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.

Fading Away

2014-11-28-Surprise

Basically my life these past days, weeks, months…? I don’t even know anymore. I was radiosilent for long long looong time, I can’t even remember when was the last time I wrote a post here. But don’t worry, I’m the same mess I used to be. Yeah… I’m getting sarcastic, can’t help it. Mostly because being sarcastic and ironic is the last step before breaking.

I don’t even know where to begin. Oh, my list of meds got longer. I used to be on one, now I take a nice mix of three different antidepressants and my therapist asked me in December if I had thought about getting hospitalized, because I told her I’m numb and mostly I just want to die, because I’m exhausted and I can’t see any light in my future. I got better, at least a bit. I still want to die sometimes, mostly when I feel trapped in my life and my head, there were times when I almost admitted myself to hospital. But when I think of being alone with bunch of strangers, that’s even worse, so… Also, my cats wouldn’t understand where I am and I don’t want to hurt my babies, they had enough hardship for most of their life, I don’t want to add to that.

If you remember, I ranted here last year that the 2016 is going to be very stressful for me, because it’s a big change for me, finishing studies, getting married, looking for job, moving out of my parents for good and all that. Well… it all went mostly well, until we were supposed to move in to our new flat, because the flat wasn’t finished. So for about six months we lived with my in-laws. I like them, but living under the same roof was way to much for me.

Anyway… I got a job and then I had such bad psychosomatic symptoms that I had to quit. That really “helped” my self-esteem. I really wnted to be good at that job, it wasn’t anything great, just your standard office rat, but I would get some money and the job was ok, my co-workers were mostly nice… But within a month, I started to feel dizzy even when sitting down, I was losing balance and couldn’t concentrate at all, turned out my anxiety decided it’s time to sabotage my life yet again. Now I’m freelancer, munching money from my parents and husband, because I have yet to get enough work to earn anything. Yep, it feels great.

I’m trying hard to breath and stay above water. I’m having regular therapy sessions, I also got into group therapy, which is in another town and I had to learn to drive again. I did, I’m not super excellent driver yet, but it’s at least one success. The group therapy is terrible. I mean, it’s good, the people are nice, but it’s terrible for me. The first session I dissociated so hard I couldn’t even remember basic words and couldn’t concentrate on anything. I just mentally wasn’t there. Generally, I think the therapy will be good fo me, but I’ll tell you in April, when it’s finished.

Going to regular therapy opened a lot of wounds and it’s hard to deal with them. I accepted that I’m having PTSD from being bullied for years. I have to face the problematic relationship I have with my mother, because it’s pretty unhealthy, bit abusive and manipulative, but I know my mum doesn’t do that intentionally and I don’t want to hurt her, yet communicating with her is very unpredictable.

Sometimes, I would just love to disappear and not have to deal with all this. I would just love to feel normal.

Numb

After the weekend at home with my mum, numb is pretty much how I “feel”. I have spent last two days repeting myself “it doesn’t seem like it, but she loves you, try to feel it, try to understand and be a good daughter”. To be honest, it hasn’t worked much so far. These were again one of the days when my mum proved to be, well exhausting. I’ll write about it soon, but tonight, I’m just too tired for that.