Moving forward

What has happened? How did it turn out like this? I feel puzzled. Was this wise? Was it the right choice? There are actually a few happenings fitting in to these questions at the moment. Firstly, I began my first year at university almost 3 months ago. This was one of the biggest decisions of my life, especially since I never had any plans on doing so. I have always thought “No that’s not for me. I won’t be able to do it. I am not even smart enough to get in.” Yet somehow I got in during the first election of students. My reaction was, well, a bit different. I literally blurted out “What?! Are they seriously stupid?!”And now I am here, studying literature. But, by doing this it meant I also had to go through a major change. Moving out. Taking care of a household would not be a problem, although, moving to a big city which I had not even visited before might come to be. And that is the second happening, I am now living alone. In fact I even managed to get a small apartment all to myself. Although, despite that I no longer need to hide who I truly am anymore but am allowed to just be myself in my tiny space, there have been some complications. Since no one can see me there is also no one to stop me in my darkest moments from hurting myself. I am also rather lonely as I have not really made any good friends in my class. My eating disorder has also gotten worse but that additionally goes along with my anxiety.

Secondly, I have actually reached out for help with my eating disorder and have started in a weekly group which is suppose to help us overcome it. Furthermore, one of the doctors there has sent me to a self harm facility where I will also begin in a weekly group which is starting in a few days. The thing about that though is that I feel a bit reluctant to go there. 2 weeks ago one of their therapists wanted to see me before the group started (if I were even to get in). He told me a few things that was not quiet alright to say, especially not to someone who has a self harm behavior and has been suicidal since a very young age. “Oh but you are not depressed. You have just been through a lot.” The blood in my veins froze at the declaration. When he spoke he would at times make me feel as if everything in my life that has made me miserable was in fact my fault. That I had brought it upon myself, even at times as if I had deserved it. I could not speak. He kept on going that I in fact did not even have an eating disorder. Then that there would not be a group at there facility. BUT, they apparently wanted me to stay in their care. Still no words escaped my breath for I was puzzled, baffled and slightly insulted. I later left quietly not saying a word about it to anyone until a few days later since I felt as if I needed to gather my thoughts. This leads on to another thing.

Thirdly, whilst pondering about what had happened and my anxiety worsen, I decided to call my best friend Mia and tell her. She was shocked that I could hold such a thing inside me for so long. As we kept on talking she asked me if I wanted to start a blog with her where we would write about whatever we feel like. That was when I knew I had to drop the bomb on her. I told her about this little space of mine. In fact I felt good about it, in a way relieved. Even though this has been my safe place where I can only be me, to have someone that close to me knowing about it felt wonderful. Perhaps she might even continue reading. No matter if she does she is considering starting her own one which I would love to read if she decides to do so. However, she found A thankful note which is and always will be dedicated to her. What she said about it almost startled me as it is my true feelings for her. “You just brought tears to my eyes.” To hear those words from her means a great deal since she is someone who usually will not cry, at least not amongst others. As I said in my note I am forever thankful for her. These are one of the things that makes me miss her even more. We do no longer live in the same town, we are hours apart. Though just like before we are still close by heart.

Losing my grip

I don’t know how I got here, how I ended up in this place. Yet it feels like there is no escape. I am trapped inside this body, though it is like it isn’t mine anymore. Nothing seems real anymore. No longer am I zoning out, it’s as if I was not there to begin with. Constantly my head is spinning and I can barely remember anything that I am doing. This body I’m in is heavy enough for getting out of bed being the biggest challenge I’m put through each day. Moving in general has become a difficulty. Not anything feels like it would be reality, no sounds, no thoughts, no breaths.

For many years I have had what I like to call ‘Sudden amnesia’. Every now and then I stop what I’m doing and I can not remember anything at all. Not where I am, what year it is, who I am, not even my name. After some time it all comes back, however lately it has become more frequent and a part of me is afraid that it will last. That my memories will not come back to me. Another part of me hopes for it, wishes for a new beginning. I wouldn’t remember all the pain, the suffering. Although I would also lose my writing which is what has kept me alive all these years, and that is what I am most afraid of. I would lose what make me myself.

