Hello darkness

Where to start. Sitting at the airport as I write this, on my way home. Will probably finish up the post when I arrive home and can type on a proper keyboard.

Anyway, so as a part of my gender reassignment surgery (yeah you heard me), I have to attend a lecture about the whole procedure. Been waiting for a long time, and a few weeks ago I finally got a letter saying it was time for the lecture plus an individual examination with a doctor. Well today was finally the day, and I’ve been so hyped about this. Why? Because it’s another step towards my goal! I live far away from the city where this lecture was to be held, so had to take today off from work, book a flight and a ride to the airport, etc.

I’ve been in the area in the big city before due to other visits in my process, so to speak. But finding the exact location of the lecture was quite a challenge. I eventually found it, after asking twice and then had someone draw me a map (I don’t have a good sense of direction, okay?).

Told the receptionist that I had arrived. Two floors up, then sat down in a waiting room with a bunch of other people. We all had to wait roughly thirty minutes before a nurse came in and told us to follow her. Everyone sat down in a small room, and then shortly after the lecture started. There was a projector, with images being displayed on the wall. Very, very graphic images, of the whole procedure. Lot’s of blood. Now here’s a thing about me. I don’t do well with blood. Even thinking about it while writing this is making me dizzy. So roughly half way through the lecture, I had reached my limit. I tried to hold out and think about something else (I thought about ducks). But it was no use, and my vision got darker and darker. Quickly stood up and tried to make it look like I needed to go to the bathroom. Made it to the door, but it was locked. A nearby doctor saw what was happening. He came up behind me, pushed a button that unlocked the door and grabbed me under my arms as I reached my limit and fell to the floor. I manage to utter the words “I’m very dizzy…” before it went dark.

Woke up what I think was only a few seconds later. I was on the floor outside the room. The doctor that caught me plus two nurses was sitting on their knees around me, keeping an eye on me I guess. I got some help to get up and into a chair, then got some water. Realised I hadn’t eaten anything during the whole day, which probably contributed. I had food in my bag, but I was so afraid to make noise in the waiting room and the lecture room, so I never opened it. When I came back into the room, the lecture was already over. Didn’t want to watch more anyway, but since it’s mandatory to continue the process, it got me worried. I was told later during a private discussion that it was okay and that it counted towards my process, even though I missed half. During this private meeting (everyone was called in for such a meeting after the lecture), a red flag was raised. Normally they would want to do a physical examination, to verify that I can continue with the process. They didn’t do this with me though. Instead they sent a message to my regular doctor, and nothing more. They were very unspecific on what the next step was, and I couldn’t make them give me anymore information.

I thanked the doctor for the lecture, for the discussion, and for capturing me. I wasn’t satisfied at all though. I came all the way there to see half a lecture, then get a “I don’t have any more info for you” afterwards. He did tell me that he sent the info to my regular doctor, and since I had to pass that doctor’s office anyway when I was leaving, I decided to check if she was in. She technically didn’t have any time for me, but was nice enough to spare me five minutes to discuss the info she had been sent by the other doctor.

This is where it all crashed. Previously, I had been told that as long as they can trace my “condition” as far back as at least two years, then it’s all green lights with all procedures that I need to finish this, this year. Now all of a sudden, they tell me that this has been a misunderstanding, and that to even be put in the queue for these procedures, I will have to wait at least one more year. After a year, I can change my legal gender, which takes time as well, then after that the queue is a minimum of one and a half years. In total, we’re looking at a minimum of three years to get this started, with the current queue (which is only growing, and I’m not even in it yet).

These words crushed me. I left my doctors office pretty calm, but started tearing up in the stairs outside. Tearing up in the middle of the big city is not on my bucket list, so I did something I haven’t done since I was forced to as a kid. I went to a church. It was the only place I could imagine people would leave me alone as I cried my eyes out. I’m anything but religious, but I really appreciate that there was a church so close, and that it was empty. It was a very large and beautiful church, and I picked a bench that was as much “off” as possible. I tried to be quiet, processing my thoughts and letting it all out; but it was pretty much impossible to be completely silent. The priest in the church got the message though, and left me alone like I wanted. He’s probably used to people crying in there.

I sat in there for a little more than an hour. When I felt that I had calmed down, I dried my face on my jacket, and left for the train back to the airport. I really wish I had enough money to do all these procedures privately. Sadly they cost a small fortune, and are out of my reach.  In my desperation to feel anything but darkness, I sent in an application to the tax payer’s office, to officially change my name (you can do that easily via the phone here, love it). I’m not writing my full name here, but in about two weeks, my legal first name will be, Jinny <3.

