Monday 30 March 2015

"You're the laziest person I ever met"

I realize that I might seem lazy. I know I'm whiny. I'm egotistical (egoistic?) and any form of pressure makes me feel like shit.

The thing is that while it's true that I am whiny I am not lazy. I might be a bad person but I'm not lazy.

There is no outside pressure that can match the pressure I put on myself, and that pressure funks me up completely. I've probably been "burned out" or exhausted-depressed or whatever it's called for four years, and it's only made me more exhausted. I've built a complicated system of behavior to keep myself isolated from others, life, responsibility, myself and the world.

I hate myself and I'm so sick of being alive, of being me. The dude that I love really makes me feel like staying alive but somehow I seem to make more thought traps than ever now. Circular arguments, going around in my head. More pressure. Now it's important for real to become well again! I have to do it! If I keep being sick it's going to be so difficult! I have to get well! NOW!

The feeling makes me exhausted. I have no idea how to get well. But I don't think forcing myself is going to work. I've tried that for years.

So I need to not think about getting better? How is that supposed to help?

I keep thinking about stuff that happened in the past. People hating me, judging me, everything falling apart over and over again. And I keep worrying about the future. How are we going to make stuff work? What if he gets tired of me? It's easy. Everybody does it.

EVERYBODY. He will get tired of me. I need to get better or he will hate me. He will either way. Nothing matters. I hate myself. How can anyone love me if I hate myself?

Not thinking about getting better is like not thinking at all. Shutting down. That doesn't help.

I have no idea what to do. I'm stuck in a loop. I'm so tired.

Wednesday 25 March 2015

"It's like you already killed yourself"

Yeah. My shrink is right. I mentally shut down and waited for the sweet release of death. I figured that once I was dead, it wouldn't matter how long I lived. When it felt like I couldn't stand another day, I just did anyways. Because once I was dead it wouldn't matter. Once I was dwad I would still be dead. If I waited another day, or another year, it wouldn't matter.

First there was the kids. Back then it was my boyfriend's kids, now they're my best friend's kids. I stayed alive for them.
(I still do.)

Then there was J. He begged me to stay alive. And M. I was the maid at her wedding. I couldn't ruin her wedding.

Then there was nothing at all for a while, just some formalities. I wanted to be drunk when I did it so I waited for my student loans to come in. But when they did I had fallen in love with someone and then that person was my reason for a while. I went to live with him for a couple of months, in America. After that everything went really bad and six months later I had no more reasons, and I committed myself, and it didn't really help. Chaos kept ruling and I was so tired.

I isolated myself, shut down, waited for old age to take me. Struggled sometimes,  decided to do it but went to bed instead. It was summer and I didn't really want to do it in the summer, too many people out and about at all times. I shut down more. Figured that if I isolated myself further it would be even better. The less people who are close to me the less people who really experience my absence.

Being sad and feeling guilty is natural, missing someone, but if I play an important part in someone's life then they won't only miss me, they'll be constantly reminded of my absence. So the more I keep to myself the less I'll hurt people when I die. I removed myself from my life without dying.

So yes. I did kill myself, I guess. Socially. I moved so many times. I stopped being interested in reality.

Monday 23 March 2015


Got none. I woke up, got up after an hour, had breakfast, went back to bed. Woke up, got up, went back. Don't want to do anything. Trying to think of things to do. Paint. Watch something. Clean up. Make phone calls. Anything.

Nothing feels relevant. Everything is meaningless. I'm meaningless. I want to stop existing. Not die, just not exist.

But I can't sleep forever. Just need to get started. Do something. Anything.

Don't want to.

Read maybe. I have all those library books.

Sunday 22 March 2015

When he leaves

My stomach hurts. And my head. I have separation anxiety. I'll see him again in a few days, it shouldn't be a big deal. Maybe having a relationship with someone in America made all long distance relationships feel like horror.

I couldn't go with him to the train. I've been acting nuts all day today. Whiny and restless and touchy.

My bed still feels warm from his body but it's so empty now. Everthing feels strange and boring. He's so much fun and so smart and good. He's so kind and loving. He's wise and calm. When I cry for no reason he holds me. When I act like an idiot he forgives me.

I love him. I don't want to be apart from him.

