This year for the first time kiddo birthday didn't stress me out. She didn't want to be social. Didn't want visitors. So for the first time in about ten years I didn't have to worry about anything. I'm good at worrying.
Always the need to weigh everything from 'I so mustn't do it the way my parents did' to 'I so mustn't overreact and do only the opposite of my parents' is really tiring. And since about two years I can't even do that. I have to figure it out all by myself (which is tiring too). I hope during all those years I managed to keep it balanced, but I can't really judge that. Birthdays were horror. My birthdays at my parents place never really were all that fun (for as far as I can remember that is), but after my 11th birthday it got even worse. My grandfather died that day. The family visiting, the family visiting the hospital where he was. The family mourning. After that my mother seemed to have a valid excuse to behave odd to me and could openly dislike it that that day belonged to me. How I dared to laugh and be happy when it was her father that had died on that same day.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
History - Part 9
Fear. I can't remember not being afraid. I was controlled by fear. Every breath. Every step. Anything could happen, which usually did.
Something that got overlooked one day would get me smacked across the house the other day. Probably why I can't handle surprises that well. I need to know all. Need to have the illusion of having control.
And every time I try to explain fear I get distracted by random memories that haunt me and want to get out (probably why I'm trying for three days already to get this one done!).
I wasn't afraid of the punishments, well they would hurt, but I knew they were coming. I only didn't know what would trigger them. A random remark to visitors, a plate that wasn't thoroughly cleaned, a dustbin that I had forgotten to empty, a missing teaspoon, being late. I constantly needed to race all the things in my mind to check and double check and triple check if I had done something or forgotten something that would get me smacked. If all was well my mother would make something up that was bad that day or that she had forgotten to smack me about the day before.
The short periods where we managed a truce were also the most unnerving. It could hit me anytime, I was constantly on the edge. Each moment where I relaxed and not paid attention to what I did would backfire at some point. And I never saw it coming. Just one day my mother would stand there in the kitchen to block my way and explode on me. I had promised to behave, to be a good kid, to listen, to do as told, so whyyyy hadn't I. And no matter I knew that was coming it always was when I least expected it somehow. The panic of rethinking all I had done or not done. What had made her explode. Because she insisted I tell what I had done wrong and saying something different than she had in mind would get me double punished.
And I can't seem to catch the feeling in words.
Something that got overlooked one day would get me smacked across the house the other day. Probably why I can't handle surprises that well. I need to know all. Need to have the illusion of having control.
And every time I try to explain fear I get distracted by random memories that haunt me and want to get out (probably why I'm trying for three days already to get this one done!).
I wasn't afraid of the punishments, well they would hurt, but I knew they were coming. I only didn't know what would trigger them. A random remark to visitors, a plate that wasn't thoroughly cleaned, a dustbin that I had forgotten to empty, a missing teaspoon, being late. I constantly needed to race all the things in my mind to check and double check and triple check if I had done something or forgotten something that would get me smacked. If all was well my mother would make something up that was bad that day or that she had forgotten to smack me about the day before.
The short periods where we managed a truce were also the most unnerving. It could hit me anytime, I was constantly on the edge. Each moment where I relaxed and not paid attention to what I did would backfire at some point. And I never saw it coming. Just one day my mother would stand there in the kitchen to block my way and explode on me. I had promised to behave, to be a good kid, to listen, to do as told, so whyyyy hadn't I. And no matter I knew that was coming it always was when I least expected it somehow. The panic of rethinking all I had done or not done. What had made her explode. Because she insisted I tell what I had done wrong and saying something different than she had in mind would get me double punished.
And I can't seem to catch the feeling in words.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Death
I honestly don't understand why people get so upset about the whole idea of death and suicide. Life is all about death. It's a one way ticket to it in fact.
People are so proud that they live their own lives, that they are in control, yet they just wait for death to happen. Something that could happen any time. Yet the mere thought of only mentioning it is enough to upset them. And I don't get it. People talk about more gruesome things even, without blinking. And not like I want to talk about their death (which I can imagine might be upsetting if you're happy with your life and someone wants to discuss your upcoming demise).
And why not talk about it. And what is so wrong about it. Things break, people die, nothing is forever.
People are so proud that they live their own lives, that they are in control, yet they just wait for death to happen. Something that could happen any time. Yet the mere thought of only mentioning it is enough to upset them. And I don't get it. People talk about more gruesome things even, without blinking. And not like I want to talk about their death (which I can imagine might be upsetting if you're happy with your life and someone wants to discuss your upcoming demise).
