This week so far has been a downright nightmare. First there was the promise from a friend that he would show an MRI image of mine to a friend who is studying gynaecology which I then spent a few days worrying about only to there not being any word from that guy yet.
Secondly there was that whole Tweakers forum massacre. The first two days when I resumed posting there were quite pleasant, with people at least expressing their sympathy for my unfortunate situation. Then the trolls came, with even people who I had met last year in real life saying downright horrible things about me, things they would never have said to my face. I quit going there now, but for a few days I would keep visiting that place full of trepidation, only to keep having my worst fears confirmed.
Many people accused me on that forum of being unable to listen to or consider the opinions of others, but if anything I listen too much to others, much like my mother. Coming up for myself is something I had to learn the past few years, but even today I'm still extremely sensitive to criticism. Certain posts and things said on the Tweakers forum made me feel absolutely miserable, or pretty much convinced that there is indeed something wrong with me. I began to look differently at myself, even collapsed emotionally a few times during which I found myself disgusted by this twisted... thing that is my body. Let's just say that it's a good thing there aren't many sharp objects within reach from my bed. Just punching and scratching myself is bad enough already.
Yesterday night I really crashed. I found myself exploring the brief span of my existence, the short blip that I'll exist unless I happen to become immortal or so (currently in progress...), and how futile it all really is. With my birthday on September 4th (26) I'll be one year closer to becoming 30, a prospect which fills me with absolute dread. I realized this morning again how I find virtually no joy in any aspect of being alive. Aside from scientific or technological undertakings everything is ruined and painful and despicable.
The flashbacks I suffer from due to my multiple PTSD are getting particularly bad lately. This morning I had to suffer through about 4 hours of them before things subsided somewhat and I managed to get out of my bed. These flashbacks are mostly related to sexuality, relationships and medical things. By now I'm thoroughly sick of anything to do with men, women, sexuality, psychologists/psychiatrists and doctors/specialists. I do not want to watch any more movies, especially not when I began to feel horrible during the new Harry Potter movie when I went to watch it with Pieter on Thursday.
I'm thinking of cancelling my appointment with therapist Inge Wingbermuhle. I also don't see the point of sending more dreams I write down to Engel Vrouwe. I'll go to the UMCG the 21st if I am still sane by then, but I can only see things going downhill from here. There's nothing to feel joyous about, nothing to excite, nothing to make me feel anything other than sad, indifferent, angry, frustrated and miserable in any combination.
I won't be closing or wiping this blog, if only because it would provide a detailed story of my last moments of sanity and I wouldn't want to leave the few friends I have behind without them knowing at least what happened to me. The trolls who love to make fun of my life and already think I'm insane can go die in a fire for all I care, or prepare to get stabbed to death by bleeding if I ever meet them in real life again.