Thursday 19 March 2015


I've had a couple of intense days - weeks even - I can feel it affecting me. I feel empty. I have no will. Really, I want nothing. I get hungry and I go to the kitchen and stare into the frigde feeling completely uninterested in making something, putting it in my mouth, chewing, swallowing. I do it anyway.

I can't link thoughts together properly in my head. I get more forgetful.

I know that I need to take care of myself now. Take it easy today. But I feel bad about it. What gives me the right to put my own interests ahead of others? Why should I not try to be there for the people I care about? The are people who have it worse than me.

But thinking like that doesn't help me. It'll just make me more tired.

I try to do what others want me to do instead of what I want to do myself because I think that what I want is wrong. So what others tell me must be right. There's zero logic in that.

But saying no is really hard. I feel like shit. When someone wants to see me I should be thankful and do whatever is asked of me. I should feel honored. I do. I feel chosen when someone says they want to hang out with me. I feel like I should want it. If I don't want it I feel spoiled, arrogant. Who am I to say what's fun and not? Who am I to prefer the company of one person above another?

On Tuesday I went to the shrink. On Wednesday I went with a friend to a doctors appointment. Today I need to go to the library - and I also want to.

But I have a friend who wants to see me. I want to see her too but she lives about a 30 minute train ride away. I can't afford it but I can borrow her husband's train card while he's at work. Then I need to return before he quits to give it back. I love this friend and I love hanging out with her but the thought of going through this process has the following effects:
A dull pain in my neck and the back of my head
Slight loss of sight in the corners of my field of vision
A feeling like static buzzing in the background of my thoughts

And this should be enough to not feel bad about saying no.

(It's not. I feel horrible. I'm a bad friend and a bad person and and arrogant fuck and I should be ashamed for being so selfish.)

Constantly since I saw my shrink on Tuesday I've had the thought of making a failed suicide attempt to prove that I'm depressed. Because they don't seem to think that I am, since I never tried to kill myself. (Deciding to kill myself, preparing for it, that doesn't count. Only trying counts. Without trying, how can you be depressed? You can't.) If I tried to kill myself I would succeed. I've done a lot of research, I know the classic mistakes, I know the stats, I know what works and what doesn't.

I hate the whole "failed suicide attempts are a call for help but an actual call for help isn't" thing. Failed suicide attempts seem to be some kind of ritual, a passage into being taken seriously. I thought that committing myself and spending five weeks in a mental ward would do the trick but that was a year ago and my doctor seems to think that I'm cured by four years of being ignored. I'm not depressed anymore.

I'm worried that they would make me start taking meds again. I don't want more pills. I want help.

It's no use. I will never get any real help. The cbt is what I get. Four years of fighting, constantly, for my life and I get something else than what I need. I don't think they would get a cancer patient heart meds, or an amputee glasses, but depressed people should just shut up and take what's given. They should be thankful. For getting anything at all.

I think they want us to kill ourselves. We cost less dead. We take up less precious time.

I hate the health care system and I hate my depression and I hate this society with no space for the weak. I'm trying so hard to fight the destructive side of my illness and no one even sees it, no one says "wow that's pretty awesome, now sit down and relax for a few minutes" - instead they think that since I can still fight there must not be enough of a burden on me.

Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm just lazy and not depressed at all. Maybe I'm imagining everything.

Monday 9 March 2015

This dude

He's more perfect than I can possibly grasp, every time I look at him I feel almost chocked from just how good he looks, every time I talk to him I realize over again how incredible he is. He keeps surprising me with awesomeness and kindness and an inner beauty that inspires me more than I can say.

I know that he's amazing and wonderful but he surprises me anyways, by being more amazing and wonderful than I can imagine any person being. I feel like I would fall in love with every part of him individually and combined it's just impossible to not love him even more.

I can't remember the last time I felt like I needed someone so much. It's overwhelming.

Is love like being bipolar?

Springtime in my blood

I wake up at eight every morning (for days now) and manage to fill my days with things that feel meaningful.

Last night I stayed awake until real late and talked with my darling and it was good. Now I think that I might crawl back into bed for a tiny bit even though I've been up for two hours and had breakfast and coffee and stuff.

My plan for today is to clean my room thoroughly. And find some way of mixing watercolors in a spray bottle and maybe some more stuff.

Right after this nap.

