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.

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Summer days


( Written on my iPhone)
I havent written in ages, so I figured that I’d write a little just to let you all know that I’m still alive and doing pretty okay (:

For almost three months ago I started using Zoloft for to treat my depression and anxiety, and as far as I can tell they are working pretty well for me.

Ages ago, as many of you know, I was put on fluxotine for about six months with NO effect what so ever, so I was pretty desperate you could say.

With this medication I actually had an positive effect the second or third day, which for me is pretty amazing.
And knowing me, I just brushed it off for the reason that I just had a good period of time, so I guess you could say that I was pretty sceptical, because of how my mum and step dad’s acting when there’s talk about medication of any sort.

So after I quit fluxotine, I went a long time with no medication at all, even though I was offered to start on my current one, but I was too insecure and had so much pressure from my mum and such, so I decided not to take up on the offer. But a while later my problems got worse, suicidal thoughts and a very unstable mood and such, I got the offer again, and after a lot of discussion I found out that trying out Zoloft was the best option for me, and I don’t regret it, well not much anyway.

You see, when I’m on Zoloft I feel like I don’t have any problems, mostly.

And surely that would be a good thing, right? Yeah, I wish, but the thing is that if I feel like I dont have any issues, what do I talk about with my therapist about then? I dont want to quit having weekly sessions with her, I dont feel close to ready enough for that at all.

So I somewhat want my issues back so I can work on them, and get rid of them instead of just using the medication and just going on with my life not solving them, and then when I quit using them, it will all come back? Then I’ll be back to where I started, wont I?

You could say that I am a little lost on that matter. Sure I get a break from most of my issues, but for what good? I wont get a chance to work on them if I dont feel like I have them anymore, even though I know better.

I probably should ask my therapist about this on wednesday.

Do any of you have any opinions or something to say on this matter? I’m all ears.

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Is it really?


Lately I’ve been wondering, or rather maybe realizing that all thats going on with me, the anxiety and depression and such, It’s really all my fault.

I got myself into this mess (not on purpose tho) and by doing that, I’ve hurt all those who love and care about me. It’s kind of selfish, don’t you think? That’s at least how I feel about it, selfish.

I guess I’ve blamed my ‘dad’ for it, which isn’t right because It’s I who got myself into this mess. Sure others may have a small part of it, but it’s mostly myself I have to blame.

I don’t know why I keep thinking about it, why It’s so important to have someone to blame, but at the same time I know I can’t, I’m not allowed to blame anyone else for my mess. I’m not sure how to explain it but it’s like I’m not allowed to blame anyone but myself, if that makes any sense that it is.

Another thing is that I’m sort of worried about what’s going to happen on the 26th this month, me and my mum, probably my step dad too, to discuss the medication I’m going to be taking, but that’s not what I’m worried about. The fact that the last time I started taking medication, mum got me admitted to the psych ward for a week, and I asked her about that, if she would do that if there were a minor suicide risk this time as well, and she said maybe, she didn’t know. But I’m worried I’ll end up there again. Sure if she wants me to, and the doctors agree to it, I’ll do it just so she’ll stop worrying, but I’m also worried that it’ll make things worse.

When my new therapist mentioned that I had been a reason to worry my old therapist for quite a while, cause she was afraid I’d kill myself, and that triggered me, because I don’t usually talk about that, it’s scary. Why? Because I know a part of me craves it, but it’s not strong enough to push me into having suicidal thoughts or plans or anything, but it’s still worrying.

Another part of me wants to have me admitted to the ward for a while, to get better, but I know what I’m dealing with isn’t serious enough for that, unless I turn suicidal, which I’m not.

I’m scared of the ward, and I’m scared of the suicidal thoughts or behavior or what to call it. So I guess I’m sort of stuck, just like I’ve been for quite a while.

 

Writing


One of my favourite things to do is to write, I used to write a lot, from songs, to poems, even texts.

But lately, or it’s actually been like this for quite a while, that I am unable to write anything meaningful before the protests starts. I feel it through my body, like its screaming no, and wipes out my thoughts, either completely, or only half of them, leaving me frustrated and terribly confused, and as you might know, its not good feelings to have.

I’ve explained the issue with my mind in pervious posts, so I don’t think I’ll have to explain it any further.

I’m diagnosed with depression and social anxiety, but I’m so many times left wondering if there might be something more, or something entirely different “wrong” with me. The way my mind acts is like it has a mind of its own. Like when I’m struggling, and people, usually my boyfriend tries to help, he says things that are right, things I should listen to, and I want to, because I know it could maybe help, but that’s where my mind kicks in and starts denying it, protesting against it, making me believe the opposite of what’s right for me, even though I know so well that what he said is or was true, I just can’t make myself believe in it, just because my mind makes me believe otherwise.

It’s rather difficult to explain, even for me.

I’m sitting here with my mind completely empty, as I do every time I attempt to make a post, it’s frustrating because it makes me unable to put words on what I’m feeling. It’s like a constant battle with myself, where the only thing I can do is sit and watch, because I have no idea what to do, or how to even “fight” it, because, it’s me, myself.

I’m starting on medications again soon, so I’m just hoping that they’ll work.

I’m left with this feeling like no matter what I write, it’s meaningless, it does not mean anything to anyone. But I guess that’s because I’m unable to explain things properly, so I feel like I’m not getting anywhere with this.

Hopeless. And again it seems to me that my mind has won.