Dilemma.


What do you do when you have something you want/need to talk about, but simply cannot?

It’s something I can’t even talk to my psychiatrist about, just thinking about telling her, or someone makes my stomach into a ball of nerves. I can’t utter a single word.

I cannot write about it here, simply because this blog has not been 100% anonymous for quite some time. And another reason is the fact that I do not see the seriousness in it at all. But the only person I’ve told seems to have a different opinion on the matter.

I want to talk about it, to spill my guts, but I cant, I just can’t.

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Take me seriously .. !


Please, please, just this once.

I’ve taken sick leave from work, everything’s just too much these days. Anxiety is over whelming, and constant.

It’s never been this bad, and its terrifying. I just want to be able to be calm and breathe. I’m exhausted.  And when it’s like this, it brings me to the point of desperation where self injury and suicide is all I can think of. Back and forth from anxiety to self destructive behaviour.

Back and fourth, back and fourth.

My mum said that it was idiocy taking time off work because of it, but she doesn’t understand, or rather, she refuses to understand.

I just can’t seem to calm down. I’m even nervous about just stepping outside, right outside of the front door. I spend up to ten to twenty minutes trying to talk myself into it, but in the end, I do it. Which is a good thing right?

It’s gradually been getting worse, mostly work related, but there has to be more to it, right?

At work I just feel like I’m in the way, annoyance, no one really wants me there. All I hear is negative stuff. It makes me anxious, insecure and depressed. I have no idea what to do about it.

I like my job, I don’t want to quit, but my new manager is horrible, and I can’t handle her. Nor do I dare speaking up to her about it.

At the same time I feel like a failure, like it’s a weakness taking time off of work just because of anxiety and mental issues. Is it?

Because that’s how my mum looks at it. She just told me to go find a new job then. But I don’t want that, I like my job, I want to keep it, it’s safe, familiar.

What am I supposed to do?

Did I do the right thing?

If anyone has ANY tips on how to deal with this kind of anxiety, please leave a comment below, it would be greatly appreciated.

– Desperate –

Please give me a moment of silence..


M just wont shut up, she’s been going bonkers all effing day. Commenting on this and that, telling me to do random things. Demanding is one word for it.

M, short for Melanie is the name one of the voices inside my head has taken a liking to, so that’s what she goes by. She’s the strongest one. After her is positive, and a male one. Those are quiet and not present 99% of the time.

But back to what I was on about.
It’s strange saying M’s name, or even calling the voice she, but that’s the way she wants it. And I’m slowly giving in to it, after two months of either denying her existence, or calling her “it” or “my head”.
I still have trouble accepting the fact that she’s there, and that she’s not me.

Sure she’s got my voice, just angrier and more annoying. But I can feel the difference between me actually thinking, and her just popping up, non stop.

Quite annoying to say the least. And incredibly difficult to even believe.

I have “filters” as I would like to call them, meaning a block between her and my vocal cords. I can usually choose what to say, very carefully I might add. But sometimes not at all. Or more like quite frequently, like several times a day. Things come out of my mouth, sounding angry, annoyed, hostile even. And I have no idea what I just let come out of my mouth until afterwards.
My “filters” usually come undone completely or half way there. Usually when I’m exhausted, or in a fragile state of mind. Quite a lot of the time.

I may have a week of her being less active, then BOOOM, not getting any peace of mind.

It’s so hard for me to even believe what’s happening, I think I’m still a bit in denial, but trying to work myself through it.

What if I’m just imagining this?
That’s a frequent thought of mine, followed by M’s chuckle.

She’s quite sadistic, doesn’t care about other people’s emotions, wants to do what she wants. The complete opposite of me. Wants me to hurt others, quite cynical(that goes for me too.), manipulative, loves to put others down, blowing their flaws out of porpotion. And she’s got imtense moods wings. She’s like a bipolar with psychopathic tendencies.
She wants to hurt me but she doesn’t, not right away – M.
Oh and she frequently gives me migranes, especially if something someone says sets her off. Either rage, annoyance, even anxiety.
She also gives me these only physical anxiety attacks, my body is shaking and trembling, and she’s screaming about danger. No one can touch me because it’s not safe. Stuff like that.

