Anxiety and stuff ..


Yup, that’s basically what my life evolves around at the moment. Anxiety attack after anxiety attack.

And I don’t even know why or what could be causing them either. And its frustrating.

I can have up to five, at least, a day, without even leaving the house. Its mad.

That’s a kind of new experience to me, even though I’ve had a few over the years, but not as intense or even close to as often as now. But the weird thing is, whilst I’m at work, I’m completely fine, no anxiety at all. But the explanation that I’ve come up with for the absence of the anxiety at work is routines.

When I’m at home, I have no routines at all, and I am completely unable to stick to any sort of routine, no matter how insignificant or small. I just can’t stick to them.

Sure I can try to make a routine, and do so for ages, but I tend to fall out of them very easily.

On another matter, this sunday, october the 28th, will be my first year harm free. (read: almost) I had two minor slips, even though I did not cause any permanent damage. (read: sadly)

But the thing is, I cannot really tell if they really were slips at all, I mean, sure I meant to cause myself harm, once with a plastic band continuously slapped at my wrist until I swelled up and bruised, yet no blood had been spilt. The second time was with a beer cap, I kept digging it into my skin, hoping to bleed, yet all I achieved was disappointment and red marks. So my question is, does it count as slips?

With my anxiety levels being so high lately, the urges to harm myself has returned, and the intensity a little as well. It bothers me that I cannot give in to the urges, and It makes me wish that I never came forward about it to anyone. It was my dirty little secret. (See the reference?)

I don’t understand why I so badly want to see myself destroyed, and even gone, but I do.

I want to feel relief again, like I did when I harmed myself. Even though it was just for a little while.

I want that euphoric feeling of happiness and complete peace with myself back, like when I gave up on life that one time, it was the best feeling I’ve ever had. Though it didn’t last as long as I’d hoped it would. It was replaced by fear and worry over what I had just done, my survival instincts kicking in, only to tell me that my body was not yet ready to die, even if my mind was. (Read: still is)

I don’t know why I want to die, or why I want to make myself suffer, I really don’t.

So I guess you could say that there are a lot of things that I do not know about myself, and I even wonder if I really even want to know.

I am not a rational person, I do all my thinking and acting based on feelings, not thoughts or facts. Even though I used to be able to think rationally, but for some reason, that’s impossible for me at this point.

My emotions and thoughts are just one big hole of confusion and indecisiveness.

The only thing that I do know is that I want to die, or have the second best, my self injury back.

 

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Untitled? *Post may be triggering*


Ugh.. Nothing’s really happened lately, and I am back to where I was, unable to really write anything decent, so I don’t.

A few weeks ago I got a comment from an old friend of mine, and it brought back so many feelings. She was my best friend, and I’ve never had a friendship with anyone else, like the one we had.  We just had fun, joking around and laughing.  So I guess I just miss having a friendship like that, and a proper friend too.

I am now working full time, but that was not the plan tho. My plan was to go back to a normal college again, make new friends and be more social. But it seems like the school system had a different opinion about that, because the only offer I got was the college I attended last year, filled with people with mental issues and such. I don’t have anything against them, but being around mentally ill people is not a great environment for me.  I was just hoping for a fresh start, to maybe get out of my old habits, I don’t know, just not this.

I just feel more isolated now, since I work all day, almost every day. Even when I want to do something with others, I can’t, because of work. Don’t get me wrong, I like my job, I do, and the people I work with are great. I just wish I could’ve gone to college.

Anywho, my “fobia” of throwing up has really kept itself in the background lately, which is a good thing, but still I find myself wanting my suicidal thoughts and self injury back, simply because it is bad for me, and was something I was okay at.

I still find myself wanting to hurt myself just to see my skin tear open, and the blood flow out. I am fascinated by it, I like it. But when it comes to other people’s blood, it makes me feel sick.

October the 28th will be my first year harm free since this nightmare started about four or so years ago. And I can’t really say that I’m proud of it, because I’m not. I just don’t really care about it. Because I am not doing it for me, but for everyone else.

Off to work.

Sayonara

My little ray of sunshine ❤ Isn’t she just adorable?

Thoughts..?


As most of you have read in my previous post, I’ve been dealing with quite a lot of anxiety, and fear of throwing up, mostly at the morning shifts at work.

I’ve now worked three morning shifts this week, monday, which was horrid and completely drained me, was incredibly anxious all day, feeling a little sick, but no throwing up. Thursday, which was yesterday, not so bad with anxiety about throwing up, but more about food. I have a thing stuck in my head that I can only eat three times a day, and that every time I put something edible in my mouth, that’s a meal.

But lately, it has not been much of an issue, until yesterday. So that’s what my anxiety has switched off to again.

And today, Friday, another morning shift, but not really much anxiety at all, just being really tired and feeling drained.

So I guess that’s a step forward, right?

I don’t really know, because you see, when a problem is starting to fade away, a part of me starts to want it back, no matter how painful and scary it was for me in the first place. I just don’t really understand that at all.

When it’s there, I want it gone, but when it’s gone, I have a crave to get it back.