As I have been writing this, I have already been on the plane, and landed. On the bus home now, then I have a short bike ride left before I’m home.

I still have a lot of work to do, and so much darkness that needs processing and light shed on. The writing helps me survive all this in the meantime. It keeps me floating, for now. What messes with my head the most right now, is that I feel as if I now have to live as “half a person” for many years until I can go all the way. I probably wont date anyone, because I’m so afraid of whoever I’m dating getting disappointed, and maybe even disappointed to the point where they threaten me or start spreading information about me. So I guess I will simply try to make as much of an effort as possible with what I can do for now. Unless I can magically find roughly half a million SEK, then I am in the hands of the grumpy old white men who decided that “I haven’t been in the system long enough, and therefore can’t be truly sure that I am what I am”. Really getting the same vibes here as the people who prevent women from deciding if they want to have abortions or not.

And there’s one more thing I feel I need to be clear about. In my country, to do any of these procedures towards living a life as the gender you identify with (There are a lot of procedures that they offer, and I want most of them!), you will need to change your “legal” gender. So, I have to wait at least one year, to even be able to start any of these processes. And all of these procedures, say gender reassignment surgery or vocal chord surgery, have loooooong separate queues! So the legal gender is a huge blocker for me now. And here I thought I would finish up with all this work and pain during this year, so I can live a more normal life, but I guess not.

Oh well. This has been a pretty hard blow for me, and it means I will have to change a lot of my plans and expectations on what I would be able to do with my life after 2019. I wont give up just yet though.

It’s just that sometimes there are very dark moments, and those moments are what scare me the most.

Twenty letters of missing you

When my wife and I first met, we had a very romantic summer together. We met at the university, and at first she saw me as just a young boy (I’m six years younger than her), not worth the investment. But, I was very persistent, and showered her with attention. She was just on her way out of a semi abusive relationship, with a guy who threatened to commit suicide, were she to leave him. At the time I thought it was my effort that convinced her to leave him anyway, but today I know that she’s very strong willed and took that decision all on her own.

Shortly after we met puppy love and all, I had to go to the US to study. I had taken that decision before I met her, and it felt too late to back out at that point since everything was prepared already (and it felt like an important life experience that I wanted in my luggage). She was already an exchange student in Sweden (She’s from Vietnam), and her studies were finished when I went abroad. Convincing her to stay was hard, but I managed to talk her into staying in Sweden and wait for me, promising that I would talk to her everyday and never talk to any other girls while away (I’m an introverted geeky shut-in, so that part was easy as pie).

When you’re an inexperienced young nerd, who fall madly in love with “the one”, you tend to stop caring about things that are “cringy”. So when I had any free time in the US (I lived in an apartment in “The flats” in Atlanta, for the record) the only thing I did, was write letters. I love to write, and I love being creative. I gave up drawing for writing a long time ago, so most of my content is text, but there are a few graphical elements involved in my letters. Anyway, so I decided to write her a letter at least once a week. The content, amount of text and how much creativity was put into it all depended on what I had to do in the courses at school at the time (Any group work or test coming up would of course make it harder to write a lot). I have a pretty bad handwriting (working with computers for twenty years will do that to you), and writing neatly takes some extra time and effort for me.

Anyway so I managed to find all the letters, and with permission I was allowed to use some of the content for inspiration when writing. I wont be disclosing too much here, and any names and addresses will of course be blurred out, but there are a few cute pieces that I feel like sharing.

When I had the time, the letters contained more than text. Sometimes I made a game, or a puzzle. And one time I sent her a chain letter (or maybe you would call it a Chinese whisper?), hoping she would find it fun to continue the story and send it to a friend (She never did, as far as I’m aware).

letters

It’s funny when you look at something like this. This is something I did nine years ago, and when I read through the content, I can recognise my cheesy imagination, the nicknames we used and some of the topics I talked about, but there’s just so much I had completely forgotten about. Some of the games or images I drew for her had been completely erased from my memory. Looking through this, reading everything; it makes it hard not to cry. I don’t want to damage the paper or the text, so I have to keep it further away from my face (No regrets having eye surgery to get perfect sight. Makes it so much easier to read from a distance).

The first letter I decided the share, was actually the first one I pulled out from the pile today. She didn’t know any Swedish at the time, and I didn’t know Vietnamese, so I wrote in English. The text below is the letter in it’s entire cringy self.

Hey Sunshine!

Sorry for the late letter, but I have had so much work lately and fixing the map of Europe was not an easy task.

