Within Emptiness

Every month i have like a 5-7 day period of pure agony. It is kind of inspiring that i survive it and continue to try to live better. Every month I genuinely feel like it would be so much easier for me to die. I started taking birth control pills but i had a bad reaction to it and I stopped. 24 euros down the drain and 20 more years of painful periods in my future. My flatmate's giving up the flat to live with his gf. My first reaction was to cry for an hour and since i didn't want him to see me cry I went to the Müller and cried while looking at craft supplies. I am happy that he's in love and taking the next step with his beautiful girlfriend. I just wish it didn't make me feel like garbage. I feel like i have no place in this society and there is no way for me to survive alone.  I even thought about moving back to Iran  Then israel started bombing tehran and Iranian men on twitter were disgusting about women wearing bikinis and i changed my mind. Better to be unloved...

For a short while, from about the six-month mark of moving in to the house number 17 I started feeling at home. I have officially moved out now, I thought I'd feel lost and lonely but I am okay. sad but okay. The good thing about the old flat was that I was safe, I never dreaded coming home. Never had to brace myself before turning the key in the door. I learned to not be scared of the sound of opening the door in that place. Even under stress, when we had to clean the whole flat in 48 hours we were not mean to each other, we didn't forget to say thank you and please, and to laugh when we were being silly. And we are in no way calm or non-anxious people. We just respect each other enough to make an effort. Before moving to the flat number 17, I didn't think I could be friends with german people, like the kind of friends who you share your deepest thoughts with, get drunk and roam around the city at midnight, the kind that knows you have a complicated relationship with your ...

 I fucking hate being ill, this illness is like a never ending cycle of slow death. I get inflamed, i have to take immunosuppressants, i get an infection And that makes me inflamed again.  Tonight I had to take a dose of hydrocortisone, again. For the 3rd time in the last 12 months. I have to do my Masterarbeit but I'm either in pain or procrastinating. At nights, trying to fall asleep i get a flashing image of slashing my wrists just to be done with it.  Worse than being sick ish all the time, the bleeding and the pain and the skin problems and the chronic tiredness, is the feeling I have. I constantly feel like i am not allowed to feel sick. I feel ashamed of being tired, i feel like i don't deserve to live if I am not doing something with my life. I hate my self for being weak and dependent. Every time my BF asks how I am my stomach gets tight, should I lie or should I tell that I feel like slowly fading, exactly like the 11 months ago when he knew me, or 5 month ago, ...

 There's something freeing about sleeping naked, I was never really able to do it even when I lived alone. I thought it was a great sin. My brain couldn't relax with the thought of being naked. Not that I was scared of being seen. That wasn't the only part. I was scared of my own naked form. The way my shoulders slouch, my stomach sticks out, the hairs and the scar on my butt. The shape of my pubic bone and the slightly darkened skin. My hip dips and my lack of a thigh gap. And it wasn't just fear of not being perfect. There was an innate shame enmeshed into possessing a body with a vulva and breasts and hair. When I hit puberty I started getting freaked out about my body. I thought I had the ugliest body there is. By 14 I had completely given up on ever finding love or having sex. And the worst part was I thought it was my fault. My bits look like this because I masturbate! That's probably why I'm still so uncomfortable with sex. But that's a story for anot...

A lot has happened since I last posted here. I moved out of the house with shitty housemates and moved into another place with shitty housemates. I got covid and the flu and my UC got so bad I had to take new drugs. And I probably had one of the worst depression episodes of my adulthood. I don't know if you can call it an episode if it lasted like 10 days. but man was I fighting for life. Covid, as you know, is pretty bad, as an immigrant who just moved to a new country and a new apartment it's worse. But I told people when I had covid and they brought me food and bought me groceries. Someone was a dick to me and told me I was gonna make everybody else sick by not being careful. *I was only using the fucking kitchen at midnight and I always wore masks. Always. So the next time I got the flu, I didn't tell people. I think I stayed in my room for a week. And I only ate untoasted bread with honey and bananas. And the flu was worse than covid, I had a high fever for 3 days and ...

With every passing day I realize that I might be able to do it after all. I never thought I could get over my ex and I did it. thinking about moving to another country pushed me to the edge of a nervous breakdown and I did that too. Now every minor detail of everything I need to do stresses me the fuck out. But I kind of think I’ll be able to do them too. Ill be able to find my place in this new weird country. I’ll fall in love again. I might even orgasm :))  And it’s kind of okay If I don’t do any of these things, I forgive myself for my possible future failures.