4 weeks ago I came back from rehab. Had been there since January 20th, been there two months.
And it was the best thing that could've happened to me.

It seems like I've got over my social anxiety. Of course it's not completely gone, and I guess that's not ever gonna happen, too. But I felt so normal, so alive - as alive as I haven't felt in years. What I found out, though, is that most of my depression actually is caused by my social anxiety, a thing I wouldn't even have thought about. The reason I got in there in the first place was depression, after all.
I am - I know now - an extremely social person. I used to be an extremely social kid, too, and then it was - well, things happened, things I don't remember (partial amnesia ftw) and everythig went wrong.

I've been alone for most of my life since I was 9. Now I'm not, and since I came back I've made friends, new friends, a thing I wouldn't have dreamt about. From 9 till 14 I was completely on my own, I didn't have anyone. Since then I had my girlfriend, the only person I ever trusted. And now? I'm making friends.

But, as I found out - normality is something I've never learnt to deal with since my childhood. I'm an adult now, an adult incapable of dealing with normality.

I always thought I couldn't let someone be close to me (other than my girlfriend).
Then I came back from rehab.
And made a friend.
And... let's call it became infuated. With someone who's not my girlfriend. I can't deal with that, seriously. Due to my illness, I've been spared with stuff like this during puberty,during almost all my teenage years (given I'm almost 19 now). Yes, it's perfectly normal. And no, I can't deal with it.

I cannot deal with it. Dear life, make it go away. Please.

Things should be good, should be normal. But how can I be normal when I fucking can't deal with normality?!

I'm on venlafaxine now. Now I don't know how many months I've been on citalopram (3? 4?), but it hasn't helped me in anyway, so my psych changed my meds. I wouldn't have expected venlafaxine to have that strong side effects, considering I haven't had any with fluoxetine & citalopram. But gosh, the venlafaxine was hell! I felt like I had a panic attack when I first took it. But hey, at least it's the first med that has at least some kind of effect on me, duh. My heart's constantly racing, though. Anyway, I hope it'll work out once again. And... it makes me a little aggressive, I noted. Duh. As if I needed that on top of it.

Also, I can't really talk to my friends - currently - because I feel the overwhelming need to just tell them to fucking stop being pussies, and I don't think that'd be that nice. I blame the meds. Seriously, I'm not like that.
Gosh, the drama llama sure seems to like my friends.
Argh.

And also... it feels like my depression got worse since I took it. My psych told me this could happen, and I should try to get through the first few days (and that I should talk to her once I feel like I can't make it), but... ugh. It's awful.

I need a cigarette.

So, in three weeks from now, I'll be in rehab for 1 1/2 months in a psychosomatic clinic for adults.
I AM scared shitless, but my friends have been reassuring me all the time since I got the clinic's affirmation... and they promised to help me keep up with school, which I'm really grateful for.

I'm not really positive about this. I don't know if it's going to do any good, honestly, but I won't know unless I try.
I of course won't be able to cope with myself the way I do know, something I'm not sure I can handle; but if I at least can have my cigarettes there, things should turn out... okay. I hope so, after all, and since I haven't been drinking for quite a while now, I should be able to handle this. If they permit my smoking, I will throw a fit, though. D:

Not sure about my medication, though. I've been on citalopram for... I don't even know, three or four months now? And I will be changing the meds either after my stay there or before, not sure, because it hasn't made a difference so far. But I'm not sure if I can handle another med change during rehab, so I'll probably do it afterwards, but I'll ask my psych before anyway since I'm running out of meds, lol.

I'm not in the worst mood today, obviously, mostly because I've just talked to my girlfriend for an hour a few minutes ago... to keep myself from getting depressed and feeling useless once again. Still feel absolutely useless, but so far I haven't had a(nother) depressive breakdown. Luckily. The night's still a long way to go, though, considering I won't be able to sleep for another 6-7 hours. Ah, the life of an insomniac.

But what I've finally decided now is: I will take up therapy again. I've had a break from therapy for about 3-4 months now, as long as I've been on meds now, and I realized that without therapy I won't be getting anywhere. It can't get worse with therapy, only better, even though I did have the feeling that therapy didn't help me a great deal.

