attempt you always get sectioned.

So that's what the system looks like in Sweden. I just thought I'd explain all that before I'll tell the story of my last visit to the psych unit.

Back from the hospital ...

I ended up at the hospital. I had been fighting so hard for not getting there because I had felt like that there is no help there for me. Honestly, I think I somehow have post-traumatic stress from the last times I had been there. And it felt like a huge failure, that I couldn't take care of myself anymore, that I caused trouble, that my life had gotten out of hand that much again. I have been at the psychiatric unit (closed ward) seven times so far. And I can tell you, it's no fun. Someone on Twitter actually asked me to describe the closed ward, what it is like there, what the days are like. I will write some posts about that later today. Maybe they can help some people to get over the fear of ending up there, and maybe it will teach some people that you can't always trust professionals. And honesty, I think my stories will teach about the importance of honesty if you are in a position that involves life and death situations.

I got in the hospital on Tusday evening and I was "released" yesterday morning. I was there voluntarily.And I hated every minute of it. But I must say that the few days there probably saved my life. I can't say that I'm doing much better now, I never do when coming home from the hospital. I'm kind of still in my hospital-mode, I am trying to work through the experiences I have had there. I'm also relieved because I don't have people around me all the time.

The whole crisis has destroyed quite a lot of things for me. My relationship with my husband has a huge crack right now. My mum and I barely speak. I'm terribly behind with my studies. And have I gotten help? I don't think I'm critically suicidal at the moment. But my mindset is still the same. I still don't sleep enough. I don't eat properly (I forget ...). And I'm now even quite unsure when it comes to the psych-help I'm getting. 

But it's Christmas now and I guess I should get into a Christmas-mood. In Sweden we celebrate Christmas Eve big, that's when you eat the big meals and get the gifts. That's today. I hate Christmas. I have always hated Christmas. In my family Christmas meant being supertensed. My dad always freaked out eventually and you didn't want to be the person in his way at that moment. This year I'll just be at home with my man. We have a few gifts to exchange and we have bought some yummy food. I'll try to be on my "best behaviour" today. That means: no crying, no showing of anxiety, no whining and no desperate attempts to end my life or hurt myself. I want my man to feel safe and happy. I want him to enjoy this day. So I'll take a step back and do whatever I can today. I have a huge fear of getting send back to the hospital. This is what has always happened, I come home from the hospital and a few days later I am back there. I think my strong aversion towards being locked up makes me take hasty decisions and I get home too early. Not this time, this time I'll not get there again. No no no. 

Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, have a few awesome days off from work/school/every day life. Happy Holidays!

I've lost control again

Yeah, it has taken me yet another month to update my blog. I think it's a good thing because I would have only caused confusion if I had tried to describe my state of my mind. I actually have trouble grasping my state of mind right now. I don't know where I am in my life, where I am in my head, whether I'm dead or alive.

The last few weeks have been a path into total darkness. I don't know why it hit me, I don't know what exactly has dragged me down. Is there always a reason? People tend to ask what has happened if you tell them that you are feeling bad. But there isn't always a cause- and effect-relationship that is obvious. There have been things that have immensly influenced me during the last few months and I guess they contributed to me slowly giving up on life. I always know that I'm close to the abyss when I don't want to fight anymore, when there is no will. I have difficulties when it comes to changes anyway. But when I'm really down, I don't want to change anything, the only change I want is to make it stop. I have lost my will to fight and my will to live. The last few months I have been fighting like crazy but how do you keep on fighting against a shadow that is slowly dragging you into hell? How do you see the light? I don't know.

The restless legs and spasms hadn't been getting any better so I eventually called the emergency number of the psych-center I'm going to because my mental health was in a really bad state because of that stupid Propavan-withdrawal. I had to wait for a week for an appointment with an emergency-psychiatrist who works at the center. I wish he was my regular psychiatrist because he was the kind of professionel who had definitely chosen the right job. He took his time for me, we discussed everything for an hour. He asked tons of questions. He took me seriously (!) and prescribed some meds for the akathasia (he thinks that's what I have). He also told me to stop taking the Propavan altogether because it was obviously no good for me and that my brain wouldn't be able to recover if I was giving it more of the med. So I stopped taking the Propavan and I haven't taken it for more than two weeks now.