I’m basically a slave to the voice in my own head.

It’s late, so I’ll try to get some sleep.
Needed to get this out anyways.
Goodnight

*Sigh* This post may contain triggering content.


Yet again it has been a while since I wrote here, so here I am, trying again.

As usual I don’t know what to write about. Well, I do, but there are not any words that could express it, yet.

I’m feeling so lost, anxious, hopeless, depressed, angry, and even jealous. It’s like a never ending roller coaster. Just a breakdown that’s bound to happen, again and again without fail.  Just like last night..

The day of yesterday was filled with anxiety and depression, perhaps a lot of loneliness too. But in between those moods, I think I was OK, or maybe stable would be a more suitable word for it? 

Everything just broke. Everything was dangerous, frightening, hopeless. Just complete and utter hopelessness. I just broke. Out of nowhere.

I wanted to tell him, but at the same time I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin his night, to be the bother that I know I am to everyone.

They’ll never admit it, but its what I feel is true. I’m a complete waste of space, in my opinion that is.  Even if were to tell me otherwise, I still would not believe them. My emotions are too strong, too earnest and sincere, too true.

When something feels true, it must be. Right?

But then there’s another thing conflicting with that; The feeling of something not being real, that everything is an act (From your own point of view e.g what you say and do), but you do not have any control over it whatsoever.

I’m having flashbacks, at least half of them I question, are they real memories, or just something my brain created just because it seemed appropriate? I’m jumping back and forth to the conclusion that everything is real, to why does everything feel fake?

As you might be able to tell, I’m a tad, or more like, incredibly confused. So much has happened these last months, and I don’t even know where to begin. And I’m pretty sure you can guess why.

Indeed, it’s because it doesn’t feel real. The emotion I get when thinking back on it (The parts I remember) is that I’m remembering something like a dream, something that has never happened, something that my own mind has created. Something fake

I have absolutely no clue about what to think, or even do about it. If there’s really anything I can do about it, that is.

I know it is real, that it did inf act happen, but yet it feels fake.

It’s like having one of those dreams that feel so real that you wake up really confused and disorientated, wondering for a few minutes, or maybe days, or months (like I do), if it was real or not. Was it a memory of something that has happened, or was it simply just a really realistic dream?

Do you understand my confusion, even just a little bit?

On a completely different matter, yet somehow related, there’s this feeling I have, which I really strongly dislike, hate even, but at the same time I’m dependent on it. Yup, the feeling that I hate, that makes me feel agitated, is being dependent. One of my strongest personality traits. 

My fear of abandonment, its constant, and extremely intense.

Say or do something wrong? THEY’RE LEAVING. They do or say something different, or in a different tone of voice, even when it comes to wording themselves? THEY’RE LEAVING.  And that ladies and gentlemen, is my head, every day.

I don’t want to depend on anyone, but I don’t know how to not either. 

Sure I’m pretty damn dependent, but when it comes to making decisions? I couldn’t even do that even if my own life was depending on it. I don’t trust my own judgement, because so far, my own head has just been trying to destroy me.

I’m longing for something to numb my emotions and empty my head. Relief. And I’m getting quite desperate.

I think I’m about to break again. Bawl my eyes out, and cry myself to sleep.

But this time, I won’t call him. He’s out enjoying himself, I don’t want to ruin that. I’m not going to be the one to bring him down.

He’ll be home on the 17th this month, I’ll just have to get through the days until that.

But I have to admit, I’m exhausted, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I just want it all to be over. My self hatred is over whelming, the same with every other emotion I have. I can’t deal with this much longer. I want out, in one way or the other;

If I cannot have one (suicide), then please let me have the other( Self injury).

.. Please ..

??

 

 

 

 

Knowing nothing at all. ( May contain triggering content!)


Am I falling in Love, or fooling myself?

Day four off my meds, apparently I am more uneasy and worried about stuff without it.

I don’t want to fall in Love, or maybe it’s too late?

I don’t want it, don’t need it.
I’m fine on my own, right?

I’m getting attached, and that’s exactly what I did not want. I want to go back to not giving a damn about anything, just doing what I want without a second thought.

How did he change that ? Why did he change that? When ?

