Drugs

I'm seeing a psychologist. Once a week actually. I had a depression test done by a psychologist I was seeing, but who can't offer the treatment I need. My score was so high she thought I was exaggerating. From this score and my overall symptoms for a very classical, clinical depression, my new psychologist's best advice was to see her once a week and start taking antidepressants immediately.

At first I thought it would be fine. They're just drugs, right? I take drugs when I have bad period pains, so I can take drugs for a severe depression as well.

Then I was overwhelmed by doubt. There are so many side effects. Would my anxiety get worse, will I become tired all the time, will I get fat, how about orgasms, can I stop taking the drugs?? I don't have the answer for any of my questions. No one does.

I went to my doctor today. She thought drugs would be a good idea as well.  I went to the pharmacy and bought the drugs. I've read everything in the pamphlet that came with the meds. I don't want to take the drugs.

I am really scared. So far my anxiety is definitely worse. Just from buying the drugs and knowing I should take them. The list of side effects just go on and on. I don't even know if I should take them. I've been suicidal before and I've pretty much self harmed my entire life. I still want to harm, destroy myself.

That is the biggest con. That I will feel worse. Maybe not now, but then when I stop taking the drugs. I am going to take them for about a year. That's a fucking long time. I don't even know where I will be in a year. What I will do, who I will see, what I want, how I will feel. Having this urge to self harm in any way is the worst feeling I could ever imagine. Feeling like my entire body is on fire, a fire that can only be tamed if I just punch myself or scratch myself. I don't want that.

I've been reading about these drugs all morning. The pros are that I will feel better if they work. I will not feel sad and low all the time, though I will still be able to feel true sadness. I will be able to do stuff, concentrate. I will feel calmer. My anxiety will get better. The drugs help distorted thinking and actions led from distorted thinking, say punching yourself because you have failed. Maybe I won't feel this fucking shell around my body, this pain deep inside my heart.

I am going to take the drugs. I'm going to try. If it gets worse, I'm out. But I'm still fucking scared...

Good/bad

Let's face it, we don't exactly treat ourselves very well. We stress, we are self-destructive even in minor manners such as smoking and drinking, we don't eat too well, we don't look after ourselves and we don't listen to our body's signals. Who hasn't gone to work or school with the flu?
But while we're being forced to live lives that do not motivate treating ourselves as we deserve, we are being plastered with images and literature on how we should treat ourselves better. Buy this new face cream, buy that specific brand of delicious alcohol (which, you know, is just a drug really, it doesn't do our bodies any good), here are 8 guidelines to a healthier living, don't forget your 600 grams of veggies today, buy a vacation to relax, you deserve to treat yourself with that something you can't afford and will be stressing about later.

This just doesn't combine in my head.


I don't know how to treat myself better. I know that I don't treat myself that well. How am I supposed to know when I have gone through at least 16 years of self harming? I've had a self harming and self destructive lifestyle for my entire life. And I feel like I am now being bombarded with all these ideas on how to live the good life, and I feel like I can see through them all. They seem so fake to me. Even my friends' advice. Don't be so hard on yourself, you're wonderful, it all goes in one ear and out through the other.

I think I have come to the conclusion that I must figure out myself how to treat myself good. That's just pretty fucking hard when you have no self esteem. When you think so lowly of yourself so that you hardly think you deserve to live. Tough shit, but that's how I feel. I'm not exaggerating to make a point, people are just often shocked because I put on my happy face. If I tell them that I hate myself, the reactions are even worse.

Do you treat yourself well if you just do what you want to? Honestly, the thing I want most right now is wine, a pack of cigarettes, a pot joint, to cut again and an orgasm or two (at least I still have my sexdrive, hah). And I want all people around me to disappear. I only want certain people around me, when I give them permission to. I wish all people I don't like would disappear from the grocery store, the bars, the streets, everywhere. Social anxiety means that going outside and seeing fucking people is about the same as someone intruding your private life.

Am I treating myself well by not doing these things, or am I not by not doing these things I really wanna do? I don't even know what to believe anymore.

Trying to escape your own body

I don't fit into my own body. I am convinced my own body is against me. Yes, I often don't consider my body as me, fully me. I don't know who that me is, but it's certainly not my body. I'm not into hippiecrap about my soul, but I view my own body as a disposable shell. I don't view others' bodies as that, this only applies to me.

You see, I am different from the others. Not in a sense that I'm better than everyone else. Everyone else is better than me, actually. They are able to enjoy themselves and they are able to live their lives freely. I am not. The true me is trapped.

