Category Archives: Personal

it’s been awhile

it is 1am and i just finished some additional work stuff despite the fact that i originally told my colleagues i’d finish and send them the stuff tomorrow. dunno what it is with work?? i just really want them to love me and consider me irreplaceable as much as possible which is pretty much the one thing i’ve tried to accomplish since my very first day back then when i was still an intern

and i guess it’s working?? i mean they already offered me the trainee position for when i’m done with uni because i told them i’d love to do it and because i like to remind them that “i’m their *best* student assistant” lmao WHICH THEY OPENLY AGREE TO ok??

but still.

the fear that one slip-up could be enough for them to drop me is always there and i know it’s bpd that’s affecting my mindset there, however, it’s incredibly hard to fight it. even on days when i try to tell myself that i do a lot more than is necessary, that i’m always ready to help out etc. etc., it still never seems enough, u know? and i know it’s because i don’t consider myself enough (not good enough, not worthy enough of anything, never ever enough) because as much as i’d love to bs my way through this, i still feel the same i did more than 10 years ago: that i’m not enough regardless of what i do and how hard i try.

it still sucks. big time.

of course i’m trying to work on that. some days more than others. more often than not i just don’t have the energy to actively fight these things and instead pick things from my *resources* list which allow me to recharge, to find some energy in different nooks and corners of my mind in order to not feel as suicidal as i usually do, in order to find distraction and maybe even something like happiness (????) in the small things that are part of my life. and i guess i *know* that that’s a good thing, that that’s part of getting through the day, you know?

but today, i guess, i just couldn’t be bothered with doing any that, with not letting my thoughts wander all over the place – only to find the heaviest rocks that will inevitably drown me in the ocean of my mind, again and again.

idk. today i just feel stuck and tired. tbh there isn’t even a point in any of these words except that suddenly everything started overwhelming me again and i just needed these things to be written down.

it’s 01:36 rn. nighty night @ all of u.

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(late night ramblings)

Therapist is worried about the prolonged stronger suicidal thoughts and asked if there’s any way to describe them and I mentioned that above all, they are like a screaming voice within my chest. Except that that voice is more like a thing that belongs to a demon that’s trying to claw its way right through me and it hurts hurts hurts

I’m twenty-fucking-six and it’s been more than 10 years and I’m still dealing with this bullshit and I’m just beyond exhausted?? I’ve tried everything, I’ve fought, I’m still fighting every god damn day, but tonight is just particularly shitty. I can’t breathe properly, can’t fall asleep, can’t think straight. I’m just looking at this hopeless reflection of who-ever-the-fuck-I-am and wondering what the point is. And nah, I don’t need anyone telling me some sort of comforting words that won’t do me any good, I need my best friends to be there for me with a hug or need them to hold my hand for awhile or sth because I’m lonely and heartbroken and fucking frustrated.


I’m overwhelmed by the desire to write while fighting the knowledge that no amount of words will be e-fucking-nough which in turn makes me feel frustrated and nauseous. I can’t even write or type fast enough to match the thoughts running through my mind, so instead I’m just stuck with hopelessness because what’s the fucking point.


20:24

I feel (way too) torn and miserable and empty. My moods jump back and forth from furious to unhappy to disgust to self hatred to fear to pure suicidality. Why am I bothering with staying when everything is too hard and I feel like I am no one, like I’m nothing. Years of mental illnesses, years of chronic pain, of everything getting worse and worse and worse, and yet I still don’t see a point. Perhaps I’m just a space filler of some sort without an actual personality or self. I jump from one to another the same way I skip from mood to mood during particularly bad BPD days. Nothing feels real, but it still hurts. It’s like someone set fire to my skin, or stabbed my chest, making it incredibly heart to breathe. I wish I’d get a break. I wish I could breathe. I wish I wish I wish.


twenty-four

I’m in a bad place in terms of my mental illnesses. Things have been getting so much worse again and it’s hard to get out of bed, to do the things I need to do. I’m still managing work-related things, but it doesn’t feel like it’s worth much. Arguing with my therapist about that is futile. “Of course, you cannot see it. But I’d say it’s pretty amazing given your circumstances”, is what he keeps telling me. But it doesn’t matter, does it? My best friend told me that I shouldn’t give up, I’m doing so much, putting in a lot of effort in my job & university – “Are you doing all of that just to give up?” I don’t know. No. It’s more of a safety blanket. This way it may seem like everything is okay – “don’t worry, never worry about me, I’m fine, take care of yourself” – but you know, it’s difficult to explain, in a way. And tbh it doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing matters. Day after day I seem to be falling more and more; I have no sense of identify, I can no longer distinguish between my demons and me. I am nothing. I am no one.

Above all, I am tired. It’s been so long. Too long.


tw: dr/nk

Blood is staining my hands, pure vodka running down my throat – the bitter taste leaving a painful trail behind.

I am alone.
I am no one.
I am nothing.

Tears may be falling down my face, yet why should anyone care.

I am no one.
I am nothing.

Even spilling red is nothing but a sign I lost.

Why keep fighting when I am not wanted.
Why keep living, breathing.

“There are better off without you” – right?


C(over)ed in paint

I shared the following already on my art-related instagram (@ notebooksofarts, my personal one being @ othertypist) as well as on my tumblr, however, I feel like it actually also belongs on this blog. Especially because it’s been awhile since I shared anything on here.

Tried painting again, but it didn’t work out. Instead I spent my time stuck in my head, now left with a hand covered in paint and a mind messier than before. So I’ll just share some of my current thoughts:

when I say that living with mental illnesses is a challenge, I’m obviously understating the circumstances. Each step is pure exhaustion, there are days when I can’t get out of bed, when I feel like something is pulling me down (down, down, down — six feet under.) From one moment to the other, it’s impossible to breathe; in the next it’s like I am no longer here. Living with those demons is painful. Right now, I can’t even find the right words to describe them in a way that would satisfy me, but I know that, unfortunately, there are many who know what it’s like. Currently, my BPD is acting up the most, leaving my mood, myself – me – torn apart into pieces. When I’m stuck feeling like this, it’s like my skin got burnt all over, each touch is painful, each slight caress too much. I wish there was a way to really explain what it’s like, to make others understand that there are too many days when I fear people being near me, while at the same time needing them to be there. Days when I am nothing but a fire breathing dragon asking to be held, and above all, days when I have no idea who I actually am.


Another Friday

Nausea, exhaustion, pain. I’m tired of feeling this way, of fighting each day & night these terrible thoughts. I hate this body – not only because it’s disgusting, but because it constantly hurts. What is it like to go through your days without each step, each breath you take, each slight move hurting? I can’t even try to imagine that; it must be soothing.


A bad day

trigger warning

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Another Friday

The more I think about how awful my mood is (and how nothing seems to work to improve it), the worse it gets. It feels like there’s something stuck inside of my chest that’s trying to claw (scratch, push) its way out of me, making it difficult to breathe.

It hurts.

I hate that, next to everything else, I also feel like I have no idea who the fuck I am and that most of the time I cannot recognise my own reflection or even feel like I’m real. The pain, the bad, awful thoughts, the haunting demons following me around are there, are real, yes, but what about me? It’s like I’m not in this body; I’m here, but at the same time I’m not. I’m trapped somewhere else and can’t get out.