My nine days of misery
Just as I promised, I’ll keep you guys completely updated on what’s going on with me. Right now I’m sitting in school, having writer’s block from the novel I’m working on. So I’m allowed to spend the time writing for my blog; god I love this place!
Just spoke to my adviser and he told me I’ll get money from the government to buy my bus tickets, which means I’m not really in that much trouble financially, though I don’t know if I actually get the money now. They should go to my account each month, but I’m actually pretty sure they don’t, he’s going to check that for me tomorrow.
And this afternoon, we’re all going to watch “Alice in Wonderland” in the big cinema in town. AND: I don’t even have to pay for it! <3
Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. This post is going to be about my nine days of pure misery. It started March 4th and didn’t stop before Saturday the 13th.
Day 1:
Two friends and I were going to fly to Stockholm to see Tokio Hotel. Everything went according to planned right until the moment I got held back in front of the plane. They wouldn’t let me on the plane, because I didn’t have my passport and since I don’t have a driver’s license, I couldn’t show them and ID with my picture on it.
So I had to let the girls go and walk down to the police station at the airport to get an emergency passport made. But that apparently costs 700DKK which is basically as much as an actual passport. And I didn’t have my credit card with me. -.-
After trying everything to convince Norwegian they had to let me though, I broke down crying and had to call Marie’s dad and have him come and pick me up. He drove me home to pack the rest of my stuff and took me to the train station, where he paid to have my ticket moved from Saturday to Thursday. He paid for food, coke, M&Ms AND he gave me 200DKK on top of that just to make sure I got home alright.
Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t rescued me. I got home alright, but I was so heartbroken. I miss seeing the boys doing a show and I can’t bear the thought of not being able to see them more than that one time this tour. s:
Day 2:
I woke up feeling even more miserable than when I went to bed. Dad said he thought I had pneumonia, so I called the doctor and got an appointment that afternoon. Turned out it was some sort of virus and there was nothing to do but wait until it cleared out.
It’s always like that when I’m sick -.-‘ So I went home and felt extremely sorry for myself.
Day 5:
Since I’m on antidepressants, I have to go to checkups every other week and that day I had an appointment with him even though I felt utterly miserable when I woke up. I had to cancel another appointment I had with a councilor-thingie in town.
When I got up there, I told him I felt like shit and that I wanted to cut myself and that I had suicidal thoughts. So he sent me to the psychiatrical emergency room and after sitting there a few hours, my mum called me and I had to tell her about all of it >.< So not very comfortable!
She ended up coming out there to pick me up, just as I actually got to talk to a doctor (she said nothing and she wasn’t the best at Danish either o.o) – She wanted to keep me there. So I had to spend the night at the hospital, feeling even worse than before, trying like mad not to cry..
Day 6:
The next day, I talked to a psychiatrist and I was told I could go home. So I was so relieved. Before I thought the only solution was to be admitted to a hospital and being watched all the time, but that experience was sort of a wakeup call for me. I think I might have been fighting sort of against the pills and the psychiatrist put up my dosage of Zoloft to double amount, and recommended, that I spoke to my doctor about speeding up the treatment with the psychiatrist I’m supposed to see. And maybe talking to him about getting some pills to help me sleep. They all seemed to find my sleeping pattern peculiar.
I called my dad and asked him to come pick me up, but when I called my school, they said I had a bit too much absence so they’d prefer it if I went to school that day. So I had to. -.- Didn’t get anything done though.
Went home exhausted >.< Called in sick the next day.
Day 9:
During the trip to Copenhagen, my piercing had been hurting and irritating me. But I didn’t have the option of going to a piercer to have anyone look at it, because I was in line o.o and when I came home from Copenhagen I was sick and whining like a hungry mouse or something equally annoying.
So last Friday I woke up with my lip hurting like you wouldn’t know! x_x So I talked my dad into going with me to have the piercer look at it in the shop where I had it done. She was very surprised and said she’d never seen anything like that before. She needed to get advice from one of the tattooists who is a former piercer. It had almost grown into my lip and she couldn’t remove it. >.<
So I had to go to the emergency room to have a doctor remove it. That was just so painful, even though it wasn’t really as bad as I thought it would be.
The thing, which hurts the most, is probably seeing it not being there, when I loved it so much. It looks all wrong now >.< I’m so sad it’s gone, but it was impossible to save it. Now I have a tiny mark where it used to be and I need to clean it with the most vile-tasting thing ever invented s: And I can’t even eat or brush my teeth up to an hour after cleaning it s:
But in spite of that I’m doing so much better. My pills are working and I’m starting to get my energy back ^^ I’m praying for it to heal fast so I can have the snakebite I really always wanted ö <3
I’m off for now, I’m been ranting too long now xD
