I’m not Sure What’s Going on

I don’t know what’s going on in my head. I am tired a lot lately. Like exhausted. I do my best to do something every day, but it’s hard, because I struggle to concentrate. It’s weird. I think it’s because I’m trying to handle several things at once and each is pretty exhausting on its own.

I’m trying to work on my projects, right now it’s photography, because being creative gives me energy, but… I honestly don’t know. It’s like there is a wall in my head that blocks my creativity and all my energy and I don’t understand it. It feels like I’m trying to go through a wall or something.

I know that recently in therapy we touched on some subjects that I had trouble navigating through. And also there are some sensitive topics that my husband tried to talk about with me and I just got so upset and defensive and just refused to talk about it. And I don’t know why I got so upset in the first place. I do wonder if there some thoughts and/or memories that I suppressed so well that even getting tiny bit closer to them is making me go into fight or flight response.

Which is weird, because I think I am aware of everything that happened to me in the past, everything that led to my trauma etc. It was fucked up, but I don’t think it was so bad that there would be some suppressed memories. It feels like my brain is overreacting, but there is also the thought that maybe there are things I didn’t process.

Basically the response to these topics is “Not talking about it.” “Why?” “I don’t know, but I’m not talking about it.” “Ok, do you think you’ll be able to talk about it in the future?” “I don’t know, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, can we just change the subject!” The more somebody pressures me (or I pressure myself), the more agitated, angry, defensive and anxious I get. And I can’t even tell myself or anyone why that is.

In Silent Screams

Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm, suicide, eating disorder

So… I don’t even know where to start. Things are bad and I’m spiralling. And I feel incredibly lonely, because… I feel as if everybody is expecting me to fight, to figure things out, to have a plan, to pretend that everything is fine and I’m happy. But I’m not. I have moments when I feel happy, but I am not happy.

I lost my disability in January. I tried appealing the decision, but I lost that too. Dealing with this whole mess was very traumatic for me. It was, it is, so bad that I don’t think I have even been able to accurately express to people around me how bad it actually is.

It is a financial hit for me. While the money wasn’t great, it was something. Even before that I struggled really bad with anxiety when it came to my income, this made it even worse. Like hundred times worse. I tried pushing it away, I concentrated on writing the appeal and fighting.

I was asked to come for evaluation. I did and that only made things worse. Basically, the doctor there just… basically told me I never should have even gotten the disability in the first place, because my mental illness is only classified with light impairment and I have university degree and I have never been hospitalized, so I must be overall doing fine etc. I don’t remember it well, because I was falling apart inside. I felt dismissed and not taken seriously.

I left the room and immediately spiralled into a complete meltdown. I remember that I couldn’t breath, I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I sank on a chair, gasping for air so bad I felt dizzy and I kept pressing hands to my temples, which is something I do when my anxiety gets really bad. I must have been quite loud, because the doctor came out and she saw what a mess I was. I remember that she brought me water and some pill to help me calm down and she talked to me a bit more. I think she felt guilty, because she probably realized that her decision screwed my life. But maybe I’m just giving her too much benefit of the doubt.

What the overall situation is… basically, the law sees that I am indeed fucked up enough to actually struggle and my ability to work is impaired. But I am not fucked up enough to actually qualify for any help. Because my diagnosis is on paper considered to be only fairly light impairment and there are no other circumstances that would support that I actually do struggle a lot, I don’t need help. I mean, I have a degree, right? Who cares that the only way I was able to get one was that my parents were able to fully support me through the whole university?! Who cares that if I had to support myself, even partially, I would fail? And I have never been hospitalized, that means I’m actually not doing that bad, you know. It doesn’t matter that the thought of being hospitalized, with people I don’t know, in a place where I don’t have my space and my privacy, scares me to death. Just the thought gives me anxiety. Or that at times, like recently, I just couldn’t afford to go anywhere, because I had work and I had to keep my deadline?

I feel failed. Betrayed. Invisible. Unimportant. I have always tried to do my best. I have worked on my issues, on my triggers, I did my best to learn to communicate my needs, to set boundaries, to study, to work, to live to the best of my abilities. And it’s not enough. Not only that, it actually made things worse in this situation. Because apparently if I actually didn’t do all this work to be as “normal” and as “functioning” as I could, it would count to my benefit, because it would show how much I struggle. I feel that I was actually doing a bit better last year, I was moving forward at least a bit. And then somebody came, took the rug out from under me and I fell. And I don’t see why I should even try to get back up.

