Mental Health

Withdrawal madness

Raise your hands if you’ve been affected by mental health problems.

If your hand’s up, you maybe know that medication can do a great deal – just by giving you the possibility of functioning like a normal human being, you know, people you don’t have a full-blown meltdown when they’re listening to a (semi) sad song.

At first I thought, I’d be fine. Which is the usual approach of a psychologically damaged brain. Better even, I was proven right, since I was doing so much coke that it actually did trick my brain into being happy for another two weeks. But then I stopped the hardcore partying, and I felt like shit after my last “enhanced” night. And being the wimp that I am, I actually considered calling an ambulance when I had the impression that my head would explode (no exaggeration here, it really felt like that), so fun pills or powders aren’t really my thing, even though I love the aesthetics. I mean, Heroine Chic is somewhat to die for. Pun intended.

Anyway, the last couple of days were rough, like really rough. I felt like a Dementor had sucked all will to live out of me. And since I didn’t have a new prescription for my medical approved drugs, I did some self-medication. Spoiler: It wasn’t too efficient.

I honestly thought that my brain had a kind of reset thanks to all the coke. I was under the impression that it understood for once how to react to happy hormones. After my coke adventures, it seemed like everything was normal. I didn’t have a crash, before this day with crazy headaches, I just felt normal. Btw, I still think that micro dosing could be super helpful, so I can’t wait to see where studies are going with this. I’d even offer my services as a guinea pig.

However, since I, like most depressive people, am bad at keeping track of time, I have no ability or patience to plan ahead. Logical consequence, I ran out of meds, but it still took me by surprise.

I’m not great at adulting in general. Actually, I really suck at it. It’s now been the umpteenth time that I ran out of antidepressants without having a new prescription ready to use. And even though I’ve been fine for almost three weeks, I’m now experiencing pretty bad withdrawal symptoms.

Weirdly enough, though, there’s something funny about this situation. Maybe you’ve heard of the podcast The Hilarious World of Depression. The host always asks people on the podcast if they think that depression can be funny. At first, I thought, “What a dumb question”. But now, I find it rather funny when I just start crying without any reason. For example when I went to see my therapist today. You can’t deny the comedy of starting to cry at random questions. In addition to that, my mind is usually all over the place, so I can’t even put two cohesive sentences together. It is hilarious when you think about it. Just think Mean Girls and word vomit.

Anyway, I’ve been pretty emotional this week, Emotional enough to learn that going through self-inflicted withdrawal is an interesting experience. At least that’s how I see it, looking back on how these last couple of days. It started with very apparent body dysmorphia – which I experience constantly, but it got especially intense lately. I found myself and my body just horrible, and it’s safe to say that it was definitely the lowest my self-esteem has been so far. Even when I had a phase where I was fantasizing about chopping off my saggy boobs, my overall opinion of my body was still better. It didn’t help that people confused me with a dude.

I mean yes, I’m freakishly tall, you should probably put me in a museum just to make future parents be aware of the horrible consequences an overconsumption of milk can have, but being asked about my gender still hurts. I mean, it’s being ripped off all my feminine attributes in just one sentence. All that’s left is the freak.

As a natural consequence, I fell back into binging and purging. Even though I had many friends confirming that they very much perceived me in my biological, female identity, I didn’t believe them. So now, I have an appointment for lip fillers which I’m actually looking forward to, and a couple of evenings that I can write down as ‘transformative crying’ in my diary.

To end this post on a positive note, I should probably add the following. A few weeks ago, a friend asked me what I’d do with my life if I could do anything. My reply was “End it”. My demented humor kicked in, and I’m still laughing about my answer when I think back. But now that I have these aesthetic procedures planned, I’m thinking, “Why having all the work done for nothing? This shit is expensive”. So everyone can rest assured that I’ll stick around for a while. Besides, it’s not too long until Halloween, no way I’d miss a chance to scare people with my scary and very bloody makeup.

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Just blogging

Birthday anxiety

My birthday is coming up and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

Before you think: “Oh right, another chick who can’t handle getting older.”, I don’t care about my age. I’m actually somewhat looking forward to having white hair, wearing makeup that makes me look like a crazy clown and hopefully getting a much deeper voice which doesn’t sound like it belongs to a 13-year-old. (I always wanted my voice too sound more like Scarlett Johansson’s.)

Though there have been mulitple moments where I felt that I’m failing at existing – according to societal conventions – I don’t really care anymore. The last time the thought of having to be an adult stressed me out was right before my 18th birthday. But since then, I found out that pretty much everyone sucks at adulting. Besides, my family seems to have stopped wondering if I’m a Lesbian or not ever since and I’m also starting to find people amusing who ask me about kids and marriage. I’m actually looking forward to never having kids and just spend all my (fictional) money on designer and travels, especially because I can justify all that by quoting Schopenhauer – not that I have to. And I’m almost proud of being an eternal student. You don’t find many of us anymore. These teens nowadays…. they have become so serious, urgh.

