Voices

Picture // Unknown

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you're actually worth something? Do you actually think someone cares about you? That's funny. Everyone hates you, you stupid cow."

"Do you really think they like you? Why on Earth would they? You're stupid. You're ugly. You're fat. You're pathetic. You're boring. You're immature. You're repulsive. You're worthless. You're useless. You're the most pathetic waste of space. You have no redeeming qualities whatsoever."

"They'll be better off without you, and you know it."

"Cut yourself. Do it. DO IT! NOW!"

"DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO, OR I'LL CONTINUE TO TORTURE YOU UNTIL YOU'RE CRYING AND SCREAMING FOR THE PAIN TO STOP!"

"Just look... they're all ignoring you. They're all avoiding you. They're weak and pathetic, too, they're too cowardly to tell you the truth. They should tell you the truth. It would break your heart. Wait... that's right, your heart is already broken. You know why? Because you're an idiot. You brought it on yourself. It's your own fucking fault."

"They're gonna leave you just like everyone else has in the past. You're not even worthy of a goodbye or an explanation."

"HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU BE SO STUPID? YOU'RE THE STUPIDEST LITTLE SHIT EVER, NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU! IT'S BETTER THAT YOU REALIZE IT NOW!"

"Why are you such an idiot?! Protect your heart, dammit, what's left of it! They're gonna hurt you! Remember what happened the last time! No one will ever love you, no one will ever find you worthy of being loved! Get away from them!"

"They're all gonna leave, you know... I'm your only friend, and you know it."

"You're not meant to be happy. You might as well just end it now. There are no other fucking options!"

"They're just lying. No one's ever going to be truthful to you, you're not worth it. Nobody will ever love you or care for you. They just want to abuse you and take advantage of you, why can't you see that?!"

"IT'S ALL LIES! YOU CAN'T TRUST ANYONE! THEY'RE ALL OUT TO GET YOU!"

"You don't deserve to live. End it."

"You think you can be fixed? That's a laugh. No one can fix you. No one can help you. All people will do is hurt you and break you. That's all you are; a broken, inconsistent mess. No one will ever love someone as broken and fucked up as you. You're a piece of shit. You're not worth all the effort it would take to be with you."

Please, for once, just leave me alone...

2012 and today

So, 2012... what can I say? My psychologist quit, my dad died, my boyfriend dumped me after one and a half year, and I was committed to, and discharged from, an adolescent psychiatric ward. That's the sequential order of... major events, my dad's death being the biggest one. The only thing I achieved was, well, to not kill myself. I didn't even attempt, although I was very close. There's been a couple of visits to the emergency room and my doctor's office to get stitches, but that's it. No overdose (as that's my usual method when I attempt), no ambulance, no hospital, no gastric lavage, no observation or lying unconscious in the ICU. Is it sad if I say that that's an accomplishment?

Seriously, how messed up is that? Yay, I didn't try to kill myself last year. Amazing. When I looked forward to becoming a teenager and growing up, this really wasn't what I imagined. Y'know, self harm, suicide attempts, hospitals, psych wards, years of therapy, countless emergency appointments, medications. Severe depression with psychotic features (in my case, those are auditory hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions), personality disorders, an eating disorder, generalized anxiety, panic attacks brought on by the personality disorders and generalized anxiety. Wanting to die rather than staying alive 'cause it's less frightening, yet being too scared of dying. Being so unstable that I mess up every relation I have.

I'm 18, and I'm still as sad and stuck as I was when I was 13-14. I'm worse. I'll admit I haven't always been very... receptive of treatment, but a lot of the time, I've been trying my best. Yet, here I am; worse. I haven't tried to kill myself in over a year, but I'm still at my worst so far.

My emotions are all over the place. They fluctuate from euphoric heights to uncontrollable rage to the depths of depression to crippling anxiety within hours/minutes/seconds. I don't know how to control it. I can't control it. It happens so quickly that I don't get the time to react. It's never been this bad before. I don't know how to cope with it. I want to explain it, but it's difficult. It's complex and hard to convey how debilitating it is. Maybe I'll make a post about it.

2013 has been shitty so far. It's only been eight days, but I've spent the most part in my room; blinds shut, lights off, lying in bed, listening to music, crying, cutting... a couple of days ago, I just couldn't sleep at all, so I tried taking some of the meds I took to be able to sleep before. Turns out that if you take 100mg of Truxal when you've been off of it for a while, you'll wet yourself in your sleep and pass out whenever you try to get out of bed when you wake up (and then you have to sleep some more to feel better), even though you've taken higher dosages daily before. Fantastic. Well, at least I got some deep sleep. I don't have much of a reason to stay awake anymore.

I honestly don't think I'll live through this year. That's not a threat. It's more of a realization. I know I'll be the end of me. It's both terrifying, and somewhat a relief.

Picture // private

Here in the darkness I know myself

Picture // Tumblr

"I wanna stay in love with my sorrow, but I want to let it go..."