Writing this dose not even feel real to me. But is this even reality? What says that this is not just made up, a fantasy world created by something or someone and that this is all just imagination. My biggest wish right now is that I could fall asleep and never have to wake up. My entire being is so incredibly tired, please let me get lost in the world of dreams.

A start and a finish

The past 2 weeks have been quiet eventful, if say the least. In fact there have been several new beginnings. The first one is that I have visited the disability center where I will be working this summer. I have also been “working” there a few days where the employees mainly have been telling me how everything works and what they do. Since I can be rather shy amongst new people the first day was a bit challenging, however after that it has been better and I will properly start working in 2 weeks from now.

The thing that have ended is my education, about a week ago I graduated secondary school. For me this is a fairly big achievement, especially since I was told about 2 months ago that I might not. Yet I pulled through with alright grades and I could run out from the school building alongside my friends. Then jump around, dancing and screaming on a truck’s platform going around town, which is a tradition here in Sweden when you graduate. After a few hours I got home and had some food and was celebrated for finishing school before me and my friends hit the town to party. Together with hundreds of other graduates we went to a large hotel that has a night club where we had a few drinks and danced until the early hours of the next day. For not being a fan of partying I actually had fun, it was probably a mixture of alcohol, the atmosphere and the happiness from graduating. Anyhow, I actually had a good time. The thing I will miss about the school I went to is the psychiatrist. She has helped me to understand myself and my depression during the last 2 years and for that I will be forever grateful. I feel like I owe her so much and that is why I am actually a bit sad about leaving. However she said that if I ever have my ways around town after I have moved she would be very happy to see me, and I will be delighted to meet her again.

On to the other two beginnings. During the last 1-2 years I have been aware about the fact that I have an eating disorder. I have not been wanting to write about it since the subject is rather sensitive to me, but the thing I wanted to bring forward is that I have started getting help for it and within a near future I will begin a proper treatment and get medicin for it. The last new beginning was chocking since it happened so quickly. I was at a facility this week to talk about my eating disorder to settle which treatment would be best. Now the doctor I saw is also a psychiatrist and she was curious about my depression since at times these two things walk hand in hand. After 50 minutes of talking and filling out a form she prescribed me medicin. That same day I picked it up from a pharmacy. It has been 8 years since I fell into my depression and I have finally goten medication for it. Not only is this a huge relief but it makes me happy. The doctor also said I would get medicin for my anxiety but those will take a little longer. The downside to this though is that the pills do not properly start working until about 1-3 weeks after you start taking them and in the beginning you might also become more depressed from taking them. Which I unfortunately have felt, but since I know about it I constantly tell myself that it is the pills and not my true feelings which has helped. The important thing is that the dream of getting proper help for my depression has come true.

Rebelliousness vs freedom

Lately I have been asking myself if what I do is out of rebelliousness or fighting for freedom. I can not deny that I have rebelled against my parents since I was fairly young, but that is also rather normal. If you would ever meet me you would get the impression that I am a very calm and quiet person, yet I do have my rebellious sides. Yesterday I went to Stockholm to see the 5 Seconds Of Summer concert at the Ericsson Globe. Not only did I see one of my favorite bands perform live, for the second time, but I also had a VIP ticket meaning I had one of the best seats up front and attended the Sound Check right before the concert started. Early in the morning I jumped on the train since I live far away and the check-in for the Sound Check started at 2 p.m. As I went alone I brought a book with me so that my phone would not be dead once I got there. Fortunately, I also meet some lovely girls who kept me company. The opening band was Don Broco, I had not heard about them before but they were amazing and I am definitely fond of their music now. The Sound Check and concert were absolutely incredible and to be honest it was one of the two best nights of my life. Michael, Ashton, Luke and Calum are so funny, honest, down-to-earth and always know how to put a smile on our faces both with their words and their music. I have missed seeing them loads and also the other fans. We are not only a community, we are like a family, we take care of each other. For someone who is not I understand it might sound silly, but it is the truth. After jumping, dancing, screaming and singing a lot along with thousands of other people I took the train back home.

