Stuck

Wow. I can't believe that it has taken me so long to get back in the mood for writing a blog-entry. I have the most lame excuse: I just can't get started with things these days, I can't focus and I basically lost all motivation. It could be a sign of depression or maybe it's just the fact that it's still winter and the lack of sunlight has drained me of energy. I think it's depression as I'm taking vitamin D - supplements and they should be helping me with lack of energy. It doesn't matter what the cause of my total indifference and concentration-issues is. Eh? Anyway, tonight I just thought I'd force myself to write a bit and hopefully it will put me in the mood for more things that I love doing. Or that I have planned. Or that I should be doing. So what has happened in my life during the last few weeks?

Mental health. I have had periods that were quite alright. But most of the time I have just felt dead inside. A huge feeling of indifference. Other days that indifference is replaced by mind-killing anxiety. Suicide thoughts come and go. Self-harm thoughts come and go. The worst is my lack of motivation. It has a lot to do with that I have given up. I don't believe I can get help for my mental health problems. I'm not in the state where I think that it can never get any better. I might have some okay-ish days. But I don't think I'll ever have any real capacity to make it out there in the world. I'll end up being dependent upon my husband, or the social services, maybe the health insurance. I feel like I'm incurable. It's not like I feel that I have it worse than others. It's just that I have tried everything, nothing worked. And I can't get bothered to try yet another med or therapy. So I have lot all interest in the future because I know I have a bleak future ahead of me. I have nothing to look forward to, no goals that I know I can reach. I'll spend the rest of my days in this apartment, in the evenings my husband will be here, I have my two cats but I'll basically be cut off from society, success, social life. And that's why I'm not motivated to do anything. Why bother? I have given up. A huge contributer to this state of mind is the fact that I have dropped out of therapy. Before anyone starts blaming me for my own situation, let me explain. I didn't really make the decision because I wanted to. My therapist, well, ex-therapist told me that we are not getting anywhere, that it is always about suicide-prevention and crisis-solving with me. He made feel guilty for being unstable. And that's what he literally said to me: You are not stable enough for therapy. I wanted to continue with therapy but he made me feel like I was taking up someone else's spot, someone who deserved it better than me. And not mention that it seemed to me like he didn't believe that I could be helped. Honestly, how can anyone be not stable enough for therapy!?! Isn't therapy there for making you stable and help you deal with your problems? So I dropped out of therapy because my therapist talked me into it. When I look at it now, I'm quite sure that he manipulated me into dropping out. Instead I was sent to see a counselor, just so I have some kind of psych-contact. I met that person once. She didn't know what to do with me. She told me that we can meet sometimes, just to talk. This really didn't seem like the greatest help in the world. So I feel stuck. If they ever think I'm stable enough to start therapy again, I'll be put on a waiting-list, a 5 months wait, at least. And honestly, I'm bipolar and I don't take any meds, how am I going to be stable for 5 months? I cancelled my last appointment with her. It just feels useless. I'm sure there are other people going through some life-crisis right now who need the time with her. So: no future, no proper help. Why fight if what I have right now is everything I'll ever get? Oh, and I have a new psychiatrist. A confused old lady. She must be around 70. She  had forgotten about our first appointment. She hadn't read my file and proposed all kinds of meds to me, and all of those I had already tried before (Seroquel, Lamictal, Prozac ....). She had also promised me to contact a neurologist about my legs. She forgot about that. I had to call her to ask her about it, over a month later, and she was like: oh, I must have forgotten. Yeah, right, maybe time to retire. So I doubt that she will be able to help me medical wise. I'll get prescriptions for Oxazepam and Zoplicone whenever I need it. I guess that's something.