Hmph.

Been smoking too much lately (no, I didn't take a break). Developed smoker's cough.
Haven't been smoking since Friday, and it's almost Sunday now. I'm gonna avoid cigarettes for at least another 3-5 days now. I hate addictions.

Yesterday winter vacation started - I'm FREE for almost three weeks. Free of anything. No school, no work, nothing. I need that break, too.

I am craving for an effing cigarette, argh. I can't give in for at least another 3 days, goddamnit.

In the past weeks I think I finally realized how my depression prevents me from truly living. During treatment (of whatever kind) I always felt like a part of my personality was being taken away from me - like I wasn't myself without my gloomy thoughts, like I'd be defined by melancholy. I think... a while ago, I would've felt less smart and unique if it weren't for my depression. How fucked up is that, seriously, brain?
Well, I've overcome this, I think. Whenever depression hits me full force, I can't do anything; apathy is the only thing I feel, along with overwhelming sadness. Whenever I'm so down I can't think, I can't write either. I think that's what made me realize that, even without the depression that's been with me most of my life, I'm worth more, more of a human being, when I'm not held down by pain.

This realization feels kind of... liberating.

Of course today's one of those days I can't write anymore, guess why. All I can do is take my meds and read, read so much that I get lost in whatever universe I'm reading about. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have books, seriously.

Good things.

- been sober for 6 weeks.
- no Ativan in... three? weeks.
- I still write.
- Did not fail maths, wtf.

Bad things.

- have been skipping school for 5 days.
- even thinking about going to school makes me physically sick.
- cut too often.
- started smoking again (not regularly, but still - I haven't smoked in years!).

Where's the point in trying to fight alcohol when you just exchange it for cigarettes?
Except that cigarettes are socially acceptable, but duh. As if I care.

However, I've smoked too much lately, so I'm going to avoid cigarettes for at least a week and meanwhile resort to alcohol. Or cutting.
I'm disgustingly calculating, ain't I?

Well, I'm just trying to avoid addictions.
Except for my general need of physical pain and mind-expanding substances, because that can't be helped anymore.

Went to school today. Messed up chemistry, haven't studied at ALL.
I should be angry at myself (because I know I could've done so much better if I had actually tried), but... It's ok. I'm even a little pleased - because I KNEW I hadn't studied when I got up this morning, but still I went to school. I didn't make up any excuses, I didn't skip lessons, I didn't play truant to avoid the exam even though I knew I was going to fail it anyway.

Sounds pathetic, but there it is, my former self. I used to be the type of person that didn't avoid necessities, especially when I fucked up myself.

**

Also, I was interested. A regional politician visited our politics (advanced/specialized) course today, we got to ask questions and discuss. I did, too, instead of just watching.

I feel more like myself today.
I want to keep it that way - although my hopes are slim.

The whole last month has been awful; I felt like I was continually killing myself by doing all the destructive shit I tend to get lost in.

Anyway, finally, today was the first day in 1 1/2 weeks I went to school. I even enjoyed a few of the lessons - enjoyed!, as in "having interest" and "participating" - and finally, FINALLY I feel there's a little of my former self back in my body. My former self that I feel/felt has gone missing somewhere along the way of growing up.

I'm going to have a chemistry exam tomorrow, I haven't studied at all yet and I still have to even though it 1:30AM, I'm tired as hell and I effing hate fatigue.
...
Just as usual. Just like I'm used to; I know how to deal with this, that's ME. I procrastinate, I can't study without ending up insomniac, I always do everything at the last minute, but usually I do it well enough 'cause I'm not dumb.

This is so much better; PLEASE, life, make it last. Please.

It's annoying, but it's me. I've always been this way and sometimes hated it, but it's a lot better than the shit I had to deal with last month. I still sit in a lot of classes and do nothing but zone out, I still frequently have these daydreams of dying,... I still think of pain a great deal.

Anyhow, if it stays like this, I AM ABLE TO DEAL. God.
I wish. I really, earnestly, honestly, sincerely wish it does.

