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.

How and why I ended up at the hospital ...

So about two weeks ago I really hit rock bottom. I had been in a depressive period for some time. I had had difficulties with my daily routines, with eating, with my sleep, with my studies, with getting out of bed at all. I had been aware of that, really aware. But I just couldn't do anything about it. I tried to fight on with simple things, trying to do positive things. But life just happened and a lot of things stressed me out at the same time. I maybe could have handled the depression, I maybe could have handled the problems. But I couldn't handle both. I had had some meetings with my therapist, even had a meeting with him and a psychiatrist. I had called the ER twice. I didn't want to end up in the hospital. But at the same time I just really wanted to die. The suicide thoughts were in my head all the time. I was in a very desperate mood. I planned, I tried to ignore the thoughts, I wrote goodbye-notes, I burned them. It was all just a huge mess. And I self-harmed. I'm not a self-harmer, it has happened four or five times that I cut myself. All the times before I could actually blame meds, they made me worse and drove me to self-harm. But this time it was ME, I had so much self-hatred inside of me. I hated myself for not being brave enough to kill myself. I hated myself for dragging everyone around me down. I was disgusted by myself.

Tuesday. I was in a bad state because of four reasons: 1. The depression had stolen my ability to sleep. I hadn't eaten in two days. I was sad, so sad. I was anxious and restless. 2. My legs were still driving me crazy, the restlessness, the spasms. I couldn't take it anymore. I coud barely walk. I felt handicapped and so over with this feeling. 3. I had disappointed my mum because I had cancelled on her and my sister for Christmas. They were supposed to come and visit us (I live in Sweden, they live in Germany) but I felt like I was in such a bad state, I couldn't have them at my home for a week. At that point I didn't actually care about Christmas. I wasn't even sure I was going to live until Christmas. 4. The day before had been a horrible horrible day. My husband had a total freak out because of how I was doing. He basically screamed at me for hours. He threatened me with kicking me out, with sending me back to Germany, with leaving me, with getting me sectioned. And he made it very clear that he was doing badly because of how I let myself go. He just couldn't take it anymore. I hid in the bathroom for a time, locked myself in. I can't handle conflicts, I get really scared. And all that screaming and threatening scared the hell out of me. I had a really bad breakdown in the evening. I was close to killing myself. I had already kissed the cats goodbye. I wanted to go down to the lake and drown myself. I was so desperate. But I didn't do it, I instead self-harmed the worst I have ever self-harmed. Now I hope that the scars will go away, I don't want to be scarred for life! My husband called the ER and they booked in an appointment with the same ER-psychiatrist I had met before, and my therapist, the next day.

Tuesday morning I was a mess. I couldn't get out of bed because of the spasms. I was crying because I had so much anxiety. And at the same time I was really apathetic. I just didn't care anymore. The appointment was weird. I wasn't really there, you know, my mind was blurred, I was absent in my mind. I remember my therapist saying that he wants to refer me to another clinic for MBT-therapy. And all I thought was: great, he has given up on me too, he must hate me, I must be such an annoyance, I really should just disappear. The psychiatrist and my therapist asked me lots of questions but I'm not sure if I even was able to form a sentence. They realized that I had self-harmed and as I looked like shit, they probably understood that I was a mess. So the doctor gave me an ultimatum: either I promise that I won't kill myself until the end of this year or I'll voluntarily admit myself to the hospital. I tried to get out of it as I didn't like any of the options but he said that's it, no other options. So I had to choose the hospital. I couldn't promise anything. I somehow believe that I saved my life in that moment. It wasn't me who had booked the appointment, my husband had, he had driven me there, without him I would be dead. But I could have lied and promised things. But I didn't, I chose the hospital. My "weird" therapist told me that he didn't want to meet me while I was admitted although that's what everyone usually suggests, that you meet your therapist for support while being at the hospital. I really don't know why he is treating me like this?!? It almost feels like he is trying to punish me for being a difficult patient. I so need to discuss this with him, maybe I should switch therapists.

I had to wait in the waitingroom for almost an hour (under the supervision of the receptionist) while the psychiatrist got in touch with the hospital and tried to find a bed for me. When he finally came to meet me again, he told me that I was going to be at a unit I had never been at. I was in tears. I have social anxiety, I can't deal with new places and people well. The only person I knew was the chief of the unit because he used to work at the other unit I usually end up at. And we don't get along, he just never got me So I didn't want to go. But really, I had no choice. I could have lived with the usual unit, where my favourite nurse, R, works. He had always been able to pull me out of the shit. He is basically the best nurse you could meet. I love that man! But nope, I was now going to a unit I had never been at, with staff I didn't know, and no R. I was allowed to go home and pack a bag. And about two hours later I rang the bell of the unit.

The unit is locked which means that there are two double doors which are locked. And only the nurses have keys. There are five different numbers you can get: 1 - not allowed to go out and constant supervision 2 - not allowed to go out and regular supervision  3 - not allowed to go out on your own, only with staff  4 - only allowed to go out with staff or family 5 - allowed to go out but you have to tell them where you are going and when you will be back. 

