Got my letter of referral to the hospital. Now all I have to do is send it off. The first, very important step seems to be done. But without an external incentive it would probably never have happened. One of the advantages of extreme dependency in terms of social relationships is that it is impossible to break promises. Of course, always provided that you don’t split. But after all the shit and time Maya and I have been through together, it’s pretty unlikely I’ll ever split on her. Somehow reassuring. To know that at least this one constant will always be in my life – come what may. When she showed me, once again, what she has done for me during this long period of time, what hardships she has gone through because of me, I think I will never be able to return the favor. This woman saved my life in the truest sense of the word. Probably not just once. Cynics might say that without her I might never have come to this point. But with her my life became so much better. Because of her I understood at that time HOW intensely I can feel when it comes to it. No wonder it took me years to recover from the fact that despite my original expectations nothing happened. But despite everything we experienced together; no matter how difficult it was sometimes, we were always there for each other. She certainly did more for me than the other way around. To promise such a person that you will take the necessary steps to finally get the help you obviously need is very binding. I drink too much. Once again. I could curse my mother’s genes, which are predisposed to increased alcohol consumption, but in the end I just lack self-control. After all, I am no longer at drinking levels like I was during my active bar career. You might think it’s progress. But it’s not so great after all. And I write that while my brain has been in a medium state of intoxication for several hours now. So at least I’m not completely mentally at night, so I still notice such things and I can reflect about them somewhat adequately. Now all I have to do is draw the necessary conclusions. Cut the consumption. Once again. It is always healthier. Heavens, why can’t there be all this stuff without alcohol? I’m a taste fetishist, but this extremely unhealthy alcohol component is really annoying. Theoretically I could go to a Pisco tasting in a few hours. Considering my current condition and the fact that I already regret having drunk again anyway (and above all alone, hello, what’s up?!!), that wouldn’t be a very clever idea. But hey, it wouldn’t be the first time that I don’t necessarily stand out with clever ideas. I just had to think several times about the internal logic of the last sentence to get the correct negation. I sincerely hope that I succeeded, otherwise my sober brain would be very embarrassed as soon as it reads this. That would be rather suboptimal. A ray of hope for tomorrow: I’ll have another look at Avengers: Endgame. Fantastic film. Yes, indeed, honestly. I liked it considerably more than Infinity War. An unimaginable amount of fan service and just a great movie experience. I think it’s the first film I’ve seen in a cinema for the second time since Inglorious Basterds. So that really stands for something. It will be good. I think. After all, I’m not alone, but have something like a social life along with me. Speaking of social life: Alicia has promised to stop by this weekend. I’m not so sure yet how I handle writing. Somehow it will be. In any case, it’s good to see each other. It’s been far too long since the last time and she belongs to those people who have always managed to steer a part of my extreme emotionality in meaningful directions. Sometimes thankfulness can no longer be translated into appropriate words. Obviously I have been incredibly lucky when it comes to the people in my life. That’s also kind of nice for a change.
It’s likely to be a hospital trip after all. Maya has persuaded me with her persuasive power to take care of a stationary admission. Sure, I’m feeling relatively well right now, but she pointed out that this is not a decisive criterion, as this mood can also quickly turn upside down again. When she reminded me that she had been with me for almost ten years now and had seen what this disease was doing to my life, I simply couldn’t disagree. All my knowledge, all the advice I give other people, I almost never use for myself. She said that my arrogance would eventually kill me because I am so presumptuous to believe that I can cope with this disease alone and overcome it on my own. I think it is time to admit to myself that I am unable to do so. I have tried it over the last few years, but if the last few months have shown me one thing, it is that this attempt has ultimately failed. I advise anyone suffering from a mental illness to seek professional help, but over the last few years I have done everything but listen to this advice. Maybe, no, no more maybe. Something definitely has to change. I have to change. Change my behaviour. One more time. If I want to survive the next few years, then I have to acknowledge that I need help from a doctor. That I can no longer do it alone, but better sooner than later do everything necessary to get along with myself and my life. I don’t know at this point how it looks with medication, because as far as I know there is no effective medication for the treatment of borderline and the last time I tried it (and when the diagnosis was not yet made) the consequences were rather unpleasant. Therapy will be absolutely necessary, so that I will learn strategies to deal better with the effects of the disease. I had always assumed that I only needed to read enough research to know what to do, and maybe that’s true. I probably have enough theoretical