I was out till 3AM yesterday night; got a pack of cigarettes, smoked half of it out in the cold. My lungs burned like hell - I'm not a smoker, thus not used to more than a cigarette at once.
It calmed me down. Plus, I have a really low blood pressure - mixing that with a huge amount of nicotine causes me to feel extremely dizzy. Which is kind of good, it's kinda like alcohol.

Cutting, drinking, smoking, meds/drugs... it's all pretty much the same. I still have control, I hope I won't lose it.

I feel sick for taking pleasure in pain.
Really.
I burned myself with a cig, though. It was intense.

I feel horribly purposeless.
...on the positive side of things, I wrote a bunch of stories I consider relatively felicitous.

( Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; drabble. 840 words. )

There's too much of myself in that.
Whatever. Also, this song of A Perfect Circle is absolutely perfect.

I don't feel well at all today. It's 4:15AM, I'm having an insomniac episode again and I have to get up at 6 for school. If I'll go.

I'm not the happiest person around, but usually the pain I feel (God, do I sound melodramatic!) is comparable to a dull, throbbing ache in the back of my head.

Tonight I felt relatively good, compared to the last few months. Then, all of a sudden, it felt like nausea was building up in me, but the feeling soon vanished - well, not vanished, but rather turned into something different. I spontaneously bust into tears. It was as if an animal was squirming in my insides, approaching my heart, just to dig its claws right into it. Like a stinging, stabbing headache right behind my forehead rather than the dull pain I'm used to.

To cut a long story short (and stop it with the cheesy metaphors): If my "mental state" is going to progress (the irony!) like this, I don't know how I'll end up.

I need change. Just change.
If it continues at this rate, I will probably end up doing something drastic and stupid.

Drop out of school.
Break up with my girlfriend.
Leave home without a destination.
Do hard drugs.
Get into a plane to England without a ticket back.

**

Scratch this, just booked a flight to London. With a return flight, though. For November 8.
Randomly. Without thinking. Two days. I love London... And I just NEED a goddamn CHANGE.
I feel like I'm going to have a nervous breakdown any minute, I'm shaking.

I need someone, someone who understands. Not someone who tells me to stop drinking, to stop "being depressed", to stop thinking, to stop what the fuck ever. I just want someone to talk to, someone who doesn't think he knows who I am and why I act like I do. Or something. If there's no "someone", I'll just go somewhere else. London, here I come.

I'm trembling, I don't know why. This is one of the nights I pray to God, even though I'm agnostic.
It's one of these childish thoughts, these childish prayers I used to do when I was little. Along the lines of "God, if you exist, stop this, okay? I'll be a good girl, I promise."
The thing is, I've always been a good girl, and it's never been any different. I'm being dramatic again, I apologize. Blame my nerves.

**

My gf just texted me even though it's 5AM. I figured she was awake and texted back. Told her how I feel. Told her I wasn't gonna go to school. She said "okay, fine, I'm not mad at you".
I. I'm speechless. And rambling, contradictory enough.

I want this to stop. I will get drunk now. Or... I don't know. God, just stop this.

Yesterday night was probably the most pathetic day in my existence. With the exception of a special day in late '05, but well. At least this time there was no one to watch me.
( Disgusting discription ahead... )

I'm going to get wasted. Now.

It's unreasonable, humiliating, stupid and just utterly wrong in any sense, but I can't help it. Even though I'm aware of the mess I'm throwing myself in. Well, I don't care anymore: I surrender.

Did you hear me, life? I surrender! At least for now, I give up. Let's see where this will take me tomorrow, when I'm going to wake up with an awful hangover.

Old habits die hard.

Times like these make me wish to believe in God. I wish I did - but I don't.

It's ridiculous. I thought maybe I could get rid of the urge while ranting about it, but obviously: didn't work. Anyway, by midnight I'll be either completely wasted or lying in my bed, sheets stained with blood. I'm ludicrously dramatic, it's almost cynical. God, I just want someone to be with me. Someone, just someone. Someone I can relate to. Someone that makes me feel.