There is a smoker's cubicle, a small kitchen, a dining room, a TV-room, a nurse's office, a nurse's kitchen and room, lots of chairs and sofas, four conversation-rooms, an examination-room. And the patients' rooms. There are no single rooms (well, unless you need constant supervision, then you sometimes have a room for yourself). There are two four beds rooms and the rest are two beds rooms. Each room has a bathroom. It's a mixed unit, men and women, 18+. It's a unit for depression, anxiety, personality disorders and suicidal patients. 

A nurse picked me and my husband up at the door and I was placed in a four beds room. Luckily I had one of the beds behind the blinds. All other three beds had patients in them. I talked to the nurse who told me that the psychiatrist from the clinic had forgotten to sign off my meds or write something at all in my journal. So I had to wait and meet an on call psychiatrist so I could get my meds and get assessed again. What the heck?!? I needed a sedative so bad. I talked a bit to one nurse and my husband stayed until 8 p.m.. They tried to convince me to eat something but I didn't want to. Four (!!!!) hours later I finally met that psychiatrist and I had to tell my whole story because he hadn't had time to read my journal. He gave me a physical (he couldn't find me pulse first, and I had high blood-pressure due to my anxiety) and signed me in properly. I got a 3 and all my meds got listed and allowed. I watched an episode of Dexter (I had my netbook with me and they have wifi) and at around 1 a.m I took my Zoplicone and tried to sleep. That didn't work at all. At 2 a.m I had a bad breakdown, talked to a nurse for an hour, cried, cried, cried, got desperate, wanted to leave, cried some more, had bad spasms and restless legs, smoked at least 5 cigarettes, cried some more, talked some more, tried to sleep again, had a hot chocolate, cried again, telling them to just leave me alone and let me die. In all of this I tried to not disturb the other patients. I was sitting on a chair, close to the outter doors, as far away from the patients' rooms as possible. They convinced me to take a sedative and around  5 a.m. I finally fell asleep. So those were my first few hours at 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. 

Dismiss your emotions

I think I'm alright at the moment. I'd rather not give myself a minuteto give it a second thought. Whenever I try to feel how I'm doing I suddenly experience all kinds of negative emotions. In DBT they taught us (again, DBT= shite for me) that we have to "surf the emotion". I have never been able to define my emotions, to be able to exactly say what I'm feeling. I often just call it a negative mess. And I'm supposed to just let go and let the negative mess take over and "surf" on that wave of emotions. Eh, what?!? Anyway, I don't really want to know how I'm doing. I'm just trying to ignore my feelings, distract myself. I can say that I'm frustrated because I don't get anything done. I basically lose hours of my day with, eh, doing nothing, surfing on the internet without any apparent reason. Like check twitter every two minutes, stalk people on Facebook, read the news on different websites. Or I play games on my phone. And it's frustrating because I have a lot of things that I want to do. There are also other things that I have to do but those I'm not too worried about. I want to focus on things that make me happy or content. I want to exercise but this week I have only been able to do that twice so far. I want to read. I want to write. I want to cook a great meal. You know, the little things. Still, I'm procrascinating from the things I love doing. What the heck?

I'm really undecisive when it comes to the Propavan. Really, every day when I'm at my worst I think:"To hell with it, I'll take the whole dosage again". I mean, it has been three weeks now and my body and my psyche are still acting up. The worst is the restlessness, it's mostly in my legs. It's some kind of physical agitation I think. It's so annoying and can really drive me nuts. I'm trying to stay away from coffee and black tea so my body won't get any more hyped. Well, having said that, I'm drinking a cup of Earl Grey-tea at the moment. But I have really cut back on all caffeine and tea. I still feel like I'm more awake, the hangovers are gone. I wonder how much energy I'll have when I'm totally off the Propavan? I'm sleeping a bit too little at the moment, maybe five hours a night. Last night I took a Zoplicone with my half Propavan and I didn't wake up once during the night. That's good! But yes, the restlessness will drive me nuts eventually. I will continue with the half dosage until the middle of August I think. If I don't all of the sudden listen to my desperate thoughts and actually go back to the whole dosage. Today I'm positive towards the whole thing. And I had a good morning. Our new kitten woke me up by biting my big toe and then licking it. So that kind of brought a smile to my face. T has broken one of our most beautiful vases yesterday. He just threw it on the floor. Haha. I wasn't even angry, I just laughed. The two cats seem to get along with each other. I think T is a bit too energetic for B though. They chase each other, they have real fights without any biting or claws. They are awesome together. But T really has an attention-span of one second and all he wants is to play play play play. B often just often looks at him in amazement. Well, it's never calm here, something is always happening. And that's good.