You see, there are always these two voices in my head. You can imagine a cartoon, where you have a tiny angel on one shoulder and a tiny devil on the other. The angel is the one that keeps pushing me to be better, to move forward. Sure, she can be a bitch, because she never lets me feel good about my achievements, but at least she makes me work on myself, push my boundaried and improve. The devil is pretty much just pure self-destruction. It takes a real effort for me to actually care about my life. Deep down, I don’t really feel a connection to myself or my life. So it’s really hard to feel emotions, feel invested, do all the work on myself and my relationships, because deep, deep, deep inside me there’s a black space of nothingness.

And now I don’t have any ammo against the devil. I don’t have an answer to her, when she wants me to cut myself. Or to starve, because I’m terrified of gaining even a gram of weight, especially now that I lost a little bit. Because what good did it do for me to fight her, huh? I can’t even begin to describe the contempt that I felt after I was denied the appeal. Seriously, just imagine a tiny devil on your shoulder saying “Oh, they think you’re not fucked up enough? Oh I show them… What’s better, trying to cut yourself with an actual sharp objects, falling into an eating disorder that you have been fighting off for years, or both? Oh I’ll show them. They want the truth, fine, I’ll give them the truth!”

And I’m in this weird place, where I feel this way. But I have also worked on myself enough to not fall into that, at least right away. But I don’t have will or strength to actually fight. I want to care, but it seems like a lot of work. I want to self-destruct, but that’s too much work as well. So… mostly, I don’t care and I feel nothing. And if I feel something sometimes, like right now, it’s pain. And fear.

I’m esentially trapped. I don’t have many options for my future. And I feel that even talking about feeling empty is a burden to people around me. Because they want me to be happy, to smile, to pretend. And I do that, because explaining how I really feel is so complex that where would I even begin? Look at all this text that I wrote and I could still go on… And people don’t want to listen to speeches, at least usually.

But I’m scared. Because I don’t see any hope in the future.

It’s Not Great

I don’t even know anything anymore. I want to say that I finally know what is going on with me, but I don’t. I’m a mess. My theory is that somehow I’ve started processing trauma relating to my parents, but it’s burried so deep and it started so early, that I literally have no way to express it.

I feel lost. My body is doing whatever, I’m sick every day, often several times a day, at this point it has become my new normal. It’s not fun. Also I sometimes start randomly shivering with cold. And thenI feel super hot. My sleep is all over the place. It feels like I’m fighting something, but I’m not physically ill.

Emotionally, it’s even worse. I function every day, but I feel empty. I have zero motivation to do anything. And then I have outburst of anger. Or crying. But nothing seems real. I feel so detached from everything. I thought that crying would help, because it did in the past. I would cry and the emotions would get out and I would be better. But these past months, it’s not working. I cry, but it doesn’t bring relief, nothing really does. And before you think it, no, I’m not pregnant. I wish I was, but that’s for another day.

I guess it makes sense in a way though. My therapist said that kids start to understand things way earlier than they have words to express or name emotions. So when something happens, even though I don’t remember, my brain does, my emotional memory does. But I don’t have words to name it or process it, because when it was written in my brain, I didn’t have words for it. And since I allowed myself slowly this year to just feel emotions and don’t supress them all the time, all the anger and pain my parents caused started to surface in full force.

The worst part is, I can’t accept help. My husband tries to be helpful and supportive, but it’s not working. I hate myself so much, with such force, I hate the fact that I even exist. I despise everything. And I can’t accept his kindness, having anybody be kind to me is… it makes me lash out, badly. I have never been good at accepting help or support from people, I have trouble with people saying they love me or being kind to me. I usually just brush it aside or make a joke or something like that. So him being kind and wanting to help is hurting me. Literally. It’s fucked up, but it is what it is.

Last week my therapist told me that she’s really sorry I’m going through this. And I felt nothing. Sure, it was nice to hear, but it didn’t touch me. I thought it would make me cry, but no. Nothing, nada. It’s… weird. And sad. And confusing. And it’s making me angry, because I kinda get where it all started.