I'm on citalopram now. Fluoxetine didn't seem to work for me - except for the side effects.

Anyway, I still don't feel any different, and even though it's only been a month, I would've expected at least something, anything. But nothing's changed.

Quite the opposite, to be frank. I feel too depressed to think clearly, and this results in heavy panic attacks or an overall feeling of anxiety (for hours). The only thing that helped so far is Ativan - not only the med itself, but the fact that I don't have to be afraid of the anxiety when I have to do something that could possibly trigger a panic attack. I feel safer.

But that's probably the dangerous thing about it. I've taken 4 doses of Ativan this week so far - this might not seem much, but my psych advised me not to take too much and not to take it regularly. I can live without an addiction, thanks.

In the end, it's not any different from the alcohol I used to drink. Only medically supervised. Speaking of which, I haven't been drunk since the 1st of September. Should I think of this as a success? Why am I counting anyway? I'm not even an alcoholic. Not a real one, at least.

However... I've felt extremely anxious for a few hours now; it was triggered by the heaviness of my depression, I think.
First, I wanted to take another Ativan. Which would've been the fifth time this week.

I ended up cutting my left thigh. Stupidly enough I realized just now that everything's pretty much the same:

Cutting, drinking, Ativan. It all does the same. I don't want to be addicted to (or dependent on) anything; if I had taken another dose, I'd have been one step closer to drug abuse. I know my weaknesses. I know it sounds disturbing, but I weighed the pros against the cons of each option (those being cutting/drinking/meds) and decided to cut.

It sounds so sickeningly calculated, but it's just that, even though I'm being self-destructive, I don't want to damage my body permanently. Because I don't want to die. I don't want to be depressed and I've been close to death before, but I haven't attempted to kill myself in 3 (three!) years, the reason being:

I don't want nothingness, I just want to be happy. But sometimes the pain is too much to bear... and, to put it simply, causes my stupid self to do stupid things.

Anyway. I've been completely sober since September 1st, and it makes me - pathetic enough - feel a little proud, besides the fact that I'm a loser for having to feel proud for not drinking in the first place. I've already taken too many meds. Thus, I cut, and now I feel calm and collected. And tired.

It's a coping mechanism I can control, just like meds. Why do doctors make me want to feel bad about it? I mean, I'M controlling the cutting. It's not controlling me, not anymore. I'd like to leave it at that.

I'm going to sleep now. I hope tomorrow's going to be a better day, I'm a little hopeless at the moment, but I feel better now. Kind of rational, it's disturbing.

I'm on Prozac/Fluoxetine now. Have been for four days, it's the first antidepressant I've ever tried. So far no difference except for side effects (I feel slightly nauseous all the time and my muscles are somehow twitching and feel "weak"). -.- But the psych told me it could take up to two weeks till it starts working, so.

AND. I also was described Ativan/Lorazepam for the panic attacks/anxiety.
Seriously, I have no idea how I survived without it. I had my first PE lesson in a year yesterday, and I was honestly scared to death, but the Ativan did it for me. I was, unlike usually, able to function. I wasn't panicking. I wasn't afraid of it, it was so easy!

To cut a long story short: I love my Ativan. *sighs*
...which is the main reason I was (and am still) worried to take it. I have a slight tendency to abuse things. But it'll be ok if I'll watch out, I think.

Also, I haven't had any alcohol in a few days.
The fact that I'm now on medication seems to decrease the temptation of drinking. I don't need to numb my mind, the Ativan's already enough.

</med>

Other than that: I'm doing fine.
I think. Had an awesome day at school, managed to participate in both math and English class, and yeah. O, and I'm not tired all the time (I usually fall asleep in every single lesson!). I think that might be because of the Prozac... paradox enough. But my depressive episodes cause extreme fatigue, so yeah. It'd be awesome if the Prozac decreased the fatigue.

