Saturday 28 February 2015

Trust issues

How can I trust people when every time I try they're horrible?

Every time I try. It's always so hard and I force myself anyways. I force myself to trust people and I get nothing back. 


Blah blah look at my hair

Friday 27 February 2015


A few days ago I had wine with a good friend and we talked about a million things, one of them family. I realized I have a family of women. I don't know why, but on my mothers side of the family there's not many men that I know anything about.

Let me tell you about my family.

I'm Kristina. My mother is Maria. Her mother is Maj-Britt, and Maj-Britt's mother is Sonja, and Sonja's mother is Kristina.

My mother's father's name was Anders, and I met him once or twice as a kid. I half remember what he looked like. The only thing I know about his background is that his mother was from the south of Sweden, unusual in our northern family. I don't know her name. Anders and Maj-Britt only had my mother together, and then they divorced and went on to have a lot of daughters in other relationships. I have five or six aunts. Or maybe more. I know a lot more about Maj-Britt, the youngest of three daughters of Sonja and Fritz. I don't know much about Fritz except that he was a sailor before leaving the sea and marrying Sonja after his best friend died. I know some stuff about his life, but nothing at all about his family. His life before becoming a sailor is shrouded in mystery.

Sonja was the youngest as well. She had seven or eight siblings, both brothers and sisters. I think her father's name was Karl but the only thing I know about him is that he died when Sonja was very young, on an accident on a boat. Sonja's mother, Kristina, is still the head of our family I think. She died in the sixties, still dressed in the long skirts she bought in the 18 hundreds. (Is that how you say it?) She lived a very long life. So did Sonja, who died right before turning 99, just a couple of years ago. Maj-Britt is probably between 70 and 80 I'd guess and she's still not really doing that shrinking thing that really old people do.

Now I'm gonna see if I managed to get all the coconut oil and bleach out of my hair with an egg and some honey.


Soooo I think I got the bleach out but I'm not sure about the coconut oil... or the egg. Waiting for it to dry so I can put purple in it!

Thursday 26 February 2015

the right direction

I did stuff! I feel good when I do stuff, when I get out of the apartment. Of course. I'm a human. Humans need to not only sit inside all the time.


  • Went to the doctor
  • bought hair dye
  • bought a new tank for the electric cigarette
  • bought some tea tree oil and stuff for making hippie stuff
  • collected my bike from the repair shop
  • made dinner
  • made new dry shampoo (arrowroot, corn flour, baking soda, some cinnamon and a couple of drops of orange essential oil)
and now I have coconut oil in my hair, prepping for bleach and then a brand new pretty color! Yay!

Soooo suddenly it was really late and too late to shower and WAY too late to start hair projects! So I guess my hair will get an overnight coconut oil treatment. 

Wednesday 25 February 2015


Blah blah feelings feelings. I'm hungry and everything sucks and I feel lonely and I'm too apathetic to even get a sandwich

Evil creatures

Nightmares about creatures, huge animals that eat people.

Thanks Obama!


How can I feel so shitty one second and then a few moments later feel like a teenager?

I think it could be related. The excitement causes adrenaline. The adrenaline makes me feel sick. I feel nauseated, dizzy, my stomach hurts. There's fear, fear that he'll realize that I'm just a weirdo, that I'm not pretty or fun or anything good. 

I know those thoughts are wrong. I know I'm smart and funny and stuff. I know I'm worth ... what he gives me.

The fear that I'll mess up.

The physical stuff is worse. The nausea, the shivers, that I can't kill with logic. The physical reaction to the adrenaline.

I guess I can try to do something about it. Something else than just thoughts, breathing exercises or something, like J used to help me do when I had panic attacks all the time when I still lived in Stockholm.

I do feel like a teenager tho. Like soda bubbles fill my body.

Fuck up

This feeling that I'll fuck everything up, that I'll do something that I don't realize, never realize, never understand. That I'll just be hated for who I am.


Tuesday 24 February 2015

All mine

I belong to myself, I am my own and I have the right and the responsibility for my life and my body and my actions.

Monogamy is hard for me to understand. Why is romantic love seen as something measurable and finite that can only be given to one person, while all other kinds of love are viewed so differently?

If I belong only to myself then the physical and romantic attention that I pay to someone else is mine to give and should be perceived as a gift, not something that can be expected or demanded. Not something that can only be given to one person. How can it be special and meaningful if it's expected? If I was to "belong" to someone else, then how is the love I give to that person worth anything? If I belong to someone else then I'm an object to be used. If I belong to myself then my affection is something I can give because I choose to. It should be equally valuable whether I give it to one person exclusively or to several people.