Then I got a bad cold. I was too scared to try out the med I had been prescribed because I had asthma and it is known to give asthma. I actually still haven't tried it out although my legs often drive me insane and I can't walk for a long time because my legs are really weak. Not taking the Propavan led to no sleep. The Zoplicone (other sleeping med I'm taking) stopped working on me. So I've had many many sleepless nights. Most nights I don't get more than three hours of sleep. Weirdly enough I'm not too tired in my body, but it is really making my head spin.

In all that I suddenly got really sad and desperate. It could be the restless legs and the lack of sleep. I also don't eat properly because the thyroid-hormone I'm taking is making me feel sick so my appetite is gone. I have lost quite a lot of weight actually. It's a lot of things contributing to this. I'm also stressed out by my studies, my boyfriend is in a bad depression right now, our car broke down. Just a lot of things happening. So I have given up the fight. I have constant anxiety. I'm crying a lot. I barely get out of bed. I have lost interest in everything. Like, my sister and mum are coming to visit us for a week on Christmas and I should be planning things. But I don't care.

So, as you might have guessed, this all led to me being really suicidal. Now, I haven't done a lot of suicide attempts in my life. I have always somehow gotten help before it got that far. So I personally hope that the risk for me doing something drastic is small. I have been talking about this with my therapist for the last two weeks. He has called me a lot, to check up on me. And he has been trying to get me in touch with a psychiatrist. He has been mentioning getting put into hospital which I'm totally against. I hate being at the hospital!!! But he really felt like that he needed some back up by a doctor.

The last week has been crazy for me. I self-harmed! That's not like me. But last week, three times. My arms look terrible and they sting! I had written goodbye-letters, planning my suicide, all the things one really shouldn't do. I triggered myself with a lot of things, reading up on stuff on the net. On Friday night I had to call the ER because I was totally out of my mind. It was 4 a.m., I hadn't been sleeping and I had spent two hours cleaning and brushing my shoes. If you take Zoplicone and you don't fall asleep on it, you can get really weird in your head. I got the worst help ever: "Take a sedative. Good luck. Bye!" Huh? 

Today I had an appointment with my therapist and a psychiatrist, the same one I have seen just three weeks ago. Before the meeting I had been really scared that they would admit me to the hospital. I was convinced that that was going to happen. I even had a bag packed. But nope. This doc is just amazing. He first told me that he would never section me which made me feel so safe. We discussed what has been going on and well, he said that the most important thing right now is that I get sleep. So I'll have to take Atarax for a week or so before going to bed, together with the Zoplicone. I hate Atarax, it really makes me sleepy, never helped for my anxiety and I get a terrible hangover from it. But what to do? And then he told me that I'm the one in control, I'm the one to take decisions. I liked that. When it comes to psychiatric help, I often feel like I'm out of control, I am being played around with. I basically said I know that I'm in a really really bad state right now but that I don't think that the hospital is the right place for me. But I have also been honest and told him that I can't promise anything, that I can't say what I will and won't do. I also didn't want to promise to call or contact anyone. I hate to lie so I'm rather honest. But he was fine with it. He somehow trusts me. I don't know why. Why does he trust me when I don't even trust myself? Maybe he can see something I can't see?!? Really, I wish he was my regular psychiatrist.

I don't know how I'm doing. I'm scared. Scared of myself. I can't trust myself. The self-harming totally threw me off. This is not me. I've promised myself to take the Atarax and Zoplicone during the nights. Maybe that will make my head clearer. Because right now I really can't think straight. My mood and my thoughts are all over the place. But somehow I got a tiny bit of will back, a tiny bit of strength. I think it has a lot to do with Dr.E saying that I'm in control. I need to be in control. 

GAH!

I really don't want to complain about this anymore. But the restlessness in my legs and arms is driving me nuts. I'm somewhat in pain too because my all my muscles are tensed all the time. The spasms aren't getting any better either. What annoys me the most is that I have tried to get help for it and I have been refused. My (new) psychiatrist told me that she can't prescribe anything for physical issues, even if it's withdrawal-symptoms from meds I'm getting from her. My GP doesn't really take the problem seriously. Sure, she tested my blood for all sorts of things and found out that I have hypothyroidism and vitamin D-defiency. But that's not what's causing my restless legs or the spasms. I know it is Propavan-withdrawal. But she she didn't listen. She just told me that she was glad she didn't prescrible L-dopa to me. L-dopa is the most common med against restless legs in Sweden. It has tons of side-effects. But at this point I wouldn't care. Give me anything, give me fucking horseshit to chew on if it is known to help! So what are my options? Take a whole dosage of Propavan again and give up forever to ever get off the pill. Or get through it and hope for the best. At the moment I'm sticking with the second option. Logically and stastistically, it should get better after a while. When I went down from a whole pill to a 3/4-pill I got restless legs and spasms three weeks after that. It was really bad for two to three weeks and then it got a bit better. So I went down to half a pill about three weeks ago. So in about two to three weeks it might get better. That's what I need to focus on. If in one month from now it has gotten any better, I'll give up. I could talk to my GP again but really, I don't think she will listen. Restless legs is something old people have, she said. And she totally ignored my comments about the Propavan. Another thing I could do is take Oxazepam. It didn't help before and I don't think it would help much now. But it is muscle-relaxing and it could reduce the anxiety I'm getting from this. So maybe I should just turn to good old benzo. 