Anyway! Have a look at the map, and find where you are on it. See all those countries? All of them are full of opportunities and adventure. You can pick any country you want, and I will go with you there. You see, the location is not that important for me, as long as I can be with you and that you are happy and safe.

Here’s a fun tip for you. Use this map, or any other map that you find useful, and mark the countries where you have interviews, and that are possible countries where we might end up eventually.

There are so many changes and jobs out there in Europe, and just because you lose one opportunity doesn’t mean that there wont be others. There will always be others, and you WILL find the right one for you!

I will always be here to help and support you, and when I come back you will have both my full support and the full extent of my love <3.

And you wont have to read these letters with my horrible handwriting! =)

See you soon love ❤ //Cherry sun

map

So to get some context, when I wrote the above letter, she was looking for a job. She was looking for jobs all over Europe, because she hadn’t decided to stay in Sweden at that time. Sunshine was the nickname I gave her, and Cherry sun was the one she gave me. Now, remember before you judge. Puppy love! ; )

It’s funny how my situation changed during the time I wrote these letters. Most of them were either very fine paper or really thick paper for the games and puzzles, but there are few that stand out from the masses. One very short letter was written on a receipt from a store called “Publix”. The content is short and not that interesting, but it basically says that I couldn’t find any paper to write on, and that I was in a hurry so I had to keep that letter short. Another similar letter was written on a receipt from a store called “Target” which was pretty close to where I lived. Did most of my weekly shopping there.

In the next letter I switched to serial killer mode since I was running out of ideas. Yeah, you know those creepy letters that serial killers or kidnappers always send to people in movies? The ones where they cut letters from different papers and magazines to make up the letter?

So the content of my letter was as follows.

I’m running out of ideas, so things will get freaky from now on! = )

With the following attached to it.

love-letters

In hindsight, yeah that’s pretty creepy (stalker warning!). But she loved it! I’m romantic AND I can be a pretty awesome serial killer. How about that? That was the whole letter though. I’m only including the letters that contains really special things worth mentioning. The puzzle that I present further down in the text, was sent one letter per piece, with a letter attached to it. The letters in those cases were mostly weekly status updates though and not that interesting.

So last letter before I start piecing together the puzzle. The reason for posting the blurred version of the letter is because my handwriting is hard to read in the picture, but I still want to show the “design” of the letter, which I was pretty proud of when writing it (I still am!).

Hey Sunshine! ❤

Do you remember the first time we met?

In ************, playing with the amazing flying ring. I made a bunch of new great friends that day, and I met the most amazing woman ever, who later changed my life in many great and amazing ways. I actually remember when I said hello to everyone of you as you showed up, and I especially remember seeing you just a few hours before. I think you were going to ****** or something. I remembered that as ***** introduced us and we said “hi”. I obviously don’t fall for every beautiful girl that I see, and since I had decided not to flirt while I studied, your beauty was something I had to try to resist, and simply think about you as *****’s beautiful friend.

But during the days that followed, I got to know you some more, and I realised pretty fast that you were special. I just wanted to know more and more about you. After the BBQ-party that we had, I completely ignored my “no flirting”-rule. I was without doubt, in love with you <3.

There were so many new and interesting people that I met that day, but none of them interested me more than you. The more I talked to you, the more I wanted to know and the more I fell for you. I noticed instantly when we started talking, how very sweet, kind, and smart you were. I had so much fun talking to you.

Days, weeks and months passed, and I eventually declared my love for you. Pathetically enough over Skype, but we had a lot of distance between us at the time. We fell more and more in love, and from the moment that I had met you and until the day that we parted, I had some of the best moments in my life. Right now, as I write this love letter, our love for each other is being put hard to test. But I have never doubted our love and I know that we will handle this just fine. We have done pretty well so far.

You are, without doubt, the woman of my dreams, and I want to spend all my time with you, and make you as happy as humanly possible.

You will always have my love Sunshine.

Keep shining! ❤

letterpageone

Quite a roller coaster of emotions reading all these now. I haven’t read these since I wrote them, nine years ago. Anyway, so in many of these letters, I included one or several pieces of a puzzle. Now bare in mind that this is highly personal and specific to our topics and humour. Most of this wont really make sense to most, but it made sense to us (And it still does!). Some of you might recognise some of the jokes, as it was stuff from the Internet that we found hilarious at the time. And I know, it’s not really a great puzzle, but I had fun doing it, and she had fun putting the pieces together as they came.

puzzle

I don’t know why the bull in the upper right corner is upside down. Design flaw I guess. Now, I can quickly explain two of the things here. The sinking boat is from this joke.