Physical health. I have been very quite unlucky when it comes to my phsyical health as well. First off, I can be a bit of a hypochondriac. I think it has to do with my anxiety, my GAD. I notice every small problem I have, I give it too much attention and I get scared. And of course I always get scared that I might some serious illness that will lead to a slow and painful death. Like, they have tested my blood-sugar some weeks ago and it was a bit high. They thought it wasn't high enough to be diabetes and it could just be that I had eaten something beforehand. The same with my white blood-cells, they said that I had a few too many but it could just be a minor infection somewhere in my body. But in my head I have diabetes and incurable cancer. I am just a worrier I guess. So, almost four months after having being diagnosed with hypothyroidism I kind of thought that they should do another check-up, especially because I had been put on meds and I had no clue if they were working or not. The meds give me side-effects by the way: my skin got really bad, I have itches and I feel nausea. But I have had worse side-effects. So I called my GP's office and got told that she is taking a break from work (sounded more like she got suspended) and told me they'd tell another GP to get in touch with me. That other GP called me, I had to leave blood-samples and it turns out my hormone-levels are still bad. The "funny" thing is that I have never met that GP. Only spoken to him on the phone once. Did he give me an appointment so we can discuss the results? Did he at least call me? Nope. That idiot sent me a letter telling me that my levels are still bad and how to increase my meds. That person is supposed to be my GP! What the heck? I'm still fighting with restless legs and spasms. It has been six months now since this shit started. I have stopped taking the Propavan in the end of November for heaven's sake. But nope, I still suffer from it. In the beginning of January I couldn't take it anymore. So I went to the ER. I had to wait for 8 (!!!) hours and then got to meet a neurologist. She examined me and decided to prescribe Sifrol to me. That's a Parkinson-medication but it is known to help with restless legs too. Well, but my fear of meds and side-effects got the best of me. This medication has side-effects such as depression, impulsivity, anxiety, psychosis. Honestly, not the best medication for someone with mental illness. I have still been fighting with the restless legs and spams daily. Some days it is so bad that I'm just in bed crying. I just can't try the med, I don't trust meds anymore. I'm really sure that it won't help and that I will just get bad side-effects. The neurologist from the ER called me this week to ask me how it is going. And I just told her the truth, that I have a history of bad reactions to medications and that I'm too scared to take the med. So she wants to book in a scheduled stay at the hospital for me so I can be observed while starting with the med, in case I get any bad reactions. I don't know. I'm really thankful that she called and that she understands and that she wants to help. It kind of feels like I would take someone else's spot, some stroke-patient who needs to be put on meds, someone with MS that needs to get their meds changed. Sure, I suffer badly but it is not life-threatening. I don't know. She said it will take some weeks until I will hear from them so who knows, maybe the restless legs and spasms have disappeared until then. Okay, I know, that is unlikely. We'll see.

So there you go. This is what I have been fighting with lately. This isn't all to be honest. But it is late now, I want to go to bed. I'll write some more tomorrow.

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.

One day it will all be over

The itching is a bit better today. It's still itching but it is definitely not as bad as yesterday. The palms of my hands are still swollen and somehow burning. But my face looks so much better. But it is still itching, especially on my arms and my back. I did something that I have actually been avoiding due to my hypochondriac tendencies. I googled withdrawal symptoms of Seroquel. I can't believe that people still get this medication! Poeple lost their eye-sight, got strokes, got heart-attacks and most people get the itching and burning that I'm experiencing right now. I'm really relieved that I actually stopped taking the med after just three weeks on it. Otherwise I probably would have had to take it for the rest of my life because getting off it would have been impossible with my ubersensitivity to medications. So yeah, I'm still itching but it feels like it's getting better. I feel a tad weak and this morning I was really close to throwing up. Most people experienced the itching for two or three weeks so at least I know now that there is an end to it. 