Despite the damn issues I'm struggling with, I have been a good girl during the last two days. On Thursday I finally applied for a new ID-card and passport. I have been avoiding this so much because of the photo that has to be taken. I hate getting my picture taken, it gives me lots of anxiety and my self-hate always reaches new levels when I see myself on a photo. And especially those small photos for ID-cards and passports tend to look hideous! So I went to the police station and got my photo taken. I just asked the woman if my eyes were open on the photo, she said yes, and I told her to take the photo. I didn't want to look at the photo properly because I knew it would break me. I paid the 750 SEK (fucking expensive!), let them scan my fingerprints and signed. So that's finally done. Now I'll have to wait for another week and I can fetch the ID-card and passport. After that I went to the library (well, we, my hubby was with me, I don't think I have left the apartment on my own for months) to return some books, then to the post office to fetch a package full of books, then to the pharmacy and then to the supermarket to buy lots of fruit. On the way back to the car my legs gave in! It was really crazy, I was so weak. It must have been panic plus the restless legs. I was all dizzy and weird and I thought I was going to faint. So my hubby had to help me back to the car. I'm so dam pathetic!

Yesterday morning someone had to come into our apartment to check the ventilation system. They do that every few years, the law says so. I hate having strange people in my apartment! And I hate when they tell you that they will come somewhere between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m.. This only builds up extra-anxiety. The doorbell rang at 8.30 a.m., a young guy. I had just gotten up and was stll in my PJs. Anxiety, shame, trying to explain myself why I'm not normal and already up and busy early in the morning. I finally got the ultrasound of my thyroid done. I had to go to a clinic some miles from where we live to get that done. It was terrible to be in the waitingroom for half an hour because my legs were driving me crazy, I was in panic because there were so many people around and I just didn't want to seem weird and move around my legs all the time. T E R R I B L E! I was close to dissociating. When they called my name I first didn't even get that they meant me. I changed my last name when I got married and I'm not used to that yet. So they scanned my thyroid and it looks fine. The doctor there was really nice but that didn't help me much. I was on my back and someone was pressing a scanner against my throat. I was in panic! Well, at least I don't have an enlarged thyroid. Then we went grocery shopping and even to a shopping center to check one of their home improvement stores because we need new curtains. And it happened again: I got all weak, my legs were like rubber, I could barely stand up on my own. I really think it must be a combination of the withdrawal and panic/anxiety. My legs must be weak from all the spasms and I can't just walk around for hours. 

Today I have been super-anxious because of the withdrawal. But I'm trying to ignore all the bad stuff. I'm trying to keep busy. I have gotten a reply from my professsor, he has read my paper and he gave me an A. So yay, first paper/exam passed. I'm satisfied with myself. Now I hope I have passed the Russian-exam as well. Today I have worked on a paper that has to be in a few days and I have learned Russian vocabularies by heart. Trying to keep busy. Trying so hard. But I think I'll soon be standing in front of my medicine cabinet, taking out an Oxazepam. The anxiety is bad. Suicide is always a last resort in my head. Not good.

I'm still alive, hello again

Hello! Remember me? I'm still alive. I just haven't been able to connect with myself, with my creative side. I couldn't type anything concerning my feelings or thoughts, I have been disconnected. I'm not too sure if I'm actually back, back in my head, back in my body. I have been an empty shell. It has just been weird. I didn't want to force myself to write something, I would have just gotten desperate and sad. But tonight I felt like I should give it a try. It's almost one a.m. and I probably should be going to bed. Soonish.

