Depression’s Like A Black Hole…

…it sucks you in and you can’t do anything about it.
You struggle, you beg, you wriggle like an eel, trying to escape…but you can’t.
That’s exactly how I’m feeling right now.

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I always thought I’d be stronger…strong enough to keep depression in check but apparently I’m not.
I’m now officially back into therapy, due to my panic attacks and the increasingly depressive state I’ve been in recently. So much has been going on lately, that I don’t have the strength to deal with…problems at school and at home but above all things, problems with my own darn mind.

I’d love to blog more and comment on everyone’s posts but depression is like this really heavy burden you’re carrying around on your shoulders and that’s the driving force behind your actions and thoughts, so that you’re not really deciding how you want to live your life anymore…depression just controls everything.

I really hope that therapy will have a positive effect on my condition rather quickly, because I have the final exams coming up in June and can’t afford to suffer a mental breakdown half way through it.
And although I’ve tried to keep my current condition to myself and to just “function”, especially at school, our supervisor must’ve noticed my mental health problems somehow, because a couple of weeks ago she came up to me and asked me what was wrong. She had noticed my drastic weight loss and that I kept isolating myself from the class. I started wailing like a 5-year-old as soon as I realized that their was no use trying to avoid the elephant in the room. That’s currently happening to me quite a lot, that can keep myself together as long as no one starts asking questions. I just want to be left alone. I want to be normal and not the “crazy, mentally deranged girl who always needs her special treatment”.

But being back in therapy is getting a special treatment and that’s enough for me to say that I failed…not only myself, but also my family and friends. I just want to lead a normal life someday…even it seems like an unreachable dream right now. But that’s what keeps me going. That, and D (“my person“).

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He’s My Person! Part 1

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Every since I met him a bit over a year ago, I’m constantly asking myself the same questions over and over again:

“Am I a bad person?”….”Is he a bad person?”….”Are we both indifferent to our own, and other people’s emotions and feelings?” And the only answer I can come up with is “Yes…we probably are!”.

I grew up in an intact family. I never saw my parents having a fight or any other issues in general. I know that every couple have their certain problems now and then, but they always stuck together and they gave me the feeling, that my family was a save haven…a place where morals were of a certain value, and they still are.

My entire childhood, I considered marriage and being together with the same person for the rest of your life an unalterable fact. Everyone would find their “person”…I would some day find a man who was good enough for me to marry, to have children and build a house with….to live happily ever after.

But then, everything changed, when I started to have feelings for a guy who should have been totally out of bounds for me. Because I had moralities….yes I did….and I would act accordingly. At least that was, what I kept desperately telling myself.

When I first found out that he was married and had two children, I hated my guts….I hated his guts…I hated everyone’s guts. I hated myself for being stupid enough and trying to believe that he, at the age of 33, would wondrously, still be single or at least….uhm….divorced…widowed….pretty please?. For God’s sake…one look at him and I knew that he wasn’t any of such things.

I hated his guts because he flirted with me, talked to me, brought me tea and coffee, touched me slightly every time he walked by….and looked at me with his fucking bedroom eyes. He was a dirtbag…he was just like all the other guys who thought so little of women and fancied themselves so much, that they thought they could play their stupid games with them, and then just move on to the next…while their wives stayed at home and took care of the children, unaware of their husbands’ extramarital activities.

I tried to hate him. I really did. And I kept avoiding him for half a year, thinking that he’d stop trying to be nice, like “these kind of guys” usually do and would move on to look for another girl. But he didn’t.

Instead, one day, when I was on my way to the women’s restroom, I accidentally ran into him, in a dimly lit hallway. After the door had closed behind me with a loud bang, I realized that I couldn’t avoid him any longer. The hallway was so narrow that he (stupid broad shoulders…and everything….damn) completely blocked my way.

Before I could say or do anything, he kissed me. That was half a year ago…and the beginning of our “relationship”. And now, he’s my person…not the person I will marry….but the person I’d call if I had to find someone help me drag a corpse across the living room floor. He’s my person.

Christmas Gruesomeness

Christmas…Christ.Mas….
Why do I always feel like, on any kind of holiday or my birthday, I start feeling particularly depressed and sad in a kind of pathetic way?

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So far, I wasn’t able to come up with a fully coherent answer, while sitting with my messed up parents and my slightly senile grandmother in our totally undecorated living room…merely, to get drunk and to unwrap the same gifts every year.
The shower gel you’re never going to use, the 10oooth cozy cotton towel or a maxi-pack of anything Milka-ish that I’m just going to eat up during a depressive episode between January and next December (despite my lactose intolerance), only to have a crying fit shortly after, questioning my undisciplined behavior and my body fat percentage.