Today it has been exactly one month since I've last been outside our apartment. This is starting to frustrate me. I have nothing to go out for. At least nothing that is worth the panic attacks and the anxiety I'll get when I'm out. I have now for two weeks tried to get myself to go to that one store that sells the hairdye I need. But I just can't. So my boyfriend will go and buy my hairdye tomorrow. Pathetic, eh? I also need new shaving cream, shaving my legs without it is just not working. Blah. So next week, yes, next week, I'll go to the supermarket together with M. And the week after that I have an appointment with my psychiatrist and my social worker is back from his vacation. And my mum will come to visit us for a week (I soooo don't want her to come, but what I can do?!?). Then it will be M's birthday on the 5th. Tenacious D will play on the 12th and we might go if we can afford it (doubtful). On the 15th we will get married. So in the near future I will have things to go out for. Maybe some routines will be good for me. I kind of lost all of my routines, everything seems so meaningless. Why clean thouroughly if no one comes and visit anyway? Why shower, I won't meet anyone anyway? Yeah, I could do it out of self-respect. But that's something I have never had. But I have showered today, even washed my hair. One step into the right direction.

There will be some changes in our life soon. I've been accepted for the two university-courses I had applied for. They are internet-based courses, so I don't have to physically attend classes. That's perfect for me. The reason why I was put on a sick-leave last autumn was that my anxiety was too much when I was out, amongst people. I was in panic during lecture courses. So I'm not there yet, I can't continue with my Master's studies, not at the moment. So I'll study Russian and philosophy instead ("the history of ideas", it's kind of like philosophy, you could call it philosophic history). Anyway. The courses will start in the beginning of September. I don't know how I will be able to cope with my studies on a daily basis but I think I'll manage. It will be good to have a "must", to just have something meaningful to do to distract myself from the anxiety. I'll be a full-time university-student. And that sounds so much better than "being at home ill". And my boyfriend has decided to do something about his life. He is so fed up with his work. So he wants to study to become a psychiatric nurse. Now, how perfect is that? I'll have my own nurse at home. Haha. No, honestly, I think it's the perfect profession for him. So he has applied for the program. He is almost 50 years old. And he has somehow realized that life is short and that he doesn't want to get stuck in some shitty job, being unhappy and stressed out all the time. So he will now work on his dream. He has always wanted to work with people. He has mental issues himself. He had been an amphetamine-addict for over 20 years. He has been clean for almost 10 years, he has built up a life with me. He has so much to offer, he won't judge and he can relate. Really, he is perfect for the job. So I hope he'll get accepted to the program. That would mean that we would be living off student-benefits. But we have counted it out and we would actually be better off than right now. I have no income at the moment, we only live off his salary and he has to pay off some debt. So there is not much money. But you don't have to pay off your debt if you get student benefits (+loans) so we would actually have around 200 Euros more a month, and that's the least. If we are lucky we can get up to 800 Euros more! How crazy is that? Anyway, first I need to get all the papers right so I can get my benefits, then he has to get into the program and also get the benefits. But the future looks bright. And I'm proud of my man, he is actually doing something about his unhappiness!

Okay, time for dinner. Tuna-salad. My boyfriend is already in the kitchen, cutting vegetables. He has been at home all week because the people at his work are idiots and stress the hell out of him. And he wanted to be with me because I have been doing so much worse with the Propavan. He has sick papers so it's legal and fine. Right, dinner. Then maybe an episode of "Sons of Anarchy".

Mad cats

For once I can start an entry with something positive. We have a new kitten!! So now we have two cats. B, our "old" cat (she's only 2 1/2 years old), is a lovely calm cat. She's all black and has yellow eyes. I really love her. She loves to cuddle and always demands lots of attention. For the last three months or so we have been discussing to get a second cat. First off because we love cats. Honestly, if I had a castle with lots of land I'd probably have dozens of cats. I'd be the crazy cat lady! And secondly, B maybe needs a playmate. I'm at home all the time so it's not that she would be lonely otherwise. It's more like she seems bored a lot, even when we play with her. Sooooo. On Saturday we saw an ad on the internet for a 12-weeks-old kitten and the owners lived close to where we live. So Anders gave them a call and an hour late he entered our front door with our new family member, T. We don't know if the cat is a he or a she though. The owners said that it's a female but me and my boyfriend are really convinced about that the kitten has some balls and a penis down there. Haha. We'll see. The kitten is so cute and so playful and curious! T doesn't like to be touched too much yet so we'll give it time. The kitten loves to play though and isn't scared of anything. And he/she sleeps in our bed with us. We were a bit afraid that B and T wouldn't get along and in the beginning they were not really nice to each other. I think B got really scared (she's always a bit shy in the beginning) and they were mostly shushing each other. But T got really comfortable right away, played with everything he/she could find and B was stalking the kitten. Now they have played with each other a few times, like chasing each other, they smell at each other, their little noses have touched a few times and they eat next to each other. They are not scared of each other at all. They are basically around each other all the time. So it looks really good after just two days! My boyfriend is a bit allergic to T but he was like that with B in the beginning too so hopefully that will pass. Having a small kitten around is like the best thing for depression! T is so cute! And I'm checking on them all the time, seeing if they have made any progress in their friendship. I'm a happy cat-mama!