Having romantic emotions for one person does not mean that I can't have romantic emotions for another. I don't work that way. There isn't a simple scale of romantic emotion, friendly love, affection for family members, the end. I love everyone differently. I have different feelings for everyone. I love all of my siblings but they're different people so my love for each one of them is different from the love I have for the others. I love my friends, some of them I'm also attracted to, others I adore, others I just want to hang out with all the time, others I can talk to about anything, others I can pick up a conversation with after months out of touch.

I love my lovers differently. 

I'm in love with people in different ways. Sometimes at the same time.

Monday 23 February 2015

the end of emptiness

I thought it would save me but it's breaking my heart. Isolation is not the way to happiness. Protip. Emptiness will break your heart worse than love. Worse than anything.

I think I was isolating myself so that I would be able to die, without hurting anyone, and so that my depression wouldn't harm others while I was still alive. I was wrong though!

I'm going to stop. I'm going to try to stop cutting people off, pushing people away. I'm going to do my best. If not for myself than for the people who I affect without even knowing it. The people who I make any kind of positive change for by being who I am.

I think the phase I'm in right now is really tiresome to the people in my life since I'm talking about myself a lot but it's so damn good for me. Hearing other people's stories and comparing them to mine.

I'm thankful for my friends.

Saturday 21 February 2015

love and anti social behaviors

I love people so much and I'm so scared of them and I demand more from them than they can ever give. Because I had so many incredible people in my life. People who were honest and loving. "You expect everyone to be Jesus" a friend said, but I don't, I just expect people to be as good as I know that they can be. I'm scared of being rejected so I reject. If I push everyone away then they can't hurt me.

So if anyone in my life does anything that I perceive as "wrong", I will decide that they are unworthy and not trust them anymore. But I will treat others "wrong" and demand that they accept me. This is a "thought trap". A thing I do to stay in my little mental pit of despair because just sitting at the bottom, moping, is easier than climbing, because climbing means the possibility of falling.

I need to demand more of myself and accept others. I do have so much love for everyone but I push it down, deep inside me, until it's rotten and horrible. Then I get it out and show it to myself as some kind of proof that the world is bad. I have to stop doing that, that is just nuts.

Rejection is a part of life. I don't want to be so scared of everything. I can't just sit in my room and never call anyone and never ask if anyone want's to hang out out of fear of rejection and the feeling of being unworthy of other human beings. That's crazy. I really want to figure out how to stop being so nuts.

I'm so happy I have people in my life who stay there and who help me. I'm gonna make it. Let love rule and stuff. I'm gonna be more hippie and less reclusive.

Friday 20 February 2015

days that end in y

So it is friday evening. It's nine. I feel alone and forsaken by the world. But mostly I just had a weird evening nap and feel confused now. (Here I almost wrote 'fell awake'.) Woke up early this morning and did stuff all day! Yay me! What I did (a shorter list than the last one):

  • I washed my hair. This time with one egg, a bit of coconut milk, honey and cinnamon. Delish! Also my hair is pretty curly now.
  • I washed the floors.
  • I finished the white thread for my current yarn project. Just one more spindle-skein-thing of blue left.
  • I finished watching season one of Utopia.
  • I put makeup on my face and went outside! I went to a crap art exhibition opening. Not really that crappy art, or, well, design? A couple of nice pieces of furniture. And free dumplings, so HEY! Then I went home and fell asleep.
I kinda hate being poor and friendless on fridays. I want to get dressed up and get messed up. But I've been wanting that for days. Actual friends aren't central to the equation. Money turning into booze turning into intoxication is what I want. The cathartic thing.


The last few posts has been written while falling asleep, so if they're incomprehensible that is the reason.

Now I am smartphone-less so now I'm writing on my laptop, still awake. But posting before bedtime is my thing now obviously so I felt like doing it today too.

I have silly, giggly, mushy feelings. They took me by surprise, snuck by my defenses, where suddenly just there. I didn't invite them and I felt pissed off and betrayed by my own feelings, but then I thought about it really hard for a few hours and decided that they weren't projections, not based on sexual frustration, not even imagined. They make me smile and it feels like ice running down my back from blinding fear. It's a confusing state of mind. But even if it never becomes anything real, if it dies before it's really come to life, it might be worth it.

I'm bloody terrified. I've had mushy feelings before and it always ends badly. I know it. If it ends tomorrow I'll be sad, and every day that passes will make that potential sadness stronger.