Friday 6 March 2015

Rage moment

A few days ago a swedish feminist gamer drew some cool fanart with like functioning clothes on female game characters. I loved it, I hate it when female characters in games have idiotic outfits. It kept all the personality and attitude of the characters but the clothes would actually stay on their bodies if they moved. Most of them were from fight games so movement is def an issue.

A few days later she has been threatened and hated on and criticized by people all over the world.

This makes me furious. I started sweating from anger when I read the article.

I'm also insanely proud and happy that the only person I know who works in game design actually decided to put some functioning clothes on a character in a game that came out the other day. I'm so impressed and also totally infatuated but enough about that.

I can't shake the rage off. I just want to take up space and be allowed to have opinions and a voice. Like everyone should be able to. Every woman. The right to say no to stupid outfits. The right to be overweight. The right to feel attractive. The right to feel beautiful without having to worry about thigh gaps and stupid shit like that. Without impossible ideals. Without being sexualized. Bah. 


I'm better today. I'm not great I guess but I'm out of the bottomless pit of yesterday. I'm shaky and tired/restless. I know what would help but he's in Denmark. 

Thursday 5 March 2015


Everything feels unreal. Like I'm dreaming, like my whole life is a dream. Like my nightmares are real. Chased through a crowd, alone, isolated, afraid.

I woke up at nine and now it's past four and I can't make my brain work. It's like that little cup held my life force and when it broke I lost all sense of meaning.

Or, when I woke up. It just made it more obvious. I can't even throw away the peices. I can't think. My head hurts and I'm hungry and I can't go out into the kitchen and I can't do anything. I feel like I did before I committed myself. Except this time I'm not suicidal I guess.

I just wish this emptiness was not inside me. This growing vacuum. Everthing is wrong. I am a horrible person. I'm a burden.

I know I felt happy a couple of hours ago but I don't remember feeling that. I know I was talking to a friend about it, but maybe it was a lie? I wrote to my friend that I felt happy about a thing but I can't remember feeling happy.

I can't remember what happy feels like at all right now. I'm empty. I hate myself. 


I'm happy. And sad. I'm falling apart. I'm on the verge of a panic attack. My stomach hurts. It's hard to breathe.

That feeling, all the time, like I'm going to be broken forever, never fixed, never whole.

And at the same time a feeling of becoming something new. Something never broken.

I want to cry. The tears won't come. My head has been hurting for three days. I want to be close to my person.

I knocked over my coffee cup and spilled coffee all over the floor and broke one of my favorite little cups. Everthing feels horrible and difficult. My body feels tired. I've been sleeping so much but I keep feeling tired.


I'm so scared. My brain constantly comes up with completely valid reasons why everything will go wrong.

But he just smiles at me and says something that makes my worries dissappear. Like a magician. Like he knows exactly what I need to hear.

I can see his feelings shimmer in his eyes and I can't say anything to make it better, I don't know that magic.

But I love him and it feels like that love makes all the love I have stronger. Like it makes me a better person.

I know none of this is original or unique in any way but it feels like it is. I know I'm delusional from dopamine and oxytocin but have you seen this guy? He has a face and arms and hands and everything. It's amazing.

Wednesday 4 March 2015


I could fall in love with him, I thought. I could love him.
He kept surprising me. I kept surprising myself. He was so perfect, and in my head that "could" disappeared. I love you my inner voice whispered. I couldn't say it. It was too soon. The voice got louder. Soon it was difficult to not say it out loud.

Every time I was close to saying it I kissed him instead. And in the kisses I felt him answer. I love you too.

In his eyes, in his hands, it was there. I love you.

I tried to explain it instead of saying it. Those words are taboo, so hard to say. Instead I said all the other things, all the parts of the feeling. He did too.

Still, saying it out loud felt like a release. The feeling that had come into me and started shining like a sun. I was so scared that I made him say it first but we both knew by then, I think. He was scared too.
It was like all the clichés in the world. It was romantic and beautiful. It felt, still feels, like everything is going to be okay. Or better than okay. It feels like... I didn't even think it could feel like this, I could feel like this. I thought I was too broken.
It feels good.

Sunday 1 March 2015

24 hours

I've really tried not to count the hours but now it's so close! I'm so scared to hope too much and be disappointed. To disappoint. But sometimes it seems like hope is impossible to silence.