Conversation with my Dad

I recently mentioned to my dad that I am in need of therapy and am actively looking for some. I went to the doctor and he gave me an app that can connect me to therapists in the area. I have yet to really start looking, and many of them offer only group therapy for adults, but its better than nothing. 

And he instantly told me that I am so much better now, why would I need something like that? I got so much better, I work out, I started working towards my driving license, I am okay at work and with people. The only thing to critique is my consume of sugary snacks / energy drinks, as those are the reason I am at a sub par weight. 

And I tried to explain to him that I do not feel happy. Yes, I do not have depressive episodes every day. It can be a week until I get the next one and when I have one, I do not hurt myself. 

Doesn't mean I am not thinking about hurting myself. Biting my lip for the sweet embrace of the blade. Its painful, sure, but it feels very deserved.  And its an instant cure to depressive episodes instead of laying around for anywhere between 30 mins to 4 hours and feeling sad for myself. It would be a quick fix, but I cannot. Quickly cut, quickly stop the bleeding, and it will be over. But so many people will get hurt, not only me, and I can't allow that. Unfortunately people like me now. 

I think about ending it sometimes, but I have cats and a boyfriend who would be directly harmed, as well as many people who would be indirectly harmed. What I'd really like would be an accident. Or maybe a grand thing where I sacrifice myself for the greater good. 

So I am not at risk, atleast not until something really bad happens and throws me off balance. 

Examples would be getting fired from work, a big fight in the relationship, my parents for some reason being angry at me. And I know that it will break me and thats why I want to look for therapy to work through all the issues with self esteem that I obviously have. 

Most of the time I can hide it. Sometimes it comes out. That toxic little voice that doesn't understand why I wouldn't punish myself. I am subpar, a burden on everyone. I do not make enough money, I do not make enough art, I do not talk to my friends enough. You know for how long I planned on writing a book? God, I barely remember writing anymore. At least I can still type, courtesy of my job. But that is a default skill right? Nothing to proud of, not anymore. 

I have deep trauma from my kindergarten and school years. My self-worth is deeply entangled with my "value", which I define via looks, achievements, etc. 

A couple of times by now a topic in my conversation with my manager is that I instantly go on the defence when someone critiques me. Even if it ends up being false, or it is just some nice advice, I feel stupid and useless. I always feel like defending myself and most of the times I do that, which just wastes time, as no one was accusing me, just trying to help me. But that does not matter for my brain, for every critique must be an attack on my very person as I define myself through my abelites and "value". And I want to make sure, just in case the other person might be mad at me, why I did what I did. This stops me from developing my skills as I am always just in the past, trying to explain myself to everyone. 

I do not really want to touch the intimacy topic at all. I remember being excited about stuff like that when I just became an adult but by now I dread it. 

This is due to a combinations of things, my past few boyfriends being sometimes really pushy or being really upset when I said no, to the point where I would just do stuff for them so they wouldn't make a scene. I do not want to think about what happened when I was younger. I know it was wrong, but it is not as bad as other people have it so why worry. I didn't remember it for many years anyways. I would love to enjoy myself during intimacy but it just feels like a chore that I want to finish as quickly as possible. 

My eating disorder is an open secret, as I keep making jokes about it. I know I gained weight, that is due to me eating three meals a day and some snacks, and that is good, better than when I was not eating until everything hurt, skipping meals whenever I could etc. But the change to my body makes me cry. I hate taking pictures or looking at my body.  I even started doing sport again and overdid it so much because I wanted to see an effect, that my doctor told me to take a break as my bones and joints literally couldn't keep up with me, I would run through the pain. The voices were quiet for a bit. Because I was doing sports and that's all I can do, right? I can't do a diet, my maximalist mindset will instantly go "just starve yourself for a bit and it'll be over quicker" and then I will get problems with eating again. 

Every meal I try to eat less than the people around me. Its a constant fight against my body. 

But now I can't even push myself to my limits running without my body failing, so I am just stuck here, a fatass with no achievements. 

Whenever I get something I want, its suddenly just a "given". I got my Bachelors degree at some point. And now it doesn't matter anymore because its not a Masters. I have money to buy clothes I want but I look shit in everything because for some reason I only look good when I am skinny. 

I miss being skinny but then I remember that I never was. At least not for me. I remember being so much smaller and still feeling fat rolls, critiquing every imperfection I saw in the mirror. I was skinny and unhappy, so why would it change this time? I don't know, but I think I would just like to take up less space. Be less noticeable. Hide in a corner so no one can every critique me for anything. 

