I’m pregnant? Yay?


I’m fifteen weeks pregnant. I’m having a baby boy.

This changes everything.

I want to do this, but I don’t.  It’s worth it, but it’s not.

How can you talk to your significant other about this? About the fact that you’re no longer sure wether you still love them or not? Simply because they’ve pushed you too far, too many times.

I’m exhausted, physically and mentally. I no longer know what to do.  Give him a time limit they say; but it’s just not that easy.  He’s going to be a dad.

It’s no longer about us, but about the baby.  If I look at it this way, the choice is clear, to leave. But I’m not ready to give up, I don’t want to give him up. I want us to raise this child together, even though I still question wether he’s actually up for the task.

But I can’t talk to him about all this, believe me, I’ve tried. All I get is anger and frustration, and him shutting me out.

I don’t want to do this alone. I’m terrified.

Was keeping the baby a huge mistake from my part? Thinking that he’ll be up for it?

Help?

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.

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 –

So fucking fed up..!!!


First they want something, then they don’t, simply because something is spicy! Jesus Fucking CHRIST!

I’m not allowed to eat. They’re pressing on my stubbornness. I’m hungry, but they won’t let me eat. So fucking fed up!

What am I supposed to do about this? Eat they say. Don’t eat they say. All for the sake of attention. His attention. Which they’re not getting. Why? Simply because he doesn’t understand. This is their, and partly also my, cry for help. The only way they know of is by trying to get his attention, good and or bad.

I hate it so fucking much.  My life shouldn’t depend on him. What I can and cannot do should not depend on him.

Their definition of other people caring is to get as much attention as possible.  They want me to hurt, because then people will notice, and then care.  Even though they’d prefer me ending up at the hospital with some kind of physical injury, because then people would care even more.

I’m just so tired of everything. It’s all just too much. I want out, but I want in. What do I actually want?

Oh, and another thing I realized yesterday, I don’t have any friends, none which I can talk to properly anyways. My family only cares when they want something.

I don’t even know what’s going on any more. I’m just done.

All I’m hearing is just overwhelming desperation from them ” We did something bad, why does he not give us attention, WHY DOESN’T HE CARE?!?!”

I’m just numb, don’t know what to think or feel any more. I want out.

I’m hungry but not allowed to eat.

I just want this to be over. Please.

I hear voices, so I must be crazy.. Right?


I hear voices, they control my behaviour and my emotions, it even goes as far as controlling what I can and cannot say. It’s like being a slave, a slave with suppressed free will.

Your own head has its own wants and needs, completely different from yours, but at times there’s agreement.

If you haven’t already noticed; Yes I’m talking about them. Melanie and Emily.

They’re the thorn in my side, someone who never shuts up, but at the same time rarely speaks. They don’t really need to.

When they’re angry, I’m angry, when they’re crying or upset, so am I.  They give me urges to do things, but it’s usually negative stuff. Over eat, don’t eat, throw your phone across the room into a wall, hurt that person. Stuff like that

“ALL ATTENTION IS GOOD ATTENTION” , Yep that’s their motto, it’s what they live for. And trust me, it’s not nice. My head’s a friggin attention whore.

But the question is, who am I in all of this? I for instance have no clue. Are they me? Am I imagining all of this? Who am I? Is it supposed to be like this?

As usual I have just sat down, not having a single clue about anything at all. I’m just writing. Isn’t that how it usually goes anyways?

Suddenly it’s dawning on me all over again, I don’t really know anything. Not really.

Worthlessness, despair, the oh so familiar wish that I could be good at something rises again. Just once, good at something on the first try, or the second or third, it doesn’t matter, just something. Just this once.

Everyone has something they’re good at right? I’m almost twenty years old, and still haven’t found a single thing.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

Feeling really welcome.


Today’s been weird as fuck.

I guess I feel depressed, but at the same time I feel really really empty, like I’m hollow. But it doesn’t hurt, not that it feels nice either. I just feel nothing. I couldn’t give two shits about anything at all. everything just seems hopeless, worthless, empty.

I’m sleeping at home today with my better half, and my step dad made us feel soooo welcome there (Sarcasm intended), I almost started crying several times. Tried refusing to eat by giving my food to my boyfriend, but sadly my mum picked up on it and gave me some more. Needless to say that I have him half of it. I’d rather he gets to fill his stomach than me.

I want out, but at the same time I couldn’t give two shits about what happens to me.

E wants me to curl up with him, cry my eyes out, and then do it again. M wants me to ignore him, just keep writing, distance myself, hopefully start feeling really shit. I don’t even have my blades with me, not that it matters, I’ve got so many options, at least in this room.

But I can’t do anything, if I did, that would be breaking the promise. I don’t break promises. They’re meant to be kept. If you can’t keep them, they shouldn’t have been made in the first place.

I get teeny tiny hints of emotions, just flickers really. Desperation, depression, annoyance, hopelessness, things like that. And at the same time, I’ve never felt so alone. I want to cry, bawl my eyes out, but I can’t. I’m too empty to even cry.

I don’t like being at “home”, it feels so unwelcome, in fact I despise it. I don’t feel like I belong here, I don’t fit in. But then again, I never did.

I just want to come home to someone who’s happy to see me, that says that they miss me even if I were to be gone for just a few hours. Someone who’s genuinely happy to see me. Someone who makes me feel welcome and loved.

Too much is going on inside right now. I have no idea of how to deal with it. I want out. I want it gone. Everything is too much.

How can it be so, when at the same time I feel like a mess, but at the same time I feel nothing at all? I’ve never ever felt this empty, border-lining to serene. It feels strangely familiar, in a very scary way.

I feel really unwanted.