I'm terrified of dying. I start crying and panic if I think too much about it. Why is it then that I still want to die? The smallest thing can send me into a dark spiral that leads to one single thought; I have to die. There is no other option.

I want to experience the future. I want to turn 18, graduate high school, get a decent education in my chosen field, eventually move in with a partner... and at the same time, the future terrifies me. I can't do anything, I can't live up to anyone's expectations, and I'll never reach my goals. I'll never be able to function like I should in the adult world, and I'm too afraid of everything.

I want to stop self harming. I don't want even more scars that bring out people's bad sides when they see them - prejudice, stares, whispers, pointed fingers, obvious questions... I want to be able to cope in healthier ways, and I sometimes get scared when I realize what I've done to myself. Yet, I don't want to stop. I don't care about the scars, I just want my pain to be visible. Nothing is good enough, nothing is deep enough.

What I need the most is closeness. I just need to feel close to someone, and that someone can look past the facade and the walls I've built. That someone comes up to me and asks me "how are you really?". That someone holds me and takes care of me. That someone sees me. However, I can't deal with it. I usually don't mind talking about my problems, but once someone starts digging and close in on something very painful, I withdraw. I can't cope with having someone too close. They're gonna leave me anyway, and that pain is unbearable.

I'm divided into two parts. Two very contradictory parts. The sick me, and the healthy me.

Picture // Tumblr

The sick me doesn't want to recover. She doesn't want to get better, 'cause then she'll disappear. The sick me is being controlled by a monster that keeps pulling her down. Lucifer, the monster, thinks that she doesn't deserve to get better anyway. She's been tricked into liking everything that the depression and its friends bring along with them, all the while not being able to cope with how painful it is. But this is all she knows, and she's had it like this for so long. She's terrified of being abandoned and forgotten. To be sick allows her to be visible, and Lucifer keeps her ill. The sicker, the better. She wants scars and other visible signs, 'cause it isn't fair that her pain has to be only on the inside.

Then we have the healthy me. She's small, but she's there. She's whispering - desperately - that this is bad. She does her best to make the sick me understand that there are other things in this world and that she doesn't need to cling to Lucifer and the illness to be seen, but Lucifer drowns her out. She wants to show the sick me that there's hope; that things can change. That she'll recover and be able to live a good life. However, Lucifer won't allow it.

It's difficult. The sick part is the biggest one, and she doesn't want anything to do with the real world. It seems too difficult to take care of herself. There's so much responsibility, and the world is a huge and scary place. She's a small child trapped in a growing body. She can't do it on her own, and though the healthy me tried to prevent it, she let a monster take the control and lead the way.

Lucifer's Hands

I wrote this poem when I was in a psych ward in July/August last year. I had reached out for help without extreme measures, and was heard - in a way. They were condescending and kicked me out after four days, but it was something. I was lying in bed there, thinking about my boyfriend. I've been asked how it's possible that he's helped me if I still struggle with the things I do even though I have him. This is what came of it. It might not be a big thing for others, but it is for me. It was originally written in my native language, so I'll include the original below the English translation.

Lucifer’s Hands 

Lucifer’s hands 

lay around my throat 

He tightened his grip, 

and made it impossible to breathe 

He created 

a chaos of thoughts and urges 

That ended with cuts and blood, 

pills, and all that followed 

I tried 

to run, escape, flee 

But he always caught up with me, 

and dragged me back into the abyss 

He trapped me 

in an eternal vicious circle 

The pain was the only way out, 

although it never lasted 

A slave 

of the forces of darkness 

All light was bygone, 

leaving only my biggest fear 

But then, 

you were there 

Reached out a hand, 

offered to listen 

From you, 

I received help when I fell 

You got me back on my feet 

without asking anything of me 

You, 

who also had suffered, 

you cared for me, 

without an ounce of selfishness 

And I 

wanted to give the fight another go 

More determined than before, 

for you 

For Lucifer’s hands 

lie around my throat 

But you made him 

loosen his grip

Lucifers hender 

Lucifers hender

lå rundt halsen min

Han strammet grepet

og gjorde det umulig å puste

Han skapte

et kaos av tanker og trang

Med følger som kutt og blod,

piller og alt som hørte med

Jeg prøvde

å løpe, rømme, flykte

Men han tok meg alltid igjen,

og dro meg ned i avgrunnen

Han fanget meg

i en evig ond sirkel

Smerten var eneste vei ut,

selv om det ikke varte

En slave

av mørkets krefter

Alt lyst var svunnet hen,

og etterlot kun min største frykt

Men så

sto du der

Rakte ut en hånd,

tilbød deg å lytte

Av deg

fikk jeg hjelp når jeg falt

Du stablet meg på beina,

uten å be om noe i gjengjeld

Du

som selv hadde lidd

tok meg til deg

uten noe egoisme i tankene

Og jeg

ville gi kampen et nytt forsøk

Mer bestemt enn før,

for din skyld

For Lucifers hender

ligger rundt halsen min

Men du fikk ham til

å løsne grepet