Call In The Cops

The days since my last post are all a bit fuzzy to me. I am actually making a lot of progress on developing the code and resources behind our first games, the font stuff is nearly done at this point, mostly lacking testing, I am modelling some 3D models for part of the NK: KKE game and working out the other parts. It's all I really remember of the past days, everything else is pretty much a blur.

Of the items I put for sale a while ago I have sold the TV (got picked up today) and the arcade cabinet (still waiting for a response from the highest bidder). The Sun CRT monitor will unfortunately be recycled tomorrow :( Can't help it, I guess. At least I found a new home for most of them, something I'm glad about, as I have this nasty tendency to feel sorry for inanimate objects. Never can throw stuff away :(

I'm awaiting a response from the BBZ welfare thingy. I discovered that their site only works properly in Internet Explorer, filled in their list of questions, got to a request form, filled it in and submitted it. I probably missed them calling me back at around 4 PM today due to circumstances, though. I hope they call back tomorrow or so.

This morning I began to feel short on breath quite soon after breakfast, tried to get some sleep, but couldn't due to lots of thoughts churning around inside my head. Then around 1 PM I received an email from a forum I used to post at, aimed at bi-sexual girls, a place where I had hoped to get some kind of recognition last year but which failed badly. The email was a general message to all members, but it addressed some things girls do when they're trying to look attractive on a picture in a contest. For some reason this triggered something nasty inside me.

I immediately went to that forum and had my account canceled, but by that time the damage had been done. All of the emotions I had pushed away for the past weeks, the frustrations and thoughts I couldn't deal with all came rushing to the surface and I cried like I have never cried before. I honestly didn't feel like there was anything left about me which was 'normal', or that anything I was doing was useful. It was such an intense feeling of sadness, of pain, of loneliness and frustration.

While experiencing this feeling I did something I had been thinking about a lot lately: send a farewell note. In this case an email to my GP. I felt kind of skittish afterwards that someone might come check up on me due to this email, but that wasn't my primary concern at the time. I had a few choices open to me, cry on my bed for a few hours while nearly ripping the sheets into pieces and probably injuring myself, running to the kitchen to grab a knife and finally end it all, or force myself to perform manual labour to take my mind off things. I chose the latter and was crying through most of the hoovering, dusting and laundry I did. Afterwards I felt slightly better, and decided to watch a video. Then the door bell rang repeatedly, followed by pounding on the door.

Outside I saw a police car parked in front of the house, so I went downstairs to open the door. There were two cops standing there, the guy asking me whether everything was okay. I replied that I had collapsed earlier, but that things were better now. They then requested to come inside which I agreed to. The male cop asked me about what was going on and tried to be sympathetic. I explained the situation briefly. They didn't want to leave me alone in case I might decide to do something foolish after they had left, so they had me call Pieter to come back home from his work to keep an eye on me. After asking for my ID card and writing down my personal details they wished me well and left.

Half an hour later Pieter returned home and we spent the rest of the day together. I still felt and feel even now kind of weirded out by how screwed up my life has become. I don't feel happy or elated that people paid attention to me today, only bitter that I have to send what come down to suicide notes to people to get a rapid response and a listening ear from someone other than a regular person. I wonder how the psychiatrist will respond during my appointment next week Tuesday when I tell her everything what has happened since the last time we talked, including the events in the two months since my GP requested an appointment with her.

I'm not feeling okay at all. Haven't felt okay ever since those bastards at the VUMC told me that they didn't see anything on the MRI scans and refused to do anything else. The past days my mood is bordering on something akin to what I went through last year with the hyperventilation incident, only worse. I'd describe it as something close to a panic-attack. It makes it hard for me to breathe, makes it feel as though I'm only getting a minimal amount of oxygen into my lungs, it makes me feel restless, agitated. My memory is absolutely worthless and I experience more swings than moods.

Tomorrow Pieter will make an appointment for me at the UMCG with that sluggish doctor, as it seems to be the only way to get a quick answer. Of course, there's the possibility that it'll take a month or so to get an appointment. I'm betting on 2-4 weeks.

I really can't stand it anymore... seeing all those people all happy with their bodies, including Pieter, thinking and doing things which make me feel completely sick, shocked and miserable inside. What really is the point of trying anymore? I feel like I have lost this war for my identity already, after 4.5 years there possibly can't be anything that's going to change.

All this pain inside makes me wish for eternal peace...


Maya