( Tiny school rant )

On a completely unrelated note, I've been re-reading The Catcher In The Rye. I can't bring myself to like it, and I can't appreciate its alleged literary value either. It's whiny. It doesn't make sense. It's random. And I understand why a lot of people, especially kids, like it. I'm random, whiny and don't make sense either, but the part of my brain that appreciates good writing refuses to acknowledge this. Beneath The Wheel (Hermann Hesse), on the other hand, was a lot better; something I can relate to. (Except for the fact that I'm not a genius, but well.) I think, just for the sake of getting more into international literature (besides Salinger), I'm going to read a few (English) classics - I've been reading too much German literature lately. I love Oscar Wilde, I should get to know more of his work.

And to be more random, my girlfriend is going to stay over for a whole week. She's already on her way to come over and... I don't know. I won't be able to be alone for a whole week. The thought itself is a little bit disturbing.

*sighs*

The anxiety has decreased over the past few weeks, but now that I know that I will have to participate in PE again (starting this thursday), I'm practically freaking out non-stop. :/ I haven't had PE for a year (thanks to my doctor's certificate because of my hand). Agh.
Idk. I'm gonna go see a doctor tomorrow for the referral to the psychiatrist's. Maybe meds will work out for me, in this case. I don't want to be scared to death every thursday morning, thanks.

I don't really like anything, currently. (And I have another tendosynovitis. My hand hurts like a bitch.) Non-existing enthusiasm ftw.

I'm home for a few hours, and I have to get back to school at 2.30.

I've been listening to Glassjaw for the past few days. Do you know the kind of music that makes you feel so much you think you're going to choke? It feels like I'm out of breath, as if I'm going to spill my heart out (literally), yeah - as if I'm choking.
This song is perfection, painful perfection, and listening to it equally hurts and helps. I'm weird.
</random>

I'm tired and unmotivated. Getting up every day, going to school, being surrounded by people you don't want to know; it's hard, really. Even though the actual learning is anything but difficult, alone leaving the house to spend your whole day at school is exhausting.

I'm depressed.
I want it to stop.
I'm so tired.

I'll take a nap now, I think... and afterwards I'm going to watch The Black Parade Is Dead. (*kidnaps another cliché*) I want to read something like Beneath the Wheel (Hesse) or The Catcher in the Rye, maybe it'll make me feel better.

I've been to my therapist for about 8 months; and next week I have to decide whether to continue or stop therapy.

I'm not sure. Part of me wants to stop to be left alone, but part of me also knows that not enough has changed in those 8 months. I figured that those 8 months made me realize a lot of things I hadn't realized before, but it hasn't helped me much with dealing with all my issues.
So. I don't know. Should I end therapy 'cause it didn't help anyway? Or should I take the fact that it helped me realize things as a sign that it, eventually, will help me - but that it simply will take more time?

I don't know. Urgh. My feelings are still hard too handle, and I'm not any less depressed than I've been before therapy, and I'm sure about that. Also... I don't know. I've thought about medication, and I will not be able to try it if I end it beforehand.

I have no idea.

I'm really, really, ridiculously apathetic right now. I don't feel like doing anything, I don't want to see anyone. It's still summer vacation (1 1/2 weeks of 6 left) and I don't want it to end, even though I'm doing nothing but sitting in my room or working.
I feel like I'm falling apart, the past three months have been so event- and stressful.

My (allegedly lesbian) girlfriend left me for a guy she'd known for a week.
I nearly flunked out of high school due to math (which is why I'm getting a tutor this week, duh). I was given a second chance because I'm good at everything else, which made me feel not that dumb.
I was humiliated at school. My goddamn headteacher made me cry. In front of people; it was so abasing, I hate showing emotion. It's so cliché.
My girlfriend and I got back together. I forgave her.
A few months of not cutting were destroyed by another relapse. I haven't really stopped again since. I don't want to.
I feel like I'm lying when I tell her I love you, even though she does mean a lot to me.
I have lost all ambition I ever had.
I contemplated suicide more than once. I'm too chicken.
My therapist suggested again that I should consider medication. I think I will.
I've been applying for jobs to move out of my parents' house.
The last weeks made me realize I want to live on my own.
My last session with my therapist was ironically funny; I told her I'm urged to move out even more because of my family's behavior. She replied with "See, at least you're getting something out of this. You could be doing something destructive like cutting yourself, but you're being constructive." Ha. The irony. If she only knew.
I'm reading again, a lot, in fact. I've missed it, but I was too apathetic to bother.
I feel like your average emo kid.