And the flying disc in the lower right corner is a toy we used to play with in the park when we met. We really liked it and played with it a lot through the years (It flies SUPER far). The other references are not that interesting, but the park with the cliff is a park we spent a lot of time in, and we used to sit on the cliff during the evenings and just enjoy each others company. Real Hollywood romance, just like I wanted it. The waterfall is a tiny waterfall in the area where I come from. It’s mostly a joke because I made it look a lot bigger when I drew it, since she thought it was such a disappointment when we went to see it.

flyingdisc

So, going through all of these letters was pretty hard for me, but I think it’s an important part of me processing the fact that she’s leaving me after all this time. Reading the letters made me really think how perfect we were for each other, but it also somehow makes it easier to prepare myself for letting her go completely. Some may think that this process could be unhealthy, but this is the best way I could think of doing it, and while it’s a mix of feelings, it also feels pretty good to get all this nostalgia hitting me.

Anyway, so the last letter I sent her (I’m pretty sure this was the last one), was the below one. Nothing that special, but it was a very happy letter with a lot of feelings, that’s why I made it a bit different with larger letters and less content. I was overexcited, because it was just a few days before I was leaving the US to go back to her. Again, sorry about the censorship, but some parts are just too personal or just too embarrassing.

fourthings

Going back home was torture, because Europe had a horrible time with the snow when I was flying back. I got stuck at Newark Airport for three days. With hardly any sleep I stood in queues the whole day just to get the information that no flights were going towards my destination. Well, eventually I came home, and boy was there snow. The trains didn’t go, so my parents had to find a taxi that was willing to drive in the storm. We managed to get back anyway, barely. When Christmas was about to come, I wanted to introduce my then new girlfriend to my parents, and invited her to celebrate Christmas with us. She had to take a train in the storm, which took several hours to arrive. A friend helped me pick her up from the train station, forty minutes away by car, and drive her to my parents. We almost didn’t make it back since there was just so much snow and we almost got stuck several times. Anyway, so she spent Christmas with us, and from then on nothing could separate us.

Or so I thought back then at least. I’ve learned my lesson from this, to not be so naive. I still want to be romantic and believe that I can succeed in love, but I need to be a lot more honest with myself first, to achieve that. I will save these letters forever, as a reminder of our precious time together. This divorce has taught me a lot so far, but it’s not over yet, since I still need to help my ex-wife find her place in the world. She’s planning to move to Australia, and I want to help her as much as I can. Anything to make sure she ends up in a good place, but it also takes a lot of energy from me, since we have to live together for a while longer in my new apartment; until this is sorted out.

I just want to get on with my life.

Fixing something as it falls apart

When I write about depression on my blog, it’s usually because I’m about to explode, so I need to get this down somewhere. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I can’t talk to my ex-wife (we’ll get to that part in a moment), and I’ve never felt that I can connect to my parents with this, although my mother and I are really close and getting even closer recently. But I still don’t want to burden my parents or my friends with this, because I’m afraid that eventually they’ll just grow tired of my whining. I go to a therapist a few times a month, but sometimes that’s just not enough, and I sometimes forget to tell her things.

Anyway, so I’ve been thinking about how I should write what’s inside my head right now, and if I should write it at all. I feel like maybe I’m exposing myself too much by writing about all this here, but somehow just writing it in a book doesn’t feel the same. Because I honestly feel better if there’s a chance that someone might read this and spare me a thought, just for the minute or two that they spent reading through this.

I came out of the closet roughly two years ago, and I have been struggling with this a lot since then. I’ve been in the closet since my younger teens, mostly confused about what all this means, and felt a lot of shame for what I potentially was. Let’s not go into detail which closet I came out of, because I don’t think it really matters that much for this text right now. Maybe I’ll write about that another time.

After coming out, my wife became hesitant of our relationship, and questioned it many times during these two years. I’ve tried to convince her that I’m still the same person, and that I love her unconditionally forever and always. Unfortunately, the real world doesn’t work like I wanted it to, and in November last year, she filed for divorce. And, even though I guess I sensed that something was wrong, I still hoped that everything would turn out alright, and that she’d stay with me. We have been married for eight years, and I thought our bond was strong enough, but evidently not. We tried seeking counselling, but without any result. Well, maybe the result was simply that she figured out that she wanted to leave. “Thinking about it” for two years has been painful though, since all our plans automatically paused. Our plans for rearranging our economy, buying a house, and getting kids, all came to a stop while she figured everything out.