Getting off yet another med because of bad side-effects has led me to the conclusion that this is it. I don't want to try any new medications/antidepressants/moodstabilizers/antipsychotics. People always say that I have to endure side-effects and have to try out all the meds avaiable before giving up. Well, if I had a bacteria infection and I knew that there is an end to it, I might have to take the antibiotics for a few weeks, maybe months, yeah, I would try out everything avaiable. But when it comes to psych-meds I'm not thinking like that. It's because I'd have to take them for years and years to come. Why? Because I have several diagnosis, it's not just one infection. Anyway, I don't want to try out any more meds. I guess I slightly hope that they will get somewhere with neurological research and somewhat come up with a simple solution to mental illness. Like lobotomy but less invasive and more studied. On the news they said yesterday that they have found out that the genes of people with mental illness are the same,that there is a genetic disposition. And they came to the conclusion that mental health is mostly genetic and not enviromental. That's a huge find. But of course no one cares because they'd rather think that we have done something wrong than that there is something wrong with the genes, something we have no control over.

So I have given up on meds. I have given up on the hospital as well. But not totally. I can't rule out that I'll be admitted again. That will be periods when I need to be safe. But I want to avoid that as much as possible. One of my biggest fears is getting sectioned, to be admitted against my will. But I doubt that will happen. I'm a reasonable person, even when I'm anxious or really low. So I know what to say and how to act to not get sectioned. Then there's therapy. My psychiatrist told me that he doesn't think that therapy will help me. He said that therapy will only make me understand but it will never heal me. Yeah. I have tried out CBT and DBT. I don't like being told what to do without any proper explaination. The causal correlation between the past and the present, between my actions and my memories has never come up. I can't do that. I need to reflect, to discuss, to learn. So CBT and DBT (which was the totally wrong therapy for me!) didn't work out. I hope that psychodynamic therapy might at least help me to understand. If I understand and accept I might be able to change things, I might be able to gather more strength. I want my recovery to be on my terms and psychodynamic therapy seems to be right for that. But who knows, maybe I won't get in. I still haven't heard from them. It's been six months since my last therapy session. 

So, without meds, will I ever get better? And without therapy? I feel like I'm stuck right now. Nothing has moved forward for a year. In and out of hospital last year, several times. This year has so far only been about standing still. There has been no improvement (how - withou therapy?). I'm starting to give up hope. Honestly, in my head I have already given up. I don't believe that there's any help out there for me. They give me diagnosis after diagnosis, they give me med after med, they put me in and out of hospital. They don't know what to do with me. I'm too complicated, I'm not just a "simple" depression or have BPD or have social anxiety disorder. Nope, I have several things. And they don't know how to help me. I feel like that there is no help for me to get. 

If I were religious, I would let God take care of me. Well, I'm not religious, I don't believe in God, energies or anything spiritual. So where do I turn to? Nowhere. I only have myself. For now I'll take each day as it comes. I'm not in a deep depression right now. I'm depressed, yes, but I'm not awfully suicidal. My anxiety is there but bearable. So I'll just carry on. Day by day,. There are things happening in my life. In three days I'm getting married. In three weeks my university studies start again. I have things to look forward to. And I'm content about these things, but not happy. I'm never happy because even the things that should bring my happiness are always somehow connected to anxiety, worries and so on. Like: I have gained so much weight I'll look stupid in my wedding outfit. Like: I'm afraid I'll fail the courses because I'm doing too bad. So my point is: I'll just carry on, take each days as it comes and not think of the terrible, meaningless future ahead of me. But there will be a day when I won't be able to fight anymore. And that will be the day I'll commit suicide. I knew that day would come, even when I was a small child. I always knew that I'll die of my own hand. And I'm alright with that. It won't happen tomorrow and probably not this year. But maybe in five years, maybe in ten years. The day will come. And I'm alright with that. I have made my peace with the thought that I'll kill myself. Because I know that there isn't any proper help out there for me. No one can help me. And that's okay.

I've told all this to my social worker the other day. I have no clue if that was right or wrong. I explained it to him logically. He didn't say anything. He probably thought that I won't be his problem when the day comes anyway. So he just pretended to listen and hoped that he'd be able to leave my flat soon because all this negativity was making him bored. I know, I know, I can't know what he was thinking. But that's how I felt he was thinking because there was no response coming from him.