And all these problems cause me to think that I will not get better on my own. That I need to work through those problems, however I can, so I can be less of a burden. 

Yesterday my mood was shitty. I didn't do as much at work as I hoped to. And then I was just on the couch, feeling bad for myself instead of doing something fun. And I drag my boyfriend into it, as he lives here and sees when I feel sorry for myself on the couch and of course he loves me and he wants me to feel better, so he tries to help. But I don't want him to worry every day if today might be a bad day. If today is the day I forget my meds or my brain just randomly decides that I am worthless. But that is what happens. And most days its fine. But not every day. 

420 blaze it

 my friend told me that i have it good. 

Got a job, a loving wonderful partner, new flat and a degree. 

So why am I still sad? 

I don't think he meant it in the way I'm interpreting it. I'm probably just drawing the devil at the wall, or however that saying goes. But for depression it doesn't matter how good you have it. 

I understand that I should happy, and that makes being upset even more frustrating. Not only am I sad, but now I also feel guilty for feeling sad. Wonderful combination of emotions really. 

I am finally out of survivor mode and able to reflect on my life. Maybe try some therapy. Its not only about surviving, now we are trying the living thing. 

and I dont want to do that because I could do it wrong. I don't want to reflect on my life. I don't want to work through trauma, because that will be difficult. I don't want to be an adult and responsible. 

i am exististing and there is nothing i can do to stop that (atleast not approved methods) so i might need to make the best out of it. Atleast i got good friends? 

also pretty sure im addicted to the 420, but its all a work in progress

my brain is going...

 One frustrating thing with my memory issues that i have a whole habit. 

I look at something, "memorize" it, and then close the thing i need to remember to continue. And that is an old habit, so old that i don't even think about it, i just look at the text and go. 

But nowadays my memory is stupid, and i keep forgetting what i wanted to memorize. Like I remember that I memorized it, but not, what it was? The name of the file, but not the content. 

It feels like when you enter a room and you're sure there was a reason why you're here, but you scan your brain and cannot find this reason. 

And its frustrating, because it wasn't always like that. I used to be able to memorize things, like my clues to which page im reading or what email to login, but my brain just stopped saving at some points and i have to keep going back to refresh my memory, which is frustrating for everyone included, especially me. 

I don't want to forget your birthday or your plans or what you told me in secret, but my brain has like a couple of bits of space free at any given moment and while i am listening i can sometimes feel how the information gets deleted in my brain before the conversation is over. 

At work I help myself by screenshotting everything and everyone, but after half a year I have a screenshot folder that has like a thousand pictures, and i cant sort through that properly anyways. 

i think therefore I can lie ?

I understand that he wants contact. But no matter what I say he laughs. Maybe that is his humor? is he mackin fun of me or am i being a bitch to a guy who is just a bit weird. 

that sounds rude. i guess it is. 

but the goal is to be positive. Or at least neutral which is better than my normal. 

am i scared to be cringe? perhaps. i dont know wether the thouights in my head are real or just an imagination of what I would expect a person to sound on this amount of drugs. 

I think the brain isn't supposed to question itself like this. 

I want a good grade for fighting for my life

 I sit here. 

Its just past midnight. I wouldve been out for longer, but my friend needs to work tomorrow. I've consumed. It was just weed but it has reached levels that i woudlnt have thought off in my wildest dreams. This has become the new normal. Get home from work and smoke a little bit to escape for the three hours i have at home before i need to go to sleep to wake up to work. 

Is this an addiction? I cannot say. I know that I had a very similar problem around my twenties with alcohol. But I have 100% overcome this. 

So i dont know if this is just a step in me becoming. 

or, you know, me becoming an addict. 

but its fine. 

because while it cloacks me in that soft mist that fills out all my imperfections. Suddenly I appear tolerable. And that is apparently the best feeling I can dream off. 

I know I am suffering. 

But I do not know wether it is because I am depressed or me being scared to death of me faking all of this. Am I doing this to be special or is it me? Is it my nature or just good acting? 

I know a happy normal person wouldn't ask themselves these questions, therefore I qualify and have nothing to worry about. I am not "faking". 

But maybe that is just a clever thought out story I tell myself to live in peace because the truth is worse? What if I am worse? Maybe I am a genius, that has thought of all possible scenarios and has prepared exactly for this? Will I ever really know. 

I dont think there is an answer but there is a peace in accepting that youre okay. 

You are not taking up space that you do not deserve. You are sick and it is fine. You are not just pretending for attention. It is fine. Everything will be fine. 

