If I can get a service dog soon?

So, in my last blog post I told you that I was thinking about to fet a service dog. Today someone came for a consultation appointment. He told me many many stuff that I still have to process. But it was very nice and positive. He said that nothing speaks against for a service dog. He also liked that I live at a forest so I don’t need to walk far to let the dog go run.
On the weekend he will send me a cost estimate for the dog and the training. He said it will be between 6000€-14000€. That’s a lot of money! Especially for me as someone who gets invalid pension. So I’m thinking about to make a crowdfunding on leetchi or something. Also I can try to contact sponsores.

If you want to support me already (I need money for medications) you can send me some via PayPal. Every Euro helps!

You can also buy my book “Black & White” : Amazon or from Epubli.

I really hope I can get the money together so I can soon get my service dog 🙂

Luka

Depression is a nasty bitch

Hearing of the suicide of Chester Bennington and the amount of comments I read, triggered me a bit and have made a memory become more present to me. As someone who struggles with suicidal thoughts since I was a teenager, I want to share some thoughts.
Comments like “Why he didn’t seek for help?” and telling suicidal people to reach out for help, it’s not that easy. Depression is a nasty bitch. No matter how often friends show me their support and tell me they will be there for me and listen, depression tells me otherwise.
“They just want to be nice.”
“You bother them with your silly problems.”
“Your problems aren’t that bad. People won’t take you serious.”
“You are a burden to them if you keep crying over your problems.”
And many more stuff, depression always tells me when I feel bad and think about reaching out to someone. This, mixed with the fear, that people anyway don’t want to be my friends, holds me away to reach out.

There were a situation with a friend in 2014. At this time I was very depressed and suicidal to that level that I was already thinking about on how and when to kill myself. My friend were DJ-ing at a bar in Helsinki and I just went over there because I thought it was a good distraction from my thoughts. Actually I wanted to meet another friend there who then let me down and didn’t show up. So I was sitting alone on my table because I couldn’t find my other friend yet. When he came welcoming his other friends, he noticed me and during the night he often stopped by to chat with me. In the end of the night when the bar got more empty, he took me beside to ask me if I was ok. I said yes, because I didn’t want to bother him. He was out with friends and girlfriend and I didn’t want to be annoying. He kept asking me for a whole while if I really was ok but I couldn’t tell him. His girlfriend were watching us and how could I have started talking about such a dark and sensitive topic?
When he noticed that I couldn’t tell him what was up, he embraced me long and tight, and then told me that “everything will gonna be alright again.” He didn’t know what was up, I couldn’t tell him but anyway he wanted to make me feel better. He showed me his support this night, reached me a hand.
Looking back at this situation, I do feel guilty now. For that I haven’t taken his offer and seed for his advice. I’m sorry, I couldn’t open up to him although I kinda wanted to. Not like I didn’t want to, I couldn’t. Not like I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t know how to. And now it feels like I missed my chance and he wouldn’t give me the same offer again.

So, the “reach help” advice might be meant nice but isn’t really helpful for suicidal people whose brain tell them lies. I don’t even know what my friend could have done different to make me be able to open up. Asking one more time, after the thousand times he did already? Asking me directly if we wanted to go somewhere else to talk so we would be alone so other people wouldn’t listen? Maybe that. For now it just feels like I did a huge mistake and that he won’t give me a second chance.

Yeah, depression is a nasty bitch.

Maybe I’m not made for friends…

This post is kinda an addition to the one I wrote yesterday. The trigger for it was that a friend unfollowed me on instagram. Which is not his blame but it does triggers many things for me.
Ever since when a friend has left me again, I felt like it was my blame. I wasn’t interesting enough, haven’t showed enough what friend meant to me, haven’t shown enough interest in their lives or whatever.
Yesterday I fell in a dark hole again because of this. I feel worthless, boring, just not enough and that no one wants to be my friend anyway. The tactic I taught myself to cope with this: build a wall and be like “Okay, then I don’t want you either. I don’t need you.”
It’s hard for me to trust. Where shall I know that friend is serious with me? I always assume the worst. I was hurt too often.
I always feel like I have to give something special to make someone wanting to be my friend. And I don’t have anything. I can understand it; I am boring. I’m weird autistic and due to my chronic illness, my life is not special or interesting. Why should anyone wants to be friends with me?
I feel like, I want to give up on friendships. To only use social media now to promote my poetry and books. And not any further connections. Because why should I keep trying and getting hurt, when I can’t hold friends anyway?

I know, I actually should work this, but at the moment I don’t see a reason why. What sense does it make? Well, tomorrow I’m at my therapist again. I will talk with him about it.

(It seems I don’t even have spoons to talk about it properly.)