So much has happened. And at the same time I'm still in the same state of mind as I was in my last post. It has been going up and down. Right at this moment I'm just sad and I feel totally worthless. I have been thinking a lot about suicide during the last few days. And it really doesn't help that my husband seems to have fallen into a depression too. He is complaining a lot, whining a lot and he is often desperate, sad. He is discussing things that could happen, like his sister dying, or him dying, or me dying. And he doesn't hold it in like I often do. He is really talkactivre about it. I'm trying to listen and to just validate his feelings. I think we are dragging each other down these days. We had a good moment today though. We took a nap (yes, nap, no interpretation needed there) together this afternoon, hugging tightly. It was warm and cozy. Maybe that helped him a bit. 

I have gotten into therapy and I meet my therapist once or twice a week. He is alright. He is maybe a few years older than me and he seems to be a typical Swede. I totally confused him with my style and he asked me things like if I was a satanist, if I worship death, if I use my looks as an armour against others. I think he now gets what goth is and that I dress the way I do because I find it aesthetically appealing. I like that we are discussing things. That we are reflecting. He is both a CBT and a psychodynamic therapist. But we are doing psychodynamic therapy, just sometimes he is offering a CBT point of view. I think I will be able to understand myself better one day. I think this kind of therapy is right for me because it is about intellectualizing issues instead of actually trying to change them by action. I need to understand to be able to act.

I'm still trying to get off the Propavan. It is hell! But this time I'm determined. I'm down to half a pill now. For a few weeks I had had the worst restless legs. I was crying a lot about it. I talked to both my new psychiatrist (she is alright, just a bit condescending at times) and my GP about it. None of them wanted to give me some meds for it because I'm too sensitive to meds. Great. I don't think they even understood that it is a withdrawal-symptom. Idiots. During the last two days mys spasms have come back. This morning I have been  almost paralyzed in bed for two hours, my muscles were so stiff and I had small spasms all over my body. But it has gone away by itself before so I hope it will do the same this time. The restless legs are back too. They have started again the other, day after I had exercised. They are not only restless, they also hurt weirdly. Maybe it's some muscle pain from the spasms. Same with my arms. But this time, this time, I will stop taking the Propavan. I'm not giving up again. It can't get much worse. But honestly, I'm feeling really sorry for myself. Self-pity.

I met my GP because of the restless legs. She is a nervous Russian woman with a bad accent. I often don't understand what she is saying. But she seems to really to want get to the root of things. I had to leave blood and urine samples twice. And it turns out that I have major vitamin D defiency and I have hypothyroidism. Now I at least know why I am fat. Boohoo. My mental issues probably don't come from my thyroid-issues but they could have been worsened by it. They have checked my thyroid-levels a lot during the last three years and they were always alright. So I was quite shocked when I got told that my thyroid is messed up. For three weeks I have now taken a synthetic thyroid-hormone (levaxin). I don't feel much of a change. My energy-levels are fluctuating. I can go from hyperactive to dead tired within an hour, and then back to hyperactive again. I'm on the lowest dosage at the moment. I'll get a ultrasound of my thyroid done this week. I should have gotten it done last week but the office was closed when I got there. I'm also taking vitamin D supplements. I wish I hadn't PTSD and social anxiety. My mood swings could be the thyroid though. We'll see. So basically, my mind and my body are ill and messed up.

My university-studies are going alright. I'm trying. I have had two exams the last two weeks. I really hope that I'll pass. I'm trying so hard. Unfortunately I have not been able to stick to any routines. My sleep is messed up so I just can't get up early. But I'm studying a few hours every day. I'm so thankful that there is something like distance learning. 

Most of my student benefits have gone to our flat. We have renovated the kitchen, painted the walls and all that. We have bought new lamps for the all rooms, we have hung up 10 posters, we have bought small decorative items. So now our flat is all goth and cozy. I really like what we have done. There are still a few more things we need to get done but I'm totally broke now. And there is some part of our car that needs to be repaired (don't ask me what ...) and that will cost us 3000 SEK. I'm used to being broke so I really don't care too much. 

Today I met my friend T. She came over. She is also suffering from mental illness so we don't need to pretend in front of each other. She seemed a bit medicated. She is taking three antipsychotics these days, eight meds altogether. Poor girl. It was really good to meet her. She only stayed for two hours though. I think her social anxiety got too strong. This was the first time I have actually met a friend since February. And I'm really exhausted. Being social is exhausting. I just wish I had more strength. I miss many of my friends. At the same time I really don't want to meet anyone. 

