Publicerad den av luziddreamer

June

I’m not writing anything right now because i don’t know what i feel.

My mom and i planned to visit a bunch of places this summer, enjoy the surrounding cities before i leave this place and move to southern Sweden. I was happy and excited about it for a while but now i have that pointless feeling in my chest again. Nothing matters.

I’ve had the flu this week. It was weird. My brain is already fucked up but the fever fucked it up even more. It was a confusing week.

I think i’m a little bitter. Just a little bit.

Sad and bitter and… what’s the word i’m looking for? I’m drawing a blank right now. Maybe the word i’m thinking of can’t be translated to english?

I’ll try to explain it: I’m jealous, i’m angry and i’m sad that other people are happy while i’m drowning in my own failures and endless sadness. It doesn’t make sense at all because i’m usually not like that. I want people to be happy because i know exactly what it feels like to be at the bottom of the ocean, trying to scream for help. I don’t want to people to be sad, but i don’t want to see happy people, you know? Because it’s like it’s always reminding me of everything that i don’t have, everything that i never had growing up, and everything that i’ll never have in this life.

I don’t know what more there is to say. I’m not proud of the things that i’m feeling. I wish that i could change the way that i think but it’s easier said than done when you’re so inside of your brain 24/7. But i know that i’m going to have to solve these problems some day, because i’ll die if i don’t. I’m just a brain, and a body, but mostly a brain, the body is just a shell. I don’t know if i believe in souls, maybe? Even if i have a soul i still have to make the best out of this life, maybe i’ll get another chance when i die, whether it’s reaincarnation or heaven, hell, whatever. I’m here now, and nothing else matters. I am this brain and this body, maybe there’s a soul here too, but how are you supposed to know that? Maybe this is all you get, one life, one chance, you could live for 100 years or you could die young. But we don’t know for sure, and that’s why i want to keep going. If this is all that i’m going to get i’m going to fight for how i want to live. I tend to think nihilistic thoughts often but i’m trying to change that way that i see the world, myself, what’s beyond our world. If death is what i’ve been thinking that it is for most of my life – that it’s just game over, light’s out, the definition of nothing, then nothing that we do really matters, unless we do something amazing that leaves a mark on this planet, that makes people remember you for a long long time.

One time when i was extremely tired and sad and sick of being alive i sent a message to my best friend and he said some things that really made me rethink my life.

He saved my life when i was suicidal, a few years before that i saved his life when he was suicidal. I told him that it felt like my life is pointless and that it wouldn’t make a difference if i disappeared and that i’m not leaving anything important behind.

And he said: You’re like the only reason that i’m still alive, and you’re wrong, your life is not worthless, you saved my life and after that i saved someones life, it’s like a snowball-effect of lifesaving.

And i think that he’s right, maybe the person he saved saved someone, maybe that person is studying to become a doctor now, maybe that person is going to save so many lives, and maybe the people that they save are going to save a bunch of people.

I thought that this was a beautiful way to look at it and it really keeps me going to have his support and all his love.

It could be worse, i have the best friend ever, he’s my only close friend but i’d rather have one loyal and amazing friend than 10 friends that i can’t really trust (like when i was younger)

I wasn’t going to write anything but here i am writing a super long post, haha. I’m super tired, i’ve been awake all night. It’s midsummer today, but i don’t think we’re going to celebrate or anything. I have some bad memories related to midsummer celebrations and i don’t want to think about it. Swedes tend to drink a lot of alcohol on occasions like these, and as you know if you’ve been reading my blog for a while – i hate alcohol and i’m terrified of drunk people.

Well well well.

I’ll write again soon hopefully.

Publicerad den av luziddreamer

My birthday

It’s my birthday for two more minutes so i’m going to tell you what my birthday was like and then i’m going to try to forget this day.

I got a few gifts, a soy wax candle, a big teacup, a weird hair mask that made my hair smell like caramel and a movie gift card-thingy.

The day didn’t start well. I’m disappointed and angry. In my previous post i told you about a bad birthday experience i had a few years ago, when my dad was high on drugs and everything was a complete mess.