Last night, I ended up crying on the bathroom floor. I didn’t want to wake up my husband, not that he would be upset, but I just couldn’t. It was late and let’s face it, he’s the one earning money, he needs to sleep. I cried, because I felt lost. I feel like dead weight, just slowing everyone down. Because I want to be better for him so badly, but I don’t know how. I’m nearing thirty and this is so not what I envisioned my life to be at this point. I see my friends having lives I thought I would have by now. I feel like such a let-down.

It’s not great.

Don’t Mind Me, I’m Just Drowning

I’m a total failure. At least that’s how I feel most of the days now. Rationally, I know it’s not true, but I get it out of my head. My life is chaos for various reasons, I have so little success in anything that it’s hard to feel positive about myself, I just feel like I’m drowning. Constantly.

I have goals and projects I’m working on. And that’s good. But because it takes long to see any positive outcome from those, it’s been hard. My relationship with my parents exploded. I’m stressed all the time. I don’t earn enough money. I’m not good enough wife. I don’t work enough. Stress makes me physically sick. And I don’t feel like eating. Ever. Which then triggers my disordered eating habbits and I’m absolutely terrified of food. I’m convinced that every bite will make me gain at least a kilo. I managed to lose tiny bit of wait and I’m absolutely petrified of gaining it back. And I mean petrified, the thought makes me panic. So I often starve. And then eat a lot at once. Which makes me sick, so I vomit. Which makes me hungry again. And also weirldy happy that I won’t gain any more weight at least. Does that count as some form of eating disorder? Probably, not that it matters much.

I have meltdown at least once a week. Meltdown when I curl up, preferably in a dark corner or with lights off and cry unconsolably. I’m always short-tempered and bitchy. I’m failing at being a good housewife. And I’m terrified something is wrong in my marriage. That my husband will finally see what an awful person I am and he will leave me.

And I feel so lonely in this. Because I haven’t been feeling ok months now and I keep trying to keep it in, don’t let people see it. Because I don’t want to be a burden. Because everything is out of control and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it better. Make at least something better. I’m annoyed and angry at myself all the time, because I keep bitching and complaining. And I’m scared people will get tired of me super quickly, because I’m like a broken record. I keep pushing everyone away and then I’m scared everyone will leave me. Because I don’t want to be a burden. I’m scared my husband will leave me, but I keep pushing him away too.

I just don’t know how to make things better. There are moments when I’m okay and happy and then something happens and everything just blows up. I know I shouldn’t kepp things in all the time, that’s why things then get so bad. But I have to function in my day-to-day life, I have to get up every day and try to work on my projects, try to keep the house clean, try to keep working. Because I don’t see any other way out of this. I have to find a way to feel happy again.

I just don’t know why. And I feel hopeless. And I feel like a loser all the time. It’s like every bit of anger and hurt I have ever supressed in order to keep people (mostly my parents) happy decided to come back. And bring some friends, cause the more, the merrier, I guess. It’s like every wound I’ve ever tried to ignore opened up and it’s just leaking anger and pain all over the place.

Which also means that all the things I can usually deal with pretty well are getting too much. All the feeling of worthlessness, of feeling disgusting and ugly and fat and awful and like I’m the worst person on earth. All my fears and doubts. The fucking eating issues that I can usually manage to handle in relatively healthy ways. My body image problems that I can usually ignore without much work. It all came to surface. And it hurts like hell. It’s exhausting. It makes me feel broken beyond repair. Too broken to be loved. Too broken to deserve love. Too broken to even be alive. Or to deserve to be alive.

I wish I knew a way out. Or at least how long until things get better. I do have an appointment soon with my psychiatrist and I know I could ask her for higher dose of meds, but I don’t know if that’s the solution. I feel like that would be like putting a bandage of a deep stab wounds or something like that. It might work for a short time, but it won’t change the cause. It won’t help me heal.

And I don’t know how to heal. Maybe I just have to wait. Wait and let things heal over time. I have to keep hoping that it will get better. But it’s so hard right now. I feel so much pain and anger all the time. I feel so much of it that at times I feel like I’m going to explode. Which is why I self-harmed a bit over the past few months. I’m not proud of it, I try to deal with things in healthy ways, but there were several times when I failed.

So that’s it. I’m just drowning right now. Everything is absolutely chaotic and I don’t know how to make it better.

Not Enough

Sometimes, I would like to just rest. To be able to just stop and enjoy my time. But it doesn’t matter how active I am, how many things I’ve managed to do in one day, it’s never enough. I’m not doing enough, I’m not moving fast enough.