Oooops, that was a lot of talk about the cats. I'm just so happy and excited about it all! Anyway, I'm still on the half dosage of Propavan. On Sunday I was basically a mess. I had slept like 30 minutes during the night. And I was close to just take a taxi to the hospital. I took sedatives but they didn't help. My boyfriend was so worried about me. Then yesterday I was doing a tad better because I decided to take a Zoplicone and the half Propavan in the evening. I woke up way too early so I took an Atarax (I hate antihistamines, they never help for my anxiety, they just give me terrible hangovers) and it knocked me out. I felt bad during the day. But then I had a long talk with my boyfriend, B and T bouncing around us. That helped. I had then decided to just take the whole dosage of the Propavan again. I just couldn't take the anxiety, the low mood and the restlessness anymore. I was convinced that one more day of this and I'd try to kill myself.

But then it all turned all of the sudden. An hour later my anxiety had vanished, I was calm and content. I could focus on writing a letter and reading a book. I don't know what happened!?! Maybe the worst is over?!? So I only took the reduced dosage again last night, and a Zoplicone. And I woke up without anxiety! Say what?!? Right now I'm doing a bit worse, I'm quite restless and I have a bit of anxiety. But it's on a level I can handle. 

I won't stop taking the Propavan altogether any time soon. My boyfriend suggested another month with the dosage I'm on right now. Maybe that's reasonable. But I'm glad I didn't go back to my old dosage again. I can always do that if I feel like I'm out of it. Tonight I'm going to try to sleep without a Zoplicone. That might make things worse again. I feel like I'm experimenting but how else am I going to get through this? I don't feel like my psychiatrist can help me with this. He doesn't know how I react to meds anyway.

One thing makes me really sad right now. It's summer. Here in the Stockholm area we have 25-30°C and the sun is shining. And it has been like this for two weeks now. But I don't go out. People go and swim in the lakes, meet up in parks for a beer in the shadow, go on walks in nature, have barbecues. I hate Facebook right now, seeing tons of pictures of happy people enjoying summer. But I don't go out. I would want to want to go out. It's so difficult to explain. I want to be like everyone else. No, wrong, I want to be like I used to be. I went out sometimes, never spontanous, but still, I went out. I went to the beach in the evenings. I was invited to barbecues. Now? I haven't left the apartment once in a A WHOLE MONTH! It's summer damn it. Gosh, I hate myself. I really would want to want to go out. I want to have the confidence, the strength, the stability to be around other people. This makes me so sad. I'm pathetic. My life is pathetic. I'm missing out on my own life. 

I'm in hell

Yesterday has most definetely been the worst day for me this year so far. I was in a state of total despair. The anxiety-level wasn't bearable and I was between losing my mind and being convinced that I was going to die. Honestly, the anxiety was so physical and at the same time it totally blackened my mind. At 3 a.m. I decided to take a Zoplicone just to fall asleep and not feel anymore. I was convinced that I was going to die and I've always wanted to die in my sleep so I just wanted to sleep. My life was flashing before my eyes and I thought, well, at least I have had sex, I have experienced love, I have reached a few goals in my life, I have touched a few people, I have had some fun. I was kind of ready to die. I know, that sounds crazy. But the state I was in was terrible.

I had a bad restlessness in my whole body. I had been crying all day long. I was shaking. I couldn't think straight. It was so bad that I would have done anything to just escape my body and my mind. If I could have I would have crawled out of my skin. I couldn't focus at all. I was totally detached from reality. I found talking really difficult. I just couldn't connect with reality. For a moment I thought I was going to end up in psychosis. I was pacing up and down the hallway. I pulled my hair. I cried and cried and cried. I just wanted it to stop. I have no clue why I didn't think of taking a sedative. It could have helped. I was just not thinking straight. I hate meds and they just never seem like the solution to me.

I blame this all on the withdrawal from the Propavan. I know I know, Propavan is said to give no withdrawal-symptoms. Well, that's utter bull-shit! I have taken that medication since December 2010. Every night. 25 mg. I am really uber-sensitive to medication. So I guess my brain and body got used to the med and now that I only take 12,5 mg I get really bad reactions.

The first few days were really great though. I was happy, content, sometimes even euphoric. I had a lot more energy. It made me think that the reduction of the dosage might have triggered some kind of hyppmania. But then I crashed! For days now I have been really low, more anxious and yesterday was basically the worst day. I actually thought of calling a helpline but they would have probably sent an ambulance. I was in such a bad state I wasn't even coherent in my speech. 

I'm still determined to stop taking the Propavan. It can't get much worse than yesterday. I have also written a big fat note to myself: Take sedatives! I haven't taken one in weeks actually. Again, I hate meds. But maybe I need to take sedatives for a few weeks until my body and mind have calmed down from the Propavan-withdrawal. I know this state is only temporary. So I'll be okay eventually. But really, fuck all the so-called professionals who told me that it won't be such a big deal to get off the Propavan. I'm losing my mind, that is a BIG DEAL!

