Moving on sometimes involves literally moving somewhere…in my case, to my old home town.
I found a beautiful flat right in the town center. It’s not too big and not to small and it was important for me that it had two rooms, not just one….because I hate people sitting on my bed when they visit me, or everything smelling of food when I cook something.
I can not put into words how much this new beginning means to me. It’s exactly what all my therapist have been telling me to do for all these years. It was a huge step but now that it’s done, I also feel that it’s been a necessary one.
Although I haven’t been feeling my best lately and I’m quite sick and depressed most of the time, I do think that it’s nice not having to justify for the way you’re feeling. I can feel shitty as long as I want and I can stay in bed all day if I have to, without someone asking stupid questions….it’s strangely liberating 😉
For the last two weeks I have been so busy and even though the moving process was very hard and quite stressful, I felt really well. I hadn’t been feeling so good in a long time. Although it lasted only for a couple of days, it really raised my spirits a bit. But unfortunately those days are the exception rather than the rule 😦
Besides, I’m scared to fail again. I’m not in good shape, neither physically nor mentally…how am I supposed to survive nursing school? My best friend told me to be more optimistic, but honestly…I just see myself failing over and over again…having mental breakdowns and screwing up my life forever. So far I have neither graduated nor finished my apprenticeship…and nursing school is not going to get any easier. No one will pay any attention to whether I feel good or not…if you don’t work hard enough or are sick too often you just get fired…and that’s that. And then I will really have NOTHING.
I would be forced to go back to live with my parents without any completed training or education and as if that wasn’t enough, my parents would lose all the money they payed for my furniture and the flat.
Right now I’m just scared…I really want to live like a normal person and live a normal and happy life but I can’t…my body won’t let me. I really don’t know how to be healthy and normal. And most of all I think that I don’t even know how to be happy. I just lost my ability to feel anything even remotely happiness-related I think.
Wow…now that’s a thing to tell the psychiatrist that I have to go to next week for the first time. I don’t think that he can possibly help me but it’s worth a try….even though I already know that I can’t take any meds due to my cardiac afflictions and my risk for thrombosis.
…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.
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“).
I never wanted to use this blog again. I wanted to close this chapter of my life and just be a normal person.
But for the last two months, I’ve been feeling worse than ever.
I’ll probably start therapy again.
….although I feel like a failure.
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?
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
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.
Here I am, writing with shaky hands, drinking Whiskey right out of the bottle. It’s my birthday.
What a beautiful day. Happy carcass jubilee to meeeeeeee…..yeah!
My room smells of flowers and the new perfume I bought myself today, my hair smells of smoke and my breath smells of booze and the garlic pesto I ate today, because I knew that no one would come around to say hi (thought about drinking the perfume first, at least that would have made the 70 bucks I spent on it kinda well-invested…but it smells too good to actually drink it. So I guess If I’m not happy and funny, I can at least smell happy and funny….just to be the perfect illusion everyone expects) Continue reading
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.