When the day came that she finally told me that she wanted a divorce, and that she was leaving the country as well, it suddenly became so very real. It really felt like my world just came crashing down. Everything we built together was undone in a second. My ex-wife is not a very emotional person, but I am, and so I cried a lot that night. I’ve been crying on and off during the days and the nights ever since. We are still living together, and I’ve already gotten myself a new apartment, and we’ve sold the current one. But since she still doesn’t know how she will do with her moving plan, she will have to move with me and live with me until she’s figured it out. The fact that we have not (and will not for a while) physically separated yet, is tearing me apart. I see her everyday, and I just want to hug and kiss her, but I also have to try to not do it, as to get used to the fact that we are not a couple anymore. Another problem is that she seems to want me to hug and kiss her. She gets angry when I don’t, and when I refuse to call her “baby” like I used to. So, it’s a very strange situation for me. This is the only relationship I’ve ever been in, as we met when we were pretty young, and have stayed together for a while now.

I’m very driven, so the apartment that I fixed, was actually bought only a week after she told me about the divorce, and shortly after that we got the current apartment sold. All the boxes are packed and I have already planned everything in detail for the new apartment. But, at the same time as I’m trying to build up my life again, it keeps falling apart. It feels as if I’m trying to rebuild a house while it’s still being demolished. I build a wall but then it falls because an older wall fell over it. I know that I will get out of this, but some days are just so very dark and void of any motivation what so ever.

I just wish that she finds wherever she wants to rebuild her life, and move there. I hope that she makes the right choices so that I don’t have to worry so much about her all the time. I still love her more than I can describe with words, and even writing this is getting harder because my vision is all blurry now. I want to start repairing my life, and maybe eventually find new love somewhere else. I hope I can find love in a person that can accept me for who I am. I know, this all sounds so cliche, but this is all from the heart. A whining, crying, crushed heart.

Been trying to watch some series lately, just to pass time between work and my studies (I picked up a Japanese course, because why not). But sometimes I just can’t watch it. Any romantic or couple scenes, just makes me either awfully sad or surprisingly angry.

It’s not only my wife that has been the hard part for me these past two years. I’ve never felt so oddly alone in my whole life, and I’ve always been quite introverted and kept to myself as a kid in school. I didn’t have a “gang” until I was 16, when I found some really good friends that I still hang out with today. But right now I just can’t see my friends. I don’t want them to see me like this; sad, whiny and hopelessly deprived of sleep. My relationship with my parents has been quite bumpy, ending in my mother starting to support me a lot. It’s just that for me, my parents are one unit, and the other part of that unit refuses to see me for who I am, and it feels like he is keeping his eyes shut and ignoring the whole situation. He wants everything to go back to “normal”. He even thought this was all a “phase” (Who the hell has a phase at 25?), and that I would go back to normal after a while. Normal being the way he wants me to be, the old sad and depressed me that conforms better to his world view. I’m more depressed now than before I came out, I’ll admit that, but it’s not because I regret coming out, but more that the reaction I got from my family was way worse than I thought it would be. My sister even asked me not to come to my nephews birthday party, because her friends would be there, and she didn’t want to be embarrassed by her colourful sibling. That’s the thing you learn about people when it all gets down to business. Their happiness and life stability (meaning that the world as they see it in their heads needs constant confirmation, like a child), is more important than mine. That’s why I decided a while back, that fuck everyone else. Anyone who can’t just accept this for whatever reason, is no one I need in my life, ever. It’s hard to cut off family, but I wont be giving them many more chances now (My mother is excluded in all this because she has been fantastic). I think that’s one of the most important lessons in all this, that a healthy “fuck you” did really a lot of good. Of course now I’m struggling with the thought of getting divorced, which will take a while. But I think that as long as I can get us to physically separate as soon as possible, then it will all just work out in the end. If only 0.1% of the world’s population could consider liking me, then that’s still around 7,500,000 people. So I think I will be able to catch a fish eventually. Just need to learn how to forget the old one.

I actually (depressingly so) thought of a good way to describe the feeling of living together like my ex and I are right now. Since we both obviously still love each other, but she wants to leave me because of my fancy wardrobe. It kind of feels like one of us is dying. I feel as if any one of us has a deadly disease, and that we are both just hugging it out and crying, waiting for one of us to just die in our sleep. Sometimes I just wish that I did, because some days are just too much to handle. There are days like today, where the dark void inside just grows uncontrollably, but it also fills with water all the way up to my head and out of my eyes, as if it’s trying to drown me. There’s just no stopping it. This weird and horrible feeling of getting left behind by the person you thought you’d grow old and die with. I hope that at some point she will find new love, which she absolutely deserves; and I truthfully hope it’s the right one.