So on Saturday I'll take my last Propavan and then I'll stop taking it altogether. I'm sure I have some bad weeks ahead of me. At least two or three bad weeks. But I'm determined. I already feel the positive effects of not taking the full dosage: no more nightmares, no more dry mouth, lots of energy. During my hypomanic days (I think that period lasted for five days) I had the "smart" idea to get off all my meds. But I abandonded that idea last night. I will continue to take Zoplicone at need. I will continue to take sedatives at need. But I think I'll be much more myself when I'm not taking any meds regularly. I feel like I haven't been able to actually feel, to realize how I'm actually doing with the meds in my body. Maybe I'll do better without them? With my uber-sensitivity to meds it could well be that they make me worse. Who knows. But I'm also aware of the fact that many people who suffer from mental illness basically do the same thing. Stop taking all their meds and then they eventually end up in hospital. But I think I'm doing it the smart way with the Propavan. For me it's only about not taking meds regularly anymore. I'm sure my dear psychiatrist will not be too happy about this. I haven't even tried out the Seroquel he wanted me to take. It's just that I have given up on meds. Or any kind of psych-help. This morning I thought that I probably will never get any better because: 1. my doc said that therapy won't make me better, it will only, after many years, make me understand my issues better and 2. Meds don't work for me. They always only have made me worse and have given me some extra-issues to deal with. Blantly: I'll just fight on until I can't deal with it all anymore and kill myself. That probably won't be tomorrow. Or next month. At least I hope so. But it will happen eventually. That's the blant truth.

I think there are two more things that have triggered my crash. T, my social worker, was going to come and see me on Friday. But he cancelled because he had to help another one of his clients who got sectioned and needed to be in court. I had cancelled on him the week before. So I haven't seen him for two weeks. Which wouldn't be too bad but he's on holiday now and won't be back before the 22nd. That's my luck. And it makes me feel once again that I'm not worthy of any help. There are people out there that need more help than me. It's me that's the problem, my problems don't seem to worry others. I know that sounds stupid. But that's how my irrational thoughts go.

P moved out two days ago (our flatmate). And although we hadn't hung out much and he often just spent time in his room, the flat feels really empty right now. I feel lonely. I feel unsafe with only myself as company. It just doesn't feel good. My boyfriend is working so he's never at home before 4, often not before 5 p.m.. And now that P is gone my routines have kind of gone to hell. I'm still in my pyjamas and it's 3 p.m.. I haven't showered in two days. I haven't exercised in two days. I don't have to hold up the mask I tend to wear when others are around. And that's propably one of the reasons why my feelings have taken over and why my anxiety is that much out of hand. I haven't been outside the flat for three weeks now. I just can't deal with my social anxiety now as well. At the same time I know that being isolated from the rest of the world probably is bad. I just have nothing to go out for. No appointments. I haven't had a "date" with a friend since, mmm, February I think. That's how fucked up my life is!

I'm really really restless in my body right now, the legs are the worst. I can feel how my mind is slowly shutting down. I guess I'll fall into anxious apathy soon again. So I better stop writing. Soon I'll probably not make much sense anymore. Damn it. 

I'm AWAKE

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's it, bye bye Propavan

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desperation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zombie

It's raining. Really hard rain. And it is warm. I feel like I can't breathe. And I'm so exhausted. I couldn't fall asleep last night. All the time I thought: "Now I'm getting up and I'm going to take a Zoplicone!". But I didn't get up. I fell asleep around 4 a.m. and woke up at 7. I wandered around in the flat for a while, smoking, drinking water, cuddling the cat. I went back to sleep and my cat woke me up at 8.30 a.m.. I don't know why. In the end we fell asleep together, she was on my stomach. I woke up at 11 a.m. and since then I have been trying to get out of a sleepy state. I can barely open my eyes. But my thoughts are still spinning and my heart is beating at a high rate. I feel like I'm drugged, my body is in some kind of stupor. I'll most definitely not take Propavan for a few nights. My sleeping can't get any worse and I won't have such horrible hangovers. I used to be able to accept the hangovers because the pill was working. But without it working why should I endure the hangovers? So sometime next week I'll skip the Propavan for a few days. I know it has a sedative effect too so I guess I'll have increased anxiety. But I have Valium now so I can somehow make it work. 

I have also decided that I need to get things done. I feel like I'm wasting away my days with the internet and TV. I'm often surprised when it's evening and I really haven't done anything productive at all during the day. I'm most creative and productive during the evenings, that's when I write, that's when I do my DIY. But I should fill the days with something too. So I thought about doing a timetable, I have done it before and it worked alright. It would do a lot about the guilt, the feeling of being lazy. I know, it's the anxiety and the depression that's holding me back. But I should at least give it a try. I could clean for instance. Or read. I haven't been reading a lot lately which is totally weird. I love reading. Our apartment is never chaotic but it just isn't clean. We'll see, if not taking the Propavan gives me more energy I can give it a try.

I can't stop thinking and worrying about the whole bipolar and Lithium-thing. I have even been thinking about trying Seroquel again. I only gave it a two days-trial and then gave up on it. The Abilify and the Zyprexa helped but gave me bad side-effects. Maybe the Seroquel will help too? I really should give those thoughts a rest. Not think about it for a few days and then look at it with fresh eyes. I've been hearing and reading so many different things about the Lithium so I really don't know. When it comes to medication it really comes to the individual level, every person reacts to it differently.