But he has this smile like you wouldn't believe. Stupid, stupid feelings. Drowning out my perfectly logical fear.

I really need to know what I'm missing before I decide to miss it I guess. I need to know if this is something. Maybe it is. Maybe it is something really good.


  • I got a library card today. Yay me!
  • I borrowed like five books. Sylvia Plath! Margaret Cavendish! Woo!
  • The librarian actually purchased books that I wanted to read from the internet like it wasn't no thing.
  • I watched Bee and Puppycat!
  • I watched a couple of episodes of Utopia!
  • I .. uhm... I thought this list was going to be longer. It felt like I did a lot of stuff today. I did do a lot of thinking inside my head so I guess that's a thing.
  • Thoughts! Feelings! Wow!
Now it is supah late and stuff.


Thursday 19 February 2015


Sneakily feelings pop up in me, that I didn't expect. I was watching out and being rational but I really suck at that so here I am, in my bed, thinking about stupid stuff like different kinds of smiles a person might or might not have, small movements, gestures...

Wednesday 18 February 2015

why the frak am I so sensitive

It makes me crazy! It takes so much time and energy to force myself into a good mood - sometimes a couple of days - and when I get into a mental state where I can get stuff done the smallest shitty thing can push me right off balance. I woke up early today, felt good about it, and started doing this mental thing where I just focus super hard on making a sort of schedule in my head, like "I'm going to do the vacuuming, then go to the shop, then get my bike to the fixey bikey place thing." Like getting to where I can do these things takes longer than actually doing the things. And I do the vacuuming and feel great about it (especially since it's a physical thing and I need more movement) and then there's a small thing, in this case a thing someone said, that just takes all the air out of me. I trip and tumble down from that little mental mountaintop. It wasn't anything bad or anything, the thing that the person said. Just something.

Sometimes I have my mental schedule done and I'm trying to build up the willpower to do stuff and then I realize that it's taken too long and everything is too late and I just break down inside.

I'm sick of it. I'm so sick of being weak and fragile and sensitive. My stomach hurts from stress and there's no reason for me to feel stressed out. I want to cry.

I'm not okay

I have no idea why but I've been feeling really tense and stressed out for a couple of days. Think it partially comes from loving people who are going through tough times and wishing I could do something for them. But I can't. 

And partially it's fear. A blinding hysterical fear of everything. Of annoying people who I depend on. Of being difficult. Of being stupid. 

Of being hurt.

Sunday 15 February 2015


I'm deep, my friend is high, together we become... PHILOSOPHY PLATYPUS!

Spent hours on the phone (yeah!) discussing science, connectedness, enthropy, love, meaning... It made me feel happy, because it took me away from my feelings. Or put me in a deeper contact with them. Whatever, science and spirituality is the same thing and they reach the same conclusions. It's beautiful. 

Saturday 14 February 2015

Retire to my chambers

I haven't managed to leave the apartment for days. Hardly even my room. Tuesday I was at the shrink. Apart from that I've been trying to make myself do things - go get my bike fixed, just around the corner or one of the other simple errands that I should, or even fun things that I actually want to do, I was invited to two different parties today! - but I'm mentally crippled, and even tho I can feel pretty good at times I just can't force myself to get out and do things. Even if I wake up at nine and have all day to do a thing, the fact that I need to do it within a specific timeframe just makes it impossible. I try to think in more steps than one; get dressed, eat food, get ready - won't work. I start out doing one of the things I need to do but then I get confused and loser my train of thought. 

Now it's past four. Goodnight. 

Friday 13 February 2015


I hate my life and I want to die. 

So maybe I made a mistake, not taking my meds. 

Before: could not paint. Angry all the time. Feeling nothing. Wanting nothing. 

Now: painting, making, creating, full of pain and anxiety and thoughts. Angry an sad and full of chaos. A week now I think. Needs and desires and hunger, like a hurricane. 

No, maybe not a mistake. I want to die sometimes yes. Not all the time. Too much to create, to see, to feel, to learn. 

The storm inside can take my breath away but it can lift me up and make me feel like a soaring albatross. Full of strength - yes! Strength! - but full of pain as well. 

Creativity and destructivity as two parts of a whole. My arms can turn into wings but that means that I don't have arms anymore. Destruction and creation is only change. 

Yes, I hate my life and I want to die, sometimes. But I have a functional brain now. I can think these thoughts. I'm not empty anymore. 

I'm going to live. I feel confused a lot, betrayed even though no betrayal has happened, rejected when people try to be respectful. 