And why not talk about it. And what is so wrong about it. Things break, people die, nothing is forever.
I used to believe
- that people were right and I was indeed insane
- that if I did everything right my mother would love me or at least wouldn't hate me so much
- that adults knew what they were doing
- that some day everything would make sense
- that having good intentions is enough
- that believe itself was enough to make things happen
Somewhere I stopped believing, facts can do that. The only thing I can still believe is that I am insane.
- that if I did everything right my mother would love me or at least wouldn't hate me so much
- that adults knew what they were doing
- that some day everything would make sense
- that having good intentions is enough
- that believe itself was enough to make things happen
Somewhere I stopped believing, facts can do that. The only thing I can still believe is that I am insane.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Fatigue
I'm not suicidal, the same way as I'm not an alcoholic. It is just an option. Always. Somewhere in the back of my mind. Although drinking is repeatable. And sometimes the thought gets so much more enticing. Why not end it here now. What's left to do but just endure endless new days. Some things will never change.
Maybe life is just a matter of faith, believe. And I don't believe in anything I think. There's things I know and there's things I know I don't know. A higher cause, a meaning to it all, an omnipotent being. I just can't believe.
And maybe I have to believe in something to make going on less tiring. Maybe that's the stupid key.
Maybe life is just a matter of faith, believe. And I don't believe in anything I think. There's things I know and there's things I know I don't know. A higher cause, a meaning to it all, an omnipotent being. I just can't believe.
And maybe I have to believe in something to make going on less tiring. Maybe that's the stupid key.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Balance
Is hard. Constant being on the edge, always scared to cross the line accidentally. Any line. And there are so many. And they are vague. Where exactly is the line between sanity and insanity. I know getting naked, rolling in peanut butter and running around the streets while yelling: My pants are on fire, would be accounted for insanity. But that is a bit too obvious, first of all a real waste of food, secondly it might get cold and whatever. The point is where do you know that preferring to sit at home gets to the insanity part. Where goes trying to avoid stress beyond normal. Not wanting to talk to people. Questioning motives, reasons, reactions. Analyzing self (ya and motives, reasons, reactions and questioning them).
I do not know. I am my own normality. My own center. Everything I see is evaluated by me only. My moral, my view, my way of thinking, my normality. I think therefor I am unhappy. Brain surgery anyone?
I am made by me. My past, my now, even my future. And how do you remake yourself. I don't believe in that one cure, that certain way of life to make it all better. I don't believe I'm seeing the world from a wrong perspective. I might be though. But what does it matter. Why (besides the please don't make me work (or have any other things that throw me out in the social world) or I kill someone reason) did I go out to try find a therapistthingie.
In my world it is morally wrong to get a kiddo and abandon it before it is an adult. And since I'm trying to live by my own standards I can't do anything to jeopardize taking care of it. Which technically means no jail, no compulsary admission, no suicide, no loss of custody.
And in all honesty, I don't really want to live. The constant thinking. How long does a child needs its parents. At what point can you say, this is it.
What I want from a relation is more than I can ask for. Total devotion, constantly acknowledging my existence, confirmation, being first priority. Yet, I don't think I can handle if I would get that really. I wouldn't be able to keep the relation balanced, since the more you get, the more you want (ya, I know I'm not very coherent right now). At this point I'm pretty sure the relation I actually need doesn't exist for me. And since I'm human (and hence want to be part of the herd), I'm just not up to play solo.
I do not know. I am my own normality. My own center. Everything I see is evaluated by me only. My moral, my view, my way of thinking, my normality. I think therefor I am unhappy. Brain surgery anyone?
I am made by me. My past, my now, even my future. And how do you remake yourself. I don't believe in that one cure, that certain way of life to make it all better. I don't believe I'm seeing the world from a wrong perspective. I might be though. But what does it matter. Why (besides the please don't make me work (or have any other things that throw me out in the social world) or I kill someone reason) did I go out to try find a therapistthingie.
In my world it is morally wrong to get a kiddo and abandon it before it is an adult. And since I'm trying to live by my own standards I can't do anything to jeopardize taking care of it. Which technically means no jail, no compulsary admission, no suicide, no loss of custody.
And in all honesty, I don't really want to live. The constant thinking. How long does a child needs its parents. At what point can you say, this is it.
What I want from a relation is more than I can ask for. Total devotion, constantly acknowledging my existence, confirmation, being first priority. Yet, I don't think I can handle if I would get that really. I wouldn't be able to keep the relation balanced, since the more you get, the more you want (ya, I know I'm not very coherent right now). At this point I'm pretty sure the relation I actually need doesn't exist for me. And since I'm human (and hence want to be part of the herd), I'm just not up to play solo.