I wish my brain would function normally right now. I feel like a zombie. My boyfriend just went out to do some errands. Well, mostly my errands. I needed new glue for my mail art things. But he also needed to go to the pharmacy to fetch his allergy-meds. So I don't have to feel guilty about him going out just for me. I think I'll do the dishes now, then fold the laundry and then try to exercise. I need to get out of this zombie-like state. 

I can't handle it, it's TOO MUCH, I'm losing it

I'm so exhausted! It feels like I have partied all night, drank at least 10 bottles of beer, smoked two packs of cigarettes and then slept for like an hour. In reality I've slept five hours, tortured by nightmares, constant waking-up and a restless body. I haven't exercised for two days. I have become totally passive. I've somehow become a ghost, just sitting in the soffa, starring at the TV. I'm close to the edge, close to losing it. I can't handle the things going on in my life. A healthy person would probably break down so it's no suprise that I'm a wreck.

The whole situation with my parents hasn't improved. My brother went there to talk to them and both my mum and dad pretended to be okay. But I talked on the phone with my mum yesterday and she was crying and didn't know what to do. I told her to be reasonable and to THINK. She is a very passive person who often just waits problems out and hopes that they will somehow go away. But I, my siblings and every one else think that she has to go and save herself. My father can't be controlled and he can explode in rage easily. I'm really afraid that he will kill her. I understand that she has trouble leaving it all, everything they have built up together. She comes with the lamest excuses for not packing her bags and leave. So I tried to talk some sense into her. Things will only get worse, especially if she has been to the lawyer and filed for divorce. She has friends, she has family, a lot of people have offered her help so she just has to call someone, pack her bags and get out of there. I'm so worried. I hate this drama. I hate my father. And I hate that I let myself be effected by this so much.

And if that isn't enough, my cousin contacted me via Facebook yesterday and told me that she was standing on a bridge and seriously considering to jump. She contacted me because I am familiar with suicidal thoughts and urges. I didn't even know where she was so I couldn't contact the police. I mean, I knew she was somewhere in Austria but not specifically where in the country. You see, she is Iranian, lives in Italy but her boyfriend lives and works in Austria. She has gone through a lot of shit during the last ten years. A divorce, a custody battle for her daughter that has been going on for five years now and so on. Anyway, I tried to be calm and replied honestly. I didn't want her to feel like I was persuading her into something. I basically told her that I often come to the conclusion that I don't know how tomorrow will be, I don't know anything about the future and it could get better. I'm not talking about fooling yourself, I personally know that I'll never be "cured", but I know that I can have happy moments. I told her that she needs professional help. I talked with her for an hour, she texted from her phone. I tried out to get to know where exactly she was but she didn't want to tell me. Eventually she left the place and went home to her boyfriend (ex? he has cheated on her). And she promised me to contact a friend who is a doctor. And this morning I got a text saying that she has spoken to her friend and that they will meet up on Monday and figure something out. I personally think she should be admitted to the hospital. And she needs to be evaluated, blood-tests and all that. And she should be on medication, she has suffered from depression for years but was always afraid that taking psych-meds would negatively effect the fight for the custody of her daughter, that it would somehow shine a negative light on her if she had mental issues.

I had a proper breakdown after we finished talking. And then my mum called and we talked for an hour. After that I just broke down in my head, hysterically crying, shaking. It was all TOO MUCH to handle for me. I get why cousin contacted me, I mean, we usually don't talk much. But she knew that I wouldn't judge her and I have experience with these things, and well, I'm still alive so I somehow must have strategies to get through suicidal periods. But honestly, I don't. I end up in hospital, I get pumped full with medication and professionals try to talk to me. So I'm not angry at my cousin. I'm glad that I could help her and I'm glad that she's still alive. But all this just broke me. I had to take a sedative (I hadn't taken one in over 6 months!!) and unfortunately it didn't help as much as I hoped it would. It's only Oxazepam after all. But it calmed me down a little, my phsycial anxiety-symptoms didn't disappear but my thoughts got clearer, I could think properly.

So I just had lots of pizza and ice-cream and watched a movie. Then I took both Propavan and Zoplicone and hoped for a good night's sleep. Which I didn't get. I really don't care about exercising and routines right now. I'm in no state for that. I have to survive, this is fucking crisis-time. So I'll try to eliminate my vulnerabilites. I'll try to do things I like.

But there are so many musts. And I know that I feel worse if I don't follow my routines in the long run. But just give me this weekend. I need this weekend to be about survival, no mondane stuff like exercising or doing the dishes. I'll start over on Monday again. Next week I'll maybe even finally go to that hobby-store so I can start with some DIY with my clothes. Oh, and I ordered tons of stationary yesterday because I'm running low on it. I think I bought like 5 kg and paid around 90 Euros. But it made me feel good, now I don't need to buy stationary for a year or so. Still, I need to get my ass to that hobby-store next week.

And I hope I won't do anything stupid this weekend. I really feel tired, tired and exhausted. Of life. I really just want to rest forever. I want to make it all go away. I need to fight.

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. 