I don't like being alone but I really do feel like my precence is difficult for others and that it's egotistical of me to want to be in the company of others. 

Also, I don't feel sure that I can trust anyone. Because I feel so sure that they don't actually want my precence. And when I have been rejected once that's proof enough. Proof that they only stand my precence out of compassion, not for me. They want to be kind because it's the right thing. For themselves, not for me. 

Depression logic, thought traps, circular arguments. This is what I need to win over. I have no idea how. 

In my mind I know that I'm not that horrible. In my logic brain I understand that I'm wrong about being unwanted, unloved. I need to convince myself of it somehow. 

I can give you anything you want

If the only thing you want is my presence. 

No one does. I am unwanted and unneeded. The only thing I have to offer is my absence. The only thing I can do to make your life better is to stay out of it, or remove myself from it. 

I really wish I could ignore my own needs so that I could leave everyone, not burden them anymore. 

But instead I sit in my lonely tower, creating my own reality, trying to escape into myself. 

Thursday 12 February 2015


I can't even escape into sleep!?! My constant comfort, my companion! When the world kicks me in the face I turn unconscious. That has been my way out even before this depression. And now I fall half asleep and half dream and those half dreams are just as bad as reality. I can't relax. Nightmares are okay, fighting surreal monsters while drowning in slime is no problem, but this is more half dreams of getting mean texts. I wake up again and realize it didn't happen and that neither did anything else. 

No one cares. I'm alone. 

I hate everything

Guess my good mood is over. Today I was hoping on seeing three of my friends. One of them canceled our plan. One of them decided against it. One of them just preferred other people. 

I'm too sensitive. I really thought this would be a day full of ... Fun. 

Fuck everybody. People are rude, or thoughtless, or just don't care. I know I'm difficult and energy consuming. I know I'm not fun to hang out with. I just wish people where open with their lack of intention instead of letting me believe in them and then be disappointed. 

I should be a hermit. And live in a cave and never speak to anyone ever again. Then at least people can't let me down. 

I hate being so sensitive. I hate needing people. I hate trusting people. I hate everybody and everything. Fuck. 

The problem is maybe that I do need them. Everyone needs people. Both in general and specific ones. But I guess you're supposed to pretend like you don't? Like you'd prefer to be alone but can graciously allow other people near you?

I won't, because that's fucking weird. So being with me turns into a chore I think. I'm not anything that anyone needs. I'm dead weight, a charity case. 

I feel so hurt. But no one really did anything wrong. Not one of these three - some of my closest friends - knew that they became part of a pattern. Not one of them knew that they became part of a three way disappointment within minutes from each other. 

All of them did, tho, do what they and others always do - see me as a last resort. If they had time left from important things. If they didn't find anything better to do. Then they'd def see me! Ofc! I'm def top priority from the list of things they don't really care about. 

I feel so tired. My head hurts. I hate being a sensitive whiny little bitch. I hate it. I hate myself for being this boring fuckhead that people don't really like. I hate the catch 22 thing I'm stuck in.


Feeling not only angsty and annoyed, abstinence effects are also worse and my throat hurts. 

Tomorrow I might see one or more of several good friends. 

It's late again. Ugh. 

Hey smoldery eyes

Yeah you, you know who you are! You with the red hair. You. Here. Look at these kittens. Let the kittens make you happy.

Tuesday 10 February 2015

good news everyone

It's ten thirty and I'm feeling tired.

Feeling tired is pretty unusual for me and feeling tired before midnight... I can't remember the last time that happened. I can't explain how good it feels to quit my meds. I'm not saying anyone else should but being medicated has not really been helpful for me lately. Since three years or so I've been super depressed and super medicated. I have no idea how this will play out, but this completely unexpected tiredness is nice. I also don't feel scared of going to bed, which I usually do. (Because of the anxiety you know? Lying in bed, in the dark, trying to turn off the chaos inside, trying to ignore the black sticky tentacles around my neck, trying not to think, not to feel...)

I'm pretty sure it should be the other way around, placebo or not. I wonder if Iv'e been nocebo-ing the negative effects of the medication, just as I might now be placebo-ing the positive effects of not being medicated? I still feel a little bit of abstinence dizziness and stuff from the old meds, the new ones probably didn't have time to start working properly. But I've taken so many different pills and I really need to know how I work without them. My life has changed dramatically many times since I started taking them... (checks back in the blog archive) since march 2011 I think? Or was it later? April?

That's not three years. That's four. I might have been saying "three years" without actually counting for almost a year. Huh.

