Out of my mind

I've been planning this entry for about a week now, but now that I'm finally sitting down to try and write it, I have to admit that I'm at a loss for words. So, almost this entire entry have been copied from my other blog, because what I wrote there was... Well, perfect. One thing I never hide from people is the fact that I've had a lot of serious problems in my life. Mainly mental problems. Though I have gotten significally better these past months - past year, really, but it's only in these past months that I've really started to notice it - it still doesn't change the fact that not all is 100% okay, and that those many years of living with my problems have given me some nasty scars.

And, since I've decided to use the blog entries of January to go through things that have been and still is before starting on my road forward, as a way to get rid of all the old to make room for the new, I figured I'd dedicate this one to my sickness.


Because, I have been very, very sick in my life. I tend to forget about it every now and then, how sick I've really been in my worst periods, though it's probably because these memories are extremely painful ones. To say that I've been completely insane is an understatement. As I like to say - I've been the kind of crazy you see in movies.

The daily struggle with the voices in my head, and the many things I could see that no one else saw, not to mention the many different personalities arguing about who's really me. I was living a nightmare, every single day, while trying to maintain a decent facade to fool people into believing that I wasn't completely insane. The constant fear, the anxiety, the many hours of hysterical crying while begging for someone or something to come and take me away from it all or just kill me... Those were the worst years of my life. And I faced them alone.

I've struggled with things all my life, that much everyone know, and I've been diagnosed with a general anxiety disorder and a severe depression, but when I moved away from my home town to try and begin my new life after my friendship with my ex kind of cracked, it all went down the drain in a rather ugly way. Though I did enjoy living in that town, the life I lived on the inside was a very unpleasant one. Now that I think about it, I realize that there's a lot of things that happened during those years that I've just chosen to pretend never happened. I always say I can't remember much of those years, but when I really think about them I find that I walked around in a constant state of insanity.

The voices in my head was the worst part. They were pretty intense, especially the first two-three years or so. It was like going around with a constant radio in my head, and the shows weren't pretty ones. Telling me to do things I really didn't want to do, and teasing me for all sorts of things. They were just annoying at first, but as time passed they started to scare me. After a while, they were telling me to kill people, and on certain days they were so intense that the only thing I could do to keep from doing what they told me to was to somehow use pain to snap out of it. Just taking something sharp and randomly stab myself somewhere with it usually helped. But I had many, many hours during those years where all I could do was lie with my hands over my ears and cry while begging the voices to stop talking to me.

The many things I could see didn't really bother me much. It somehow turned into a little game, where they were teasing me while I was in public to make me screw up, and I had to find ways to communicate with them without anyone noticing that I was talking to something that wasn't there. The woman in the mirror, however, did bother me a lot, cause I never figured out who she was. And to be honest, I have a lot of difficulties remembering much about her. I just remember that there was a woman there, instead of my reflection, that used to talk to me, and she was usually in a very bad mood. Either mad or depressed, though sometimes I wondered if she was just bitter or hurt about something. I never found out. But the goblin-like creatures and the many other weird things I saw? No, they were just fun and games, even when they were annoying. In the end, I learned to just ignore them.

The personality issues were strange ones. I never really figured out what the deal was there. Sometimes it felt like I was just a shell of a body that had several different other people inhabiting it. And they all claimed to be me, yet none of them really were. The constant arguing and bickering they had was tiresome, and the uncertainty and the anxiety that came from it all was enough to choke me to death on certain days. It certainly made it difficult to breathe. I lost what little I had of myself during those years, and spent the following years living in utter confusion of who I truly was. Needless to say, it was horrible.

And the "thing" inside my head. During those years, I was scared to death of some being I was absolutely certain lived inside my head. I was told, by a friend of mine, that one time as he was keeping me company while I was throwing up in my bathroom after getting drunk on a monday afternoon, I had made him promise me that if I ever started to act differently he would chain me up somewhere and not let anyone go near me. I was deathly afraid that something inside my head would take control of me and do horrible things. I used to dream that the world ended just because that "thing" got out and managed to get in control of me. Whatever that was, it was one of my biggest fears, and I walked around being constantly afraid because of it. I never trusted myself, especially around people. What if it took control while I was in public? What if it made reality of the things the voices wanted me to do? It made it imposible for me to be around people.

Though the blackouts where rare, they freaked me out when they occurred. I could suddenly wake up in strange places, with no idea how I got there, or with wounds I didn't have before and with no idea how I got them. I don't know what they were, but they were anything but pleasant. Some times I only lost minutes, while other times I lost hours and even days. Most commonly, and hour or two would be gone from my memory, despite apparently having done a lot of things during those hours. It could've been my head surpressing my memories, or it could've been some other part of me taking control of me. I never really figured out what it was, and at some point (as far as I know) they stopped.


