#mdd been making my life hell more than normal

[astralsys]

I'm kinda just not been feeling that great my episode just keeps getting worse and worse and idk what to do to make myself feel better. feels like no one really likes me as a person just feeling really bad and lonely…. I have a vacation coming up hopefully things will get better. also memory’s still been getting worse not a good sign.

[thevampiresiren]

Lullaby

Min Yoongi x depressed!Reader

Summary: You've been hiding your struggles with your clinical depression and anxiety disorders from Yoongi, scared of being a clingy girlfriend. Yoongi comes home early to show you how he knows where you're coming from and will always be there for you.

Word Count: 1620

Genre: Angst/Fluff

WARNINGS: Cursing, Mentions of MDD (Major Depressive Disorder) and anxiety disorders. (Lyrics to the song do sound like its talking about suicide, but the song wasn't originally supposed to be about mental health)

A/N: This is one of my favorite Nickelback songs and it helps me when I myself have depressive episodes. It just had Yoongi trying to help someone with depression written all over it to me. Also this is only my second fanfic so try to cut me some slack😅

Well, I know the feeling

And there ain't no healing

Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge

From cutting yourself with the jagged edge

You're not quite sure what offically started it. All you knew was that your chest was aching, you felt nauseous, you were shaking, and had tears quietly running down your face. You knew you were becoming stressed with this new job of yours, but you ended up just pushing the stress back down like you always did. Well, your depression and anxiety had other plans for you. You ended up just putting your cell phone on vibrate, just wanting silence. Part of you wanted to call your boyfriend. He understood more than anyone what is was like having a depressive episode. It was one of the many things you and Yoongi had in common and one of the many reasons you fell in love with each other. Being able to understand each other's struggles and helping the other out when it became too much.

I'm telling you that, it's never that bad

Take it from someone who's been where you're at

The bigger part of you knew how happy Yoongi was that he was able to start being with the guys again after his surgery. You didn't have the heart to pull him away from his brothers when they were so happy to be with each other again. You reached out for Holly on the bed, pulling him close. Burying your face into his soft, brown, curly, fur; you allowed your tears to fall onto him. Holly began gently kissing your face, like he was trying to wipe your tears. You smiled at him before gently closing your eyes trying to relax.

Laid out on the floor, and you're not sure you can take this anymore

Yoongi knew something was going on with you for the past two days. You were going to bed earlier, eatting less, and  a lot more quiet. You said it was because you were tired and just stressed  from your new job. He would have believed you. But now that you weren't answering any of his texts or calls (or anyone else's for that matter), he knew it wasn't just "stress". He tried not worrying but what was he supposed to do? He ended up leaving the studio early, telling Namjoon and the rest of the guys that something was up and he needed to head home.

So just give it one more try to a lullaby, And turn this up on the radio. If you can hear me now I'm reaching out, To let you know that you're not alone

He tried calling you once again only for it go to voice-mail for the umpteenth time.

"Babygirl, please call me. I'll be home in less than five mintues. I just need to know that you're alright. I love you, okay?". He took a deep breath. He knew you were going to be okay, but he didn't know how long your depression was acting up or where your head was at.

And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell, 'Cause I can't get you on the telephone. So just close your eyes. Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby. Your very own lullaby

When Yoongi walked into the apartment, he didn't even think about taking his shoes off. He just went straight to the bedroom looking for you. He saw your phone abandoned on the couch and picked it up for you. Yoongi came up to the door and heard your muffled sniffles behind the door.

"Jagiya, can I come in?" He asked softly, not wanting to startle you. He heard a quiet "mhm" and gently opened the door. You had Holly underneath your head using him as a pillow, giving him gentle pets. Your face was stained in tears (along with Holly's fur), hair was a mess, and in nothing but your favorite red and black flannel of his with the skull on the back. Even though you were a wreck right now, you were still breath taking to him. Yoongi walked over to his side of the bed.