Gods it's depressing to check my blog archive. I was so hopeful. Everything was dark and horrible but I honestly believed that it was passing, waiting for it to pass, believing that every day that was not horrible was the start of getting better. Every time.

I still do. I wonder if this insane, unfounded optimism is the core of my problem?

Det blir inte bättre. Varför blir det inte bättre? Varför mår jag sämre och sämre? Det skulle ju bli bättre? Alla lovade att det skulle bli bättre?
"It doesn't get better. Why isn't it getting better? Why am I feeling worse and worse? It was supposed to get better? Everyone promised that it would get better?" - june 2011

Okay. I started taking anti anxiety meds in july 2011. After months of waiting to even see a doctor. I didn't get any regular contact with any doctor, I didn't get any therapy, I didn't get SHIT until... Today? Maybe? I had my second meeting with my new shrink today and the first one doesn't count so yeah, I crashed in march 2011, got medicated after four months of pure fucking horror and since then there's been a whole lot of pure fucking horror.

I've always been sensitive. I pressed myself beyond my limits back then. I tried to be a good girlfriend and boss and those things are probably - maybe - possible to be but it's hard to be a good girlfriend to someone who hates you and a good boss when your own bosses expect you to do impossible things just because they can't be assed to handle the sales department... It's a long story, feel free to go back in the blog archives to around june 2008, or actually even further, to august 2007. That's when a very strange night ended in broken bones. There was two nights, almost a year apart, that still affect my life. I used to joke about tequila shaping my life but I don't really do that anymore...

If it hadn't been for that broken collar bone, if it hadn't been for not being able to work, if it hadn't been for what I did instead and who I met, if it hadn't been for the job I got and the person who inspired me to leave Sweden, if it hadn't been for Ireland, if it hadn't been for that party at my house in Cork, if it hadn't been for that t-shirt, if it hadn't been for that night and all the insane stuff it lead to later, if it hadn't been for those stolen moments in the elevator at work and all the lies, if it hadn't been for that empty year, if it hadn't been for that unexpected email, if it hadn't been for my hopeless optimism and trusting nature, if it hadn't been for the economic collapse and what it meant to me professionally, if it hadn't been for so many small, separately meaningless details coming together and making my bad decisions seem so right... If it hadn't been for everything going to hell at once! And then just never getting better. Then... I don't know. If one of those things had been a little bit different. Then maybe my life would be too. If he had left the party early. If I had remembered my bike. If...

Iv'e been down this road so many times. Too many times.

Now it's an hour since I started writing this and I'm even more tired. I don't feel bitter. Everything that happened happened. No reason, no fate. It just happened. And now I'm here, back where I started, broke in the south of Sweden. But older and in a really nice apartment where I get to paint a landscape on my wall.

With a lot of important people still in my life. And a lot of new important people also in my life. And I have no idea how I feel or who I am anymore.

Whatever. I'm pretty sure no one has the time or energy to read all of my insanely long rants from the last few weeks and this is definitely one of them. So I'm writing for myself now. I must be going through stuff or whatever. Ugh. Who cares.

I think it's time for bed.

The deeper you dig

The more crap you find.

So... Starting out thinking I want "natural" products for my outsides lead to a whole lot of reading. As mentioned. And the tired realization that everything is "natural". Aluminum is super duper natural. Chemicals are natural and things that you find in your fridge might work great but only because they too are actually chemicals. Or at least contain them. 

Yes yes I know this is obvious to people who paid any attention in school but I most certainly did not. I was busy. 

I still don't trust schampoos more than I trust doctors or teachers - or the internet - and I still want to make the things I put on my body. And in them. Except booze. I might be a hippie but moonshine seems like a complicated thing to make. 

So: next experiment will be washing my hair with eggs and making deodorant using mostly things that are kind to skin and "naturally" anti-bacterial, like lavender and tea tree oil. Also some creams and lip stuff, because that's so simple it just feels silly to buy it made. Like buying a knitted sweater or something. 

The whole body odour/sensitive skin/shaving/bacteria-thing is insane, deodorants seem to make internet people go completely nuts. Everyone has extreme amounts of opinions. I feel like anti-perspirants, while maybe not super dangery, is unnecessary for me personally. So is shaving. If you where wondering. I'm sure you where. So as soon as I have a wee bit of eterial oils I'm going to make deodorant for myself, and then not tell strangers on the internet that they should do the same. Seriously, the amount of stupid comments on "no poo"-blogs... "Hey I'm bleeding from my eyes and my skin is falling off and I'm also completely lame now, should I put more carrot seed oil in my Chapstick?" NO. You should seek medical attention, not ask a blogger who knows pretty much nothing! If you have problems with using home made anything, ask science people! Not internet people! Jesus Buddha cupcake, even if doctors are pure evil fuckmaggots they actually went to school and learned things. Random bloggers can not fix your problems. Even if they are dermatologist witches who are actually magical for real they won't be able to tell you what to do if your fucking armpits are itchy. 