I know this post isn't overly positive. But I feel like I have made peace with the thought that there is no proper help out there for me. And I have a plan that makes it feel okay. One day it will all be over. Maybe that day will never come and I'll die of old age, with an uneventful, meaningless life behind me. Who knows.

Right back to the beginning

I gave up. I'm back on the full dosage of my sleeping medication. I don't really know if that was the right decision but I just couldn't take the restlessness and increased anxiety anymore. I even tried to take half a Valium the other day but I didn't feel anything from it. So next time I'll try a whole Valium. I guess I really shouldn't play around with my meds like that. Anyway. The restlessness is gone. And although I have anxiety it isn't dissociative anxiety. I think that's what I had while taking less of the Propavan, I was totally gone. But now the side-effects have returned. I have a huge lack of energy, I'm basically constantly hungover. It feels like I've gone from 100 to 0 in levels of energy. I have weird dreams again. I'm so dry in mouth and nose. And I can't say that I'm sleeping better. I think I'm sleeping a bit more, maybe three hours more. But I still wake up a lot and that's what the Propavan is for, to let me sleep through a night without waking up constantly. Anyway, at least the restlessness is gone. And I'll use the advice one of the doctors are the hospital gave me once: exercise so the Propavan leaves the system quicker. So I'll exercise soon. And hopefully I'll get out of this lethargic state. Honestly, I don't think I could have taken one more day with only the half dosage. It just wasn't the right time to get off the Propavan. But one day, one day in the future I'll get rid of it!

So things are back to "normal". My boyfriend is back at work and I'm on my own most of the time. I have two cats to take care of instead of one. And I'm kind of constantly checking what they are doing. Yesterday they actually cuddled and slept together. I was so happy about that! Apart from that I'm really doing nothing. It's always the same: before going to bed I'm thinking of all the things I want to get done the next day but when the next day comes I just can't deal with anything. I don't really know what I'm spending my days with. Tidying up the apartment, cooking, the internet, cats. I've kind of reached a state of lethargy and indifference. I don't care if it's a new day. I don't want to be challenged. Everybody should just leave me alone. I'll just sit here and wait for death, if it comes tomorrow or in 40 years, I don't care. 

I'm really upset with myself. I know that social contact is good for me. It gives me more self-confidence. And I need someone to penetrate my isolated and subjective way of thinking. I just know it's important for me. But because of my "whatever"-attitude right now I just can't be bothered to actually go out and meet other people. My friend A is the only person who still makes an effort. No one I know in real life has contacted me in, mmmm, maybe two months?!? A has written to me on Facebook two days ago. He just wanted to know how I was doing. But I know that if I reply to him he'll ask me if we can meet up. He used to be something like my best friend for a while. I just CAN'T meet him. I want it so bad. I want to have fun, discuss things, laugh, give him advice, get intellectually challenged. But nope. I don't reply to his message. Instead I'm really frustrated with myself, and at the same time I tell myself that this has been my own voluntarily choice, I don't want to meet other people. Lethargy. I'm better off with just my boyfriend and my two cats. I'm not. I'm lonely. So damn lonely. 

But yeah, next week I have things planned, the week after that my mum will come to visit us for a few days, my boyfriend's birthday (which will be a sad one because no one of us has money for anything :/) and then we'll get married (we can't afford rings but whatever). Yeah.

Scary incident

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

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

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

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

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

Darkness on my mind

I wish I could write about something inspiring and  fun. But really, I'm still doing like shit. Anxiety. Tired. Indifference. Depression. Sad. Helpless. Passive. I wish I was a drama-queen, I could just throw a tantrum. Scream out my feelings, hit something, show how bad I'm feeling. But I'm silent. I'm chatting with a friend, talking about nonsense-topics, talking about how accents and dialects can be attractive and sexy. I should tell him that I need help. I should tell him that I'm not okay. But I don't. I fake-laugh at his comments and play the game.