I couldn’t sleep last night, i stayed up until 08:00. I woke up around 15:00, my phone was ringing.

It was my dad.

A million thoughts was going through my head, how did he get my number? Why was he calling me? Is he sober?

I listened to his voice, i looked for signs, but he was speaking clearly, he didn’t sound drunk or high. He wished me a happy birthday and said that he wanted to see me some day, i said maybe.

I don’t call him dad anymore because he isn’t my dad, i’m not sure if he ever was, maybe when i were a newborn, but i don’t remember that. I’ve heard stories from my childhood and i don’t know for sure but i think that it was okay in the beginning. I don’t know for sure when his addiction started or when things started to go downhill for the whole family. I just know that one day, we were not a normal family anymore. And drama, catastophes, abuse and alcohol and drugs became the ”normal” for all of us. Of course i’m angry that things turned out that way, i’m angry at my mom, because she should have protected me and my brother but she didn’t. We stayed with the man who tore us apart.

I haven’t recovered. The trauma is still in my body, it screams in the background all the time, i might not think about it all the time but it is always there and maybe it always will be – but my mom should have known better. We were in the kitchen, i asked her

”Did you give my number to _my dads name_?”

She said

”Yes i did, he just wanted to say happy birthday”

I answered

”Why did you do that without asking me? I woke up and the first thing i hear is his voice, the voice that i haven’t heard in 3 years because i don’t want to hear it anymore. Why would you do something like that to me on my birthday of all days?

”I’m sorry i should have thought about that”

Yes, you should have known better. Now my heart is going to stop for a second whenever i get a phonecall. Thanks a lot. This is exactly what i didn’t need.

I just want to get the hell out of here. I just wanna move and start over in a new city. I probably will, in august or september. We’re waiting for the contract for the house that we are going to rent.

I haven’t given up. I still have a little hope left, i want my life to get better of course. But i think that completely starting over somewhere far away from here is the only thing i can do. I’m just done here, it’s been 19 years, i’ve suffered, i’ve cried, bled and tried to end it all here. Here in this room, the smallest room in the house, the one with black walls and hundreds of books in it, in this room you can feel the anxiety in the walls.

I can’t heal in the same place where all of this started.

I need a real chance to get better. I hate my mom sometimes. She does stupid things, says stupid things and i don’t trust her because she used to be an alcoholic (yes, both my parents used to be addicts, tragic), but at least she is on the same page as me. I had to make her understand that this village and everything that happened here ruined me, and i can’t recover here.

I’m waiting. I have pms, i can feel it, but i think that the fluoxetine is helping because i have not had the extreme anxiety that i usually have, i feel okay, even if this day was a disaster. So.. it’s something.

I’m still on a low dose but i think a doctor is going to talk to my mom this week, hopefully i can get a higher dose soon. I think this is the right medicine for me, taking fluoxetine every day and olanzapine on my worst days could be the right thing for me. We’ll have to see.

Have a good night, or day, depending on where you are in the world.

Publicerad den av luziddreamer

Memories

Everything felt hopeless a few days ago but i’m okay for now.

Yesterday, early in the morning, i woke up and i thought that the apocalypse was here. I panicked for a few minutes, i stayed in bed because i’m scared to look out of the windows, that’s how much my social anxiety affects me. I live in the middle of nowhere, in a tiny village with not that many people living here. But i’m fucking terrified of standing near the windows, isn’t that pathetic?

Anyways, i gathered strength and i hid behind a curtain and peeked out aaand… it was just a farmer with his tractor, doing farmer-stuff on the meadow outside of our house.

I’ve lived here for 19 years on sunday and i hear tractors and noises from the sawmill every single day, but it has never been this fucking loud before, the entire house was shaking and my ears are still ringing, it was so loud!! So yeah, i freaked out. I went back to sleep after that and i had nightmares once again.

I know that i’ve mentioned my birthday a million times now but i can’t stop thinking about it.