The thing about being rebellious about this is that my family has no idea I went there. They believe I was at a friends house. I told them the exact same thing when I went to see The 1975 earlier this year, which was also in Stockholm. Which was the other best night of my life, where I also had a place right up front. The reason for me not telling them is that my father forbid me for ever going to Stockholm for a concert after going there with a friend 2 years ago. But I did not do this, going to these concerts, to be rebellious. I did it for me, partly as a reward that I have stayed alive to this day and also as a graduation gift to myself. For once in my life I actually thought I was worth of something and deserved it and therefor I knew I had to do what was necessary to make myself happy, if so just for two nights. Happiness is a very unusual feeling for me and I find it difficult to achieve, though these two nights have had me bursting and bubbling with nothing but it. The guys in 5SOS has said before that what they want to accomplish with their concert is to give the people there, if so for only two hours, an escape from their daily life. And that is what they do, as for the 1975. They help us disconnect from the rest of the world by their music, if only just for a few hours.

A night as Cinderella?

Last night was my senior prom. People have told us for so long that “It will be a night you will remember your whole life”. But in all honesty, I hope not. There were many factors adding up to me wanting to forget it. First of all, the plan was originally that I was going to go with April but we are not truly friends anymore, and she has been too ignorant to notice. I told her how I felt and went with my friends Jane and Penny instead who both said I should considering April’s behavior towards me. Because of this she has been even worse. Secondly, when I first found my dress I was struck by its beauty though said that I would never wear it. I bought it the next day. Now a few months later I am not fond of it anymore and did not feel comfortable wearing it. It did not help that about 70 people stepped on it almost to the point that it was ripped. Thirdly, going there was challenging since the weather was exhausting and I can not handle heat very well. We also stood in line for 1,5 hours to get inside the hotel were the prom was going to be held. This was not good, I have got orthostatic hypertension mening I can not stand up for too long in the same place. That along with the heat made me almost faint. Due to the heat I also got migraine to the point were I thought I was going to throw up. We finally got inside and got some water to drink before there was a fancy dinner. The food in itself was alright yet because of about 300 people talking at the same time my headache got worse and it was almost impossible to hold a conversation making it rather boring. After the dinner I sat with my friend Dawn, who was feeling even worse than me, to make sure that she was alright and so she would not be lonely. Penny joined us after some time whilst the others were downstairs dancing. Eventually Dawn decided to go home yet she would have to wait about half an hour for her ride where I waited with her. Once she left I went inside to the girls yet I did not enjoy myself at all. I sat down with some other girls in our class pointing out to myself everything that was wrong with me. I could not help myself, after a while I was almost crying as my thoughts got worse. I could not stand it anymore so I called my brother who came to pick me up. As soon as we got home I jumped into the shower to get the hairspray out of my hair. There were no one could see me the tears started running down my face. I do not belong in a place like that, I never will. It made me feel so bad that it even made me considered plastic surgery since I loathe the way I look. The worst part is that I am supposed to do it again next week when I graduate. Last nights experience has made me almost rather stay at home with my mental abusive father than go out and ‘party’ where I feel just as miserable.

Can you outgrow your best friend?

For the last 3 years a girl called April has been my best friend. We met a secondary school and will now soon be graduating together since we are in the same class. We used to do everything together. Countless of weekends I have spent at her place, we have been to concerts together in other cities, at times we have taken spontaneous little road trips and we even planed on moving in together. For the time that I have known her she has been the one I have told everything, and she has returned the favor. We have had many common interests yet been rather different in person. She has always been more social than me and has tried to helped me talk to people more. Her methods have been questionable sometimes but mostly they have made me smile. When I was feeling my worst she would be the one I would talk to, the one who’s words would make me feel alright again.

