Tag Archives: mental health

I don’t want to be this way anymore.

I don’t want to be here again. That scared little girl, diving and clinging to any little shred of affection tossed my way. I don’t want to go back to grotesquely unrealistic romanticism of how this should go. Planning our life together before he even decides to give me a second look, overly charming and hiding my desperation. The desperation to feel close to someone. To dote on and put my energy into the happiness of someone else so I can block out the complete failure of my own. The insistence to put up with any misgivings to feel any spark of acknowledgment. Of acceptance. Of validation, superficial though it may be.
I don’t want to be completely crushed when the real world never lives up to my illogical idea of love.
I don’t want to feel the collapse of my strength back into that pit I so lovingly call my self. Hungry and greedy for any excuse to be called “no good”, starving for a chance bombard my psyche with every reason I will never be pretty enough, smart enough, worth a damn at all.
I don’t want to be this way anymore.

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I will not fall off the deep end.

I will not let this break up define me.

I am not worthless, weak or unlovable because he cheated.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had to pop a Xanax during the day. Almost exclusively it’s a conduit to a good night sleep when my mind is running a race I can’t keep up with. Now I’d like to sleep all day and night.

The thing is, for once in my life I had felt safe. Now everything is sinister and nothing seems familiar. 

 

 

I’ll be trying to write more. Hell, I’ve got nothing else to do. 

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June 27, 2014 · 11:05 am

Alien

It’s a shame I can’t be more consistent with my blogging, but I try not to be too hard on myself. My moods have been all over the place lately. Most recently, yesterday, I was paranoid, suicidal and dissociating to an extreme. Derealization and depersonalization became a constant. At one point my vision became blurred and I felt content to sink faster into nothingness, let my body go vacant. Wait for someone more capable to come and take over.

Have you ever felt unwelcome in the body you’ve always been told is yours and yours alone? The anxiety builds and my skin crawls, like I’m an intruder in this place and it’s real inhabit is ready to return. It’s an uncomfortable feeling to know you should be breaking through this shell, content to be weightless among a dense sky, brilliant and fleeting. But something went wrong, you can’t seem to break free. This heavy flesh weighs you down and you fear it will become your tomb. Each day your brilliance shines a little less, each day you pick hopelessly at this pelt, pinching, biting, scratching. Knowing it’s not what you were meant for. Knowing you are alien to this body and it wants you out of it just as much as you do. 

Until one day you just stop shining all together. 

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crashing

I can feel the wave of intense emotion crashing just behind my skin and I know that soon it will overtake me. Soon I will be choking on the salty water, flooding my airways with suffocating depression.

I know this comes, I know it’s a part of the process. I can only fly so high for so long, but it’s like every time I forget the immensity of it all. I recall thoughts only days ago, “perhaps I’m not so sick”. Then it curls it’s sickening familiar fingers around my chest. I will become lost in this, I forget completely what happiness and hopefulness consists of.

I plead with the shot caller inside my head. Please, one more day? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll stay in bed twice as long this time, I promise. I know this pain is what you feed off of. I’ll give you it all tomorrow, I swear. Trust me.

I’m not listening to myself. My saline behind my eyes burn and the urge to medicate to unconsciousness burns brighter than I remembered it could. I’m losing the battle with my own mind.

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Could use a little help & opinions!

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Hello to all of you! I wanted to start off by saying that I am eternally grateful for all the love and kind words I received from you guys on my last post. Not a single one of them went unread or unloved. Thank you. <3

In my flighty and nonsensical mind I made a decision to start up a line of sugar and salt body scrubs that have a focus on good mental health. I’ve been doing my research and there isn’t really anything of it’s kind out there, as in a line of bath and body products that’s pro-mental health awareness. I’d like my line to evoke good feelings in those of us who are over stressed and different than those weird normals around us. For example, I plan on making a body scrub that uses calming scents and colors to use during a time of great stress or anxiety with uplifting messages on the bottles. 

Would you guys, those with mental health issues, be interested in this type of product or would you not care about the mental health spin on it? Is it something you would buy? Also, I’m at a loss for a name right now so any ideas would be great!

I thank you all for your feed back. I’m definitely in an upward slant right now, which is evident by my incessant questions and sudden decision to start a business. I am praying that this time I don’t lose my passion as I always seem to. I’m hoping this can be something that holds my heart and my attention. 