Deep breath. 

I'm going to do the dishes now. And then I'm going to do my best to live in a way that does as little harm to me as I can. And hopefully other people, other living creatures and above all the environment. Nature. The great mother. The source of all life. Bees. The universe. Whatever. 


Okay so after another day of not taking my happy pills I feel even more calm and happy. My thoughts are settling in my head and I finished the sky bit of my mural and did laundry and stuff. All good.

The last few days I have been researching "no poo", the practice of washing hair without shampoo, since shampoo is actually pretty harmful to your hair. If anyone can remember that far back I used to wash my hair with only conditioner for a year or so. I stopped about two years ago because I wanted to use styling products and stuff but I almost never do anyways. So intense research has been underway! I'm really exited about it, since I get really exited about stuff in general.

At the moment I'm experimenting a lot. So my hair looks like.. I don't know, troll hair. Zero shine and stuff but really structured? And it smells faintly of chocolate. So that's nice. The interesting thing here is that the internet is full of people who have no idea what they are talking about. I mean look at this. I've seen this tip about bleaching your teeth at home with hydrogen peroxide loads of times. Like... No. Dude. "Just keep it in your mouth for 20 minutes" - that's corrosive chemicals that you're mixing together and putting in your mouth. Your mouth. Just... No.

I'm trying to go by "if I can't eat it I don't want to put it on my body". I know it sounds a bit dirty hippie, but, well, okay. I might be. I'd rather be smelly (chocolate smelly! It feels okay!) than fucking eating hydrogen peroxide. I know those are two extremes but whatever. Shampoo is a really new invention, people have always had hair. I washed it with coffee grounds and baking soda yesterday but that might not be a great idea since on a different page the same mix is used to remove hair. So maybe not that. I also put a lot of lemon juice in it, which was a popular thing for girls to do when I was in eighth grade because they wanted to bleach it but they also made it really brittle, so that might not be super clever either, even tho it might? I'm not sure yet. I think the hair mask of coconut oil and honey that I put in my hair before "washing" it probably protected it a bit. Also it didn't really wash out. Heehee. After arriving at really kind of oily but still clean-feeling and completely odorless hair I wanted to go out, so I put some more baking soda in it, mixed with arrow root and cocoa powder and some cinnamon. I reached the current state of big, matte, curly, fluffy troll hair. I think I'll leave it until some kind of mix of corn starch, arrow root and cocoa powder stops feeling helpful (maybe within... I don't know, a few days, a week?) before subjecting it to more experiments. (I seldom wash my hair more than once a week, even with shampoo.) I'll keep you posted, whether you want me to or not. I'm also going to make my own deodorant! Ever more dirty hippie-warning!

Don't distrust, I still love science. I still own zero cats. I still don't love lentils. But it's a slippery slope, and being an artsy, slightly "eccentric" (if that's possible for poor people to be even), crafty woman over 30 it's easy to go all the way and just start wearing all linen and not eating pizza and maybe taking a pottery class. I already spin yarn and paint murals, so I mean this could just be a question of "when" rather than "if".

And my extreme distrust in doctors probably doesn't help... Welp, tomorrow is shrink day! Better get some sleep so that I can stride in there like the radiant lunatic we all know that I am, full of energy to change my behavior through understanding it! YES I also have zero trust in cbt. As mentioned. Vigorously.

I understand my behavior and I can change it at will. I would prefer to solve my problems. But we'll see. Tomorrow is the first actual treatment meeting. I wonder what he will say about me deciding against chemical warfare on my brain? (And also my body I guess! Altho I really don't give a fuck about my shrink's opinion on my hair.)

Monday 9 February 2015


So the day - and the week - is over. I feel pretty good right now. The whole day passed and I (almost) didn't even cry! I did the things I wanted to do. (Most if them at least.) I went out with a friend who's visiting from the cold north, where there's snow. (Uppsala.)

I didn't manage to force myself to take my meds. I know it's important and it takes time and blah blah but it feels like walking around in a dark cave. I'm safe from the dangers of the outside. I have no idea what those dangers are but I'm safe in my cave. "I can't see or hear anything in this bloody cave!" I call out into the darkness. Far away there's a voice calling back: "if you stay in there for like... Two or three more weeks your eyes will get used to the dark!"