I just think on days like these, I become very aware of how messed up I am. Any kind of holiday intensifies my subjective discomfort and my feeling of being alone, in a kind of way that makes it impossible for me to think straight.
I always feel alone and cut out….regardless of whether I’m really alone and cut out or surrounded by friends and family. Continue reading

Role Conflict aka “The Hoe”

Everybody’s gotta live up to certain social roles in life, right?
We’re are daughters, sons, (girl/boy)friends, mothers, sisters, students and so much more…life is like a theater play or a movie, we act, we lie, we wear certain masks and costumes to disguise who we really are even if it’s just to be liked by people, to be accepted…or even to make sure, that we’re, at least, not being hated.

And sometimes this play’s comic, sometimes tragic and most of the time, it’s both.

When it comes to me…I’ve been playing quite a few roles lately, that I’m not really happy with, and even less proud of.
One of the roles that I never thought I’d ever have is…”The Hoe”…as I like to call it. Other people would probably just consider me a “lover”, an “affaire” or whatever terms you can come up with to describe the fact that I slept with a man who’s in a relationship….not just once, but multiple times, over the last couple of months.
I got there after his housemate went to work and left early in the morning before he was coming back from his night shift….no one was allowed to see me….they could tell someone, especially his girlfriend, of course he never told me that, but I knew it right from the beginning, that he was struggling pretty badly to keep the whole thing secret.
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Just.Not.Good.Enough…

I’m not really happy with myself at the moment.
Although I guess when other people look at me they don’t really know what my damn problem is. School has been going quite well recently and I’m definitely going to be there next year. Yes I made it and I worked my ass off to get this far. The thing is, that’s what others think….my parents, my friends. Of course, I’m happy too, but again…not really. I’m not satisfied with myself. I’m always looking at myself in the mirror going “You could have done better! You could’ve worked harder. Why did your grades average out at 2.2 (B) and not 1.8….or like you friend’s at 1.4 (A)? You.Are.Not.Good.Enough. Period!”

Momentarily, it’s like every single aspect of my life is just there to show me, that I have a serious problem. If I had to name said problem it’d probably be: “Girl, you have serious self-esteem issues and everyone around you enjoys the fact that you let them shove it right back down your throat every time you think you could finally get somewhere in life.”
Yeah…that’s probably it.
And what’s even worse about the whole situation is, that I can’t even tell if it’s me…or if I’m not, in fact, just simply surrounded by assholes ö.Ö I guess it’s a bit of both.

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Better Off Alone

I hurt him, I insulted him when he wanted to make up for the time we had lost….and  now I got my comeuppance. I’ve never hated myself as much as I do right now. I’ve been seeing it wrong the entire time… instead of being happy that he even talked to me after all the things that I had done to him, I was angry about him not being overly thankful that I had finally gotten off my high horse ö.Ö How full of yourself do you have to be to actually think that other people should kiss your feet for being obnoxious, refusing to give love but expecting others to give it to you?

He wouldn’t talk to me anymore, so I wrote him. I hope he read it.
I’m done. I give up.

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The Worst Thing About School…

…is the cooking :/

We have to cook something every week and are graded for it…so there’s absolutely no way I could wriggle myself out of it.
Honestly, I like cooking in general…as long as I don’t have to eat it, especially when I was told what to cook…and mostly, what my teacher wants me to cook TOTALLY differs from my opinion of how a perfect meal has to look like -.-*…meaning vegetables, lean fish, fresh fruits for example…and as little fat as possible.
My teacher however, is more into the traditional German cooking…which means we’re forced to cook a lot of stuff that is greasy and full of carbs/sugar.

But even worse is, that we’re supposed to have a taste of EVERYTHING we cook. And not only of our stuff, but of the dishes of the rest of the class too -.-*
Let’s say there are 8 people, each cooking a three-course menu = 32 samples Ö.Ö

I’m constantly trying to avoid this in all kinds of ways (like discarding most of the food in a plastic bag under the table) …because I don’t want to stuff my face with loads of unnecessary calories and fat.
We’re currently cooking stuff for the obese…so the dishes are already calorie-reduced and low-fat but it’s still just gross. And what am I supposed to do when we start cooking shit for anorexics (whatever they consider as anorexic…I don’t mind if people are skinny as long as they’re healthy)? Hidden fat and calories en masse Ö.Ö….oh god.

Every week I’m just sitting there nibbling at my piece of cucumber, watching the others wolfing down loads of food…and I’m just like:

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Heeelloooo? We’re supposed to tell obese people what to eat, so they can become healthier and lead a happier life…and I think, that you have to practise what you preach…on the one hand to come across as credible and on the other hand to look appropriate. You can’t be fat and then tell fat people that they’re doing something wrong.
They’re overweight for god’s sake…not brain-dead.