I don’t want to need anyone.
He doesn’t even know who I really am.

Or maybe he does ?

There’s so much that I do not know.
Like how he’s able to make me smile and laugh without even trying.
Or is he trying?

He doesn’t even have my complete trust. Or does he?

I know nothing anymore.

Have nothing in particular to say, yet words keep flowing, questions keep rising.

Maybe this is how I really want to write, lost, yet still knowing where I am.

Maybe I’m better when I’m off my meds? Or maybe I’m just slowly getting worse?

If I take my meds, I’ll give my body a shock, and my mind a breakdown. Do I really want that to happen again? I think not.

My blade is always with me, and each time I use it, on my nails or to open things, it feels like it’s getting sharper, yet more taunting.

A promise of destruction, red, wide, open.
I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.
If not, you are one of the lucky ones, and I hope you’ll stay like that.

My arms are scarred, and so is my thigh. There are even scars under my tattoo, but I’m the only one who knows.

Bruising and dragging my nails violently over my own skin, in a desperate hope to slice it open.

Yet A part if me hopes that I’ll fail. That part is getting smaller, fading away.

I want it, but I don’t, yet I still do.

Is it still about relief, or is it just about destruction now? I myself do not know.

Maybe it is me who is fading away, slowly, little by little.(?)

Another mindless ramble, feelings disconnected, lost.

Maybe I write better this way, maybe people understand me more now?

But that’s not something I can say wih certainty, because I do not stand on the outside, looking in. I’m in the middle of it, trying desperately to get a glimpse of the outside. To reconnect myself to the world.

So maybe you’ll see me, looking back at you, as you squint your eyes, trying to get a look at the small glimpse I’m trying to show you of my world.

Maybe does it make more sense to you than it does so me right now.

I just feel like a blur, floating around, not sure about anything.

It occurs to me that I in fact, know nothing at all.

Flash backs. Content may be triggering


Been having those a lot today.

School bathroom, removing bloody paper towels from my wrist. The wounds sting and the blood dry. The paper is stuck in my cuts.
I harmed myself before college, wrapping my wrist with paper towels so that no one would see the blood seeping through my sleeves.

Flashbacks like these make me think about how things used to be. My Love, hate relationship with my blades.
Mostly love.

How obsessed I really was, and still am.

It makes me think about how easy it would be to start again.
I have my blade still, hidden in a small box in my room. I think about it subconsciously every day.

What’s holding me back?
The number of days that I’ll lose if I start again. And that I would have to hide my body even more again. Paranoia as well.

I feel like I’m here, but I’m not.
I want to slice myself open, but I can’t.

It’s tough. It’s been three years now, but it’s not getting any easier. An addiction is an addiction, you can’t run or hide from it. Even if all you want, need, to do is give in.

My psychiatrist thinks I may have some degree of OCD.

I want to hurt myself.

That’s all I can say right now ..

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Get out of my head!


I’ve been dreaming about him off and on, more often than not. And it just leaves me feeling empty.

People say that if you dream about someone you know, that person is missing you? But honestly, I don’t know what to believe.

I’m trying so hard to move on.

Those dreams mess with my head, they really do. They make me feel like if he wanted me back, I’d leap into his arms without a second thought. 

Sure that would’ve been nice, if he hadn’t treated me the way he did. 

I want him back, but I’m so not telling him that.

He’s ruined so much for me by leaving me the way he did. He’s completely shattered my ability to trust people, which usually came a lot easier. I cannot trust anyone anymore.

Two years and six months. That’s a long time. That’s how long we were together. He was my first.

It’s getting easier to live with, but it’s still very difficult.

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Onto a different matter. I’ve mentioned this other guy who liked me, and whom I sort of liked back. Well, turns out I’m falling for him without even knowing.

And for me its a bad thing. I don’t trust him nearly enough to be with him, and tell him what’s really going on.

I think I might try to scare him away, tell him what he’d be dealing with if it ever came to us being together.

Suicidality, not eating, not able to stop eating, isolation. and so much more.

But honestly, I dont think I can ever let him that close. What if he says he’ll never leave, and then gets sick of all my shit? 

I cant depend on anyone being there. I cannot let anyone in. They always leave because I’m too much to handle.