"But I don't want to get used to the dark. Can't I just go outside? I can see the exit from here."

Sunday 8 February 2015

out of my mind

Yeah I am super sensitive and annoying. Like... Ugh. All those feelings, in peoples faces, all the time. I have thought a lot about that hungover-drama-llama-post from yesterday morning. I have resigned myself to the fact that I'm pretty crap at shutting up so trying to fake it and act like a "normal person" would probably at best make me extra super sarcastic all the time. In my mind I get a picture of myself as a snarky nineties goth-girl.

SO. This wasn't supposed to be a post about my feelings. I've been whining enough the last few weeks. I woke up this morning feeling not bad. Like I wanted to get up and do stuff. I did. It felt good. Not among things I did was take my meds. I know I should but I really don't want to throw myself back into that black hole, I need to vacuum and stuff. I'll take it later. After vacuuming and maybe some painting.

I've really been trapped inside my head lately and blogging is my main way of "adjusting the pressure". So all my angst goes here, so that it wont spill out on people around me. I'm not ALL ANGST ALL THE TIME. Even when I am. You know.

Saturday 7 February 2015


Always, forever, never ever. People everywhere. In this apartment there are three others right now, in the apartments under and above us there are people, there are people everywhere. There's a parrot next door. There are mice in the walls, there are pidgeons pretty much everywhere.

There are spiders, insects, bacteria. You are never alone. 

I feel so utterly alone. Like no one has ever been close to me, no one ever will. No one really cares. No one really likes me. 

I'm a whiny bitch. I know. Lots of people love me. Lots of people care. 

Saturday nights just make it so obvious that those people are not here. Not calling me or texting me or contacting me in any way through any form of social media or technology. Not sending me letters. Whatever.

Everyone hates me. Ugh. I don't want to feel that way. This way. But I can't help it. 

Why did she lie? She could have told me the truth, whatever it was. But that thing that she said wasn't the truth. She lied. 

As people do. And after they do I don't trust them. 

It doesn't matter if I lie about everything, about myself. I don't care. I can't trust anyone anyways. 


What if it doesn't help. What if being liked for a mask is as empty as being alone.

Except the difference that I won't be actually alone. Or maybe I will?

I don't feel sure about anything. I don't know if I want anyone in my life at all. 

Why did she lie?

I will lie

From now on. I can't be myself and still have people stand me. The people who can handle me are so few and so scattered across the globe. I can't even stand me so how can I expect others to?

I know that some of the people who do care about me read this, and I guess some people who don't know me, but not many people that are a part of my life will ever see this. That's okay. That's kind of the point actually. 

To the people who know me and have some kind of contact with me - if I seem to feel better it's not true, but don't tell anyone, it's okay. 

I don't know if I even can. I haven't really worn masks at all for a long time. I just always felt like if people like me I want them to like the real me, but now I really just want people to like me. I want to be treated as a normal person. Not some kind of freak. Not a person who needs to be told that I'm strong. 

I can't stand hurting the ones who do care either. I can't stand watching them feel powerless and sad because they can't do anything to ease the pain that I'm in. 

I've lost some really good friends because of this depression. People who cared too much. Who wanted to help but couldn't. Who had to distance themselves because it's impossible to constantly try to be helpful and supportive to a depressed person. It's just impossible. Human beings can't do that. It's horrible of me to put others through that. 

I can't stop being depressed but I can stop showing it. I'll still write about it here and I have a shrink now. I don't really think he can help me, cbt is bull shit. I don't have phobias or OCD's. It's not a behavior I need to change. I hate the medical system. 

Anyway, I'll start smiling and try even harder to not cry and not let anyone get close enough to see the truth. It's not hard. No one really wants to be that close anyway. I don't want them there. They all leave or stay and suffer and both those things are bad. Both those things hurt so much. So I don't think it will be hard. 

It won't really be a lie. Everyone else does it. It's not a lie if everyone does it, it's just what's expected. What humans do. Hide their pain and pretend to be normal. Pretend like normal exists and that it's something else than it actually is. 

Sooo being poor

How come I have no problem taking drinks from people but a falafel feels bad?

Friday 6 February 2015


I get angry from the new meds. I hate it. Because I have good reasons. I should be angry. But I can't waste my energy on that. I'm saving it up for later, and now this new medicine is fucking it all up. It pisses me off even more!

I don't want to be this insanely sensitive, I don't want to be this confused, I don't want to be angry. Not right now. 