I just wish it was me.

Vo̘͚͉̘̰̪i̭d̶͙͎̝ͅ

Depression is a weird thing. I have no idea if my feeling and interpretation of depression, would be the same or similar to anyone else experiencing it. For me it can come very suddenly, usually at the beginning of a day when my brain starts booting up after I’ve awoken. When it comes, it sort of feels like a strong, never ending emptiness that gradually, but quite quickly fills me up. Like a cup filled with water, but instead of water it’s just nothing. A horrible, bottomless nothing. And the “filling” of the cup doesn’t stop, like if you pour and the water would overflow the cup. It can’t get any fuller, but you feel that it’s still “coming”.

I can still think creatively when I’m in this state, but it’s very hard to do anything; like writing this post. Most of the day I will sit in my chair and stare at the keyboard. There are no feelings involved, or at least it feels like there are none, because sometimes I’ll just start crying; which makes me think there must be feelings, but I can’t interpret or grasp them anymore in this state.

Imagine sitting in a chair, and the room around you is on fire. You know you should get out of the chair and get out of that room, but your brain wont send any signals to your body that it’s time to go. Your brain can’t see the meaning of getting out of that chair, and out of that room. Everything you thought was fun before, that motivated you, and all the people you usually love to hang out with; all meaningless in this state. It’s the most dangerous state of mind I can imagine (for the individual self, of course someone in a state of murder would be quite catastrophic for others), because suddenly nothing makes sense anymore, and nothing matters.

Now, people would react here and say something like “nu-uh, the state where you want to commit suicide would be worse!”, but I think this state that I’m talking about, is a potential stepping stone to something worse. It’s something that could trigger something much much worse, although not necessarily. You know how sometimes the brain goes wild, and you starting thinking stuff like “I wonder what would happen if I stepped in front of that train over there?”. Of course, you have healthy state of mind, and you would never do it, just that one time in your life you thought about it for no reason. But in a depressed state, if it comes to mind, I’ll go “Why not? It’s not like it would matter anyway… and maybe this emptiness will go away”.

Because for the few hours that I feel like this, nothing has meaning.

I’m not really the kind of person who specifically looks for meaning in everything, or at least I don’t think I do. But somehow when something specifically looses all meaning, even if you weren’t looking for it, it feels that it should have been there. Or that something that was there is now missing.

The nothingness might also be a fire, or maybe it’s a virus; spreading in your body. Because if it’s there for a longer time, you start to “feel it” in a worse way than before. It sort of starts to hurt. Or, I guess I could describe it as loud. The empty void, becomes louder; and it starts to really stand out. Eventually people will see it and start asking questions.

“Wow, you look like shit…”

“Have you been getting enough sleep? (referring to the dark spots under my eyes)”

“You s҉ho͝u͏l̨d́ c̛h̷ȩer u͜p͘ ̶moré, ̧i̵t ̨wi̸l̀l h̶elp̵”

The thing that always saves me, is that deep down I know that the next day will always be better. So I sit in silence, and I wait.

F̴̰̆ī̴̙r̴̹̀e̵̫͊ ̵̗̀w̷̦̃a̴̞̅l̵̜̉k̸̞͋ ̷̣͋w̴̛̗ǐ̷̲t̴͈̊h̷͖̀ ̴̰̍ḿ̶͕ë̸͓́

There’s this place. It’s a high place. It’s not a mountain; not a hill. It’s just, a high place. Sometimes when I feel down, for whatever reason (be it random depression, good movie, book or game that came to an end), I go there. There are almost never anyone up there, and there’s this field where you can sit and watch the view. It takes about thirty minutes to go there from the city where I live. On a good day, sitting on that field, I can see the tall buildings in the city. As the sun sets, the light reflects in the windows of the tallest one; blinding me. It’s absolutely tranquil.

Through the years, the need for visiting this field has grown. I don’t feel unstable, yet I sometimes feel that reality and my dreams overlap. During my night adventures, I often have a problem telling dream and reality apart. When I was younger, the sleepwalking was just a “thing” I did. A thing that my parents and I had to get used to, and find ways of handling (Which they did. Not by planning, but simply by adapting to whatever method worked to get me to go back to bed without drama). Growing older, it became more troublesome, especially when I moved out of my parents house. Living alone while studying, there was no longer anyone to keep an eye on me and my nightly activities. The risk of crossing some line was always there. But as far as I know, it took many years until any lines were crossed. A few years back, the first line was crossed when I had a nightmare where my necklace was strangling me. To get out of this horrible situation, I ripped my necklace to pieces, spreading the pieces all over the bedroom. I also swallowed a piece of it, for some reason.