*yawn*

I'm so tired. As always I guess. My cat woke me up this morning, at 8.30 a.m. I think I got around five hours of sleep. You know, I need around 9 hours to feel okay and rested. So you can imagine how tired and drained I'm feeling right now. The last three days have been TERRIBLE!! But there have actually been some reasons for it. When I met my social worker I was in panic during the whole time, I was trembling and tried not to say too much. I've become really afraid of being sent to hospital against my will. So I'm pretending to be okay. Although I have been badly suicidal, fantasized about my death and felt a great relief at the thought of it all being over soon.

But today I'm feeling alright, although I'm tired. I had a good morning and I guess that made my vulnerabilities weaker. I received a package with clothes that I had ordered. Walking into the kitchen, seeing a package on the table with your name on it, that's just awesome! Then my boyfriend and I had a lovely breakfast with scrambled egss, bacon and strawberries. We sat on the balcony for hours, drinking coffee, enjoying the lovely summer-weather. We exercised together (him on his running-machine, me on my exercise-bike), we had a yummy salad for lunch. And now he's watching TV and I think I'll join him soon. Or maybe I'll go to the balcony again, with a book and my mp3-player. I'm trying to think of the "now", DBT-style. It's funny, I hated doing the DBT because I don't have Borderline Personality Disorder. I had been misdiagnosed and I got forced to do that therapy. Anyway, I hated it really badly. But nowadays I realize that there are a few, a very few, things that I actually try to use to make myself feel better. Things that I have been taught in the DBT. Like to think of the now if I'm too worried about the past or the future. I hate short-sighted actions, I always think that the bigger picture should be taken into consideration. But sometimes I just can't grasp the bigger picture, it gets too overwhelming, I get overly worried so I just focus on what's happening at this very moment. And right now I don't want to think about what has happpened during the last two days.

Later I'll have some frozen yoghurt and I think we'll watch some movies. And hopefully I can sleep tonight and my stupid (lovely, cute, adorable) cat doesn't wake me up early in the morning again. Gah, I am so tired!

I want harmony in my head

I think I'm soon going crazy because of this annoying insomnia and sleep deprivation. I can't think straight, I'm vulnerable and totally unmotivated. My cat woke me up this morning, at 8 a.m. So I had around 3 hours of sleep. I just couldn't fall asleep last night and my thoughts were totally out of hand. I was fantasizing about getting admitted to the hospital, how safe it would feel, how they'd try out new meds so I could finally put my fucking brain to rest. 

So today isn't much of a better day than yesterday. I'm immensly tired. I'm anxious. I'm somewhat annoyed. It doesn't help that my boyfriend has decided to stop taking his sleepingmedication. So he's really irritated and vulnerable as well. We fought about where the cheese should be in the fridge. Now that's one mature and totally justified fight. Not. I usually don't fight but I can get really sarcastic and people can get quite angry at me. I almost never scream, shout or throw things. I'm mostly waiting for the fight to get over. But sometimes I just can't keep my mouth shut and I say some sarcastic comment. My boyfriend is a shouter and he can get really really mean. I often break down after our fights because he had said so many mean things that really broke my heart. I know, he said those things in anger but he should really try to control himself. 

We have planted some flowers on the balcony. And a lemon tree. I have always wanted a lemon tree so I'm really excited about that one! 

Other than that I have been listening to Sopor Aeternus, read a lot of news on the internet and had heaps of coffee. I think I'll try to exercise soon. Although I don't think it will be good for my body with the lack of sleep and all. 

I'm still sad. Incredibly sad. I want a break from everything. I just want vacation from my mental illness. People can go on vacation to get away from their jobs and every day lives. I wish I could do the same with my mental issues, just leave them at home and spend a week somewhere else. But nope. I can never get away from this shit. Maybe that's why I'm sad. I just don't want to live with my problems anymore. I want a "normal" week, a week where I can be myself. I don't even know who I am anymore because my personality is totally infected with anxiety and depression. I have two personality disorders after all. I'm really fucked up.

Life is a sexually transmitted disease

Another night filled with nightmares, constant waking up and lots of cigarettes and camomille-tea. I guess I just need to accept that I'll never get a good night's sleep again. Isn't that what DBT teaches? Get used to your misery, that's just the way it is.

I haven't done much today yet. I have watched some documentaries on youtube about the WGT. That's a huge gothic-festival in Leipzig, Germany. Around 25.000 people come there every year for 5 days. I wish I could go this year. I have been there a few times and it was so awesome each time. So many beautiful people, so much great music. I think I would go if I could afford it this year. I'd just take lots of sedatives and  have a great time. Oh well. 

My boyfriend went to the cemetery. He and his sister and his cousin just wanted to visit the family grave today. I like cemeteries, but really only the old gravestones and statues. I didn't feel like visiting his family's grave, see him cry. I'm doing bad enough already. And it was a spontanous decision anyway. I'm not someone for spontanity. I want to know about things at least a day beforehand so I can mentally prepare. His sister has social anxiety and he suggested that they'd have a coffee somewhere afterwards but she couldn't be persuaded. That's one of the things my boyfriend doesn't get: that going out and having a meal or even a cup of coffee around other people can create anxiety. 

For me it's like this: when I drink a cup of coffee out in a café I'm getting bombarded with fears and thoughts. 1. I need to pay. What if my credit card doesn't work? What if I drop my wallet and I'll look all clumpsy?