So my life is still somewhat pathetic. I'm really pathetic. But I am trying. Really trying. 

Barely alive but trying hard

I have been staring at a blank page all day, trying to come up with something I can write about. I have somehow lost the motivation and inspiration to write. I even scribbled down some topics I could discuss on a piece of paper. I have just been incapable of writing something that makes sense. So now I'm giving this another go. And as you can see, I'm writing. That's progress!

I'm going through a very bad period right now. This is definitely the worst I have felt for many many months. First off, I feel alone and lonely. I don't often feel that way because I think that having a rich social life is really something that society tells us is normal. But that's not true, we all have different personalities and preferences. But you know, I have been telling myself that I'm alright on my own, only with my man and my cats. But M said something the other day that made me cry later. He said that whenever I have been out, met people, talked to people, I lighten up, I get happy. And I know that it's true. I love talking with others, discussing things, learning things from others. I love putting make-up  and decent clothes on and go out. I love it. But my social anxiety has gotten so strong that I kind of lost that part of me. And I don't feel like I can be bothered to get that part back. There is too much pain involved, too much anxiety. The thing that bothers me the most right now is that I haven't met a single friend for a proper date since March! I know, that sounds crazy but that's the truth! I have had lots of mates and a few closer friends but they have all given up on me. I don't even get messages on Facebook anymore. The only people I text with are my social worker and my boyfriend/husband/man/the guy I live with. The same with phone-calls. It's my own fault, people just gave up on me. I always declined meeting them, going to parties, going to clubs, going to exhibitions. But now I want out of this exile I have created and there is no way out! So I feel incredibly lonely and alone. I feel like I am not connected to other humans anymore. I don't exist.

Depression has hit me hard. I can see all the signs and I know I'm in a deep depression right now. My psychiatrist agrees with that. Last week I have been crying my eyes out every day. My body was still twitching from the Seroquel-withdrawal, I had restless legs and I was so sad, sad, sad and anxious. All I had on my mind was how I was going to kill myself. Has it gotten any better?!? I don't know. I feel detached from reality most of the time. I try to avoid spending the days in bed but it's difficult. I don't eat. I have no creativity in me, no inspiration, no motivation. The moment I wake up I wish it was evening again so I could go back to sleep. And there are moments when I have the strong urge to die, to just jump off the balcony. To walk to the subway-rails and lay down and wait for the train to come. But then I remember that I have responsibilities, that I can't just leave. So yeah, proper depression. I'm just trying to make the best out of it, small steps every day. Cooking. Reading. Writing. Taking a shower. And still, I'm crying. I don't want to. I don't have the strength. Why can't the ground under me just open up and swallow me?!?

I met my psychiatrist in the beginning of this week. We discussed the twitching/spasms/weak legs/stiff muscles. He checked my arms and hands and said that they were fine. He said it will eventually go away. I believe him. I have to believe him. It has actually gotten a lot better during the last two days. The only thing that is still utterly annoying me are my legs. Sometimes I just want to chop them off. I'm also trying to get off the Propavan again. I think the Propavan has a lot to do with my dopamine-levels being messed up. So he gave me some instructions and I'm following them now. I'll take a 3/4 pill for a month, then down to 1/2, then down to 1/4 and then stop taking it. And I'll take Zoplicone every night. It still works for me, after all those years, because I've not been taking it regularly. But now that I do, I'm worried it will stop working eventually. We'll see. I'm also supposed to take a Valium in the morning and one in the evening due to my increased anxiety, depression, suicidality and restless legs. But you know me, I'd rather not do that. So far I haven't taken a single pill. But I might need to do that. I'm not too sure if Valium works for me, the half pill I took some weeks ago didn't do shit. The whole pill I took gave me difficulties to breathe. I know that I'm stupid not following my doctor's advice. I don't know, maybe it's still the punishing myself thingy. I once got told that I'm using "not taking sedatives" as a way to self-harm. That might be true! Maybe I should just go back to the Oxazepam. I told my psychiatrist that I never want to try new psych-meds again. He said that all I have left is my own strength and therapy. And hospital every now and then. He actually said that, someone with my gravity of mental illness won't be able to stay away from hospital forever. I so didn't want to hear that. It was our last appointment before he quits. I'm supposed to call him next week, maybe I'll get some dopamine-pills. We hugged and wished each other good luck with our future endavours. 