He sat down bedside you looking as your back faced him, rubbing your shoulder; making your shoulders slightly relax. It hurt him more than anything seeing you like this, it always did even though it didn't happen often and he always knew you would be okay.

"Can you look at me?" He said firm but gently. You stopped petting Holly and rolled over facing your boyfriend. You were scared that he would be upset for some reason but he looked worried and even sad. He held his arms out for you and gently pulled you to his chest protectively, rubbing your back soothingly. He let you cried into his chest as your body shook, tears staining his white tee as you held onto it like your life depended on it while he kissed your forehead and shoulder.

Please let me take you out of the darkness and into the light

He wasn't going to push you right now, but he needed to know what was going on. Once you calmed down and had your breathing under control he asked you what was going on.

"I wasn't lying when I said I was stressed over this job, but I guess it was effecting me more than I thought.". Yoongi nodded his while moving pieces of your hair out of your face.

"I don't know if I'm doing things right, I feel like whenever something goes wrong its my fault, and I just feel lost. I feel like I'm letting people down and I didn't want to say anything to stress people out because I know they have their own problems in their lives. I feel weak whenever this happens and feel like I let everyone down..." You said with your breath shaking.

Cause I have faith in you that you're gonna make it through another night

Yoongi pulled you into his lap, having you straddle his hips. He gently held your face between his large hands wiping your new tears away and leaving little kisses on your nose, cheeks, forehead, and lips.

"Jagi, you are NEVER weak when this happens. You're having a hard time right now and it's normal with depression and anxiety disorders. You're amazing at your job. You've never had any problems with jobs in the past and always are above average in performance reviews. And you know you can always call me. You don't stress me out. You know I know how this feels."

"I know that but you and the guys missed each other so much. I didn't want to take away your all's happiness and I didn't want you to think I was being a needy girlfriend..." you said crying again into his shoulders.

"Hey, have you ever thought of me as a needy boyfriend when I have my breakdowns?" Yoongi asked gently forcing you to look up at him with his finger under your chin. You gently shook your head.

"Have you ever been mad at me for pulling you away from your friends with my depression?". You shook your head again.

"Do you like seeing me suffer with my own personal demons?". Once again, you shook your head. Yoongi gently grabbed your arms and placed them around his neck while he placed his around you waist.

Stop thinking about the easy way out

There's no need to go and blow the candle out

"It works both ways babygirl. The guys always understand too. I hate seeing you like this without me knowing. It hurts me so fucking much." He said with tears in his eyes. "You and I both know that we're always there to help each other get through this shit. We understand each other more than anyone else. No matter what I'm doing I can't be happy knowing my girl isn't answering the phone because she is suffering inside her own head." He said as a tear fell. He pulled you into his chest again held onto you tightly. Like if he were to let go, he would wake up and you would be gone. He took a deep breath getting himself together, still holding you tightly.

"I love you so fucking much Y/N L/N. I want to do anything I can to help you like we always do with each other. Because you're going to get through this like all the other times. It's only going to get better from here baby. Don't let yourself burn out on this one thing. You're one of the strongest people I know." He said as a few more tears slid out.

Because you're not done, You're far too young and the best is yet to come

You wrapped your arms tightly around Yoongi's neck. You pressed your lips against his, your fingers running against his soft raven locks. He kisses you back slow and gently but somehow full of the passion and love he has for you. A few moments later you both gently pull away from the kiss, noses touching and out of breath.

"I love you too, Yoongs. I know everything will be okay. Its just the anxiety talking." You say rubbing his neck.

"I know it is and its hard. But I mean it. You promise me you'll call me whenever you need me. No matter what I'm doing, Dork." He said smiling lovingly at you while lightly flicking your forehead. You giggled softly smiling at him.

"You better do the same, Jerk."

Yoongi lifted up his pinky finger, wrapping it around yours and kissing it.

"I promise, brat."

So just give it one more try to a lullaby

[plainsight6578]

Self-indulgent IwaOi fic because I was sad

This fic was based of a fanart by @ / marikdraw. Check them out their art is amazing!!!