I haven't heard from my mother in two days. She last told me on Skype that she doesn't want to talk, that she needs rest, that she's going to stay in the house. I could call but what if my dad answers? I don't want to be bothered by this but I'm worried sick. This all really couldn't have come at a worse time for me. I've already been down before they decided to split up. And not telling me what's going on is really only making things worse. Maybe he's threatening her? Maybe she has somehow decided to play by his rules again? I don't know what is going on. 

I met my social worker yesterday. I've been honest to him, told him about how I'm feeling, about my thoughts. When I'm feeling bad my brain convinces me that my deranged thoughts are logical. I have this thought that somehow makes sense to me: If I was dead, I wouldn't be a burden to anyone anymore. Sure, people would be sad for a while but they would get over it. Then they had one less problem to worry about, after a while it would probably feel like a relief to them. And at the moment I'm also convinced that 1. I don't deserve help because I'm just a pain in the ass and I only cause problems and 2. No one can help me anyway, I'm a lost cause. T of course suggested that I should get admitted to the hospital which I strongly said no to. I think I worried him and I might have opened the gates to hell, a hell he doesn't want to be a part of. I'm ashamed, I shouldn't have told him these things. 

He had contacted the leader of the psycho-dynamic team and I'm on the waiting-list after all. It's a waiting-list for some evaluation-meetings. They evaluate if this therapy is suitable for you. But I won't be hearing from them until the late summer/early fall. What am I supposed to be doing until then? They told him about some kind of 24/7 help-line at the center that I can call. But I know myself, I won't call. I might get a meeting with a psychiatrist next month. I don't know why that should be helpful. Meds haven't helped me so far. I avoid sedatives because I have been brainwashed, I have been told so many times that they are bad for you so I don't take them. Blah.

I haven't been out of the apartment for almost three weeks. Not a step outside the door. My boyfriend does errands without me having to ask for them. He's bored and he wants to have something to do. So he fetches my packages from the post-office, buys birthday-gifts I should be getting and does the grocery-shopping. I guess that's good but it really doesn't make things better for me, if I don't get out my social anxiety will only get worse. But who cares. 

I'm a mess. I'm always just a fucking mess. 

Family hell - my parents are getting divorced

I don't feel well. There is a huge chaos in my head. And at the same time I'm somehow indifferent. Or maybe it's just dissociation. I don't want to feel so my brain just shuts down. But in general I'm an anxious mess. There are too many bad things happening in my life right now, I don't know if a healthy person would be able to cope.

My parents are getting divorced. I don't think I've written anything about my family on this blog, there might be something about them in my "About Me"-section. I'm not close to my family. My father is from Iran, he's an opium-addict and violent. He used to beat me a lot when I was a child. He also abused me verbally. I'm quite convinced that his behaviour is the main reason for my mental illnesses. I only stayed in contact with him because he was living with my mum and I didn't want to cause any trouble or arguments.

My mother is a sweet but passive person. She's somehow living in denial, she just blocks out a lot of bad things. She's pretending that her life is perfect. But my dad has been beating her since the beginning of their relationship 40 years ago. She just couldn't get herself to leaving him. That's really one of the things I'll never forgive her, that she stayed with him although she knew that he was beating us children. Anyway, my mum has now realized that she wants some fun in her life, go to concerts, go to the movies, travel and all that. And she has found the internet and loves chatting with people. 

My dad doesn't get it all and doesn't want to change his life. He has started spreading rumours about her, talking to me and my siblings, telling us that she has dementia, that she is cheating on him, that she is selling her body. What the fuck?!? So some days ago he told her that he wants a divorce. Really, she should have left him a long time ago and now he wants a divorce?!? He's being a real asshole about it all. He told her that she has to move out when she told him that it's her parents' house, he slapped her. He has started moving money around so he won't have to pay her anything. I guess he is used to Iranian laws where the woman doesn't get any money. 

