Showing posts with label tw: depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tw: depression. Show all posts

Here i am now (6 months later)

Lili

It’s been over 6 months since I’ve wrote this blogpost and since I’ve left the clinic.
It didn’t feel like that much time at all.
I still feel the same as before, but different at the same time. It’s so hard to explain.
So much happened in those months, but I still feel like I was sitting in the emergency room just yesterday.

I know what everyone expects me to say:
I feel so much better.
I’ve got people who love me and I’m studying again, I take my medication and my blood results are fine.
I’m gonna do things now. I’m gonna do all the things I’ve always wanted to do.

 But not yesterday, I didn’t feel like it. 
And not tomorrow, I spent the night crying again and in the morning I felt too numb to eat. 
Maybe someday.
It's still painful and stressful and much more effort than I want it to be; and I’m not doing everything I always wanted to do, because I feel like I don’t deserve it and the fucking darkness inside of me won’t stop growing.
It makes me slow down and oh god it makes me suffer.
I’ll try to get through it and not lose my dreams out of sight.

I’m still not healed. I never will be. 
I didnt rip off all my old, blooddrained band-aids, I didn’t dare to open up enough to let every nightmare out of my system, I took new, clean ones and I have hidden the ugly old wounds under them. 
The poisen is still in me, I can taste it on my tongue every time I agree with someone who says ‘ you’re not good enough’. I remember the smell of blood and I swear I can feel it running down my arms again everytime someone says ‘this is exactly what you deserve’

That’s what you don’t want to read. That’s what I don’t want to write.
It sounds prettier when you put it in those words, dark but mysterious,like an independent indie movie about a girl who survives hardship and gets saved. Like tumblr pictures: razos blades with Bukowski quotes engraved in them and flower crowns on skulls.
 I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m so fucking scared...
Of being with people, of being on my own, of getting left behind , I’m afraid of walking into the kitchen at 2am and opening the fridge and then closing it and sliding down to the floor and just suffering from existing with this ungraspable fear and loneliness inside of me.
I don’t think I can do any of the things other people do, i don't want to feel the way i feel anymore.

I’m smiling, I’m dancing, I’m loving, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs at nothing,
I’m going out, I’m watching a sitcom, I'm getting ask out on a date, I’m crying hysterically at nothing.
- The monster is still invisible.
 I just want to point at the big angry dragon beside me and say: 
'Sorry I seem to be a bit messed up, I’ve got this big mighty dragon I have to fight any minute now, excuse my shaky hands and my teary eyes.'
And they would understand and nod and maybe smile or in the best case scenario say: 'Oh I had to do that myself, I’ve got a bit of time on my hands, let me help you.'

Today is one of those days, when everything seems so far away and the past is creeping up on me.
I remember my 14-year-old-self sitting on the bathroom floor in school and crying, 
my 15-year-old-self laying in an empty class room and almost dying, 
my 16-year-old-self drowning in self-hatred and rejection. 
My 17-year-old-self accepting things and just getting numb and more quiet. 
My 18-year-old-self talking to strangers and looking for love in dark alleys, 
my 19-year-old-self becoming angry and arrogant, my 20-year-old-self shutting down again, worse than ever.
Nothing made sense to her.
Why would I want to move out and go to university and force myself to find the courage somewhere in me, scrape it from my insides, to get a job and do the groceries and got to bed early and to leave the bed again and eat? 
It’s all so pointless. It’s so exhausting and I just can't do it. 

‘Oh, that’s just depression talking out of you right now, life’s not that bad.’
Thanks. I know. Everybody knows. No matter what happens, if someone broke my heart or I can’t understand humanity and why we all have to fight each other, everybody always answers ‘It’s just the depression, it’s not you talking, your mind is not in the right place’. 

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe all of you are blind, because you can’t see what a shitty place this earth is and how absurd our behavior is.
Nobody seems to get that. Everyone is so busy thinking about their sex life or their job or what to do tomorrow and i‘m sitting here like a stranger. I can’t relate to any of those thoughts.

I’ve always put everything off. I’d find friends next month, I’ll start studying next year,i'll shower tomorrow, I’ll leave my bed later- I hoped that inbetween now and then something great would happen. 
I’m still waiting for the magical moment. 
Here I am now. 

I know this blog post leaves such a bad taste in your mouth, at least it does in mine, but I don’t want to pretend. It sounds harsh and like something a frustrated teenager would write, but i'm not frustrated nor a teenager anymore. 
That’s the way it is,at least from my perspective. You can sugarcoat it, but that’s just lying to yourself.
Sometimes all the help you get just isn’t enough.
You have to be strong enough and motivated enough to fight against it every day,you have to find the will to not give in and find happiness in in the small things of life, find every day something that makes you keep going - or you just give up.

I do know what to do now.
What’s expected of me, what I want and what I need, I’m working on everything.
I don’t feel better and I’m so fucking afraid to keep on living, I have no clue how to stop hurting, how to get over things that happened years ago or how to handle the incoming questions and raised eyebrows ‘are you okay?’ – no, I’m not, but I guess I’ll just carry on with life, 
and I’ll talk to you in another six months.