My friends love me. More than I could ever love myself. And because of that love I need to protect them by not deserting them. I will be a good human because they deserve to be friends with reliable good humans. So thats what I am going to be. 

If the people around you are genuinly annoyed by your presence they will leave. they will not stay out of politeness, that is a you-thing. So if they are staying, they are good people. 

is this incoherent? it doesnt feel like that right now. Maybe its the drugs. Maybe 

im okay i think. 

how much?

 Do you know how much to take, 

to make all this end? 

Do you know what to take, 

for our body to bend?

To bend and break and cry and scream, 

yet outside everything's fine it seems. 

I know the dosis, 

i know what to take, 

but here i am surviving, 

for somebody elses sake. 

why am i alive, 

why do i keep breathing, 

when im full of pain, 

and my soul is leaving. 

I should apologize for being myself

 I should apologize for being myself, 

for the way my voice sounds, my arms flail around, 

the way my humor will always insult someone. 

I should apologize for being myself, 

my sick, depressed self, that doesnt offer anything, 

yet takes and takes and takes. 

Why are people friends with me? I seem to just be a burden. 

Maybe they feel good about helping a person. 

I suppose that might be reason. Stupid reason. 

please end this

i hate being alive

 i hate being alive, 
why do I have to wake up every day. 
I keep begging to god, 
but he doesn't listen to what I say. 

I wake up upset at life,
I go to sleep upset at death.
"please let me fucking die", 
I keep asking with every breath. 

But life goes on, 
another day, another mess. 
Why do I keep going, 
who am I trying to impress. 

Trying to prove something to someone, 
trying to show that there is hope. 
When drugs, alcohol and sleep, 
is the only way that I can cope. 

Hello, Goodbye, Fuck off, I say. 

I go to sleep to escape my day. 

Fuck

Maybe?

Maybe if I punch enough walls, 
and take enough of those pills. 

My crooked smile will return, 

because this depression, it kills, 

every shred of happiness in my soul, 

every shred of hope within this wreck, 

that I call my body, isn't it funny? 

Outside it is always so sunny, 

but my mind is clouded in darkness, 

a never ending ocean full of sad, 

a bottom less puddle on the sidewalk.

when it could be nothingness instead. 

Sometimes I wish I couldn't feel a thing, 

but this Apathy is worse than any sadness, 

Atleast I can feel anything. 

however terrible it might be,

whatever it might bring. 

Because I cannot even begin, 

to describe the selfhatred I feel when I look, 

just look at my future, or my life. 

Being alive stings like a knife, 

down im my stomach, 

I'd rather be dead, 

than feel this nothingness. 

And yet when the curtain lifts, 

the only thing that comes through is hate. 

Sometimes I think that it might be to late, 

to late to save the child that couldn't wait, 

to grow up, and now has too much on its plate. 

"forgetting"

 Just take your meds they say, 

then the pain will go away. 

But I know I deserve this pain, 

this selfhatred that is driving me insane. 

It is all I know and all I have, 

there is just nothing else left. 

Another day, another night passes by. 

I know I forgot the drugs, I sigh, 

I know I should take them I know they'll help, 

"but why would you do this", the voice yelps. 

"You know that you deserve this, 

you know that you are total shit, 

worthless, broken and a waste of air. 

It is not like anyone will care. "

So the sadness comes back, 

my hands start shaking again. 

Barely leaving my bed, 

Im just as useless as they said.

"Here's the proof" the voice says, 

"You're as useless, as you remember", 

a bit louder this time, just like

it is losing its temper. 

And there I fall again, 

back into the darkness embrace'

because thats what I deserve, 

I guess I am a hopeless case. 

What if my excuse of depression doesn't count one day?

 What if my excuse of depression doesn't count one day? 
My perceived sadness and exhaustion doesn't get a say, 
I get called out for my laziness and that I am actually okay. 

What if all this is just a big ass show, 

and in reality i am just slow. 

I guess you reap what you sow. 

What if I really just hurt myself for attention, 

what if all my scars are just another extension, 

of my self love and my narcissm dimension? 

What if my attempt to end this fuckin life, 

was just another way to experience the knife, 

and the thrill of being alive. 

What if I am really just useless. 

22

You're only 22 they say. You can't be tired of life. 

You have got your whole life ahead of you. 

But I also have my whole life behind me. 

22 years that ended in this. A sad piece of shit that can't get their shit together for even one day. Finds media and immediatly consumes it. No measurement needed, lets just gulp it all down. Why would we sleep anyways? Sleep is for the weak. 

