The stars died so you could be here today

So, the other day I ended up having a really bad panic and black things falling off the ceiling attack and had to get my dad to come over and take me back home and I took my meds. Once again feeling that if I go to pieces after missing just two days then how the Hell am I ever going to come off them for good.

I have my first appointment with the new psych on Friday and I'm ridiculously anxious about the whole thing.I have so much shit to try and explain and I'm sure the fact that it's someone I don't know will make me completely unable to say what I want/need to. I can't even make sense of it to myself...

I've been out with friends the last two nights and I'm fucking exhausted. Simple things like that really shouldn't be so much hard work and the fact that it is fustrates the Hell out of me!

The closest thing to girlie I've ever been

For a minute there I lost myself

I don't know whether it's the lack of sleep or the absense of meds but my mood has fucking crashed big style. I'm back to hiding in the dark with my phone turned off and my door locked. I'm scared to even go to the kitchen or the bathroom in case my flatmate's in and I have to have a conversation.

I know it's just a 'bad day' but it's so fucking intense and as much as I have good stuff planned to look forward to it doesn't change the fact the it's a fucking shit time of year and no matter what I do or how busy I am I'm still fucking haunted by all the memories.

ffs

I know that this has been triggered off by Ken fucking Clarke and his Torie right fucking wing 'serious rape' fucking bullshit that I just can't get out of my head.

I just don't know what to think anymore, how I should feel, I've been fighting so hard for the last few months to get to a place where I can say that what happened to me wasn't okay and now it's just fucking dissolved into a torture game of well, you didn't get smacked about, you didn't put up a fight, you were young, you were drunk, you knew him, your life wasn't in danger etc etc etc.

I hate myself and I want it to stop. I want to hack fucking pieces out of myself. I just can't switch off. I can't sleep. I can't fucking think straight. My head's full of noise and blurs.

FFS

Infinite monkey cage

The last couple of months I’ve been developing a strong interest in science. I’m not really sure how it came about; it’s just been steadily growing. I’ve been dissociating a lot, there’s always this big lingering feeling that reality isn’t really reality or that I’m not connected to anything else or that the edges of my body aren’t there, or that the time I’ve been zoned out has somehow been stolen. My biggest ‘thought’ is that my life is a movie that’s going to end at any minute or a dream that I’m going to wake up from. There are some times that I’m afraid to move in case I somehow cause everything to collapse. There are times when I can rationalise the rapes because I tell myself that it was just a scene with actors and therefore not real.

I think I turned to science as a comfort, as something that would help me make sense of these things, to rationalise it or somehow prove my own existence and therefore kill all the doubts I have about it.

It’s backfired horribly on me.

I’ve been to a conversation with Science type event, which was fine, but then it turned into a pharmaceutical debate with a genuine (well known and respected) doctor and the fact that the majority of drug trials are fixed, faked or hidden. He talked about psych drugs, especially Risperidone which is something I used to take and the side-effects were hushed up to make the brand appear better than the generic.

My head is just fucked to shit. I got my prescription refilled earlier today and all I want to do is flush it down the toilet. I’m convinced that this real not real/here not here panic attack inducing mess is down to all the meds I’ve ever been on.

The weirdest thing is that it was dissociation that caused me to be put on Risperidone in the first place a few years back and it’s just another thing that’s fucking with my head because that has to be more than a coincidence right?

I feel so fucking childish having these kinds of thoughts, especially the whole ‘nothing ever happened to me, it wasn’t real’ thing, I wish I could talk myself out of it but I only ever end up going round in circles., or getting more anxious about it which just makes it worse.

I can’t help but think of self-harming and the knowledge that the sight of blood would really make me feel real and connected. The closest I get is pinching or biting myself really hard but it’s beginning to not work as well...

Driving fast thorugh a big city at night

I've been going to rape crisis for about five months now and I'm getting nowhere. It's like there's a massive gap between what's in my head and what actually comes out. I want to talk but I just can't seem to do it.

I'm so fustrated at myself. I feel like I'm wasting their time and energy and that I should just stop going.

I'm already feeling 'the summer', that stuff with his kid and social services investigation is still on my mind a lot, I can't shake off the guilt or the feeling that I am somehow responsible. There's a lot of anxiety bubbling away constantly and the slightest thing can make it blow up into a panic attack, especially seeing police around or not being able to look the door or someone acting a litle bit suspicoius or looking at me, although I know all that is more likely to be in my head than it actually happening but it doesn't make it feel any less unsafe. I've become increasingly obbsessive, counting and checking, convinced that if I do something wrong or in the wrong way that something awful will happen.

Dissociation is a big problem, losing track of time and the difference between reality and dreams. I have this persistant intrusive thought that my whole life is just a movie or a dream that is going to end or that I'm going to wake up from. I keep trying to talk myself out of it but it just want go away.

Things have been good for quite a while now, at least on the surface, but I have this huge fear that it's just a calm before a storm and that it's all going to crash around me when I least expect it, that I won't be able to cope with the memories without drinking or self-harming.

I feel like I'm failing at it all, or that I don't deserve this help, and that really I'm a liar and it's all been made up inside my head to excuse the fact that I am poison.

I feel weak for letting it bother me and for not just getting over it, feeling that I should be hard enough and cold enough for it not to effect me.

I'm not sure any of this makes sense...

I got moving on my mind

I'm planning like crazy, I know deep down that I'm doing too much and that I'm going to end up heading towards exhaustion, I just don't want to have the chance to sit with all the crap spinning in my head.

I don't want to remember but I can't forget so I have to do something. What's the logically alternative to self-destruction? Yep, extreme productiveness...

This is something that I probably need to bring up at crisis but 99% of my brain is screaming at me to quit, never talk about it again, never think about it again, and keep moving.

I am so angry and fustrated that I have to deal with this shit, and then the feelings of deserving it and asking for it kick in...

Deny everything.

They don't even know what it is to be a fan

I felt like that for a long time, and being on the other side of it now is exactly why I got my tattoo last year, along with my others (Placebo, Bright Eyes, Lord of the Rings, AFI), to make peace with the fact that my survival is very much down to the little things that kept me wanting to live.

When I see that other people feel like that I just want to grab hold of them and tell them that it's okay and not pathetic to depend on something so much.