torsdag 8 september 2011

Med andra ord..

Jag hade inte tänkt bli lika personlig o utlämnande här, som i min gamla känner ändå att jag måste få berätta lite om hur jag mår.
Jag lider ju av depressioner o ångestattacker o har gjort det i flera år. Vissa perioder är allt toppen, men som på en femöring kan det vända o allt känns svart som natten. Jag har alltid haft lite problem med att uttrycka hur jag känner då  jag är där i mörkret, men så hittade jag en text som Annika Marklund skrivit på sin blogg, som jag lånade o skrev om litegrann så att den skulle passa in mer på mitt liv.

A good thing: I would guess that I'm not too far down the hole yet. When I feel like the Earth is crumbling beneath me, I don't feel like I want to die. Instead, I want to go back in time and just cease to exist. That way, my boyfriend and my friends couldn't miss me, since they never even met me. My mom would, a long time ago, have come to terms with the fact that she has only two children, and my father that he only has a son. 
The world would keep turning, new lives would appear as others are blown out like candles, the sun would rise and set and rise again and I wouldn't be aware of any of this. Because I would be a part of nothing, feeling nothing, regretting nothing.
Yes, this is all good. You see, since I don't have access to a time machine, there's not a very vivid possibility that I'll be able to go back in time and carefully remove myself from the face of this planet before anyone gets too attached to me. I might not want to live all of the time, but at least I don't want to die
And as long as there is life, there is hope.
I need to go see yet another doctor and tell him or her that I've been struggling with depression for a long, long time, that I thought I'd gotten better but apparently I didn't, or maybe I did get better but hey, surprise, the bitch is back and she's just as determined as always to destroy my life. That I need help. That my meds aren't working, I've tried and I've failed and I keep trying and I keep failing.

But it's like every time it gets a little bit harder. Partly because seeking professional help means admitting to myself that I'm depressed, partly because each relapse is the result of another failed attempt to get well. You know, I have got help. Then I got help again, again, again, again, again and yet again. And still I'm not sure if there will every come a time when I'm happy.

I keep struggling, though. I try my best to make the most out of the good days, and when the bad ones come, I try to remind myself that yesterday wasn't that terrible. I sometimes scroll through my old blog, forcing myself to see: hey, look! This is another part of the truth. I wouldn't say you seem that sad here? You might be in hell today, but there's a chance you won't be tomorrow.

 I'm going to breathe deeply through my nose and tell myself, over and over, day after day:

Life may have its ups and downs but no matter where it takes you, it's always worth living. 

Maybe this time I'll believe it.

Hoppas ingen blir arg på mig nu, eller ledsen för den delen...det är bara såhär det känns ibland..igår kändes det så, idag är jag mitt i mellan..

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