But sleep used to be our sanctuary. "It's like being dead without the commitment", thats what I said. 

The real question is: Do I really want to die. 

End my existence and all chance for a possible good ending. Not that I think that I will have one. I dont get lucky. I already had enough luck being born into this family at this time, do we really think I deserve any more? Honestly I dont think I deserve anything. 

Is this the mental disorder talking? I dont know. 

Is there a seperation between me and the mental disorder? My formative growing up years were dominated by selfhatred. I don't know anything else, my childhood drowned out by days of starvation, selfharm and painful memories. My personality is my depression, and my depression is my personality. 

Pessimistic Optimist or optimistic Pesssimist, is there really a Difference? In the end we all go in the ground and are forgotten after atleast 100 years. (Outliers proving the thesis here)

So why would I attempt to try. I have fought for 4 years now. Since I left school. 

Im 22 now. 

Used to think I wouldnt make it past 20. Or even past 19. I honestly didnt even believe I would make it to the next day, but I never really did it, did I? Apart from the couple of times when I failed, that no almost no one knows about. 
I wish I had tried harder. At everything. 

Not only the killing myself part, but also the life part. The part where you make friendships and keep them up. I dont talk to people from my school because I closed myself completely off the last two years I was there. I was so deep in my selfhatred that I am still convinced the teachers mustve faked my grades. How could I, who was basically asleep the entire year, manage a passable grade? 

Now I am scared of making new friends. After a couple of weeks they always leave. When they notice my jokes are getting repetetitve, or when they catch me in a bad mood. 

I am always angry and lash out. I am like a wounded animal, barely able to control myself, in complete survivor mode. Constantly on edge, praying to survive another day for then salvation might come. 

But it never does. 

Life keeps moving, I keep surviving. 

And most importantly, hating myself. 

The slight blur of life

Haze,
like the fog setting down on a town after the day has ended.

The slight blur of life, 

the neverending stream of light, 

all those voices and all those dreams, 

always slightly out of sight. 

Dark white fog setting in, 

slowly clouding my mind. 

And every day that I continue life, 

I leave my concious soul behind. 

Maybe this is how it meant to be, 

being awake isnt the life for me. 

A sweet lie instead of a painful truth, 

until white fog is all I see. 

Goodbye cruel world

 to be called hard working and deserve success you have to actually work a lot. 

i dont like it

I hate this. I am talknig to a person and I am boiling with anger. this conversation is absolutely pointless, we have very different viewpoints and he has been talkng down to me.
But then I realize.
Is this how humans feel when they are talking to me. This is terrible. How can I exist in this world where I inflict this stupid feeling of anger and bottled up "i wanna hit them in the face".
because how dare i. how.

is this what i do to this world. how can i continue existing when this is what i do to people, where they wanna rip their face off because the conversation is so annoying. 

Have you learned how to suffer yet

One hit, two hit, three,
my bloody lip is all you see.
Four hit, Five hit, six hit, Hi,
am I still pretty when I smile?

Well, have you learned how to suffer yet,
how to enjoy all the pain and be without regret,
Use the blood as fuel to nurture the fire,
make it so pain is all you desire.

Because this world is  unforgiving,
Sinning is the only way of living,
And if you dare to have a good heart,
this world will absolutely rip you apart.



Use your blood to shine your shoes because theyll be upset if you dont look your best. 

friends with famous people

Sometimes I wonder about famous people.
How do they get friends? Everyone around them must want so much from them and they are just humans trying to exist in this world. I hope they have genuine friendships.
I would be their friend. But then again no. Because humans are difficult.
But I would like to try to be their friend. A couple conversations without being seen as a fan, as an equal. Just a friendly chat with no predjudice.
I would make the best sarcastic celebrity friend though. Just sending them memes about them all the time while also being super supportive and always having cookies and their favourite chips at home so they can have some when theyre in the neighbourhood. I would insult them to their face while we both can't breath because of a joke someone said, they would retaliate with their Instagram Follower count and I would make a scene, pretending to be upset that they dont share their clout with me. We would have a good laugh and continue watching the netflix series.
It just you know.
Maybe would be fun. 

I am worried

I am worried. 

I am worried about money. I dont have enough. Not to sometimes order out when I dont feel like cooking, but also not to buy myself something new if a thing breaks. My mouse is broken. It's movement is slowing down more and more and while I can still adjust the Speed on the Computer to counterbalance it, this is only a temporary solution and there is only so far the speed can go. 

