Nine years and eleven months

Since I started writing on this blog! In one month (approximately) the blog will be 10 years old. That means I was 22 when I started writing it. A lot has happened since then.

Right now I'm sitting in the floor in my craft room. I'm drinking tea. It's cold. I'm talking to a good friend on messenger. About narcissists. Last night I read this article and so much fell into place. Everything I went through at school in Leksand about four years ago suddenly made sense. It was like reading a checklist, or like someone had been watching exactly everything that happened. I was the perfect victim for a narcissist. I was so easy to manipulate. To befriend, to turn against. To turn everyone else against. I wish people weren't so willing to turn against me.

But it answered the question that has been on my mind almost constantly since then: why?

Why did this happen? What did I do?

I'll always be grateful for the people who didn't eat up every lie she spread like it was some kind of divine truth. The people who had my back, who helped and supported me. And most of all to the few that are still my friends. Those people show me that I'm actually okay, I'm not some kind of monster. Because if I was, I would not get to have the coolest, most amazing, kindest, most thoughtful, talented friends.

I can't say losing people who listen to rumors and accept lies is a huge loss.

One year

A couple of days ago me and my lovely darling had our one year anniversary, we celebrated by being ill! Yay! Now it's the weekend and we're still both pretty crappy. But we love each other and take care of each other and cuddle extra much, as usual.

Being physically weak always makes me super sensitive and moody, and I end up thinking too much about small trivial things from my past. I think my shrink would have told me to be okay with thinking about difficult stuff but I really don't want to! So I end up listening to audio books, watching movies and TV shows and playing tons of games (especially the super cute Seabeard!) to drown out my thoughts.

While listening to books (the Joona Linna-books by Kepler and Mists of Avalon By Marion Zimmer Bradley) I've been knitting on a brioche scarf and matching mittens for a friend (who asked AGES ago), spinning yarn (as always) and drawing a LOT! And trying (again) to learn some Photoshop! Very rewarding and fun. Definitely balances up my sadness and moodiness a bit.

In a couple of weeks it's time for me to finally fix my tooth, an anesthesiologist has been booked and I will be in a drug-induced sleep during the procedure. It's super expensive so all of march will be in super-saving-mode. No excesses. But in a couple of months we're going to Stockholm! I'm so incredibly exited, it's not completely final yet but we're pretty sure we can make it. That means I might get to see my friend's play about Ayn Rand AND the Vivian Maier exhibition! And of course hug some of my favourite people on the planet! Yay!

Spoons

Generally around one. Use one spoon for eating breakfast. Rest an hour or so. Use one spoon for unpacking a box. (Unfinished.) Feel lost and confused.

Spending a lot of time in my head. Making myself sad. Should make important calls and pay important bills but my head hurts and my heart too.

Me forever

I'll always be me. I'll never get to be anyone else. I'll never get rid of my past. The things that have happened to me will always have happened. The person that I am will always keep being me. I'll never get rid of myself. I'll never be free from my memories. From the insane pain of all those betrayals.

I don't know how to move on, let go. I don't know how to handle my feelings. I don't know how to process my memories. I don't know how to live, how to find myself or get back out into the light.

People keep telling me that I'll get better but I have no idea how. It doesn't just pass by itself. It doesn't just get better. The memories don't go away.

I want to accept that but I don't know how to do that either. I'm stuck between hate and pain and I have no idea what to do about it.

I think that I'll be sad, angry, in pain for the rest of my life. I'm not okay with that. Maybe I should be? Maybe I should accept that this is what I am now? A broken down mess, a few jagged pieces of my former self. Maybe I should try to fight it? Put myself back together? Or build a new me? I don't know. I don't know what is right or wrong. Good or bad.

All I know is that I'm tired of all of it.

Alone/lonely

I don't have the energy to do anything. I've sorted the laundry and cleaned some makeup brushes and eaten noodles and now I am completely out of energy. I feel lonely and sad and I don't know what to do. I'm hungry but I don't want to deal with deciding what to eat, getting dressed, going to the shop, buying food, cook food, do dishes, socialize with roomies and trying to act like a human.

Maybe I'll get a pizza.

I kinda feel like I should do something. But it's like I'm buried under a ton of rocks. I don't know what it is that I should be doing and thinking about it is difficult and taxing (?).

I wish I could just fast forward until Sunday. I hate feeling like this.