It’s like a part of me, or what to call it, keeps trying to drag me back to how things used to be, with my self harm, suicidal tendencies  and such. And its like, I want it (for some odd reason, but my feelings are telling me so), but I just can’t have it because of others in my life.

Is it strange to miss just how bad I used to be, and sort of want to go back?

When it comes to my own mind, thinking rationally about a matter only concerning myself, is impossible for me. Because, I “think” with my feelings, not with my head. I know it’s odd, but I think that’s the best way to describe it.  When making a decision or discussing something, my emotions take over, and what they tell me, no matter how disturbed I know it is, I cannot help but to believe what they tell me. I sort of get stuck in my own emotions, where no sort of sense can reach me, no matter how true what the person is telling me is.

But I think it’s best to stop this post right here. I am babysitting my nephew (Trym – 1 month old) and niece (Andrea – 1 year old) right now, and it’s quite late, so I should hit the sheets before I fall asleep this instant.

Goodnight everyone! And hope you have a nice and relaxing weekend (:

Fear of vomiting.


Yup, that’s me. And right now It’s really bad.

The last two times that I’ve worked the morning shift at my current job, I’ve been feeling ill and vomited. Even though those two shifts were rather far apart, it happened both times, and I am really anxious because I am working the morning shift tomorrow and friday, but right now I’m just worried about tomorrow (monday).

I really do not know what to do. I’m actually tempted to skip work tomorrow because of it, even though I know that I can’t, and won’t.

It’s quite a big issue for me to be honest.

Even when someone says that they’re feeling ill at home, I flee the house out of fear of them vomiting and then passing it on to me.

I simply just hate vomiting, and I hate the fact that I’m afraid of it.

 

 

Ugh..


I am now in the uk, visiting my boyfriend. And I just don’t know what to do with myself. The anxiety has been so bad today, and it still is, and I do not know how to deal with it, and Feeling down on top of it.
I tried talking to my boyfriend about it, but he just seems sick of it, and shows it whenever I mention it when he asks. Why ask when he doesnt really care about the answer, and just ignores it and sighs when I tell him the truth.
I feel like I do not have anyone to lean on for support and comfort. I don’t want to bother him, but its difficult dealing with alone.

I just want to pick up a razor and end the pain.

Temptation. Content may be triggering.


Tomorrow I’ll be nine months clean, but I have to say, It’s been pretty tough.

I am very often overwhelmed by urges to harm myself, usually at work for some reason. Even though I am surrounded by sharp knives and objects, so I guess that doesn’t really help, does it?

It’s been a long road, and it’s far from over, but I try my best to stay clean, simply because I do not want to hurt my boyfriend anymore, or put him through more shit that I already have.

Today has been one of those days, and something that happened yesterday was the trigger.

I was at work, cleaning something, when all of a sudden I felt something running down my arm, so I look down, hoping that it’s blood, but it was just water. Disappointed much? Yup.

Just that sensation of that drop of water running down my arm made me miss hurting myself a lot. Just feeling the blood running down my arm, watching it. For some bizarre reason I seem to like it.

So today I was so distant because I was fighting the urges, fighting thoughts about picking up a knife and just do it, everything will be so much clearer then, you’ll feel lighter. And whatnot.

And it was so hard not to do it.

Another thing that has been on my mind lately is the relationship that I have with my boyfriend. He is busy with work, and so am I, but he never has time for me anymore, all he does on his days off is to go out and drink with his friends, and when we do talk, he complains about being bored, or just can’t seem to be bothered to talk much with me and just goes to watch TV.  It can even go weeks between any communication between neither of us. And when I text him, he just doesn’t seem to really want to talk to me at all, just short replies really, so I’ve just stopped.

Is it really too much to ask for him to come online once in a while to talk for a little bit? Or text me sometimes? Apparently so.

We have almost been together for two years, but I’m starting to doubt wither it’ll last much longer.

Guilt?


I woke up at four am today because I was feeling really sick, like I was going to throw up, and so cold that I was shaking, so I tried taking a shower after spending an hour or so going back and forth to the bathroom, before I woke up my mum to tell her that I didn’t think I should go to work today, the time was six fifteen am, and I had to be at work at seven am. She told me to just try and go to see how it is later on, so I did, but ended up going home around eight thirty, and on my way out I told my mum I was leaving because I could not take it anymore (we work at the same place but different departments), and since I work with fresh food and the constant smell of it, it just made everything worse. So I told her that I had to go back home, but she just shook her head at me.

It felt like she was disappointed in me for feeling sick, like I wasn’t trying hard enough for her, I was not good enough.

So on my way home ( walking distance) I ended up throwing up, so I called her and told her, but she still seemed disappointed in me for leaving work, even though I was sick.

Later on she told me that the woman who I was supposed to be working with was stuck with all the work and was supposed to leave at three pm, but when mum left at four, she was still not done. Giving me that disappointed look.

I was literally running back and forth to the toiled whilst I was at work before I left, yet she does not understand how I could’ve left work just because I was feeling like I was going to throw up at any moment.

I’m still angry with her, but at least I’m feeling better. I ate a small piece of bread and went to bed, and slept from nine am to around five pm, and no more sickness for now.

I guess I’ve always known that my mother’s judgmental, but this time she made me feel so weak and useless.