I like to call this the “line of violence”. It was the first time I had done any other activity other than talking, walking and opening the occasional door. On top of that, I had used violence, plus putting something in my mouth that I then swallowed. How can I know all this though, since I was sleepwalking? I have mentioned this in previous posts, and I usually describe my sleepwalking like being at the cinema. I see and remember everything, but I’m not in control (My subconscious me is, or Stranger, as I call him). The line of violence made us remove all objects in the bedroom that I could grab and throw, as a precaution. There were still other types of reoccurring incidents, however.

My most common adventure, which happens almost ę̦͚͉̥̟͆̌̀̈̀͝v̧̻̹͇̹͋̾̒̌̅͠ͅȩ̛̠̥̻̞̥̑̏̽̽̕r̛͔̭̜̻̲̲̾͐̀̋͝y̨̛̖͖̘̙̮͛̒̓́͝ night, and has been for the last ten years, is some sort of odd phobia. I sit up in my bed, and feel like there’s something in my throat, or that I can’t breathe. I then throw myself out of the bed, and run out of the room to drink water from the tap in the kitchen. In an attempt to stop myself from doing this, I now always keep a bottle of water next to my bed. I still have the incidents, but now I drink from the bottle instead, which makes the night slightly calmer.

Managing my nightmares has become easier lately. I write them all down, in great detail; as soon as I wake up. The idea is that the dreams that fit a certain pattern, will be included in a horror story that I’m working on.

The problems that are still unsolved, though. The first one is the fact that I may cross more lines. I crossed another one just a few weeks ago, when I left the bed, opened the balcony door and went out on the balcony. The reason? There were “bats” in the apartment, and I had to let them out. To do this, I opened the balcony window, and stood there until I woke up and came to my senses. What if I had decided that the apartment was suddenly on fire? Would I have jumped out the window to a certain death? The best way we have been able to solve this problem so far, has been to block the door with a large AC unit. So far I haven’t been able to move large objects while sleeping, and so far this has stopped me from entering the the balcony again. The second problem, is my grip of reality. By each year, I feel how my grip is getting looser and looser. When I was a kid, I would realise where and who I was rather quickly after I woke up. Even when waking up outside of my bed, I would understand the situation, shrug, and go back to bed. These days it’s getting harder and harder. After waking up outside of bed, in the middle of the night, I can sometimes stand in the dark for several minutes, just to get back my sense of reality. It’s hard to describe it accurately, but it feels like I’m not there, or that I’m still in a dream, trying to understand what’s going on.

Ą̡̦͔͖̖̋̏͐̑̉́s̘͓͖̯̯͕̑͐̐̓̌̿ ̲͉̹͖̰̅̈͋̈͐̊͜m̜̻̝̠̘͍͋̐̍̅́͝y̧̛͙̝̝̝̮̒͋̊͗́ ̹͕͇̹͓̖̋́̇̐͛̕ŝ͎̟͈͔̝́͌̑̚͜͠a̡͙͖̖̖̭̋̃̄̋͝͝n͙͈̻̳̭͙͛̂̑̆́̇i̡̹̙͕͙̞̎̈́̈́͗̿̕t̼͎̳͈̯̝͗͗͆͆͆͠y̛̛̮͓̗͍͕̤̏̈́̓͆ ̧͉̻̤̺͔̔̾̃̂̚͝s̨̨͔̬̙̣̾͛̿̂̒͊l̨̰̭̘̻̥͗̊̈́͂͌̚o̯̭͈̟͕͓̿͋̍̀͊͝w̢̢̮͉͕̯̌̽̓̀̄͠ļ̜̖̥͇͖̂̂́̀̂͝ẙ̨͈͇̤̻̊́͋͠͝ͅ ̝͚̰̪̠̋̍̔͛̽̿͜s̢͙͖̱̙̪̏̊̋̍̓̋l̢̝̞̭̰̪͌̑̓̈́͋̚î̥̪͇̺̣͉̊̃̇̋̔p̨̟̺͇̟̰̅͐͋́̇́s̨̨̪̗͙̩͂̊͊̇̈́̍ ̡̢͍̬̮̌̑̇͂͋͠ͅą̪̮̦̠̲̽͌̀̍͆̐w̳̜͖͕̼͔̉͂̅͌̈͠ă̢͕͕̫̭̯̅́̀͠͠y̡̩̤͎̰̘̏͒͐͂́͠, other parts of me become clearer. I’m able to work on a project more efficiently these days. I have always been hyperactive, so for someone on the outside it may not look like anything has changed, but I can notice the differences. I can work on a project for a long period of time, without the need for sleeping or eating. I’ve always been creative, and this is another part of me that has been going into overdrive lately. I have so many wonderful ideas that are constantly popping into my head. I write them down with as much detail as I can, and when I read what I wrote, several days later, it still sounds fantastic. I just hope I can realise some of these ideas before my mind is too corrupted to be of any more use. I feel that at some point, my mind will simply degrade to a state where I can’t think straight, and where the well of ideas has simply run dry.