Characters: Oikawa x Iwaizumi

TW: depression ???, just general self-loathing, though nothing too serious.

Genre: angsty but it turns into fluff at the end

Summary: Oikawa thinks he’s not enough. Iwaizumi shows him that he is.

Word count: 1,762

A/N: i hc that oikawa has MDD i dont make the rules... but i do

pâro

n. the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, “colder, colder, colder…”

Since he was little, Oikawa was showered with endless praise and compliments.

"Wow! he's that good and only a first year?"

"You're going to make it very far!"

"You have so much potential, Oikawa!"

No one was better than him. He was unstoppable. Unbeatable. He was, in every sense, the great king of the court.

"Oikawa-san, you work so hard!"

"Slow down, Trashy-kawa"

Those remarks from his teammates only fueled his unending hunger for greatness. But, with high status comes high expectations. And Oikawa did everything in his power to live up to those expectations. 'Just a few more,' 'just a little bit further,' 'just a little more,' more, more, more. He never seemed to be satisfied with his own efforts. Fearing that his hours of extra practice would betray him when he needed it most. So, he always did more, more, more. He didn't stop until he physically couldn't anymore. 

On more than one occasion his teammates have walked in on a passed-out Oikawa, who had exerted too much of himself before practice had even started. He knew this wasn't healthy. He knew his body wouldn't be able to keep up. But no one, not even his already injured knee, could stop him. Because, as he found out, he wasn't the best. Not by a long shot. 

When he first met Kageyama, Oikawa's first instinct was to crush him. He wanted to push the younger boy so far down that he would give up on trying to get back up. Because inside his heart, he knew that he could never beat him. Kageyama was born a genius. Volleyball was natural for him. Oikawa had to mold himself to get to where he was, while people like Kageyama were born miles ahead, with all the instincts for the sport instilled into their DNA. He could never hope to be overtake Kageyama when he already had such a large head-start. He knew it, but he refused to accept it.

And then, in his third and final year of high school, the spring tournament came. Everything, all his efforts, lead up to this moment. It was almost poetic that he has to face off against his former kouhai who had challenged him so much in middle school. 

And then... by some miracle, they won. He won. Oikawa had actually beat the "king of the court". Finally, he felt like he was catching up. Oikawa was no longer struggling on an unfamiliar path that others had already crossed, he was struggling side-by-side with them. After nearly 18 years of his life, he finally felt like he was on an equal playing field with the others. Maybe, just maybe, all his extra hours of practice, all those bailing on gatherings with friends and nearly failing his subjects in school just to squeeze in a few more laps or serves... All of those sacrifices he made, weren't for nothing. His hard work was finally paying off. He was on a high no one could bring him down from.

And then they lost to Shiratorizawa.

He couldn't seem to fully grasp the reality of it yet. To him, it didn't make sense how Ushiwaka could beat him. He did everything right. every choice he made was the right one. Every toss went exactly where it needed to score. The entire team was at the top of their game. There was nothing else they could have done. They tried their hardest. So, why didn't they win?! Why had they lost? Clearly, it was Oikawa's fault. he was both the setter and the captain, meaning he held most of the responsibility for their loss. That's how it was in his eyes, at least. It had to be his fault; it was no one else's. This loss had dragged Oikawa from his high all the way down to rock bottom, and then kicked him down some more. 

As Oikawa sat in the changing rooms after the game, he contemplated every single day he spent not training. All those lunch breaks he let his fan-girls distract him, every damn time he told himself he was "too tired" or "not in the mood" to practice. Those scenes flashed in his mind like nightmares. Tears threatened to slip from his eyes as he fought for some control over his emotions. He was so caught up in his misery that he failed to notice the sound of Iwaizumi's footsteps coming in.

"Oi, trashy-kawa!" He yelled. Startled, Oikawa looked up to see Iwaizumi scowling down at him, "the bus is leaving soon, what the hell is taking you so damn long?" He asked, less aggressively than usual, taking into consideration their current situation and the tears that pricked at Oikawa's eyes. Their loss also weighed heavy on Iwaizumi's shoulders; he was slouching a tiny bit more than usual, and he didn't really have the energy in him to yell at Oikawa like he normally would have. 

