[trigger warning: mental illness, psychiatric drugs]
I am v fortunate to be able to handle a depressive episode.
it is really hard, but it is just really lucky that i have a medication that works enough that I’m not having a complete crisis right now, and I’m not in the hospital.
It used to be a depressive episode made every breath feel like it took all the energy/spoons out of me, but now it just kinda sucks dick.
and death < dick sucking.
heck, i love sucking dicks.
~i’m all good~
[trigger warning: drugs]
tune in next time to find out if i ever leave my house again, because i’m p sure somebody slipped me something last night, and now i’d be p okay with not ever going to a party. ever.
my friend is taking a psych class so she’s always talking about stuff she learns in there and yesterday she was like “you’re probably gay because you didn’t have a strong male figure in your life” like no i’m gay cause i want a strong male figure in my ass
(Source: ggtrx, via seamonsterwoman-deactivated2013)
trigger warning for alcohol still
i get frisky when i am drunk so i always text people i wanna get frisky with, but about other topics
and i am so shame
i am so shame
TRIGGER WARNING FOR ALCOHOL YOU FEEL ME
nathan is such a cute perfect baby and everything should be good for him and i am the drunkest i have ever beeen but you need to understand that nathan
deserves
the god damn world
Kale, potato, and chickpea stew for dinner because guess who has a good relationship with food and definitely was not triggered by his coworkers discussing calorie contents of croissants?
Not this guy, but that’s okay because I keep on truckin’ every god damn meal
hah the other day, i yelled at a coworker for a long time because they made a rape joke andactually defended it, saying rape jokes are okay i fucking kid you not
and being super upset, and shakey, and just generally triggered and panicky,
I left
And on the way home got catcalled
and like,
spot on, let’s see how much worse this can get, I’ve now yelled at them for being a racist, and a rape apologist
WHERE WILL IT GO NEXT FIND OUT NEXT TIME
[trigger warning: psychiatric drugs, hospitals, and reference to suicide and drug abuse]
Okay hey so I am on a break with my boyfriend person, and that is going to help with re-establishing a routine, which will help with my decision burnout and emotional exhaustion, and I went back to the hospital because those fuckers can’t just discharge a very very sedated and suicidal person just because they are having trouble communicating with them, and they gave me a prescription that I am maybe okay with,
so the point is, I am going to take some time, and I am going to be okay. I decided against staying in the hospital, because I got scared, and I think staying at home to re-establish a routine, rather than having to readjust after staying in the hospital, and having to readjust while going right back in to work is going to be better for me.
I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get better, and I’m going to be okay.
I know that the only reason I tried to kill myself was because I was enabled by the drugs. I would never do something like that otherwise, and that’s why I’m so confused and upset about the whole thing. And also that I don’t remember anything because I took so much. It was upsetting when the resident at the hospital was saying he saw me last time, and was asking if I remembered him at all… But That’s another basket of muffins, my memory is coming back, and I’m going to be okay.
I am going to get better.
[trigger warning: suicide, drugs, hospitals]
It seems really out of nowhere, and unlike me to do something like this, and I am just still really confused, and my memory is very slowly coming back.
I know that I was heavily influence in to doing this because of the ativan. Like, it made me think it was a logical choice to take more, and/or try to kill myself.
I’ve never really been under the influence of drugs in that way. In which I haven’t been able to control myself, or be aware of what I was doing.
And half the time I was acting quite logically, just under the overarching scenario of complete hysteria. I’m just so confused. And really distrusting of psychiatric drugs, and really even more distrusting of doctors, as if I needed that. I don’t know where to go from here, and I’m sorry I am reasoning this all out here. I have very little memory, and have been pretty heavily sedated for the past three days.
trigger warning: suicide, sexual abuse
I’m just having a lot of feels about this whole situation, by which I mean feels about the feels that I feel that it’s not a big deal, but also feels of not being heard, and feels of hopelessness, and I’ve never in my life wanted to kill myself more, I walked back from that hospital, planning to take the rest, and maybe drink some alcohol or something, and I just feel like this came out of NOWHERE
And I have been thinking the past few days about PTSD, and how I never considered it a valid thing for me to have, because I just don’t think about it anymore, and it was a long time ago,
but avoiding thinking about it is a symptom. And a lot of things are symptoms. Things that I have. I mean, I don’t even talk to my biological father anymore. I avoid anything that reminds me of that time, or anything surrounding the sexual abuse.
And when b yelled at me today, it was the scariest thing I’ve experienced in a long time. He sounded like him. I was scared. I was too scared to leave, I was trapped in this corner, and I was terrified, and I just went to sleep.
He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this again.
I am breaking. I am slowly breaking and getting worse, and this seems okay to me, and that’s what’s upsetting.
