Today was fascinating in many ways. Although I didn’t manage to work (although I had short impulses once in a while, which were suppressed by other things), most of the other parts of the action plan were successfully implemented. Especially the fact that after a few days break I finally started working out again and even managed to be in bed only a few minutes after 4 am. Although this day was not a hundred percent success, it was still more rewarding than the previous one. In addition, this morning, in a moment of phenomenal realization, I threw away the last bottle of alcohol (there are still some bitters here, they don’t really count). It was about 30€ for the quarter liter ending up in the drain. Objectively, of course, this was a waste of money, but the symbolic act was quite liberating. If you want get shit done, burn the boats. I also received the invitation to the first interview at the clinic today. Due date 15.07.2019. That means there are less than two months to go before I will finally be in therapeutic treatment again. But it was a good start. A step, in the right direction. Your arrogance will get you killed one day. Those were pretty much Maya’s words to me before she practically forced me to seek help. I know she was right about that. When I look at how much I have fallen, especially in the last few weeks, mentally and physically, her intervention was more than overdue. I wish I alone had the strength to do this, but wise advice can always be better given from the outside than applied to the situation at hand. Well then, the first step has been taken, now it is time to wait and see. But this idea of an action plan is a reasonable one. The question is, what does tomorrow look like? After getting up, a shower, then breakfast and some education. I guess I’ll wake up around 2 p.m., so I finish my morning meal around 3 or 3:30 p.m. Since tomorrow is Tuesday, it’s time to socialize and debate again. The bus for that leaves shortly after 6 pm. That leaves me about two and a half hours to work. Today instead I watched Game of Thrones and the sixth season of Ray Donovan and played No Man’s Sky. I think I can make better use of those two and a half hours tomorrow. On the one hand, I’ll be writing applications for new jobs. It’s time for me to get back in touch with money and people. Or vice versa. After that, I’m going to work on the chapter on the theory of science while listening to relaxing music. Fortunately, I have already done a good amount of preliminary work and added comments to the relevant passages. After I’ve done that, I’m off to university and debating. Social isolation is unhealthy or even deadly in the long run, I read today. True. The logical conclusion is to work against it. The evening, on the other hand, is somewhat questionable. I’ll probably spend some more time with the people from the club, but the goal should be that I leave for home around 11 pm. Once there, I can do what I’ve wanted to do for a long time: Include running in my training routine. Strength training is all fine and dandy, but I notice that my stamina leaves a lot to be desired, so it only makes sense if I work on it specifically. Especially when I think about the fact that I would like to actively do martial arts again in the foreseeable future. A good stamina is only an advantage there. After returning from running, I can end the evening relaxed with some kind of activity. If I would rather play games during the two and a half hours of productivity, I know how to prevent this by not starting Steam at all. Burn the boats and stuff. There’s also the Cold Turkey Blocker. That would be like “Nuke the whole fucking beach”. Smile. Anyway, the final goal for tomorrow is to be in bed by 3:00 a.m. at the latest. I’m trying to go to bed a little bit earlier to adjust my sleep rhythm. It can only get better than it is now anyway, so I am quite confident this is a good approach. Good, action plan set, now only the implementation remains. Huah!
For years I have been trying to answer a central question. Which is worse: extreme emotionality or a void? For years I have been searching for an answer, but so far I have not found it. Currently, however, I am tending more and more towards the latter. Pain is palpable. It is something real. Physical or mental, at least you can feel it. Know it’s there. But how do you describe emptiness? How does it feel other than, well, empty? Is the absence of something still… anything? My life always moves only between these two points. Either incredibly intense emotions or an indifferent void. The extent to which I experience both is probably around 30% emotion, 70% emptiness. These are almost similar relations as the ratio of matter to dark matter. This comparison even works twice, because just like the perceived emptiness, dark matter cannot be directly detected, although we are very sure that it exists. Every time I return from extreme emotions back to the waiting arms of emptiness, I ask myself shortly afterwards whether I only imagined everything that was going on before. If this actually just happened. Provided I regain consciousness in the hospital, then yes, it probably did happen, but fortunately this is the exception rather than the rule. Status report: somewhere between lethargy and a state of emergency. A never-ending cycle. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. The perpetual motion machine of self-destruction. In all these years, I have not been able to escape. Maya was right. I should have taken action much sooner. Success story of the day: Wrote an email to the hospital. At last. After almost two weeks of waiting. Maybe it will end up like that one time in Halle, when I was standing in front of the clinic in the middle of the night, completely exhausted, and was sent back home. This is probably the craziest story I have ever experienced so far. I regret a little not having the presence of mind to get the name of the responsible doctor to sue him for not helping me. But considering the fact that I was very close to actually performing the final cut, it’s not surprising that my focus was elsewhere. However, I have some concerns about the possibility of such a person continuing to work in a psychiatric hospital and possibly endangering patients seriously through such behavior. But that was several years ago. Kind of crazy. I still have that night pretty clear in my mind and know how I felt in that situation. How, in an absurd mixture of overexcitement and emotional desperation, I spoke to the doctor on the phone, only to be told they sent me home because my situation did not seem serious enough. Well, somehow he was right, too, as I obviously didn’t kill myself back then, but as I am still in an at least comparable situation so many years later, this doesn’t necessarily speak for his medical expertise. Very well. Now we wait and see. I am relatively confident that things will go differently this time. So far my encounters with the staff of the psychiatric department of the clinic have been consistently positive, therefore I assume things will remain this way. I can always claim later that everything was shitty. Besides, this time I have made a firm commitment to be truly honest with those who are trying to help me. I remember not telling some of the very unpleasant things back then, but this time it will be different. I have the feeling this could be my last chance to get my life back on track. Failing again at this point will most likely have highly destructive consequences. Somewhere I still have Akira’s number and another encounter between us would probably not only end up with police and ambulance, but also with a forensic pathologist determining an overdose on both our corpses. Theatrical, but a fitting end. However, at the moment I don’t really feel a desire for such a cinematic ending, so this may wait. Ideally, it never happens, since this time I finally manage to pull it together. Everything. Me and my life. Balancing lethargy and the state of emergency.
I did exactly… nothing for my book. At least I cleaned my room and bathroom. Yay. Awesome. Oh, yeah, playing hours of No Man’s Sky. Apparently there was enough for that. Maya’s pushing me really hard to get into therapy. Feels kind of semi-great. I think I’m slowly developing an idea of how Annabelle must have felt when I asked her for it. Pressure, even well-intentioned and meaningful, tends to create a defensive attitude in such situations. But I promised her tomorrow (i.e. today, but tomorrow is effectively after waking up) to write an email to the hospital and then wait and see what happens next. This is more than I have done during the past two weeks in terms of worrying about professional help for my mental well-being. The advantage of this promise: I can’t break it to Maya. I would probably cut half my arm open before I could live with the emotional pain of not being honest with her. Wherein – would that be an acceptable trade-off? Joke. Don’t even think about it. Not gonna happen. No matter how unproductive I may be tomorrow, but this is the e-mail I’m writing. Need to write. It’s impossible to break a promise like that. It just occurred to me there was another success today: I stayed sober. Although I almost gave in to the need to go out, somehow NMS was more interesting. In this sense, the smaller vice saves me from a bigger one. Does that count as a coping mechanism? Crazy world. I’ve been asking myself more and more lately whether it would be useful to share these lines with a treating therapist. Maybe it would be a waste of time for the therapist at the end due to the triviality of most of the statements. But hey, at least he gets paid for it. Is there any diagnostic value to be derived from this? I haven’t the slightest idea. The fact that I have massive mood swings with self-harming tendencies is really not something that requires a reading of my confused thoughts in order to come to this conclusion. But who knows? Maybe there’s some value after all. I’ll probably mention it at some point and just wait where it might lead. I may now be accused once again of using the English language for the sole reason of elitist distinction, but nothing could be further from the truth. Occasionally it is simply easier for my head to switch to another language for a moment, as I sometimes lack the adequate words in German. It is therefore much more a sign of my intellectual laziness and less elitist vanity. It sounds a bit like the irony of my life. As a rule, I do not consciously set myself apart from other people, quite the opposite, I would like to share more with others much more often, but for some reason this detachment usually happens completely automatically. Maybe it is actually due to my choice of words or language. Or maybe it is because of the topics I like to discuss or the opinions I hold. Note to myself: People love stories. Our brain is evolutionarily biased to believe a good story rather than plain facts. Stories specifically appeal to emotions, whereas rational arguments often have little effect. As unpleasant as it sounds, it doesn’t matter if we have the better arguments, because if our counterpart doesn’t feel the same way, we have little chance to convince them. Now I’m not so sure if I hadn’t already written down the same thoughts on Tuesday after the conversation with Tom, but since I was drunk that night, my memory seems to have suffered a bit and I’m not willing to look up a few pages further up. In any case, it can’t hurt to write down a thought of such monumental significance again. The probability that I will forget it in the future is extremely low, which gives me reason for cautious optimism. Somehow it is quite fascinating to observe that my abrupt mental leaps nevertheless often succeed in forming reasonably consistent sections of meaning. Perhaps my mental degeneration is not as far advanced as I had assumed. Or maybe this kind of soliloquy is already an excellent indicator for the first faces of the madness that will soon haunt me. That would probably also have a unique charm of its own. The only question is for whom.