Monday, May 10, 2010
History - Part 8
I think the Ruyterstee (ya, that was the name of the psychiatric hospital for kiddies I got send to) actually in a way saved me from going bad. Hum, that's not really coming out the way I want to. When I left my parents house I didn't care about most things anymore. I wasn't reckless, suicidal or destructive on purpose by that time. I just couldn't care less what would happen to me or anything around me. Which looking back is for me about the most dangerous state of mind I can be in.
I can recall one of the tests before I got send away where there were different carton boxes representing people around you and a stack of little cards with all kinds of activities and stuff and you had to put them in the different boxes. Like with who do you cuddle most and stuff. And it was hard. All those things mentioned were so far from my life that I gave up thinking and shoved most in the don't know box, which couldn't hold them all even. I felt mostly stupid because I thought I was failing a test, even though I didn't know what test and how to make it right.
Which might just be the story of my life. It's all a big test and nobody tells me the rules or how to pass it. And always I feel stupid. Being rational about it never seems to change that feeling. I know I'm not stupid. Except that I am.
People at the Ruyterstee had issues. Visible issues. It was easy to blend in, in a way, since there was no need to pretend to be normal. Whatever normal is. I was sure I had issues, although I was sure it was me. It was a relief to just be able to be nuts. Since clearly I had to be nuts else they wouldn't have send me there no? That I wasn't cutting myself open each day or behaved in other unusual ways didn't say anything about being normal. Since I was a bad kid. And sick.
'You can come home again when you're better.' I had no clue what better was, but if it would make me get back to my parents I pretty sure didn't want to become better.
At one point I visited my parents house again (after a loooong period of not wanting that) and they had thrown away all my things that I hadn't taken with me. Maybe at that point I realized that I was never going to live there again. And that there actually was no place anywhere I belonged. A stranger in a strange land.
It was good for me to notice that people in a way cared about me. Although there was always that background noise that claimed they only did because it was their job. Which was also true. But in a way it was enough (or well, is it) to get me out of the indifference.
I can recall one of the tests before I got send away where there were different carton boxes representing people around you and a stack of little cards with all kinds of activities and stuff and you had to put them in the different boxes. Like with who do you cuddle most and stuff. And it was hard. All those things mentioned were so far from my life that I gave up thinking and shoved most in the don't know box, which couldn't hold them all even. I felt mostly stupid because I thought I was failing a test, even though I didn't know what test and how to make it right.
Which might just be the story of my life. It's all a big test and nobody tells me the rules or how to pass it. And always I feel stupid. Being rational about it never seems to change that feeling. I know I'm not stupid. Except that I am.
People at the Ruyterstee had issues. Visible issues. It was easy to blend in, in a way, since there was no need to pretend to be normal. Whatever normal is. I was sure I had issues, although I was sure it was me. It was a relief to just be able to be nuts. Since clearly I had to be nuts else they wouldn't have send me there no? That I wasn't cutting myself open each day or behaved in other unusual ways didn't say anything about being normal. Since I was a bad kid. And sick.
'You can come home again when you're better.' I had no clue what better was, but if it would make me get back to my parents I pretty sure didn't want to become better.
At one point I visited my parents house again (after a loooong period of not wanting that) and they had thrown away all my things that I hadn't taken with me. Maybe at that point I realized that I was never going to live there again. And that there actually was no place anywhere I belonged. A stranger in a strange land.
It was good for me to notice that people in a way cared about me. Although there was always that background noise that claimed they only did because it was their job. Which was also true. But in a way it was enough (or well, is it) to get me out of the indifference.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Meds, yay?
Day one:
Slight nausea. Weird empty stomach feeling all the time. Took meds at 8am, six hours later something is feeling exhausted but doesn't feel like it's me. Might be residue from trip though.
Day two:
Bit nauseated, but not constant. Feeling bloated. Tried to sleep early last evening, I think I managed to fall asleep before midnight even (so that's less than 2hrs lying awake! Yay?) and think I actually slept till 6. Day seems to keep stretching ahead of me. Tired, very tired, but still doesn't feel like it's me. Thinking goes very random. Short term memory failing. But still feels like everything is happening outside me.
Day three:
Slept crappy. Kept waking up. Nausea as good as gone. And the word I was looking for yesterday is unheimlich. Am more detached than usual. Don't know if that's good or bad or a side effect. Not really tired, although not feeling like I want to do something or more not bothering if I should do something. And in a way I'm slightly bothered that things aren't bothering me directly, while not even bothered about that even.