Now to the downside, during approximately the last 6 months she has changed dramatically. She barely talks to me anymore and when she does the whole conversation is entirely about her. The other girls she does not really talk to either, yet she complains about us not socializing with her. What seems to be at any cost, she does not want to spend time with us. The excuses lately are becoming more and more pitiful. Often she blames it on money, that she can’t ‘afford’ to come with us for a hang out. Although she then often post pictures of herself on Instagram and Snapchat eating fancy food at expensive restaurants and cafés. During this period of time she has also stopped caring about her grades. It has come to a point where I and the other girls are genuinely concerned that she might not graduate. Because of that we have tried to help her since she has been talking about graduation since we started secondary school. Yet the respons we get is “I don’t need you help, it doesn’t matter if I fail another subject.”

The only time she ‘talks’ to us is by text and it can be alright, but when you won’t ever talk to someone in person but then have a breakout through text, every time, it becomes tiresome. This year she did not even come with us to celebrate my birthday, it broke my heart by her uncaring blunt respons pretending that everything was alright. In general lately she has become uncaring about everyone’s feelings, she will speak about herself as if her problems are the only ones that matter and at times she is even rude. Having someone who used to be so close to me hurts to see drift away. She was the first person I ever told ‘I love you’ and at the time it got the same respons. A few months ago when I told her that her changing confused me as much that I did not even some days know how to say hello to her I did not even get a respons.

I know very well that I in all probability will not have any contact with her after graduation. And the worst part is, it barely even hurts me anymore. I know people outgrow one another for various reasons, sometimes it is even healthy. It is like when you wear a pair of shoes, after some time they might break or you realize that they do not fit you like they used to. Though it might still be difficult to part from them since they have been with you for such a long time. For old reasons’ sake you may not even want to get rid off them even though you know you should. I do miss the old April though, the one who I used to love, not the one who rejects her friends and treat people poorly, the one who I saw as a sister. 

Father why?

Ever since I was little my father has abused me mentally. I have always known about it just not wanting to realize what he was actually doing until a few years ago. The first thing I remember my father telling me was “You have to become a doctor.” My entire childhood I was told this which ended up in me having a fear of becoming one. After that he kept on with other well paid jobs that I apparently ‘had’ to work with when I grew up. But it did not stop at that, he wanted to control everything about me from what my goals in life would be to my favorite color. Whenever I did not think or do as he wanted he would tell me how useless and stupid I was. ‘Idiot’ would at times become the nickname he would give me. The thing is that I have never fitted into this frame of his. Sometimes I hear him talk about me with others and the person he describes is nothing like me, it’s who he thinks or wishes me to be. When I was 13 and first got into writing I was so happy about finding something that I felt could actually define me. So I decided to tell him, his respons, he mocked me straight to my face. Told me how idiotic I was for even thinking that I could be good at something like that.

I remember once when I was about 8 years old, I was in my room laying on my stomach on my bed, just relaxing. He came in, sat on my back so that I could hardly breath and he spanked me and hit my legs. He never hit me again, because I did that myself. When I turned 11 I fell into my depression along with a self-harm behavior and being suicidal. Countless times I would be in my room strangling myself, punching various parts of my body and at times try to drown myself. When I begun middle school I got bullied, after 1,5 years I could not take it anymore. Everything was arranged the only thing missing was my parents to sign a papper and I would transfer. The conversation I had with them about it hurt me more than anything. My father refused despite that they had known for such a long time about what was actually happening. The reason, he told me that “Well they bully you because it is something wrong with you.” After that I turned suicidal again. Once when we sat by the tv he randomly told me “People who are suicidal or wishes to be dead should all die.” That sentence has haunted me ever since.

Then I began secondary school, the school in itself was better and that helped my depression a lot. Although during my second year I started feeling worse and the things said at home started being more frequent and more mentally destroying. Being told stupid, idiotic and that I can not do anything started becoming almost a daily habit. “Get it together!” and “Stop being such an idiot!” is probably the things I am told the most. At times he makes me so angry that I am shaking and that I can hardly breath. I get headaches everyday because of what he says, and yet I am apparently the one that it is something wrong with. I am never good enough being me. I am too fat, I am too stupid, I don’t work hard enough, I can’t make it on my own and I am worthless. And all I want to know is why? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me this much?