It’s exhausting. Being in my head is exhausting. I did quite a lot of things today and yet I still feel the anxiety creeping on me. Because I am never enough for myself. Did I manage to edit a bunch of photos and prepare several products to just be put online? Good, but I also didn’t do the salads I was supposed to do. I didn’t read. I didn’t exercise. I didn’t… My life is a neverending race. I can never rest, I always have to try harder, move faster, do more, be more… Because somehow, perhaps if I do a little bit more, I will be finally happy. I will finally be enough. For myself. For people around me. I won’t have to justify my existence anymore.

But I also know that achieving this is not realistic. Which leaves me thinking, that perhaps I will never be happy. I will never be enough. I will never be able to stop.

It’s exhausting. And I’ve been trying to change it, I’ve been working on this in therapy, but so far… So far I just know that I’m not doing enough. I’m not moving fast enough. I’m not working enough.

I am not enough.

The Vicious Circle of Life in My Head

You know, I often wonder if life ever stops being a constant struggle. I thought that once my life settles and calms down, things will get better. I’ve even made a big progress these past months thanks to therapy, but I still struggle. Every day is a battle against my own brain, against depression and anxiety trying to hold me back.

I wish people could spend a day in my head, then they would understand, why I’m always so tired. Why things take me so long to accomplish. Why I struggle to start anything.

Before I start anything new,  have to get through my brain telling me I don’t have to bother, because I’ll never achieve anything. Because I have to try twice as hard to accomplish half of what other people do. So it takes me forever to start. Which ten feeds into my anxiety that I’m just taking space on this planet. And when I actually do start, my brain naggs me that it’s not enough, it’s not fast enough, I’m not trying hard enough. Because I’m not enough. Which then feeds my depression and anxiety. Which then exhausts me and takes away the energy I could actually invest into doing anything productive.

It’s a fucking vicious circle. I wonder if it ever stops. If some day every minute won’t be a battle in my own head. I wish that sleep would bring some rest, but it usually doesn’t. That’s when my PTSD comes to life and makes me relive my bullying in various different scenarios. Or makes me have conflict with my mother.

I’m just sitting here, drinking wine and feeling so old and tired. I don’t know, if anything I¨ve just written even makes sense. It’s basically just a string of thoughts. I forgot how good it feels to write things down. To express myself. But it also makes me acknowledge my feelings. And that brings up pain. Pain caused by being alive, being exhausted, spending every day battling my own fucking brain.

Though I still keep hoping that one day, one day things will get easier.

Lonely Rant From a Lonely Scared Girl

Soooo…. I’m fucked up. Yeah, nice way to greet you all after such a long time. I have several post in the middle of writing, but left them. Probably finish them soon, because they are very real and accurate. But right now, it’s this.

I’m… anxious, depressed, scared, angry, there are lot of emotions in my head running wild, I’ve been fighting exhausting anxiety attack whole day. Right now, I’m drowning it in alcohol, good old alcohol. Very mature and very adult, I know. Like I’m either of those things anyway.

So what got me in such a “great” mood? I  have a job, an actual fultime job, not in my field, but earning money anyway. And I’m already screwing up. Or at least my mind is. Or my body. I can’t really tell anymore. I’m ok with the job, it’s not the best one, but I earn at least some money and not be burden for my parents. I’m not excited about the job, but I’m ok with it. But my health is getting worse. I’m trying to convince myself that it will get better that I will get used to all of that, getting up early, being with people all the time, with all their noise and emotions and all that. I’m sick and anxious every day. My hands shake, I get nauseous, light-headed, tired… it’s just… too much? And it’s scary, more than I say. Because what if I can’t work at a normal job, even if I more or less like it? I don’t want to depend on my parents. Or my husband. I want to work, why can’t I work?!

I’m scared. And angry. I didn’t choose to be like this. My bullies made me this way. They damaged me, broke me… Why do I have to pay for what they did? Why my life has to be so hard, when they are just ok? Why I have to fight for everything, when it’s not my fault that I’m like this?! It’s… scary. And exhausting. I want to work. I want to contribute to society, whatever that means. I don’t want to be a burden. But I’m damaged goods, I guess. I feel like it. I broke down today, I cried… three times? Then I took my anxiety pill. And now I’m trying to not think about it.