Day four:
Test with beer wasn't good or bad. Slept same crap as before. Losing weight again. Not sure about anything. When I do something I just want to sleep. When I try to sleep I am wide awake. There is no meaning. Actually spending most my time in bed.
Day five:
Weird dreams. Most the time feeling half asleep, half awake. Thoughts stick and then become highly important, luckily they get replaced by new thoughts fast. Not to mention I seem to have thoughts overlapping, don't know how to explain. Like two different things pop into mind at same time. Disturbing a bit. Also weird urges to take more meds. Losing time at one end, while still time passes incredibly slow at the other. Don't know how I slept really, since it felt like I was awake most of the time.
Day six:
Blah. Should get out for groceries. But can't get myself to it. Haven't left house since monday. Still weirdly distracted and unfocussed.
Day seven:
Couldn't sleep. Pain is eating me up.
The fog has lifted a bit though, which I assume is good. Except for the craving of painkillers today (which I didn't dare take, curse you evil apothecary for scaring me) seems okay. Still feeling restless and inactive both. And I guess at one point I have to leave house.
Day eight:
'Oh that can kill me' thoughts drifting by. Not real thoughts, just softly bouncing at the outer boundaries of my mind. Restless a bit, still detached.
Gave up trying to sleep. So tired.
Day nine:
Tired.
Day ten:
Very reluctant to leave house. Don't know why. Feeling okay though (as long as I don't have to leave house *hides*). Started alphabetizing books finally. Also, taking a beer now, I can't handle more hours of lying awake.
Day eleven:
I think we're okay.
Hum, we're slow with interaction. Like my brain keeps shutting down in the middle of sentences. Which should annoy me, but doesn't.
Day twelve:
Still not sleeping well. Waking up all the time.
Week three:
My dreams go more and more disturbing. Actually screamed out loud this night, while unable to get out of the between-wake-sleep part. Will try to change medtaketime to before sleep in coming days.
And nausea came back after I took meds three hours after 24hrs. Will try two hours tomorrow.
Also these meds are great antibooze, got utterly sick after I drank more than one beer and puked my brains out.
So tired. Didn't help I couldn't sleep till after 3am and had to get up early to make chocolatecake. Don't want to sleep now since I want a normal night of sleep for once again.
Feeling crappish, remind me next time to not change time in 3hrs interval. Luckily tomorrow should be at the new right time and there's still hope I sleep better if I take them before sleep.
Week four:
Sleep still bad. But I think I feel less tired during day.
Hum yesterday felt really nontired. Today kinda tired again. Maybe because I made long day at bookshop yesterday and didn't sleep enough really. Had troubles falling asleep again and dragged myself out of bed at 7.30. Resisting urge to nap, so maybe I sleep better this night.
Week five:
On and off sorta tired. Still not sleeping well.
Hum, shrink wants me to take higher dose. 15mg instead of 10. *ponders*
Okay, a day in Boekerij tires me sorta. Also the not being able to do something for more than about 15mins starts to annoy me.
Week six:
Tired and actually falling asleep during daytime past two days again. Maybe I have to stop overdosing on energydrinks.
Week seven:
Went from 10mg to 15mg and feeling tired all day. Thoughts come and go, sorta sticky come and go. I think thoughts of slaughtering people, killing self and blowing up buildings are getting a bit on my nerves. So I guess I have to wait a week to see if it gets different.
Week eight (I think):
Losing track of time once again. Tired still. Going outside becomes more and more weird.
And def lost track of time now. Have the feeling I'm on this since forever. But have to admit I do feel less tired during day. My nights seem okayish and I'm painfree since like forever too now. Soon will try 5mg, if I get shrink to fax recipe for 10mg tablets. At this moment on 7.5mg and feeling good.
Slight nausea. Weird empty stomach feeling all the time. Took meds at 8am, six hours later something is feeling exhausted but doesn't feel like it's me. Might be residue from trip though.
Day two:
Bit nauseated, but not constant. Feeling bloated. Tried to sleep early last evening, I think I managed to fall asleep before midnight even (so that's less than 2hrs lying awake! Yay?) and think I actually slept till 6. Day seems to keep stretching ahead of me. Tired, very tired, but still doesn't feel like it's me. Thinking goes very random. Short term memory failing. But still feels like everything is happening outside me.
Day three:
Slept crappy. Kept waking up. Nausea as good as gone. And the word I was looking for yesterday is unheimlich. Am more detached than usual. Don't know if that's good or bad or a side effect. Not really tired, although not feeling like I want to do something or more not bothering if I should do something. And in a way I'm slightly bothered that things aren't bothering me directly, while not even bothered about that even.