knowledge to actually know how to behave during these periods. However, it seems that all this knowledge is not enough to enable me to actually implement it. Or I overlook something essential. In any case, it is necessary for me, through professional care, to achieve the stability needed to restructure my life and live an organised life. Completely exaggerated, fucked-up characters are usually only exciting in movies, because we know that they fulfill their role within the structure of the movie and therefore work. But nobody sees how these people live their everyday lives. What daily challenges they have to struggle with and how difficult it is for them to get anything done in a reasonable way. I have felt this more than clearly in recent years. I have made so many mistakes, claim an unbelievably crappy impulse control to be my own and regularly lived a life to the limit and beyond. Of course such extremes are very attractive for an audience that sits comfortably in the cinema armchairs and is amused or repelled by the peculiarities of these people. But actually experiencing these excesses yourself is not necessarily the most enjoyable experience. I am not a movie or book character, rather I have a very real life. But living this life like a movie inevitably causes problems. If I ever write a book about how such a life actually feels, other people might understand that this is not a desirable state. Or maybe I’m also writing that book right now? Presumably, at least some of these thoughts will flow into the plot, for that they are too genuine and simply reflect too well through which extremes one walks almost daily. So there is probably something good about the fact that I take the trouble to write down this chaos. At some point I might actually be able to capitalize on it. A big toast to my materialistic worldview. It would be too bad, if I would use all these hours of writing only for myself, but nobody else. If I succeed in benefiting from it in a sustainable way, it would have its upside.
The advantage of extreme mood swings is obvious: As fast as bad episodes occur, they can disappear. Today, especially in comparison to yesterday, was actually quite good. Although I didn’t get anything productive up and running, I wanted to take some rest after the stress of the previous day. This may sound a little like a vindication, but at least I keep the routine of daily writing, even if it’s just these thoughts here and I write them again at night and nothing in the morning. Nevertheless, the deed itself counts, the when is secondary. Because I have decided to write regularly in the evenings, I somehow feel forced to go to bed earlier, because the silence for writing with pleasant music takes place in the dark on my laptop. There are no streams or games to distract me, but I have complete focus on what I’m doing right now. If I can somehow manage to get my crazy sleep rhythm back on track, then that’s fine with me. It’s the small steps that establish our habits and ultimately shape what we perceive as life. Here they are again. The Instagram slogans. Very good. Another sign that things are looking better again. Fortunately, Word has a practical search function that allows me to find these placative statements later and perhaps at some point actually give them their rightful place. If I then become a mega hip influencer, because all sorts of people like my super profound thoughts, that wouldn’t be without a certain irony. Then, out of the suffering, which is often part of these words, came something good in the end. I don’t want to die. In spite of an experience like yesterday this decision is certain for me. I didn’t finish it then and I won’t do it now. I believe that my struggle, my experience is too significant to give up. Not only for myself, but also in its symbolic effect for others. If, at some point, I finally decide to publish these lines, other people may be able to draw new courage from them. You will see the unfiltered abysses through which I sometimes walk, but also the way out. Or at least some valleys and oases that promise improvement. Perhaps this linguistic picture actually frames life with mental illnesses very well. While some people walk the sunlit cliff street of life, some of their fellow human beings fight their way through the abyss right next to it. But while the sun is making its way, for a few moments it illuminates even the darkest abysses and sometimes this brief moment is enough to awaken new courage, new hope, another attempt to escape from this abyss. Perhaps someone throws them a rope which they can only see with the light of the sun and can now finally grasp, or a few protruding stones bring a strenuous but promising ascent into the realm of possibility. Whatever it may be, these short moments of light can mean the decisive difference between life and death. I know I am just writing these words because today I was lucky enough to wake up with this light, but even during my darkest hours in the past months, I never wanted to put an end to my life. I knew that my head was telling me lies, that I was not this completely incompetent loser as it would like to portray me. That there are many people who care about me and value my work. I know that it is possible for me to help many people with my words. To give up now would be to destroy the work of years and possibly cause a reaction in others like “Well, even this guy gave up at some point because he had no strength left”. I don’t believe that living with mental illness means eternal agony and damnation – or even a death sentence. I believe that it is possible to immerse the abyss in glowing light and see hope where before there was only darkness, pain and despair. A better life is possible.