Maybe, in ten years or so, I will be that crazy aunt in the family. The crazy cat lady who speaks nonsense and never gets anything done. She mostly sits around all day, counting stamps and arguing with people on the TV. I just hope that this is nothing more than a weird feeling. A side effect of my hyper active mind. That my sanity is here to stay, and instead, some changes to the way I think are simply misinterpreted. I hope I will have a happy ending. That I will live together with my partner, until we grow old and die of age. That at least some of my work will reach the outside of my notebooks, and that I will live a healthy and stable life.

I’m not really good at drawing these days, but I wanted to attempt to depict the feeling of a creative period where insanity grows in ones head. The drawing below is the result of that. It’s a dark itching feeling, like stress, that stay with you for a very long time. So far it has always gone away, and only come back during my most intense periods of work . However, these periods have become increasingly intense lately. In one sense, I’m grateful, as I can create beautiful things that I’m proud of; but on the other hand, I feel that it comes with a price. A price of a slowly deteriorating mind.

DSC_0076

Ì̸̢̙͔̪́͌͝’̶̡̰̩̫̓̓̈͝m̴̬̼̪̫̒͊̀͝ ̸̤̯͚̘́̄̈̓n̵̡̢̛̥̈͊͐ͅo̸̱͔̘͔͆̽͂̚t̷̯̥͌͆̍͜͝ͅ ̶̙̘̰̜́̽͋͝ś̴̞͕̣̰͒̊͗u̶̢̼͍̭̓̉̊̏r̵̝̗͈̖̓̃͊̉ḛ̷͉̮͎̓̇̈́̆ ̸̨͙͓̻̓͌̓̿i̵̹̼̝͈͐̊̿̅f̸̟̮̻͇̃́̕͝ ̶̣͕̬͈͑̈́̒̈t̶̡̨̫̘͑̍́̾ḥ̴̡̻͉́̈̊͗į̵̣͇͎͗͋͆̚s̷̰̟̹̺̔̐̒͝ ̸̱̠̻̃͗̀̇ͅi̵̲̜̗̞͛̊̽͝s̷̤̺̘̭͆̓͋̑ ̴̲̳̦̬͑̊͆́r̶̮͓̬͍͐̇̀̈́ę̷̗̫̔̓̀͝ͅǎ̴̢̧̩̥̀̎͘l̶͎͚̬̱̐͂̕͝i̶̻̰̣͐̒͊́͜t̴̡̢̼̥̆̅͛͠y̴̯̪̞̞͛͊͛̎

Stranger – Chapter 9 – The fire extinguisher is red

For the first time in recorded history, I managed to somehow overthrow Stranger. He went up last night and sat on the bed. For some reason, I could sort of communicate with him. Not talk, or think, or signal in anyway. The best way for me to describe it, is to say that I was half awake, and in control, but Stranger was suggesting things that we should do; and I tried to overcome the sudden urge to let him take over and just do it. Anyway, so he really wanted to check out the balcony, but I convinced him that we should stare at the fire extinguisher in the corner for a few minutes instead; then go back to sleep. So no dangerous adventures this time!

The fire extinguisher is red.

Stranger – Chapter 8 – My face is on fire, and my bottle lids are missing

A few nights ago Stranger suddenly woke up to the fact that our face was on fire. Obviously this requires immediate action. Luckily, I always keep a bottle of water next to my bed (I need to drink a lot during the night due to all the other weird activities Stranger is up to). So acting quickly, stranger removes the lid and pours the water over my face. Of course when you get water on your face, you normally wake up; which I did. Sitting there, quite confused and wet, I realized that sleeping in the now very wet bed would be difficult for the remainder of the night.

Not much sleep was had that night.

As a side note, the lids of my water bottles and medicine bottles, have all gone missing during the same night. This is nothing I can recall from the “Stranger records”, and I haven’t found them yet.

Well, at least we’re not on fire anymore.