In other news: when people tell me I'm strong I want to punch them. Normally I would just feel the sting inside me and shrug it off but now I feel so fucking provoked. 

If I was strong I would have a job. I would do things. I would have some kind of control over my life. Strength is a specific thing, you can't just say that people are strong when they're not strong! How can you think that you're being kind and helpful? Do you not understand what you're saying?

Do you tell people in wheelchairs that they are really good at walking? Do you tell someone who is mute that they speak beautifully?

I'm not strong. Why the fuck would you keep saying that all the time? Because I don't kill myself? Well neither do you obviously? So shut the fuck up. Fuck you, go to hell, stop talking. The only strength I have is that I don't cry, or punch people, when someone says that I'm strong. That I just say NO and refuse to speak about it. Seriously, I hardly leave my room. I stay in bed. I'm really passive about everything. I have no energy at all. I don't fucking eat. What the fuck do you even mean when you say I'm strong? Seriously? What is it that you mean? I really want to know!

--- edit ---
Yeah I totally realize that it might be confusing with a rant like this on a blog called "stronger" but the thing is that I'm trying to get stronger, and that's kind of the point of the blog title. It used to be called "stranger" when I was moving around in the world. Now I'm back where I grew up, trying to grow up again. If I was strong I would have called the blog something else. Like... "already strong, everything is fine". And write about fun stuff instead.

Thursday 5 February 2015

Current emotions

- it's so fucking late. I am a worthless human being for being awake so late. I hate myself deeply.
-I'm hungry? Why am I hungry? Am I hungry? 
Why don't i sleep during the night? What's wrong with me?
-everyone I know probably hates me and many of them laugh at me.
-oh wow I'm actually tired 

Tuesday 3 February 2015

Mixer. Yeah.

My head feels like a mixer. Knives. Goo. Sometimes my thoughts are sharp and clear and good and sometimes I loose my train of thought and just start crying and sometimes I can't handle the world and I want to die over the meaningless injustice and sometimes I hear a really good song and it lifts me up a little.

Sunday 1 February 2015


Today I have...

Gotten out of bed. Had coffee. Felt okay for a while. 

Then, after a couple of hours, everything went back to the horrible, black, tar-like feeling that gets in your mouth and nose and eyes and you feel it squeezing your body tighter and tighter as you sink down into the endless darkness. The pressure of the deep makes your lungs hurt and there is nothing but loneliness. 

Hours go by and life feels more and more meaningless. A constant struggle against constant pain. Nothing matters. Time ceaces to function, you start hating other people for caring and for not caring. You hate yourself for hating others. You know it's all in your head but your head is where you keep your thoughts and it's full of tar now and in the tar there is small whispers telling you to just give up. 

I want to scream but my new meds are kicking in and with them the apathy. 

When I'm medicated life is less difficult. When I'm medicated the pain isn't as stabbing. When I'm medicated the feelings go away. All the feelings. Creativity and happiness and the connection to others. The feeling of hope. The feeling of motivation. The feeling of hunger. (I ate four sandwiches today. Two when I woke up at noon and two around midnight.) Everything but the pain and the longing for death. 

I hate this, it's all wrong and fucked up. 

I hate myself. I hate being alive. Nothing means anything and nothing is interesting and nothing matters. 

I don't matter. But I can't kill myself. I live with a kid for heavens sake. It would be fucking horrible to do that to him. I can't stand the thought of him asking his parents about me and them having to explain somehow. What would they say? How can you even start trying to explain death and depression and suicide to a four year old? You don't, I guess, but I can't stand the thought of forcing them to lie to him either. I imagine being a kid and realizing something is so fucking wrong and not being able to understand what it is or what happened or if you did something wrong or why the grown ups are being so tense and weird. 

So I can't kill myself. And moving out and trying to like, I don't know, not stay in touch for a year or so feels like a really complicated suicide plan filled with unknown elements. Not worth the hassle. Might as well just wait until I get old. One year or 50 both feel like too big periods of time for me to grasp and make sense of. 

So yeah, I guess the point is that I really want to not have to be me but I can't really do anything else at the moment. 

I have zero motivation. For anything. Being awake, getting out of bed, eating, breathing. I hate being alone. I want to not be alone, I want to have someone with me just to keep the worst pain away. Someone to hold my hand and give me a hug when I start crying for no reason. But there's not really anyone to ask. I can't really ask. Or I do, kind of, but I won't force myself on anyone, that's disrespectful.

I am very tired of everything. I think I'm also getting tired physically. Goodnight.