I remember one birthday a long time ago, i think i was turning 12 or 13 or something like that, and we were going to the city to have dinner with my grandparents and it was a complete catastrophe. My dad used to be a drug addict, or maybe he still is, he was clean and sober the last time i talked to him but that was like 3 years ago so i’m not sure what he’s up to now. But back then he was using most of the time, he has heart problems and a pacemaker so sometimes he’d be clean for a while, but he’d always fall back and that’s why i can’t trust him or anyone else. So on my birthday, we were sitting in the car and i started noticing things, those tiny details that tells you that something is wrong, no one else can see it, but i could and i still can, because i grew up with parents who were drug addicts and alcoholics.

I noticed the eyes, how he was there but at the same time he wasn’t, the way he spoke, he’d mispronounce a word and i’d know instantly that things were getting bad again.

I started crying and screaming, begging him to get out of the car, it was my birthday and i didn’t want to deal with his bullshit on the day that was supposed to be all about me. It was supposed to be a happy day, MY day, and he ruined it and once again he chose drugs over me. And the sad part is that i was already so used to it, i was just a child but somehow i had to grow up overnight and take care of myself, guide myself through life and raise myself – because no one else was going to do that for me.

He refused to get out of the car. I kept begging, i didn’t want him there, i had already seen him high and drunk thousands of times and i was sick of it, i didn’t want to see it again, he kept refusing, i screamed so loud

”Dad, all i want is you to leave, i don’t want you here, i don’t want to see you like this and i don’t want you to destroy another important day for me, can you please just get out of the car, i’ll do anything, i’ll pay you to just get out of the car!! Take all my birthday money, just get out of the fucking car please!”

My voice was breaking. I cry when i’m angry.

My grandparents were waiting for us at the resaturant, we were an hour late. I started hitting my dad, i know that i should not have done that, but he had beat me before and i just wanted him to know what it felt like.

He finally left the car.

We met up with my grandparents at the restaurant, and things didn’t get better there. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things that happened in the car, and i knew that i would probably see my dad when we came home and that he’d be even worse than earlier.

I ditched classes a lot during this time, i didn’t like my new school, the teachers were awful, i thought the bullying would end once i switched schools but it didn’t. The teachers didn’t even remember my name, they kept using the wrong name and it was embarrasing, they forced me to talk in front of the whole class, in front of the people that hated me and bullied me and mocked me for my green hair and my tokio hotel t-shirt and my piercings.

I hated them and i didn’t want to talk in front of them because i knew that someone was going to make fun of me and scream ”SPEAK LOUDER” from the back of the classroom and they would laugh at me for staring at the floor and having tears in my eyes.

My grandparents did not like this, i mean, the fact that i stayed home from school 50% of the time and i pretended to be sick so i wouldn’t have to go. I think they knew about the bullying but i guess they didn’t care or understand enough.

Like 30 minutes into the dinner my grandma started talking about my little school-problem. It was like a ”serious talk”.

I knew that staying home from school is bad, i knew that i was ruining my future and causing trouble for everyone. But i was so fucking tired of trying to fit in, to always feel homesick but not knowing where home is. I hated school and i hated my so-called home.

I was so annoyed that my grandma chose to talk about my ”behaviour problems” and my ”laziness in school” during my birthday dinner, i had tears in my eyes but i refused to cry in front of them. I stayed quiet during the rest of the dinner.

And no one understood what was going on with me, that that was my lifelong mental illness starting to show and i had no one there to catch me when i was falling. I was a child, thinking about suicide every day. It’s not supposed to be like that.

We finished the dinner, we stopped by the store and bought ben & jerry’s, it’s so expensive and my family was/is poor so i’d only get a pint of b&j on my birthday. On this birthday the ice cream was tasteless and my body was numb, my hands were sore from hitting my dad and my throat was hurting.

So yeah, i don’t know what i wanted to say with all of this. I guess i just want to write down all these little memories that i think about a lot, not because i want to remember these things, i just want to… i don’t know, prove to myself that i’ve survived so fucking much and that i can survive so much more. I have so many traumas from my childhood, i want to share it with the world.

I know i’m not alone, and i hope that you know that you are not alone.

Thanks for reading this.