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11:48 AM , , ,

Fragments

Lili


how can there be so much panic in one person? how can i be scared of nothing but myself apparently?
what does my mind see, that my eyes can't? there must be something big and dangerous right in front of me, i can feel it, but it's not there, how can my body react to nothing,
i just don't understand...

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why is it, that the earth floats through space and travels around the sun but my heart is chained to the dusty lampshade beside my bed? wherefore rises the sun each and every day again no matter what happened and my mind is lost in complete darkness? and how does it come, that i can save no one, not even myself?

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i'm so tired i can't dream, i'm so hungry i can't eat, i'm so full of love, i can only hate.
it seems like i can't live, but i'm too afraid to die either.
this one wants me to lay down and never get up again, the other one wants me to run away as fast as my exhausted body parts can take me, just leave this place, these people, don't stay, never stop,
no wait, lay down, i'm gonna faint, i need to rest, i'm hungry, no i have to puke, i'm too full of nothing, give me more, give me less, leave me alone,come back, take everything away, i need more, i want everything, i want nothing, ever.

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i don't know what my fucking problem is. it feels different now. it always does. it always feels different than the time before but still familiar. like the funny feeling in your tummy is strange but you suddenly remember how sickness tastes. my body learns, and so does my mind, as soon as i accept a certain pain, i discover another way of hurting. i'm able to trick myself in a twisted, unhealthy way, when i'm struggeling to deal with that wound, as soon as i feel in control again, i find a new part to cut open.
i'm not really feeling sick right now, but my stomach hurts like the thought of him did yesterday, even though i took the pills, and i'm hot and sweaty and maybe i can just faint and everything will be black and calm.

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i'm so scared.i don't know what to do has become my first name
and helplessness my mothertounge.
i write it down to get it out of me, scrape it from the walls of my head, so i may feel alive again, like it's all just dead flowers and smeared make-up, art, melancholy, nothing more, nothing serious, totally in control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

crying won't help, salt burns in open wounds.
some call it a desperate diary entry, some call it breathless bravery, some call it insightfull information,some call it pointless poetry, i call it a way of not losing my mind.



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2:51 AM , , , , , , ,

How i feel now

Lili


It’s been over 2 months.
It didn’t felt like that much time at all.
I still feel the same as before, but different at the same time. It’s so hard to explain.
What you experience at the place where I experienced my experience, is not even remotely comprehensible if you weren't there.
I know what everyone expects me to say now:
I feel so much better. Everything makes sense now. I feel like somebody finally understood what my problem was and even though I can’t be ‘cured’, I’m able to handle it now.
I’m gonna do things. I’m gonna do all the things. 
Not today and not tomorrow, but eventually. 
It will be painful and stressful and much more effort than I want it to be, but I’ll do everything I always wanted to do, because I deserve it and the demon inside of me won’t stop me. Not this time. 
It’ll make me slow down and boycott me and oh boy it’ll make me suffer. But I’ll get through it and I will do it nevertheless at some point.
I’m not healed. I never will be. I didnt even rip off all my old, blooddrained band-aids, I didn’t dare to open up enough to let every nightmare out of my system. The poisen is still in me. And it will kill me, but not today and not tomorrow.
I used to say 'i’ll do it tomorrow’, I can’t do it today’ and now I’ll say ‘I’ll do it today,’ ‘there must be something I’m able to do today’ and i will say 'yes' and do it.
i'm full of new found hope and maybe my life won't be perfect, but it is worth living and it'll be the best life it can be.

That’s what you want to read.That’s what I want to write.
But the truth is:
I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared of being alone again, of being on my own, of moving out and fail doing those small things. I’m afraid of walking into the kitchen at 2am and opening the fridge and then closing it and sliding down to the floor and just suffering from existing with this ungraspable fear and loneliness inside of me.
I don’t think  I can do any of the things other people do, i don't want to feel the way i feel anymore.

It’s so…complicated. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs at nothing, I’m crying hysterically at nothing, because there is nothing in front of me, that scares me in particular, it’s everything mushed together. 
The great big ordinary. The daily life. Life.
It would be so much easier to accept my fears, if I had to face something scary and recognizable dangerous, a dragon, a monster, an operation, a trip, something that feels…more real. 
Something that existed not only in my head.
It would be so much easier, if I could just point on the big angry dragon beside me and say: 
'Sorry I seem to be a bit messed up, I’ve got this big mighty dragon I have to fight any minute now, excuse my shaky hands and my teary eyes.'

And they would understand and nod and maybe smile or in the best case scenario say: 'Oh I had to do that myself, I’ve got a bit of time on my hands, let me help you.'

 But there is no dragon or event, there is just boredom and emptiness everywhere. 
Nothing makes sense to me. Why would I want to move out and go to university and force myself to find the courage somewhere in me, scrape it from my insides, to get a job and do the groceries and got to bed early and to leave the bed again and eat? 