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Guilty

I am unhappy with myself right now. I can’t explain what came over me the other night besides that it felt as if another person stepped inside my head and filled it with rage. I remember fighting with my parents, but the exact trigger has escaped me, if I ever really contemplated it at all. Death threats were screamed and accusations hurled. I told them they were the reason I have borderline personality disorder, that raising me in a bar fucked me up.

My mother’s response? “A lot of people are alcoholics now a days, it’s not a big deal”. I don’t remember much after that either besides more blood curdling screams escaping my lips. I barricaded myself in my room, as if they would try to come up and check on me. Spoiler alert, they didn’t. And then it happened. I relapsed. In the past three years I have cut myself maybe ten times. I can’t account for the other ways I harm myself, as those are much more common place. I bite and scratch and tare and bruise, but I hardly ever cut. That night I cut myself six times on my thigh and jabbed a pin so hard into my wrist bone that it got stuck, twice. It’s still sore. I couldn’t really move it for an entire day.

The physical pain is nothing compared to the guilt and shame I feel. Shame that I suffer from such a strong inability to control my emotions. Guilt that I don’t try harder to hang on to my sanity as I watch it slip away. I just let go and let the rage boil my blood til it’s all I can see. Til I have no filter, til I’m spilling out every painful word I can muster up in my convoluted mind.

I wish I wasn’t me.

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borderline feelings

 

I am bursting with excessive passion and nothing excites me

Pinpointing every emotion bleeding from my temporal lobes while fighting through the fog of dullness

There is no energy left in my body as I am crawling up the walls with anxious uncertainty

I feel nothing while I am feeling everything

Captivate as I evade, center of attention in the corner 

Heart exposed and full while the door is locked from the inside

indebted to those who love me with conviction that I am scorned

I am the true walking contradiction that has been contemplated for decades

 

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fallen

And so the mighty fall and I have fallen hard

Gravel between my fingers and dirt in my teeth

It takes so little to knock me down one thousand pegs to where I belong

My body thrives on self loathing, my bone marrow is genuine disdain

My heart pumps no blood, it survives on disgust alone

My skin is flimsy and easily penetrated, porous and thin 

It soaks up guilt and judgement til I am full and tight with self-deprecation 

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memory

In my feverish attempts to lose weight I’ve picked up running and with this comes the responsibility of buying running sneakers. As I pulled up to the store I knew that she would be in there, and I half hoped that she would and the other half hoped she wouldn’t. As with anything, one half won, and there she was standing outside with a cigarette. We said our pleasantries. I asked how other acquaintances were, how she had been, but we never said her name. Neither of us acknowledged that our relationship was based purely on our mutual best friend who is dead now. We just pretended and I walked on.

Inside I knew the string that connected me to her was always going to be Megan, it would always be something we didn’t want to talk about. I mentioned another friend, she said they hardly talked. I never knew two people closer before. I always knew she was the glue that held every person she knew together, but I guess I’d never thought I’d see the aftermath of that glue dissolving. Sometimes it scares me when I feel like she was never real. I haven’t heard her laugh in so long, held her hand or poured her a drink. It feels like she never existed sometimes and that hurts me. I have to dig deep into my head to hear her voice reverberate off my skull. It’s the only place I’ll ever know it again. Her face is all but gone from my memory, I hungrily stare at the pictures I keep pinned to my door trying to hold it in my brain. It drips through my recall like water through my fingers.

photo (10)

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#blogging201

It’s April 15th and on a manic whim I’ve decided to sign up for the blogging challenge on the daily press. I’ve got tons of energy and creativity and it’s about time I focused it in. Also, it’s a lot easier than running which I have also started doing for no good reason at all. I’d rather my brain ache then my thighs. So, the first challenge is to write down three goals for my blog..hold on..wait..I think there’s still some sangria in the fridge..No it’s gone.

Anyway, When I started this blog I had absolutely no intention that anyone would bother to read it, but I’ve since been proven wrong. I began with a hope that I could reach a few people, make a couple nice friendships and at least enlighten one person what it’s like to live every day with mental illness. Since then I’ve become a little hungrier and have more aspirations for this tiny blog. I’d like to grow this blog into a full blown website of my experience with mental illness, my advice for fellow sufferers and their families, and well placed resources.

My plan three goals for this blog are as follows:

I’d like to have 500 followers by the end of the summer.

I’d like to establish a weekly advice post where readers can ask me questions over the week about my experience or questions about mental illness and I’ll answer them publicly.

and finally I’d like to be able to get a real domain for my blog.

 

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