luziddreamer

I got my new phone today, a cheap huawei but i like it. It’s gold colored.

There’s one thing i have to write here, and i don’t know if it’s tmi but i’m gonna write it anyway because i have to remind myself of this.

I always forget how much pms and periods affect me. Like it’s so surreal, a few days ago i was bleeding and suffering and i was in pain and i seriously wanted to kill myself, and all that is on top of my usual depression and general mental illness, so it’s just not a good situation for me. What i also tend to forget is that it is just that – just a period. A period of time. That will end. And i can’t give up just because my uterus hates me, that’d be such a dumb way to die (so many dumb ways to dieee.. remember that song? And that app? I need to download it again)

The problem is that when i’m having a week of extreme anxiety i forget that it’s not always like that, i forget that i have short moments where i actually feel okay. But my illness is like a dementor, it takes away all my happiness and it makes me feel like i’ll never be happy or feel okay or smile at my phone when my best friend sent me another funny picture, or that i’ll never have a deep conversation about politics or some other important topic again, that i’ll never feel anything again, except sadness and worthlessness (is that a word? english is not my first language, obviously)

I feel so okay today!! Maybe my antidepressants are starting to work now too? It’s lovely to feel okay for once. But one problem that i have is that i can’t read anymore, i have like 40 books in my room that i want to read, i start reading them but i always stop after 50 pages or something, and i can only read one or two pages at a time. It’s so frustrating, i used to be so in love with reading and now i just can’t do it. I read the papers every day but that’s pretty much it. It sucks, because reading is like the only hobby that i’ve ever had, or well not the only one, but it’s the only one that i’ve had for many many years.

Oh well, i know that this comes and goes in waves too, sometimes i read 4 books in a week and sometimes i don’t read at all, i’m just bored now that i can’t concentrate enough to even read one chapter.

If i feel this okay tomorrow i think i’m going to make a vegan chicken curry-thingy that both me and my mom like a lot. Let’s hope that i can sleep without nightmares tonight. Byebye.

When i woke up today i had the worst anxiety ever. I was panicking on the inside, i wanted to hurt myself but i didn’t do it, why?

Because i couldn’t find any toilet paper to wipe the blood with and i didn’t want to make a bloody mess in my room and have to explain it to my mother. Isn’t that kind of i don’t know, ironic? Maybe it was meant to be? Maybe i should be thankful that we were out of toilet paper on this exact day, who knows what i would have done to myself otherwise?

I’m feeling okay now, i still have the anxiety beating in my chest like a second heart, it’s always there, i can always feel it even if i might not always think about it.

I couldn’t eat this morning, i had a cup of tea and some crackers but i couldn’t force myself to make a sandwich or eat a bowl of soy yoghurt or something. That almost never happens, i felt very apathetic for like 5 hours.

I just sat on my bed and watched crime shows, you know, we love crime shows in Sweden. And somehow it makes my mind clearer to watch those shows. Maybe it’s bizarre, murder makes me forget my problems? Uhh, that doesn’t sound very good. I only sympathize with the victims and the police though, don’t worry, i’m not a psychopath, promise.

Mom gave me a vegan magnum ice cream, it was tasty but it felt strange eating it because it snowed this morning, or it rained and snowed actually. I woke up to the sound of rain and i stepped out of bed because it sounded like there was a faucet on somewhere near me, and that wouldn’t make any sense because i was home alone last night, but it was just the rain, or my imagination, or maybe i wasn’t really awake. Anyways, i looked out of the window and i expected to see only rain and maybe some fog on the meadow outside of our house, nope, i saw big wet snowflakes, mixed with rain, and even snow on the ground. March-april weather here in scandinavia is weird, every single year, but i’m always surprised anyway, even if i’ve lived here for almost 19 years.

It’s actually exactly 19 years in one month. God, i feel old, should i feel old?

I think it’s because it’s my last teenage year, then i’ll officially be an adult, i don’t think i want to be an adult. I always pictured myself as forever young because i could never see myself being old, because i always thought that ”this is it, this is the year that i’ll finally do it, kill myself”, it’s like i never planned to be alive for this long, the first time i seriously considered suicide i was eleven years old. Which is crazy, 11, a child. So now i’m almost 20 and i have no plan, because i never planned to make it this far.

And this scares the shit out of me. I’m scared of who i’m going to be, and if my life is always going to be this pointless and tragic. In 19 years i’ve only experienced trauma and abuse and tragedy after tragedy.

Maybe my time will come, maybe it’s just not meant to be right now. I’m holding on for now, but i’m not happy.

I’m gonna make more tea now, bye.

I cried a lot today. I talked with mom over the phone, the doctors wants to see me in person but i can’t do it. I can barely leave my bed and the hospital is so far away, i can’t do it.

They explained that the reason i’m so depressed now is because i don’t have any kind of ”protection” against my depression and anxiety. I stopped taking olanzapine 5 weeks ago and i’m more paranoid than ever and i think about suicide all the time. They gave me new antidepressants that i’ll start taking tomorrow, fluoxetin this time. I tried it 5 years ago, when i was 14, it didn’t help. But i’ll give it a try.

They said that we’re going to wait for 4-6 weeks and if my extreme social anxiety has gotten any better by then i’ll have to meet a doctor in real life.

I’m isolating myself again, isolating myself and ruining my own life seems to be the only thing that i’m really good at.

It feels like my life ended 6 years ago, when i left my school without telling anyone and i never came back. I lost my friends, my family was falling apart and i didn’t understand that it was the beginning of me becoming extremely mentally ill. I wonder what i would have done differently if i had known what my life would be like now? I’m almost 19, but i already feel dead, like i’m so done with this life, or that this life wasn’t meant for someone like me. All i do is cause trouble for the people around me so what’s the point of holding on to this life anyway?

Sorry for this sad rant, and sorry for my bad english. My swedish brain couldn’t translate everything correctly today and i’m too tired to fix it. I’ll write more some other day. I’m making pancakes now.