#an addication and it's so hard to stop once you start and then the next thing you know you're out of space

[scarletcomet]

i am so normal and not mentally ill at all

[lalunangel]

“My little Harleen”

A shout into the void of what you used to call me. The subtle names you shunned me with. The nitpicking exists throughout my skin. “My little Harleen” rings through my ears sometimes. You thought I was crazy. You’ve always thought I was crazy. Everyone.. Thinks I’m crazy. But I don’t feel crazy. I don’t even come off as crazy to people who just meet me. Its when I talk about my life experiences and I shake that you notice I’m a little out of my mind. I’m a little overused. Ready to call it the end and peacefully keep it that way. I know I was almost induced and you were around but I never told you. They said the next time I went in and I wasn’t progressing positively they would put me away for a while to get better isolated help. I tell my doctor that my depression is still bad but I feel mostly human. On my paperwork it reads “Moderate to severe depression” and severe is highlighted. My anxiety isn’t labeled at all because she things my anxious feelings stem from the Bipolar disorder I have. It’s an acute problem that she said has metastasized over the course of these two years. A victim of PTSD and she said it shows a lot more now when she sees me. She touches me and presses her cold hands to my back to hear how my breathing is for checkups and I shake but not because it’s cold. I shake because she came close to me.

I’m not crazy. I told her in middle school and high school I had an eating disorder but finally broke myself away from that and can eat and have gained weight.. but when I went back I lost over 85lbs. Within a two month period. I didn’t read the thing either. I just heard the nurse run off and tell my doctor. I know my doctor cares. She cares about me a lot. She knows that I can’t go back to counseling because I’m not okay. I’m getting worse and I can’t afford to be taken away from my life. She tells me every time too. “Join a club” or “Get a boyfriend you can talk to about these things” sometimes “Write a book and publish it on the way you feel right now” and honestly. I don’t feel... but I over feel all at the same time. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat and I hardly want to bathe but I do it because i know what will happen to me. I’m not crazy because I can’t deal with what I went through. My old counselor cried because of hearing about how sad my life was and it’s not sad it’s just depressing to know that I didn’t have to. My mother just didn’t love me. My counselor did background research on my mom. She told me about her neglect charges. What year. She would ask me if I remembered the dates. “Domestic violence” “Lost child” “abuse” “neglect” my mom was awful... and I really didn’t like coming clean and saying “Yeah I was 8 then and I remember it like it was yesterday because IT STILL SCARES ME!” She printed off the paper work for me. Gave it to me to look over.. and I cried. None of them had my name just “Child” and I just smiled and said “better than my real name”. My mommy issues aren’t just mommy issues. I have family issues.

I have cousins that raped me

I have a abusive and alcoholic father

My mother was neglectful, abusive, has charges of abandonment multiple times on her record for just leaving. A drug addic.

I have grandparents that didn’t care and still don’t

I raised my sister and everyone else takes credit for MY HARD WORK.

Of course I’m afraid still. Of course I still shake when things are mentioned of course... I’m a little crazy.

My dad used to say this stupid thing I think he stole from a movie “I was crazy once, rubber rats in rubber rooms.” And hed say it while shaking me bc I’d laugh and call him crazy. It stuck with me when I started my visitation with my old counselor. When she said that “Sometimes the things around us don’t effect us until we’re already crazy” and all I had to say was that stupid line I stole from my dad.. and I bit my finger after because I realized... only crazy people say stupid things to someone like that.

I would draw the joker and Harley Quinn but I didn’t like them romantically I could just get behind the level of nuts they were and my dad loved it. He’d make me draw scary clowns and I thought it was useless until I felt like I was rather good at it... until I started making up stories about them. Until I realized I liked doing it. I’ve never felt crazy until that year he died and my life spiraled before me and I watched it set ablaze and just smiled through it all or cried blankly. I’m normally squeamish when I see dead animals on the road but after that and car rides happened I’d see them and just look away without covering my eyes and cryin. I didn’t die with my dad. But I stopped caring so much about where I was going. I didn’t take showers. I didn’t eat. I didn’t really talk. I just watched movies in my dark room. Awake everyday and only napping for 15mins a day. Listening to people talk but knowing that they never said anything important and ignoring them. I had gone off a deep end I didn’t know I could reach. I thought peek suicidal level was freshman year when my mom ditched me for drugs and even now.. I feel like nothing my mom did to me was as bad as my boyfriend breaking up with me. I didn’t really think too much of it at first and when I explained how I felt about everything all I could say was “Empty but I have you”. There’s nothing romantic about the only light in your life being someone temporary. After he dumped me while I was at my worst.. I only got much worse. I should’ve been put away. But my grandma didn’t let it happen.. and all I did was die day after long endless days.. I didn’t even feel. I just worked and existed. I got drugs to keep me mellow and calm. My medications were more like a prolonged pause button than anything that actually helped. I was a zombie. Music had no sound. Food no flavor. Colors no history.. life no meaning. I’d just cry. And cry... and cry... I didn’t even get to go through my whole “It’s over bitches”phase and be excited for being set free. I just cried. He called me his Harleen... and I realize now. That it’s a fucking insult. He didn’t call me Harleen when Harley Quinn became popular, he had been calling me Harleen since we were 13. I HAVE BEEN CRAZY FOR SO LONG! I don’t do distructive behavior now. I just motivate myself into doing something new and distracting. I don’t listen to the same music. I like indie and folk so much more than I like anything just because it’s soft and keeps my heartbeat the same rhythm the whole time.. anything else pumps my blood and makes me heated.. not lit. I still try though because I just think it’s an adjustment period of my life. Sometimes I wonder if I’m more than my trauma. I can openly make jokes about what I’ve been through but when I reflect on it outside of my own head... people look at me like they want to rip off parts of their youth to replace mine.

But this was mostly written because I’m angry at the insults thrown my way because I’m not okay. I shouldn’t be degraded... just because I’m slightly not okay. I’m not crazy. And even if I was...I haven’t done anything that says “put her away” I’m functional and normal and it’s hard. I’m sorry to past me for never realizing that he treated us like garbage for years.. and we must let it go like it wasn’t a problem.