I'm quite sure that all this is going to turn into some kind of war. My dad is totally convinced that he has the right to everything. My mum is just scared right now. I have told her several times that she should pack some bags and move to her brother for a while. I don't trust my father, he might just kill her in rage. I really could see that happen. I understand that moving to her brother would mean a break from the life and the standard she has had for decades but really, it could be saving her life.

So I'm worried as fuck. I don't want to be pulled into this. I don't want to have anything to do with it. It's not like I'm neutral, I hate my father. But still, I can't handle this. My sister is bascially saying the same thing. So, how do I cope with this? I also have to worry about not having any psch-help right now. And my boyfriend is home sick with pneumonia. This is too much for me.

Blah

Just another day in hell. Every day is exyactly the same. There's a song by NIN with that title and for a time I listened to it constantly. Just because it described my life. So, it's Saturday. Everyone is happy because they have the day off and they can do the things they love doing, they don't have to work, they don't have to live every day life. Well, every day is Saturday for me. Or Monday. Or Thursday. There really isn't much of a difference. 

I have realized this morning that I'm having a depression again. Everything is just so much harder to get done. I have zero motivation. All I feel is sadness, indifference and anxiety. I often think that indifference is the most dangerous feeling one can have. Will I die today? I don't care. Will there be an apocalpse? I don't care. Will my boyfriend leave me? I don't care. I just don't care. I don't have the strength to care. I just want to crawl into my bed, stare at the wall and wait for the end. But I think it's good that I'm aware of this. I mean, earlier in my life I would just let the feeling lead me. I wouldn't even try to describe my feelings, I would just give up. So I guess I have improved in comparison to how I was doing about two years ago. Gosh, I wish I had some psych-help, a therapist, someone. I need to talk, I need to get a pep-talk. I don't know how to stop myself from hitting rock-bottom. My goal: I don't want to end up in hospital. So I'll just fight on, do my "chores", survive every day. Even if it seems meaningless. What am I doing this for? I know that even if this is just a period, the bad days will always outweight the good days. 

My boyfriend is out to help his sister/aunt (his mum died when he was three years old so he got adopted by his grandparents) with the grocery shopping. She is handicapped and in a wheelchair so M takes the car and helps her with the grocery shopping every two or three weeks. This makes it even less feeling like a Saturday. He's at home in maybe two hours. So just like any other work-day. Our roommate just got home so at least I'm not all alone at home. 

I have a toothache but I'll just ignore that. I can't afford a visit to the dentist anyway. I'll just use lots of mouthwash and hope that it will go away by itself. 

So my plans for this weekend. I think I want to re-dye the black in my hair and shave my sides (down to 9 mm). I want to dye my sides red next week. I have had the blue for five weeks now and although I re-dyed it twice, it really doesn't look that good anymore. My hair grows incredibly fast. So yeah. We'll watch some more episodes of the Walking Dead. I could go to that one Goth-night but I doubt I will. There are three mediocre local rock-bands playing (they are nowhere near goth, they are just plain goth) and it costs like 15 US dollars for entrance. Not worth it. And honestly, my social anxiety won't let me go anyway. I better focus on next week, with meeting my friend from France (she wants to meet up at 3 p.m., M works until 4 so I have no clue how to manage to get into town) and then the Fields of the Nephilim-concert. Yeah. 

Blah.

(I don't officially have OCD as a diagnosis (was close to getting it) but there are some things that just annoy me so bad. The "A" on my keyboard is half-off, you know, the white print of the letter. I have the strong urge to use a pen to draw it back on. Haha. Things like this can drive me crazy. The other day P took a chair from the kitchen because he wanted to fix his lamp and needed something to stand on. I couldn't go into the kitchen, it just felt SO wrong that there were only three chairs. Haha. )