And it comes back, the thought asking “Why I can’t just be normal?”. Like other people, functioning adult. I…wish I was pregnant. Than my life would have direction and meaning. But my husband doesn’t want kids just yet. He wants kids, but the thought of me being pregnant right now scares him. And I thought he was the one who couldn’t wait to have a child. I’m afraid that when I get pregnant, his family will be all in our lives, controlling it and all that, they’re all so close…

What do I do? I tried to be normal, to fit in those stupid boxes, to have a normal job, work, be normal. But I’m not and what if I never am.

The Price of Sanity

I’ve made really not very pleasant discovery last week and that is what it costs to have long-term therapy.

I was seeing therapist for almost a year in my university town and it was great, it helped me a lot and the therapist was amazing. And it was covered by my insurance, which was also great help. Unfortunately, everything ends and so did my therapy, because in June I moved back to my home. So I went to see my psychiatrist here and asked for recommendation of new therapist, because the last one advised me to continue with the sessions. And I learned that I could get insurance payed one, but only short-term, which means about ten sessions and that’s it. If I want long term, I have to pay for it myself and it’s not small amount.

Personally, I think I could afford at least two sessions per month, that’s not the problem. I have the money, so I’m ok. But it got me thinking about the whole big picture. Imagine someone is having really bad depression and/or anxiety and it prevents them from having a regular job and supporting themselves. They are short of money and they are told that they get only ten sessions covered by insurance and if they want or need long-term therapy, they have to pay for it full. Which they can’t, because they can’t have a full-time job, so they don’t have the money to pay for the therapy that could help the get full-time job and get money and so on.

I guess other insurance companies might have better options, but honestly, I don’t believe it much. The one in my college town was probably only covered because it was in a support center for children and young adults. And I don’t know what is the solution, what is the way to get the help and support mentally ill people need. I just know it makes me sad and angry…

I Guess I’m the Black Sheep

If you follow my posts even just a little bit, you can see a trail of one particular thing. I don’t feel very comfortable on family gatherings, more or boyfriend’s. They usually end up talking about everything that’s bad and it’s mentally exhausting for me and the anxiety I get from that isn’t really worth the effort of enduring it. Take today, for example.

My grandpa is turning 85 on Wednesday, so we went to visit him and grandma, congratulate him and spend some time with them. And my sister, father and mother managed to show their best ability, which is complaining. Especially my sister and my mother.

I asked my grandma for address of my aunt and cousin, because I want to send them wedding announcement, when we finish them. My grandma asked, if we’re going to send them soon, she was just curious. So my mother answered before me, that we’re surely wouldn’t be sending them so soon, because the wedding is in August. Yes, in August, when people plan vacations, and on Friday, workday that requires working people to take the day off for us. Logically, I want to let them soon, before most of them have the summer filled with various travels and won’t be able to come. But my mum was like I was nuts and went on how it’s so early and why do I want to send not the announcement to people I don’t expect to actually attend the wedding, why not send it later. Which totally makes sense, really… Bazinga, it doesn’t! There are so many things to do that I really don’t want to remember, who got the invitation in March and who should get it in summer or something. My mother finally shut up when I got pretty pissed and just said that I’m not going to complicate it by sending it in parts. Not that that was the end.

Somehow, they got to my mother’s favorite topic, which is how horrible our town is. I’m not gonna say it’s perfect, no place probably is, but she complains so often about this that I’m so fed up with it! And not only her, my dad is glad I have wedding in church, because he won’t have to have the mayor marry me. I don’t mind him saying this, except in the last several months, I’ve heard it so many times I’m really fed up with that too. My mum is expert in complaining, but she gets so pointlessly angry about this issue, that I just want to yell at her, that if she’s so angry with all this, that she should stop complaining and do something about it! She also always add how terrible our local post office is, that they’re incompetent and she has to wait there long time for the people to find her packages and so on. Surprisingly, I rarely have these problems, or perhaps I don’t notice them so much, but she’s angry about it every single time. I guess you really get what you expect, don’t you, mother?