Priorities

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.

Duality

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.

Why?

Sometimes there's a lot of anger, sometimes sadness. The feeling of being powerless.

But I'm always wondering why. What made him hate me so much? What made him want to hurt me so badly? What made him lie and steal and threaten and beat up my dad?

Why? How can a person want to be so mean?

If it was just my valuables and not my clothes and my teddy bear and the things I knitted I guess I could have understood that. I guess I would have thought that it was just about the money that he could get from selling my stuff. But it's so much more. He couldn't sell my underwear. He must have taken it only to hurt me. And to want to hurt someone so much, it's scary. It's sick.

I can't understand it. I can't understand why.

What

I'm broken. I must be. I'm not working properly. I woke up at noon today and now it's midnight and I'm going back to bed.

Tomorrow it's Friday. I'm going to apply for a job. That's my whole list. Nothing else. The only thing I have to do tomorrow is apply for a job. One.

Today I took a shower and did some dishes and cleaned up a little in the bathroom. And I met a friend for a while.

My energy levels are really bad. I must be broken.

Depression diary

Hello. The other day I wrote on Facebook that depression feels different at different times. I wrote that it felt like I was drowning in black slime.

Today I feel tired. Thoughts don't work. My head hurts really bad. I know I should be doing things but the pain makes me confused.

And a bit nauseated.

Strange days

After lunch today I fell asleep. I was still feeling shaky and weak and sad. I woke up around three and went down to the workshop. I worked past nine and then went home and made a kind of spicy egg-bean-mushroom stir-fry-thing. Tasty.
Oh and I re-watched season four of sons of anarchy and realized that I might not have seen the last episodes. And I didn't even HAVE the very last one.
I miss my man. I think about him a lot. He's wonderful.

The pain

Raging storms of emotions. Hungry and tired and sad. Hands are shaking. Nightmares and memories haunt me, make me feel sick.
Don't want to do this diet thing anymore. Want bread and coffee and cigarettes. Now.
I think actually today is a day when I actually do smoke a cigarette.

shitty bad stuff

It's pretty late and I'm still awake because I accidentally (?) took a four plus hour nap this afternoon. Yay! (No. Not yay.)

School was okay I guess, worked on the conceptual wedding jewelry. I feel pretty good about it. Lunch was so crazy good, meat things with sauce and jam and stuff. My favorite type of food. I put a shitload of salad on top of it though. Guess that's something.

And then the sleep, and with the sleep the dreams. First off I was two guys. Who was somehow clones or something. Using a magic chalk piece or something they traveled to a strange different dimension where people tried to kill them. I/They saw everything double, pictures changed as you looked at them, texts was altered, colors distorted, everything like a hysterical hallucination in bright colors. I/They got dizzy and confused and fell over and lost their chalk pieces and never got home and started thinking that maybe that was okay, maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

I dragged myself into consciousness and tried to text Ben but I fell back asleep and everything got even worse. Sensitive readers should skip this. Really.

I was a man this time - only one though. I met a girl and really liked her. We were in a horrible accident. When I came to I was under water, floating, and she was beside me. Her body was torn apart at the waist. Her guts where everywhere, spreading out from her body like some kind of bloody tentacles. Her arms where twisted in impossible ways and the top of her head was missing. She was floating towards me and I was terrified and wanted to get away, but my body didn't move. I saw myself for a moment, like I caught a glimpse of myself out of the corner of my eye. I was terrified again because at first I thought I saw myself smiling, but I quickly realized that my jaw had been torn off and the muscles of my face where being pulled and stretched in bizarre ways. I tried to move my arms but realized that they too where twisted in horrible angles and when I tried using my legs to get away from her body that was now touching mine I saw that they where ripped off at the knees. I knew I was dead. Just like the woman next to me, my body had been crushed and killed. So why was I conscious?

A while later I am standing (how?) on a sidewalk. People on bicycles and in cars drive in big half circles as they pass to get as far away as possible. It went on to be a massive zombie apocalypse. I tried to stop it even though I was one of them. I was failing and tried to make myself wake up but it took several tries before I managed. I still feel completely fucked up. I don't want to go back to sleep but I'm tired and sad. I don't know why I'm sad.

Anyways I ate a salad for dinner so that's good. I guess. My head hurts. I'm drinking lot's of water. My vitamins and things arrived at Ben's today so hopefully he'll send them to me soon.