I am worried about my mental health. I pretend that I am fine most of the time and I dont have any really bad episodes since Im still doing quite a lot of work (a lot of uni online lectures and some tasks), but i know it soon wont be enough. Soon those couple of hours of work, 8 hours of lectures per week plus some time with other tasks wont be enough. I already feel it slipping away, feeling like no matter how much I do I am never enough. How I want to continue for another hour and another and when I inevitably give up I feel like a failure. Even now Im watching a lecture while writing this and I missed a couple minutes. 

I am worried about my selfharm. I would love to start cutting again. I kind of already have, though its well hidden. And I know how quickly I would escalate. The only thing holding me back right now is that my boyfriend would be upset. Nothing else. Scary, innit. 

I am worried about my cats. I never can really read if they are happy. One moment I feel like they love me, when Poro massages my chests in the morning or when Ichi is on my lap, eyes closed and somewhat cuddled into my arms. But then they shout again, or they leave to quickly. They hide on the bed or move somewhat weird. And I start to worry. Apart from that I am constantly worried that they might be sick. I would just keep getting them checked because thats like 20 euros but travelling to the vet means taking a taxi (or causing great discomfort for the cats and me) which costs 50 euros if im lucky, sometimes even more. 

I am worried about my medication. While I have quite a lot of my sleeping/calming medication, my antidepressants are more or less empty. I have a couple of doses left to keep for really bad days, but besides that I am fucked. I tried to get some more, but ended up in a telephone chain. 

I am worried about my sleeping schedule. It is 8 am and I havent yet slept. I dont feel too tired, but I never do until its too late. I feel a slight cloud setting on my brain, but that is pleasant. I cant hate myself as much if I am slightly dazed. 

I am worried about what I eat. I am constantly reminded that whatever I cook, ill have to clean again. and While that wouldnt be too bad, if i want to eat something healthy i have problems with portion sizes and that i just dont have enough pots, not enough places on the stove. And the healthier the meal, the more different ingredients i need to prepare and the more ill need to clean afterwards. 

I am just worried and Id like to stop spending my time worrying, and would like to sometimes maybe live. 

Shameless

I had a dream today.
I was part of the Gallagher family, together with my sister. Im not sure if we were added, or replaced some parts of it, but I know that the older boys were still part of it. And we were a wonderful family. Holding together against the adults, surviving againist the odd. It was great.
I felt so at home, more than I have ever felt before.
We mastered school, family coming to visit and stress from school.
I think grandpa was sometimes pickung us up from school, and we were too many to fit in the car so I would play rock paper scissor with Ian, to decide who of us had to walk home.

In the end our mother got sick and we held together and the dream ended with me getting the script instruction that I would have to kill myself.

We also had a sea somewhere closeby and to escape the family we would swim to an island in the middle together, no matter how cold the water was.

I was happy and I got awoken by a doorbell. I dont know. 

hope

Its a very intimidating moment when your real life catches up on your mental status.



Its one thing when friends and family find out, they’re close. They might be mad, but it doesnt really have any consequences. Atleast for me it didnt. Although probably that is just my opinion, now looking back on it, 5 years later.

But when someone double your age comes up to you telling you that whatever you feel like your body is, your gender is, whoever you love, that it is okay and that everything will be alright, it gives me an abundance of hope. Someone who doesnt know you as a friend. He barely even knows your name, and still just wants to give you this message of peace and happiness.



My work colleague, an older guy, came up to me, asking me about my wig today and i mentioned in a side comment in the conversation we had about growing out my hair how I dont like how it makes me look female. And I suppose a lot of my previous behaviour with that and also the scars on my arm tell a very clear message of what my mental state is, without me actually mentioning it, so he tried to comfort me. Not even askin about me, I said that I go to therapy so that he shouldnt worry.

He said that he isnt worrying, he just wants to make sure that I feel comfortable and started telling about all his friends at the carnival an hours drive from here. How there are many who are Homosexual or dont feel right in their body and still they are loved.

How he himself had to go onto his journey for decades to find himself and be truly happy.



Its a very warm and comforting feeling to know that someone that already went through his journey is telling you that it is going to be allright. Not someone who is healthy, or still on their way, or on the way of giving up. Just a person, who had their journey, survived and lived to become happy.



Its the feeling that I hope that I give people when I talk to them about my journey.

Because I know what it feels like and how overwhelming it is. It always feels like its too much. But it is going to get better and someday, youll laugh at the challenges you faced today.



Everything is going to be okay.