I'm trying to stay positive. I cancelled on my social worker this week so I can just focus on finding some kind of strength. Next week my university-studies will start. I have already registered, I have looked at the lists for literature I need. I have read some introduction-texts. I know what will come, I have seen deadlines, topics and exams that I need to pass. I hope I can handle two courses at the same time. This weekend I'll spend on looking for books I need on the internet. I have checked my bank-account and I'll get my student-benefits next Monday. For the first time in 9 months I'll actually have money on my account. But that money is already spent in my head: new ID-card and passport, books, petrol, the paint for our kitchen. It doesn't matter. I can actually spend money! Next Tuesday I'll also have the first meeting concerning the psycho-dynamic therapy. They'll evaluate me. I'm really nervous about it. I hate having to make a good first impression. I'll probably just sit there, shake because of anxiety, move my restless legs and hope that I don't get a freak out and run off. I need this therapy. So things are going to happen next week. On Monday evening I'll have my first chat for the philosophy course. On Tuesday morning I'll meet the psychologist. On Wednesday the Russian course starts. I need to focus on those things. Change. I'll have totally new routines. This autumn things might finally get moving for me again. Take a pill or two. And breathe! (And chop off your legs!)

RESTLESS

My legs have been driving me crazy during the last few days. And the restlessness is also creating more anxiety because I'm getting nothing done at all. And I've been googling my issues so much just to find reassurance that it will go away soon. That everything will go back to my normal state of depression and anxiety. But all I have found are terrible stories about how it has even gotten worse for people! I have read on some more reliable websites that the "extrapyramidical" withdrawal-symptoms most likely stay in the body for up to four months. For some people they will never disappear. I have only taken the stupid Seroquel for a little more than three weeks, how can I suffer from this? I mean, the damn restlessness in my legs came about a week after I have stopped taking it. I also have a very tensed jaw all the time. And I'm too scared to only take the Propavan during the night because the one time I tried I had muscle-spams in my whole body which was really awful. So now I'm taking Zoplicone every night. Not good. I have read about people who have had muscle-spams and akathasia even years after having stopped with the Seroquel. They are bound to bed and their lives have been destroyed. And of course I'm now worried that that will happen to me too. But it hasn't gotten worse for me yet. This morning, for about two hours, I didn't have any restless legs at all. It has just started again.

So what to do? Should I wait it out? I have been trying to avoid sedatives because I just don't want to take them regularly. I'm just not someone who goes and takes a pill right away. My husband thinks that I should call my psychiatrist. But I feel like I have annoyed him enough already, called him twice two weeks ago. And I have an appointment with him in six days anyway. So what I have done is to write down a list of things I need help with. If the restlessness doesn't go away, I need some medication for that, at least for a short period of time. He will probably be really confused that I'm having these withdrawal-symptoms but I had told him from the beginning that I don't work with meds. And I need to get off the Propavan. I guess I'll get to hear that I need to take benzodiazipines for a while, regularly. I guess I'll have to live with that. 

I'm not angry with my psychiatrist. He was really convinced that the Seroquel would help me. He maybe should have listened more to my arguments, that I always get side-effects, that I have always gotten worse from meds, instead of better. But on the other hand, I was the one putting the pill in my mouth, swallowing it. Although I knew better. So I'm really really angry with myself. I knew better! So I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't take any sedatives right now, because I unconsciously think that I deserve to feel like this. I like punishing myself. I should have listened to reason and not hoped for getting better. I knew that something like this would happen! So I'm really angry at myself. I'm so damn stupid!

My anxiety is really bad because of the restlessness. I can't sit still. I mean, I do sit still but there is always this urge to move around. I change positions all the time. I tried to exercise the other day because I thought it would make it better but my legs are so damn weak! It just didn't work out. In two weeks I'm supposed to start up my university-studies again. How will I manage that when I'm like this?

I have become suicidal again. We watched "Iron Man 3" the other day and there was a scene when Tony Stark is standing on a cliff. And all I could think about is how nice it would be to be at that cliff and just jump. And this feeling of wanting relief hasn't gotten any better. I think I'm really depressed. I am indifferent and very sad at the same time. I just don't have any mojo. I would right at this moment love to be standing on those cliffs and prepare to jump. Fortunately all our windows have locks so I can't jump from any of the windows. You know, we live on the sixth floor. And at one time I tried to jump out of our bedroom-window but my boyfriend saw me and wrestled me down. So since then we can't open any of the windows wholly, just a few inches. And I suppose that's good when I have feelings like I'm having right now.