However, I do put quite some pressure on myself. Just for the story, it would be so sad if my life was mediocre. So it can either be tragic (which it is already tbh) or fucking amazing. Like spending-all-day-yachting-with-my-friends-and-drinking-champagne-amazing.
I don’t wanna be that tragic figure. (Besides, every tragic figure becomes really annoying over time, that’s why they always end up killing themselves. And I’m over that.)

So there really is no other choice than becoming great. No pressure at all.

But what I really don’t like about birthdays is being the center of attention. Well, I don’t mind being the center of attention, I just want it to be for something I deserve.

But being born is not an achievement. Neither is staying alive, even though that would make much more sense to me. (Besides, I actually like listening to the BeeGees.) But we’re not living in the 1800s anymore, where sudden infant death was a real thing. And thanks to the stigma, being mentally stable doesn’t count as an achievement either.

So I don’t really see the point of celebrating my birthday. And if it’s just for the milestones, I prefer having a party for each single one of those. Seriously, why would I wait a year if I can can get drunk immediately?

One of the first things my roommates asked me after I moved in was the date of my birthday. So apparently, they’re going to plan something.
I just hate that thought. I want to spend a normal day doing what I always do and not having to have stiff conversations around a diabetes-causing cake that’ll make me nauseous. I also don’t want to open shitty presents and smile politely while thinking about throwing this new [insert anything unnecessary/ ugly /unwanted / all of the above] in the trash or reusing it as a gift for someone I hate (or date; I just noticed how similar those two words sound).

I also think that birthdays fall under the same category as NYE. People put so much pressure on them, it has to be the best day of the year. But – surprise! – it rarely is. So you most probably end up diappointed.
The birthdays I remember were days of weird family get-togethers and food poisoning (the real one, not induced by alcohol). And of course birthdays where I felt that something special should happen, but that just wasn’t the case. Instead, they were just like any other day, or even worse.

All that is the reason why I just don’t wanna celebrate my birthday. In my opinion, birthdays are just a compilation of awkward moments. So if you want to make me a birthday present, just spare me.

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Weekly Diary

Weekly diary #6

Vampires and gossip

It’s been a moment since my last blogpost and although there’s definitely no a lack of inspiration, I didn’t have the courage to write. Somehow, I’ve been in a funk lately. Therefore, I decided to forego writing about the topics I first had in my mind and do a weekly diary instead – which I haven’t done in a while. So yay to another post dedicated to hiding under blankets, trying to make sense of how I feel! 😀

Seriously, the free trial month of 2019 is almost over and I feel more like Bridget Jones than this better version of myself I imagined becoming. Though on paper, I actually have nothing to complain about. I got a new job at a company I’m really excited about (I will start on Friday), I did work out more than I usually do and I even started budgeting, which makes me feel really adult and almost as if I knew how life works. Especially since now I have a budget for wine. I also made new friends and now that it’s been three months that I live in Cologne, I’m starting to get to know Cologne a little better (though there’s still a ton of things and places to explore). And yet, I feel like something is missing. It feels like if I wasn’t really invested in my life, like it wasn’t even mine. And it probably sounds super weird, but right now, I feel more like a ghost wandering around among all these warm, human beings filled with purpose, love and passion, and I’m just this cold shell that somehow got trapped in between, watching time go by and others change while I stay exactly the same.

Now that I think of it, maybe that’s why I’m obsessed with vampires and Halloween. Halloween is the day of the year where truly feel like myself, as a living dead person. Isn’t that weird?
That obsession goes back to when I was around 7 years old. Halloween wasn’t a thing in Germany yet, especially not in the east, but I always dressed up as a vampire on Mardi Gras. And funnily, if I remember it correctly, that was also the time where the first signs of what would later become an eating disorder started to manifest themselves.
Wow, 10 minutes into writing and I’ve already covered more than I ever did in therapy. I guess this is a position I can cut from my budget then.

Besides my 3-week-funk (3 really is a magic number in my posts), the job offer and exercising, I’ve been learning Portuguese, making a list of ideas for a podcast, taking pictures, same old, same old. I’m also trying to shift my focus from speaking English all the time to speaking French. And that’s why I’m rewatching all my favorite series again, but this time in French. If you’re ever in need of an excuse to binge watch, you’re welcome. Just say you watch it in VO or with subtitles. I’m still practicing my English by watching The Bachelor and reading every effing post written about it. In that context, I just discovered Betches, probably the awesomest site ever created. And while browsing through all the categories, I also noticed they have a podcast! No, even several podcasts!! My favorite episode so far is the one on Betch Slapped where they talk to @entylawyer, who’s spilling tea about celebrities. It’s definitely the best thing I’ve heard this month. (Though listening to stories about all the celebrity feuds also made me feel like a peasant, just because I don’t have any hidden agenda when I interact with people. But this episode is giving me life! Which is a good thing for my vegetarian vampire self.)