I'm going to read American Psycho now. It's amazing so far, even though I'm only halfway through. This is at least more than what I've done for the last weeks: Nothing. I love reading.

So, vacation's eventually over, and so are the 3 1/2 weeks full of aloneness and nothingness and boredom.
I hate it already.

▪ it messes with my health → not kidding, I have an extremely weird sleeping pattern (I sleep best during the day), and I'm basically of no use when I have school... except for the weekends
▪ it makes me feel like a failure half of the week due to maths (I don't give a damn if I'm doing damn good at pretty much anything else, it's just ugh.)
▪ it raises my anxiety level incredibly (Two words: maths exam. Thursday. I've been freaking over it since Friday.)
▪ thus, it increases the amount of alcohol I consume (to a pretty unhealthy degree)
▪ it forces me to deal with people (→ anxiety level issues + alcohol issues + more likely to get depressed on an even more regular base)
▪ it leaves me extremely stressed; I sleep a lot during the day and have barely time for myself
▪ it makes me hate. Hate people, hate school, hate myself. I don't want to hate, I do it too much already
▪ P.E. → makes me feel like a complete failure again because I don't know/like anyone in P.E. class, and additionally, I'm crippled now and my doctor's certificate stated that I should be able to do sports now again (after two months of not having to take part in P.E.) - and I'm not
▪ I feel burned out in general → I'm not able to be creative (thus, to write) or to do things I like (such as torturing myself with my guitar playing attempts)
▪ plus, staying up till the middle of the night's due to procrastination (yeah, I know. I hate myself.) isn't really nice either.

Agh.
I hate school. I hate people. I want to be alone. I don't have any more time now due to my soon-to-be-written essay, so I can't even answer comments now.

I've honestly had a pretty good week, no majorly bad days. I felt good, even though that weird thought of not deserving happiness clung to my heart, but I'm used to it now; I spent two days with my girlfriend, it was actually nice.
But I have to see a doctor tomorrow cos of my hand. It's been over a month since I had (my second) surgery, over one week since I had my last appointment at the physical therapist's, and it hasn't gotten any better. A month ago the doctor told me to see him again if physical therapy didn't work out the way it was supposed to, and it apparently didn't.

I don't have any problem with doctors or making appointments, the anxiety's not bugging me when it comes to stuff like this.
But a few days ago I finally attempted to play the guitar a bit; or at least tried to practise; again, after half a year of a non-functioning left hand.

Well, it still doesn't work properly, I can't even play one fucking simple song. It doesn't work. Seriously. I started with some medium stuff, it didn't really go well. So I thought "Try something easy then, you know it needs time". I was already pretty upset then, I mean: I never was a badass guitarist or something, but I did okay. I tried strumming a few chords then - And it's fucking exhausting. It hurts like hell. Okay, so playing bar chords wasn't a good idea either. But seriously, John Lennon's Working Class Heroes?! Considering it consists of two chords - should've been possible. Wasn't. Can't move my middle finger properly.

I probably would be able to play again in the future if I put in lots of effort, but I know I won't. I'm not ambitious, it's too frustrating. I wonder if my hand's going to work properly again one day? Like the other one, without feeling numb and all? It's weird, I can't imagine my fingers being numb for the rest of my life. All of my doctors were all "a trigger finger is nothing unusual, except that people your age don't get it - normally" / "it should be okay after the surgery" / "so it didn't heal really well, but we should be able to correct it"... Every time they told me it was going to be okay it got worse. It was a trigger finger, for God's sake! It should've healed within a month, it shouldn't be an issue after a goddamn half year! Argh. I cried out of frustration for one hour straight. I'm weak. I hate my body.

...and I have insomnia again, which is why I'm up at these ungodly hour (3:30AM here). Have been sleepless at night for a week now. Sucks.