Life is too hard to live right now. I can’t do chronic illness, and I can’t do responsibility, and work, and love, and friends, and I can’t do my own thoughts, it’s too much. It’s all too much.
I want to run away. I hate this.
you okay, bb?
A story I don’t actually want most of you to read.
*pushes a pint of lemonade to you with the cutest of puppy eyes* but but lemonade. Rhube. Lemonade.
it’s okay, bb,
i got some unexpected ativan, and now i’ve learned the valuable lesson that if lamonade can’t do it, ativan can.
Ativan can.
So I’m going to see Liam some time this week.
jesus fucking christ right
But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I thought that I really need to forgive him. Which lead to reading all of our old e-mails.
I see it all differently now. There’s a lot of different context to it now.
I haven’t been writing much about my more recent serious relationship, but I’ve managed to find myself in a similar situation to what ended it between Liam and I, and that’s making me cast a lot of Liam-feels on to this person. Which I recognized wasn’t fair. But in recognizing that, I had to recognize that holding on to those feelings was not only really bad for me and the people around me, but also pretending that it wasn’t was really damaging, too.
So reading through all these old e-mails, and applying a lot of the context of my current relationship to them. Seeing how in love we were, for that short time. And how badly we felt we needed eachother.
And reading these intensely emotional emails, I was more sympathetic. And I recognized myself being unreasonable.
I understand why I was being unreasonable. I was in a bad place, I was driven to instability through a lot of little things in this relationship that I didn’t know how to confront. And that wasn’t through any fault of Liam’s, but rather we were not quite good for eachother at that time, because I was delicate, and couldn’t vocalize when he was being hurtful due to his ignorance of my situation, and self-involvement. That on top of the bigger things just made me really unstable, to the point where I was acting extremely erratically.
It’s not unfathomable why, and I was not in the wrong for being erratic, I am not blaming myself. I am recognizing, though, how scary that must have been for him. I was being unpredictable, and melodramatic, and that was confusing for both of us. I was scared, I was upset, and I was very unwell. I did not deal with the intensity of the situation. I just went off.
The point being, he was never as bad as I made him out to be. We both fucked up, and I blew that pain out of proportion. He was lovely to me. He did a lot of hurtful things, but he wasn’t entirely aware of what he was doing, and I was not clear about when I was hurt. And we tried, certainly. But my communication was not perfect due to my circumstances at the time, and because I was not very stable in terms of bipolar disorder. I was thinking in really scattered ways. That made me, in the end, only see the bad. When it wasn’t bad. It really wasn’t. It was really lovely and perfect a lot of the time. I had a lot of really great feelings towards him and that relationship. I just threw them all away, and became very triggered by the whole thing, and was unable to revisit that until now.
I just. hate being erratic and jumbled and upset.
I wish none of this had happened, and I am glad to be dealing with it, but also really scared.
This is a lot. And certainly a lot more emotion than I am used to dealing with.
i basically am a manic pixie dream girl because i am so ~unpredictable and wacky~ that it turns out i’m not even a girl, i just tricked you, and i actually am manic, and that’s scary, and i might shout sometimes, or use fibre arts against you, or just cry sometimes, or never cry at all, and we’ll go on fun adventures because i am manic and can’t simmer down, and those will probably end in the hospital
MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL, RHUBE KNOX, HELLO STRAIGHT BOYS HERE I COME
I’ve been having these really panicked sleeps lately, because I’ve been consistently not sleeping enough, so my body is both screaming for every second it can get, while also being horrified that if I get too much, I’ll miss work,
so when I woke up this morning, entirely frantic, thinking I couldn’t possibly have slept this long, I must have slept through my alarm, only to discover that it was still night time,
It was kind of nice. I had left the window open to hear the rain, and it was raining harder now then when I had gone to bed.
The sound of the rain filled my room, and it was all I could hear, and it felt almost like I wasn’t as alone as I thought.
I keep thinking I am alone. People are trying to coach me through having emotions, things I would have been able to navigate really well in the past, and it literally sounds like gibberish to me. It makes no sense. And I try to grasp it, and I hold on to it, but I can’t even remember what it was, because I have no concept of the meaning, and that’s so frustrating.
I feel alone, and I feel like no matter the strong supports, and the people who care for me so strongly, and are always there for me, I will never not be alone.
I can distract myself, but I am still here, alone, with myself.
I need to find a way to be alone and not let it get so hateful. I need a way to value myself more, because when I am just me, alone, entirely, and I don’t care about myself, then there’s really no point in existing. And that’s not okay. I need to put more value in myself, and stop wanting to disappear.
And when the sound of the rain was right there with me, when the thunder sounded distant and muffled, I wasn’t alone. There was a presence, something not sentient, but it was there, and I felt okay. I felt at peace, and I felt not alone.
I need to just figure my shit out. I need to be okay with myself. I need to recognize the value that I can and do bring to the world.
