hsphaven

I feel like I’m being beaten to the ground from all angles. My period adds to the assault, worsening my already terrible mental health and sleep, bringing severe pain and making me sick. There is an ugly physical driver to all my issues. Often I can literally feel all the chemicals/hormones running rampant in my body. Shortly after I got my period this week, there was a day when I was swamped with the worst feeling which I cannot even name or describe. There were so many things I wanted to do- write, sleep, go to the park, answer texts, see people, finish my shopping, open the parcels that have arrived and return the items that don’t fit, clean up my house, do a better job at looking after myself- but I couldn’t do anything, and I still struggle to. These days just getting up and filling a glass of water feels like running a marathon. Then knocking over a glass of water by my bad, which I had managed to fill, feels like the end of the world. When I got my period I had a total freak out when I heard my dad arrive home, terrified of him approaching me. I almost cancelled with my therapist, who I go for walks with. Thankfully he was running late as well, so I had a bit more time to finish the piece of writing I was determined to complete, get dressed and get myself together. I packed some diazepam in case I had a panic attack. When I saw him I think he could sense something was pretty off with me. I tied a top around my head to cover my acne, I had lost more weight, I was dressed up like a little girl in a pink Mary Blair pinup dress with a train printed on it, white lacy socks and tbars. We lay on the grass for a bit and I started to feel my whole demeanor turn into a little child. The park was strangely quiet.

“Can you leave me here?” I asked him.

He paused.

“I don’t feel comfortable,” he said.

It was one of those days where he probably didn’t know what the fuck I would end of up doing. He probably didn’t want to feel responsible if something happened to me. We’ve started walking at a different park with no bushes after I ran off at the first park and he called the cops to find me. They carried me out of the bushes, where I was in some kind of dissociative trance. The cops then told my therapist not to take me there anymore as they didn’t want to spend resources on a helicopter to find me. I thought I heard my therapist lock the car doors as we drove off on Friday. I’m really hoping he doesn’t decide to stop taking me to parks at all anymore. I closed my eyes and felt my body become limp on the way home, as though all life was draining from it. I am still too uptight to completely surrender to it. It is like I want to go but another part of me fights to stay alert and alive. It is a bit like the way they describe depression: living in a body that fights to survive, with a mind that tries to die.

I cancelled my book editing session on Wednesday, then tried again on Thursday. It took everything out of me and I could barely even type properly. Every week I dread it. I actually think it’s a bit triggering going over a decade’s worth of trauma every week. Abusive relationships, all the mental health workers I’ve lost etc. etc. I felt a lump in my chest as we moved on to Jordan, the case worker I had for years who I loved and who was violently ripped away from me as the service decided the relationship was unhealthy.

My sleep is minimal and erratic. A lot of days I’m still awake and up at 10am after not having slept that entire night, surprising my dad. My addictions and obsessions are taking over me and I am up all night writing, making tiny edits to my writing which is never good enough, playing song after song, spamming people’s inboxes, shopping and procrastinating going to bed. I even worry blogging is becoming a bit of an unhealthy thing in my life now. I feel like I have to document every minute detail of my depressing life. I get frustrated easily and especially at anything that stands in the way of what I want to do. 

The frustrating thing is when I manage to do all the right things, I don’t feel any better. I take sleeping pills to try and turn my pear shaped sleeping pattern, which is making me so sick, around and get some sleep at night. I still don’t get much rest. My sleep is agitated, I am haunted by dreams and regrets from my school days, I wake up early and I continue to feel horrendous. Sometimes I decide to just get up early and start my day so I have a better chance of sleeping again the next night. I throw a jacket over my PJs and drag myself down to the supermarket to buy some fresh organic salad to make a healthy salad wrap, trying to fight the voice in me telling me not to eat and lose more weight, even though I know I am already skinny.  

“You’re only hurting yourself in the end,” I tell it. “No one cares. No one’s going to rescue you. What do you even want people to do anyway? Even if you did end up in hospital being force fed, would you even really want that? It will just leave you more scarred.”

Sometimes I feel like there’s a lot of anger driving my weight loss. A woman I spoke to when I called my area mental health triage service once told me I was trying to “prove a point”. Perhaps she was not far off the mark.