Day four:
Test with beer wasn't good or bad. Slept same crap as before. Losing weight again. Not sure about anything. When I do something I just want to sleep. When I try to sleep I am wide awake. There is no meaning. Actually spending most my time in bed.
Day five:
Weird dreams. Most the time feeling half asleep, half awake. Thoughts stick and then become highly important, luckily they get replaced by new thoughts fast. Not to mention I seem to have thoughts overlapping, don't know how to explain. Like two different things pop into mind at same time. Disturbing a bit. Also weird urges to take more meds. Losing time at one end, while still time passes incredibly slow at the other. Don't know how I slept really, since it felt like I was awake most of the time.
Day six:
Blah. Should get out for groceries. But can't get myself to it. Haven't left house since monday. Still weirdly distracted and unfocussed.
Day seven:
Couldn't sleep. Pain is eating me up.
The fog has lifted a bit though, which I assume is good. Except for the craving of painkillers today (which I didn't dare take, curse you evil apothecary for scaring me) seems okay. Still feeling restless and inactive both. And I guess at one point I have to leave house.
Day eight:
'Oh that can kill me' thoughts drifting by. Not real thoughts, just softly bouncing at the outer boundaries of my mind. Restless a bit, still detached.
Gave up trying to sleep. So tired.
Day nine:
Tired.
Day ten:
Very reluctant to leave house. Don't know why. Feeling okay though (as long as I don't have to leave house *hides*). Started alphabetizing books finally. Also, taking a beer now, I can't handle more hours of lying awake.
Day eleven:
I think we're okay.
Hum, we're slow with interaction. Like my brain keeps shutting down in the middle of sentences. Which should annoy me, but doesn't.
Day twelve:
Still not sleeping well. Waking up all the time.
Week three:
My dreams go more and more disturbing. Actually screamed out loud this night, while unable to get out of the between-wake-sleep part. Will try to change medtaketime to before sleep in coming days.
And nausea came back after I took meds three hours after 24hrs. Will try two hours tomorrow.
Also these meds are great antibooze, got utterly sick after I drank more than one beer and puked my brains out.
So tired. Didn't help I couldn't sleep till after 3am and had to get up early to make chocolatecake. Don't want to sleep now since I want a normal night of sleep for once again.
Feeling crappish, remind me next time to not change time in 3hrs interval. Luckily tomorrow should be at the new right time and there's still hope I sleep better if I take them before sleep.
Week four:
Sleep still bad. But I think I feel less tired during day.
Hum yesterday felt really nontired. Today kinda tired again. Maybe because I made long day at bookshop yesterday and didn't sleep enough really. Had troubles falling asleep again and dragged myself out of bed at 7.30. Resisting urge to nap, so maybe I sleep better this night.
Week five:
On and off sorta tired. Still not sleeping well.
Hum, shrink wants me to take higher dose. 15mg instead of 10. *ponders*
Okay, a day in Boekerij tires me sorta. Also the not being able to do something for more than about 15mins starts to annoy me.
Week six:
Tired and actually falling asleep during daytime past two days again. Maybe I have to stop overdosing on energydrinks.
Week seven:
Went from 10mg to 15mg and feeling tired all day. Thoughts come and go, sorta sticky come and go. I think thoughts of slaughtering people, killing self and blowing up buildings are getting a bit on my nerves. So I guess I have to wait a week to see if it gets different.
Week eight (I think):
Losing track of time once again. Tired still. Going outside becomes more and more weird.
And def lost track of time now. Have the feeling I'm on this since forever. But have to admit I do feel less tired during day. My nights seem okayish and I'm painfree since like forever too now. Soon will try 5mg, if I get shrink to fax recipe for 10mg tablets. At this moment on 7.5mg and feeling good.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Tired.
Being social in any way kinda seems to tire me. No matter how much I like the people. Is it a symptom. Is it me. A bit over a week and I'm like worn-out. Can't blame it on anything in particular really.
So it actually might be a symptom. Weird physical stuff. Left shoulder going bad with movements. Hips actually doing okay. Which is odd if it was purely physical. Crap, drunk now bitsy! Last of the Mohicans. Remind me to check the actual story for that.
So it actually might be a symptom. Weird physical stuff. Left shoulder going bad with movements. Hips actually doing okay. Which is odd if it was purely physical. Crap, drunk now bitsy! Last of the Mohicans. Remind me to check the actual story for that.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