2. Do I take a piece of cake or a cookie? People will think that I really shouldn't because I'm already fat enough. They will judge me, shake their heads and think that I deserve to look like this because I'm eating cake when I'm out 

3. Walking with your coffee and cake to the table. What if I drop the cup or the plate? What if I spill? People will laugh at me. They will judge me.

4. Sitting. I need to talk to the person I'm with. How the heck do I eat and talk and not look disgusting. I need to concentrate on chewing with my mouth closed. What if I get any crumps on my clothes, around my mouth? Drinking coffee: what if spill. I hope it isn't too hot so I burn myself and spit it all out.

5. Coffee: it can give me a panic attack. I have had panic attacks because of coffee before. I'm worried all the time that I could get a panic attack. And well, that often leads to a panic attack.

6. Drinking coffee leads to having to pee. Or even worse, doing number 2. The worst case scenario: I have to use a public bathroom. Once I got locked in a public toilet, at McDonald's. The lock was messed up and just didn't want to open up. Sooooo embarrassing. I'm not worried about germs. I can wash my hands, no problem. I'm worried about sounding disgusting when I'm on the toilet. Try to pee silenty. Try not to fart. Try to avoid doing number 2. Avoid eye-contact when going out.

7. Leaving the café. Everybody will look at you when you are leaving a place. My thoughts: try to pull your stomach in and put on your jacket quickly. Leave without taking eye-contact with anyone. Just stare out of the door and walk.

Sooo. Drinking coffee or eating in public is a huge problem for me. So I can totally understand my boyfriend's sister. I wish he would understand too.

I'll exercise now. Because I'm a fat whale. No, mostly because I want to keep my routines. Then I'll start cooking so the meal is done when my boyfriend gets home again. I'm already mentally preparing for the event tomorrow: Ben Okri will speak on language and alienation. I want to go, I couldn't forgive myself if I wasn't going. 

On a positive note: I haven't had any thoughts of suicide for about 4 days. That's rare for me. Sure, I have signs of depression. I have anxiety. I have insomnia. I cry. I shake. I really want it all to stop. But I'm not thinking about suicide. And that's good I guess.

Fallen

I knew it. I knew that the positive period wouldn't last for long. Why did I even get my hopes up? I haven't slept more than four hours last night, and those hours I didn't sleep in a row, nope, I woke up all the time, wandered around the apartment, smoked, cuddled my cat, drank a hot tea. I'm so tired! 

The thing is that I know that I can sleep better when I take Zoplicone. But for some reason I don't understand I suddenly only get 10 of those pills per prescription. I think it has to do with my sucidality or something. Honestly, with my sensitivity to meds, I could probably overdose on 10 Zoplicone. Anyway, so I can't take it every night.  It was my own decision, which I didn't tell the doctors, that I don't want to take it every night because I was afraid that it wouldn't work as well after a while. I have been taking Zoplicone for two and a half years. So, these days I'm taking Zoplicone about twice a week. Which means that I get two nights of good sleep and the rest of the week I'm drained, have nightmares and don't get much sleep at all. So you can't imagine how much I want it to be tomorrow night so I can take a Zoplicone again and actually sleep!!

I feel stressed out right now. I'm supposed to come up with meals that we'll eat this week and honestly, we have nothing at home, apart from rice, meat and pasta. But I need something to it, I need some veggies or whatever. So my dearest boyfriend just called me while he was at the supermarket to buy some milk if I know what I'll cook during the next few days because he wanted to buy something then. Oh hell, I couldn't come up with anything that pleased him and he just hung up. What the heck?!? I'm tired, my brain doesn't work well today, give me a freaking break. So he decided that we'll have lasagne tomorrow. I don't care. I'll be the one cooking it but I'm just glad if he gets something to eat that he likes. I really don't have much responsibilities in my life at the moment, well, I should try and stay alive. That's my number one responsibility. But somehow I feel like I have become a housewife. And that's just not me. I really have higher aspirations in life. I don't want just to clean and cook. I get it, my boyfriend is working full-time so he really doesn't have the energy to do much housework. But once when I'm back studying full-time, we'll have to split the housework more evenly. Like we used to do. All he is doing is the laundry and the grocery-shopping (and I'm writing the shoppinglist anyway so he doesn't even have to think). Not working for me. I'm also annoyed by my roommate. He hasn't cleaned his room in months and it's all smelly and yucky. I can't believe he can actually breathe in there. I'm not the tidiest person in the world and I don't deep-clean every day. But how difficult can it be to tidy up a bit?!? Clothes on the floor, old pizza-boxes, old beer-cans. Yucky!

Right. Now that I got this off my chest, I'll get on with my day. My boyfriend will be at home for the rest of the week which is great. I feel so much safer when I'm not on my own. He can take control if I have lost it. Gah, I'm so tired. That means that I'm supersensitive. My anxiety is bad. Can't this day be over already? Well, I'll try to stick to my plans for today. Exercise, fix my hair (haven't washed it or brushed since Sunday, so right now I have BIG hair) and cook. Then I'll just die on the sofa.