Oh and the latest hit, the immigrant crisis in Europe, I can’t forget that! I’m sort of in the middle, I know there are people just trying to abuse the system, also perhaps terrorists and so on, but there are also people in real danger, running from war and ruined homes, who just want place to live and work in peace. But my sister and parents are so filled with media coverage of this issue, that they see terrorist on every corner. And they talk about it, a lot. Today, my sister tried to “convert” me with some stories her friend from England told her and when I wasn’t eager to join her, even dared to oppose he, she got more and more agitated, until I had to simply say that I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I have a feeling that they think the world is ending or something. Doesn’t help that today my sister read the “sensational” news about England perhaps leaving the European Union…

At that point, I was tired with them and upset, so I just told that I’m tired with them talking disasters and complaining and decided to change the topic. I mean, it was my grandpa’s celebration and they couldn’t just keep their mouths shut! They seemed hurt that I interrupted their litanies, but at least I stopped them. It’s “funny” that my mother sometimes complains that I don’t spend enough time with them, that I talk to them and so on, but honestly, spending time with them is exhausting. I can’t have normal conversation with them! Well, I can with my dad, when we’re alone, which is rarely, but with my sister or my mother? Yeah, sure… It’s like walking in a maze, where you don’t know what to say, where to turn, so you wouldn’t step on some hidden trap and set the complains in motions. So I pretty much stopped trying to walk the maze at all.

Unfortunately, my boyfriend’s family is very similar in this aspect, which is why I try to leave their gatherings as soon as possible. It’s sad, because I’ve always wanted to belong to my family and when that failed, I was desperate to fit in my boyfriend’s family, but I’m so tired of trying. I’m tired of feeling uncomfortable and anxious… My psychologist helped this a lot. We were working on my problem with the families a lot these past weeks, she was trying to tell me I can be myself, that I don’t have to desperately try to fit somewhere I simply cannot. She knows how my I’ve tried to suppress myself over the years, just to fit, just to be loved and good enough, but honestly, I have not energy left for trying. It also helped that when I discussed this is my facebook support group, I’ve realized how many people feel the same way I do. It’s hard, because my sister seems to fit just fine with my parents and my boyfriend’s family have pretty close bond, so for long long looooong time, I felt that there’s something wrong with me for not being able to fit in. I guess I’m ready to really be myself, I just hope it will last, because it hurts me so much to feel that I’m always standing out of every group, like I’m some dysfunctional human being.

Happy New Year And All That Sh*t

I think this Robot Hugs comics describes my life right now very well.

2016-01-07-start

Well, the only problem is that my stomach is having a bad time and I’m sick a lot, so no wine for me… Apart from that, too many things are changing and it’s scaring the sh*t out of me. Yesterday I broke down and cried for like half an hour, couldn’t sleep and now I’m tired and generally depressed. I should study, but even the thought of concentrating on that is exhausting, I want to cry, curl up in bed and disappear. When I say I’m terrified of future, it doesn’t come even close to the dread I feel. It’s like knowing that once I finish my studies, whole world will collapse into nothingness and only I see it and nobody believes me. I feel like I’m going closer and closer to this big black hollow that will swallow me whole. And yes, I know I should just think that everything will be good and I’ll make it and I need to grow thicker skin and all that. It’s terrifies me, because everyone seems to know what I should do, but nobody seems to stop and ask what I want to do, what I’d like to do, how would I imagine my future. Everyone just says that I should find a job of any kind, just to have one. Do I want to work in my field? I’m naive, almost nobody works in their field (then why did I even study, mum?). Do I want a job that I would like? I’m naive, almost nobody likes their job. Do I want a job where I would feel good mentally? I’m naive and should grow thicker skin and don’t be so oversensitive.

Guess I’m just totally useless and naive and oversensitive. I just want to scream “shut the f*ck up and leave me alone”! Unless you’re willing to listen to me, just be quiet, I know all your well-meant advice better than you, so just…don’t. Everything in my life is supposed to change next few months, I hate changes and I’m just supposed to be good with it. Thanks, but that’s not how I work. Mostly, I would just love, if someone would just listen… My therapist does and I love her for that, it’s great that at least she doesn’t think I’m impossible spoiled loser or something like that. If someone could just listen, now I feel exhausted, because I need to pretend how happy I am about everything. I’m depressed and nothing makes sense, like why even bother about anything, just hopelessness and sadness and emptiness… and so anxious my skin feels weird, like it doesn’t fit and I need to tear it off, so I’m restless, because I don’t want to self-hurt, but the feeling is driving me crazy, literally.

And with this, I’m supposed to study for finals, celebrate my birthday (yay for me…no), find a job, move back to home-town, redo the flat my bf and I are moving in, then move in, get married and just be this super responsible adult capable of completely changing the entirely life without even a little stress. Yeah, right…