I feel as if my body has been covered in some kind of shell. A thin, invisible shell, that yet is sometimes visible. It's the shell of self hate, destruction and sadness. Sometimes it is visible to other people, but mostly I put on my happy face and let it shine through. But the shell is still there. Only I feel it.

I feel as if everyone else is moving in a fast pace, while I am almost standing still. My insides are moving in the same pace as everyone else, but my body is frozen. I cannot keep up with everyone else. I am trapped inside my body.

I want to hurt my body. I have this urge to cut., scratch, bite, burn, I don't care. To just hurt myself. If I feel pain, at least my inner self is shining through. I need to harm myself, because I make so many fucking mistakes every day. I cannot fulfill anyone's dreams and wishes, not even my own. I am just so wrong all the time.

I feel so fucking trapped by this shell. It feels like a heavy brick is lying on my chest, even when I'm standing up. I feel nauseous, as if I am trying to escape through my mouth. My heart feels like it's either about to implode or explode. I want out. I want out so bad. I want out so bad that I'm disappointed to wake up in the morning. I want out of this shell of pure destruction and fucked up-ness.

For the next generation

According to a certain student's counselor there are three groups of students. The first two are really just normal students, who are either doing really great or make do. I belong in the third group. We're women in our early 20s, who suffer some kind of mental breakdown in the beginning of the 5th semester. I made it one week into the 5th semester before I cracked. I actually didn't even make it one day before I was sitting in a classroom not being able to breathe.

Why does this happen? No one knows. Guesses are too high expectations from ourselves, perhaps combined with all the harassment from the government, that's been going on for the past maybe 5 years. We need to start right after high school and we need to finish our Bachelor's degree within 3 years. To quote a friend: "Only the fucked up ones get their degree within 3 years".

Finishing my degree this summer is now impossible. I dropped a class. I couldn't go and I couldn't get anything done. When I went I felt like crap. I felt physically ill. Now I'm 25 percent of a semester behind and finishing in 3 years is no longer an option. Finishing my upcoming exam is now a possibility, not an obvious statement.

Women are faced with so many thoughts of what perfect is and how they should achieve it. Diet commercials feature slim women, every picture in the media is airbrushed and even the Dove "Love your body" commercials feature normal sized, but hot women, where none has a ugly mole or a huge scar across their stomach. And they all seem to be naturally hairless.

Women are told they need to look perfect in a very specific way. And not only that, we're also told we need to achieve so many things before we're even 30. Get an education (set by their rules, of course), get good grades, get a good job, marry a nice man, have 1.8 perfect kids, who never scream or throw fits in the supermarket. And be happy. How the fuck is the average woman supposed to achieve all that? I am not happy. I tried to get an education and good grades. I have the best man in the world, but I don't plan on marrying him. Any kids that might be born in the future will definitely scream, have runny noses half the time and demand a breastfeed in the supermarket. I am not a woman then.


I expect way too much from myself. I honestly want to be perfect. Maybe I was born this way, maybe I wasn't. One thing's for certain, my perfectionism does have something to do with society's view on women. What if the media told me I was good enough? What if ugly and fat weren't the most offensive words you could tell a woman? What if someone told girls that they could be anything they wanted and be fucking badass doing it? I think a part of me wants to be perfect so that I will achieve something in my life and so that I will at least be something.

I don't even know what perfect is. I have never met someone, who was perfect. Perfect, flawless homes and people actually scare me. Yet I want to obtain that perfect. If I am to hand in 10 assignments and one is just a teeny, tiny bit wrong, I won't even care if the others are graded "good" and "very good". If I go to a party and have a nice time, the only thing I'll think about the next day is that awkward moment when I tripped in the pit. And that I probably looked ridiculous.

I really want society to change. I'm fucked up already, but I really wish that newborns today wouldn't have the face the same shit that I have faced. I don't want my kid cousins to have to live up to some fucked up standards of how they should be as women. I want a new world.

So I'm gonna start off right here. I am not perfect. My body is not perfect. I look to thin and scrawny and sometimes my own ribs disgust me. My left boob is bigger than my right. I get bladder infections and can't have sex with my boyfriend. I have a huge patch of very pale skin on my leg, that will never tan before of a pigment defect I was born with. I have scars all over my body. I have an ugly tattoo. I have a big nose. My teeth are not straight. I have a beauty mark a place you'd only see if we got naked together. I hate myself. I get depressed. I self harm. I get drunk and puke. I am way too touchy. I cry a lot. I get anxiety attacks. I'm picky about my food and will secretly hate you if it is cooked in some very specific ways. I am a perfectionist.

But I am still a woman. I have been happy before and hopefully I will again. Maybe one day I'll even love myself