 It’s all so pointless. It’s so exhausting and I just can't do it.
‘Oh, that’s just depression talking out of you right now, life’s not that bad.’
Thanks. I know. Everybody knows. No matter what happens, if someone broke my heart or I can’t understand humanity and why we all have to fight eachother, everybody always answers ‘It’s just the depression, it’s not you talking, your mind is not in the right place’. 

What does that even mean? 
Does this sentence change everything? 
Am i better now that I know that’s just an illness that clouds my judgement? What if my mind will never be 'in the right place'? Does this make everything i think worthless?

 Maybe you are wrong. Maybe all of you are blind, because you can’t see what a shitty place this earth is and how absurd our behavior is.
Nobody seems to get that. Everyone is so busy thinking about their love life or their job or what to do tomorrow and i‘m sitting here like a stranger. I can’t relate to any of those thoughts.

I’ve always put everything off. I’d find friends next month, I’ll start studying next year,i'll shower tomorrow, I’ll leave my bed later- I hoped that inbetween now and then something great would happen. 
The magical moment. 
The stay in the clinic seemed to be that magical time where everything would be okay and I’d be so much better after that. I thought I’d go in there, broken, tired,almost dead, and come out newborn, full of energy and motivation, with a new mindset and positivity.

 It obviously didn’t happen. 
I didn’t even expected the full recovery, I just thought maybe I’ll learn some new technics to calm myself, just anything to cling on and not to get blown away by desperation
. 
Yeah.
And here I am now. 
It’s not the same at it was before. I’ve lost hope. 
There’s nothing to look forward now. 
That was my chance and it didn’t bring the change I wished for
.
I know this blog post leaves such a bad taste in your mouth, at least it does in mine, but I don’t want to pretend. “Tumblr” - here used as a representative of the spirit of this generation - states things like:
’Go get help,tell them how you feel, ask for help,show them who you truly are, seek help and that’s the first step of recovery, you’ll be okay!'

 Maybe that’s right. But it’s only half the truth. 
Of course, getting your diagnose and treatment is a big, important part, but it’s not a guarantee for anything. 
You can take meds and see a therapist every day and still feel like shit and not get better. Some of us will never get better, because some mental illnesses are chronic and not just temporary.
Most of the time you won’t find a trauma that caused that crack in your brain and without an actual reason it’s hard to find a solution. 
You can treat the symptoms, but without eliminating the trigger, you’ll never be "free”.

It sounds harsh and like something a frustrated teenager would write, but i'm not frustrated nor a teenager anymore. 
That’s the way it is,at least from my perspective. You can sugarcoat it, but that’s just lying to yourself.
Sometimes all the help you get just isn’t enough.
You have to be strong enough and motivated enough to fight against it every day,you have to find the will to not give in and find happiness in in the small things of life, find every day something that makes you keep going - or you just give up.

I don’t know what to do now.
What’s expected of me, what I want and what I need, are three different things. 
I don’t feel better and I’m so fucking afraid of keep on living, I have no clue what to do or how to handle anything -

But I guess I’ll just carry on with life.
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5:26 AM , , , , , , ,

The romantic thing about depression

Lili

I can feel myself becoming a ghost again. I'm completely transparent except for the dark circles under my eyes. My feelings are transparent too, they kind of float around, I'm aware of their existence but I can't get hold of them. I used to run after them but I lost the energy to keep doing that. I lost the energy to keep doing anything at all to be honest. The mere thought of having to get up and breathe and live scares the living daylight out of me, literally. My inner light is fading again and I really want to cling to it but I can't, I can't mentally and physically.

I am so tired of fighting against my own mind, I am so tired of trying to force myself into a happiness that is more plastic and empty than barbie ever could be. I'm used to being empty, numb, but there's quite the difference between being a plastic doll that's pretending to be human and letting the emptiness consume you.
I can't remember the point where depression started to feel like home. It's like that one person you hate so much that keeps knocking at your door until one day you open up and this person seems more familiar than your own mum. And you let it in and start accepting that it's there and you keep coming back to it. Where at first it felt awful to have it around, you adjust to it and at some point you realise that having this thing you hate with your whole heart around is better than being completely alone.

I am sick of people who don't know a thing about my depression telling me that "it's completely normal to feel sad sometimes" and that I "just have to keep fighting" because no, that's just not the point, that's not how it works. First of all, sadness is one of my smallest problems. I'm not sad. I'm absolutely nothing. I'm Hermione fighting against the dementors: I practially know what to do, I've read about it in books and I've had millions of people telling me how to be brave and how I just have to think happy thoughts but I just can't, after all this time they still manage to paralyse me and suck out my soul and I just can't.

So now tell me, where's the romance in this?
Where is the romance in the hours-long breakdowns that leave me sobbing on the floor?
Where is the romance in my greasy hair because I don't have the energy to take a shower?
Where is the romance in the not eating because why why why should I?
Where is the romance in my parents calling in sick because they're too scared to leave me alone?
Where is the romance in knowing my therapist longer than my best friend?
Where is the romance in the doctor's appointments, the treatment centers, the loneliness?
The truth is: There is no romance. So please, please stop pretending that it's there.
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4:47 AM , , , , , , ,
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