Night.

I have never been so alone before. I'm seriously losing my mind. I feel so totally unwanted and unloved. Needy and horrible. My existence is meaningless. I am absolutely nothing but a burden.

Evening

Why do I keep this bloody blog? My whole audience consists of bots.
I've gone to bed again. I've been so tired today. But now I can't sleep, only cry. (Partly because I watched grave of the fireflies and it was crazy sad. Didn't even really like it much. Partly because I feel so extremely alone.)
Everything feels meaningless. This new life is starting to feel like the old one minus coffee and smokes. Which I liked.
My jaw feels better.
Maybe tomorrow I'll... Nah. Who am I kidding. Tomorrow I'll be apathetic and sad. Like today. And all other days.
I'm not getting stronger, I'm getting ready for a mental institution. Fuck.

Oh my love

I feel silly, like I want to sing love songs or write poetry. Bad poetry.
I miss you, I long for you, I burn for you. I can't stand falling asleep without you for 69 more nights. I can't stand it I can't.
Oh my love. You fill my heart with songs and sweetness. Jam and candy. Sunshine and orange juice. You are the one I want. The one I want to be with, to share stuff with. Watch tv with. Wake up with.
Oh my love. So sharp is the contrast between your warm skin and beautiful smile, your eyes like sunshine through beech leaves in the spring and this cold, hard, icy shithole.
Where people are small and spit their venom like pissed off mosquitoes. Only more meaningless.
Oh love. This place makes me sad. You make me happy. I'll be with you soon.

You are not here

Your bag is not on my floor. Your skin is not close to mine. Your hair is not between my fingers, your hands are not touching me, you are gone and I miss you so much.
This morning I woke up next to you but I won't do that again for at least ten weeks.
I miss you.
I didn't cry on the train on my way home and I spent all day in the workshop, until eight or so. When I walked home the moon was so bright and the night so clear that the sliver of light looked like a blade and the rest of the moon was visible like a shadow behind it and you weren't there to see it. You would have loved it.
When I came up to my room your abscence was so strong. You are not here anymore. You are not in my bed. I'm wearing your scarf and I bury my face in it, trying to feel your smell.
I miss you.

All of the drama

It's cold and wet and late. Walking back to Tindra and Oscar's place through the neighborhood that used to be my own, memories from one year ago wash over me like shadows. I'm seeing double.

A year ago I lived here and all these people where a part of my life. I saw them every day, cooked for them, laughed with them, had fights with them.

Staggered home drunk with my best friend, spent long days in bed with him, watched lots of movies, made chilies, drank rum.

I see all these things when I walk here. I see myself taking the kids to day care, I see me and J making drunken snow angels, I see us looking out at the ships singing "lillith victoria!"

Tonight it really hurts to remember all the good times I had with J. The painful memories of summer had just begin to fade into the distance and all the nice memories where the ones that I kept. But as one problem gets solved another got un-solved.

And now, again, after I thought we had gotten through all the crap, he tells me that he doesn't want to see me for some time. Or really keep in touch. After all the shit we went through together, after all the energy we both put into our friendship.

Jealousy is a fucking stupid thing. It's not logical, it's not useful, it's just a need to control others. It's fear pretending to be love. It's wanting to rule. It's selfish and destructive.

Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate.

He's still my friend. But he's not the same person.

Wholly chao

At times like this my stuff feels like a part of who I am, parts of my life. And I am in chaos, surrounded by chaos and I know nothing but chaos. There is nothing but chaos inside me.

My belongings own me. I feel like I carry every single thing that I own. It's heavy. It makes me frustrated. It makes me feel trapped. There are so many things, there is so much to remember, so much to deal with.

I know nothing.

festive

So very soon Electric Picnic is starting, and I am not going, and it breaks my heart a little. So extremely many bands that I really love and a festival that seems like it was made for me!

And to make me even more miserable, I'm missing FFF this year. And if anything breaks my heart it's that.

Apart from the heartbreak of missing these two festivals, one that I've never been to and one that I've visited many years and worked with the last two, and love more than I love any other festival, or event at all, I have other thoughts: all the people I grew up with are so old now. They look so different, bigger, more worn. Am I old as well?

Now: time to wash my dinner plate and put my lunch box in the fridge.

Listening to: My Playlist on Spotify
Days left untill I go home: 23