I do everything right, but still feel like rubbish. I tell myself it’s a long way down, and it’s going to be a long way up. But I can’t maintain my better habits. I quickly fall bad patterns and addictions again. I can’t even last a day. I honestly feel like I’m being controlled by demons. I’ve been considering seeing a shaman to try and remove the oppressive things driving my behaviour.  

Nothing gets better. It feels like this degenerative condition which just gets worse and worse. My sensitivity increasing more and more. My pain in my ears just goes on and on and I can’t cope. I’ve been close to knocking myself out with alcohol again. Even though I know how damaging that is, sometimes it seems like the lesser of two evils. Everything is so fucked, I don’t know where to begin with untangling the total shit show my life has become. My brain feels like a tangled ball of mass. I start to drift off and I feel like I’m dying. There’s this whole existential angst mixed in with it all. Questioning how any of this is real, thinking about death all the time, whether that’s my own death or the death of those around me. Fearing death. Craving death. Starting to think that I am actually already dead. After I saw my therapist on Friday I continued on to another park. I went to my “secret spot”, a secluded spot I went when I had a panic attack one time. I started to transcend the world. I felt like everything was the product of my own mind, that somehow I was co-creating everything around me. I wondered if I was dying. It was dark and I started hearing noises in the bushes around me, which freaked me out and brought me back to the world. Eventually I headed back home. That day, everyone sounded and seemed different. My therapist seemed different. The world seemed different. It was so quiet. I didn’t know if it was ME who had changed, or those around me.

I have been so convinced that my death is imminent. To the point where I’ve nearly started texting people telling them I love them, so I have no regrets.

My temperature is also fucked up. I feel so hot all the time.

I continue to spend my days in a semi-lucid state where everything around me feels dream like and blurry. It is windy and the place has this strange post-apocalyptic vibe to it right now. Yesterday it felt like I was tripping on psychedelics. I lay on a hill on nightfall, sensing I needed some serious grounding. I felt like I was dying, though it was also nice in a way. I went up there as it is quieter than the other paths in the park. I couldn’t hack being around other people. In fact I was outright terrified of them. Yet as I lay there, I started to hope somebody would find me and help me. I needed human touch, though usually I am too numb to feel anything. The interesting sky snapped me out of my state. It consisted of many different types of clouds and textures.

I thought I was alone up there on the hill, but then I started hearing some kids nearby. I thought they must be watching the sunset as well. Yet I couldn’t see them anywhere. I thought they were up above me and kept expecting them to come down the path as the sun had set but they never did.

Last night a flash of light seeped through the gaps in the blind. I did not hear any thunder and thought the world was coming to an end. Then I started to hear some thunder and realised it was just a storm, albeit a strange storm consisting mostly of flashes of lightening and little thunder.

I still feel a lot of anxiety. My stomach is all chemically and in knots and my breathing is shallow. I feel overwhelmed, and have been avoiding the online craft sites I write about in my shopping addiction post. My basket is full of items I am trying to decide whether to buy or not. It’s going to cost me about $400 to get them all. I am also avoiding an artist who I messaged saying I wanted to buy her felt dragon which costs $650. But I still feel this nagging itch to complete my purchases. I think it’s worth it just for peace of mind, and then take a break from the computer, though movies would be ok. I want to watch Chobits again, one of my favourite childhood anime series, as I relate to being a humanoid. I also think I’d enjoy Lovecraft, though it might trip me out. Maybe not such a good idea for me given the headspace I’m in.

I actually want to go back into hospital as a circuit breaker. I sent a referral back to Delmont weeks ago but haven’t heard anything. I’m not sure they’re keen to have me back after last time.

I started writing fiction again. I used to write fiction when I was a kid, but I haven’t written fiction in a long time. I didn’t think I was creative enough anymore. The short story I wrote probably falls under the genre of “magical realism”. I put a lot of myself into the main character and it was a good outlet and escape writing it. I actually think I enjoy writing in third person even more than first person. I have been worrying there is an oppressive force trying to stop me from publishing the story and I will die before I get to share it with anyone. I would probably be considered a bit psychotic right now. But I am still alive, and I am going to share it in another post.