I've had a difficult life, most of my life, with troubles and whatnots of mental problems, but after I turned 20 I started living a nightmare. Everything inside my head went haywire on me, in the worst way possible, and the voices in my head and the things I saw went from being strange and unusual to directly horrifying. To be quite honest, I am glad no one got to see the hell I was living on the inside of me, cause I'm sure it would've scared them to death. And there is no doubt in my mind that they had locked me up somewhere. On certain days, I was the kind of crazy you only see in movies, and I can promise you that it wasn't a pretty sight.

After a while, things started to get a little better. The voices silenced themselves, and I didn't see things as often as I used to. The anxiety and the depression was still very much present, but the hysterical breakdowns and panic attacks dimmed down. I moved back to my home town, to be closer to my ex since we had gotten back our contact, and slowly forgot about how bad things had been.

Then, a couple of years back, things hit bottom for me again when she dumped me, and I fell back into a bad state. Started seeing things again, and my depression and anxiety flared up to the point where I'd get hysterical panic attacks and breakdowns whenever my head started teasing me by showing me things that weren't there. And once more, I started to lose contact with reality. I could stand in the middle of my own home town, that I knew better than any other place, and think to myself that I had never seen this place before. It was so alien, and even though I knew I had been there before, I just couldn't recognize it. At times I didn't even recognize myself, and I had periods where I couldn't look myself in the mirror cause the person looking back at me was someone I hadn't seen before. She wasn't me. Things felt unreal, and I had so many times where I had to ask myself if this was reality or not, cause I honestly didn't know. I walked around with constant anxiety, scared to death of everything around me - and inside me - and quite honestly wanted nothing more than to just die. To get away from it all. To get away from myself.

But, despite those years being as hard as they were, they were nothing compared to the hell I lived through when I was 20. Cause, this time around I had people around me to lean on. I had my ex there, cause things were still good between us, and even though things are as they are I bless her soul for the support she gave me back then. I got to live with her during some of my worst periods, and she took so good care of me and gave me all the help I needed from her. Though there was nothing she or anyone else could really do to help me during those days, it was good just to have that love. To know that I just needed to ask her, and she would be there. Especially since I was so addicted to her. It really meant everything to me.

6 years ago, I didn't have that. I didn't dare involve anyone. I stood through the hell all on my own, with no one to help me. With no one to lean on. And it made the problems even worse. Cause with no one there to drag me out of my worst psychotic states, I just managed to dig myself even deeper in. I didn't even see a psychologist, so all the issues I had were issues I had to solve on my own. It was my own choice, so I'm the one to blame for the hell I lived, cause I didn't want to bother anyone. I was so scared, thinking that I'd be a burden to my loved ones, or that I'd scare them away with all my crazy. And truth be told, I thought that if anyone ever knew what I was going through, that they'd submit me to the kind of nut house you see in the movies and just drug me down while I'm chained to my bed in a straight jacket.

When I tell you that I was the kind of crazy you only see in movies, it's not a joke. It's dead serious, to me. And it was horrible. I'm grateful for every single day I have where I don't have it like that, and I pray that I never have to experience it again. I'm scared to death of falling back into that place again, because I know better than anyone how close to jumping off that edge I've really been, quite literally. My own head almost killed me.



But, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. A lot of things changed within me last year, and I think I started on a very important road that I hope will one day lead me to the place I've always dreamt of being. I was healed by a family member of mine in April, and she helped me get rid of most of my anxiety, which was what really made the ball start to roll. Of course, it helped that I had just started to work on myself on my own, by analyzing my own head and trying to figure out how to fix things, so I was more open to the healing.

Last year was my most turbulent one yet, even compared to my insanity years. Spring and summer was the best ever, cause I had gotten over my anxiety, were moving away from my depression, and things were better than ever between me and my ex so I was living with her again. Then things started to go downhill. A carefully planned trip in August didn't quite turn out the way it had been planned, and my ex got her little mental breakdown in the middle of it all. And then, eventually, things between me and here ended badly as she threw me out of her life after breaking my heart. Which was, of course, one of the worst things I've ever been through. I lost everything, after finally gaining control over my own mind.

I have my days were I meet a rough patch every now and then now, but it is nowhere near how things once used to be. Yes, I do worry that I'll start hearing and seeing things again, cause my head can still have it's golden moments of disconnecting, but I want to believe that it won't happen. I want to believe, that even though I've been out of my mind, I am now safely back inside it again, and will stay there.