And that already sums up my week, ahem, month. I’ll try being more interesting next time.

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Just blogging

This Will Never End Cause I Want More…

Today is one of the days where I wish I was any other person. Or at least not in my head. My day was actually pretty good, I had a good night’s sleep, had a great workout and a nice walk, ran some errands. I also made plans for the weekend (which I usually never do) – I#m going to see some Shakespeare-related performances and am actually really excited about it, even though or maybe especially because I’m usually quite lowbrow. I also received an H&M delivery today, a really cool bomber jacket I can’t wait to wear for the next shooting. So all in all, I would say it was a pretty good day. However, at some time after my workout, I suddenly felt this darkness creeping in. I think it was when I looked at some magazines and one headline I saw claimed that millenials have no money. I quickly read the article (yes, I’m that person who reads articles on magazines without buying them . That’s why I never remember my sources.) The article was depressing. It pretty much said that millenials are doomed because living expenses are constantly rising but wages stay the same. And if that wasn’t enough, one of my favorite bloggers just published a blog post about the change from analog to digital, which made me think of Fahrenheit 451 and that stuff is scary af.
My – let’s call it anxious state of mind – became even stronger on my way back home. On the train, there were two girls next to me talking about some guy they knew who was going to be incredibly successful with some app or whatever. At the age of 17. And my mind immediately jumped to the question of what I hve accomplished so far. Well, nothing, really. And I don’t even know what I wanna do in life. It sounds whiney and annoying, but I wish things weren’t as hard. I wish I just knew what I wanted to do in life instead of looking for something I’m “passionate about”. Or maybe I should rephrase that. I know a few things I’m passionate about, but I don’t know how to turn them into something that’ll make a living. Besides, I get the impression that if you wanna do something creative, you need to have a great set of skills – which I don’t have. It’s a litte discouraging, especially because I’m not really excelling at anything. And no one cares for mediocre. I don’t know if it makes sense to you, but I often feel like life can’t really provide a sense or something that I would want. It just seems too small and insignificant, which makes me feel small and insignfiicant. Because even if you have wealth and anything you wnat, where does it lead you? Basically no where. Because even the most successful people don’t have everything. And so that brings me back to the theory of anti-natalism and is also the reason why I’m listening to Fever Ray and drinking looooots of wine tonight.

 

 

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Just blogging

Birthday week & moments of depression

Tomorrow is my birthday.

Some of my friends take their birthdays very seriously. They throw amazing parties and even dedicate the entire week to it.

To me however, my birthday has not that much importance. I played with the thought to have a huge party this year, but I don’t feel like it any more. My week has been pretty mundane so far as well.

I have no idea why I don’t care about my birthday. Maybe it’s because I think that being brought to this world involuntarily isn’t an accomplishment that deserves being celebrated. Neither is slowly approaching death.

Though I do get mad when friends or people who should remember my birthday don’t. So in some sort, I’m denying my own existence but am pissed if others don’t acknowledge it.

There was a period where my situation was a little different from now, though not too much. It w a time where I quite often had thoughts like “If I’m still around next year..” and so I felt that each year living would be something I could be proud of.

Now I’m more like “whatever”. The latent suicidal thoughts have significantly decreased, which is good, I guess, but there are still days where I feel that simply existing is just incredibly hard. And what for anyway?

“What motivates you to get up in the morning?” You’ve probably come across this question at some point in your life. Can you answer it? If yes, what would your answer be? I really thought about it many times and I still have nothing. Probably because I haven’t found anything I’m truly (or even remotely) passionate about. I thought of testing a bunch of new activities, trying something different every week. Maybe in this way, I’ll find something that I enjoy so much that it can become a passion.

Speaking of motivation, I know that I have to change my shitty mindset. So I’m currently trying meditation and I also read a bunch of articles. And no kidding, every time there’s a line like “Make a difference” or something, I’m literally thinking “What for, we’re all going to die anyways”.

Sometimes, I really admire religious people. They seem to have a reason to exist and maybe their beliefs give them some extra strength. But then, religion is such an abstract thing to me, it just wouldn’t work.

Counselling has worked for me, so that’s back on. As for my bday, I’m not really doing anything. But I know that my mom has planned something, so I’m sure that’ll be fun.

 

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