Of course, Iwaizumi was beating himself up too; there was a ton of spikes and serves he'd missed during the match, and he knew the rest of the team was thinking the same things about themselves.

"I'm sorry..." Oikawa mumbled, barely loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear, "it was my fault we lost. I should have trained mo-"

"More? You're the one that did the most out of all us, stop regretting the things you didn't do," Iwaizumi had cut him off. He had now taken a seat right next to the bench Oikawa was sat on. Oikawa clenched his teeth. He didn't know why but he was getting angry. He wanted Iwaizumi to yell at him, tell him that he failed as their setter and captain, and most importantly as his friend. "Don't say that. We both know I should have tried harder," he spat back.

"Are you saying that you slacked off during the match?" Iwaizumi asked.

"Huh?! Of course not!"

"Then you did your best didn't you? We all did. That's all that mat-"

"THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, THOUGH!" Oikawa had snapped. His self-loathing had reached its peak. He couldn't stand Iwaizumi's lies anymore. Why wasn't he blaming him?! It was Oikawa's fault that they lost, right? So, why wasn't Iwaizumi angry?! Oikawa had long forgotten to stop himself from crying, and now every word he said as accompanied with the tears that flew down his face. "THEY SAW THROUGH ALL OF MY ATTACKS! THEY MANAGED TO RETURN MOST OF MY SERVES! I SHOULD HAVE TRAINED MORE! I SHOULD HAVE PRACTICED HARDER! I COULDNT MAKE IT IN TIME! I-" Oikawa's voice broke, "I wasn't enough for you..." He looked away. He couldn't stand to see Iwaizumi's face right now.

Earlier in their third year, the pair had promised each other that they would play on the same court for as long as possible. They would continue to win so they could keep playing volleyball together. And then, they would win nationals. side-by-side. Like they've always been.

When they'd lost against Shiratorizawa, Oikawa felt like he'd broken that promise. He was ready for Iwaizumi to yell at him about how disappointed he was, about how much he was let down by him... He waited... But nothing happened. Oikawa slowly turned his gaze back up to Iwaizumi and his breath hitched in his throat. Iwaizumi had tears in his eyes and his fists were clenched. 

Oikawas heart immediately stopped. Of course, he would be the one to make his best friend cry. The sight of it made his heart ache. He didn't know what to do so he just sat where he was and looked away. 

Iwaizumi said nothing; he simply bent down on the floor and placed the smallest little kiss onto Oikawa's injured knee. Oikawas heart started pounding. In that moment, he remembered why he'd been pushing himself so hard. Why he wanted to keep going even if his lungs were screaming out in pain. It was because of him; because of Iwaizumi. Because he wanted to play with him for as long as he could.

"You are so much more than enough, Tooru," Iwaizumi's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked up at Oikawa, who now had stopped crying, but his face was decorated with a bright blush that went up to his ears.

And, although Iwaizumi didn't say anything else after that, the look in his eyes told Oikawa everything he needed to know: 'it's not your fault, you did your best and we all know that, no one blames you.' 

A weight had been lifted off Oikawa’s shoulders; all those pent-up feelings of never being good enough seemed to melt away in the blink of an eye - in a way only Iwaizumi could do. He was so overwhelmed with so many feelings that all he could do was laugh as the relief set in. Iwaizumi, who was confused at first but then offered a soft smile, reached up to grab Oikawa's neck, and then proceeded to lean in for a kiss. Iwaizumi was about to pull away when Oikawa deepened the kiss by leaning down further and grabbing the hem of the other man's shirt. He could never put into words how thankful he was for Iwaizumi, so he was showing him. Likewise, that kiss was meant to reinforce how much Iwaizumi wanted to tell the other man, how hard he worked and how much of an inspiration he was to him and everyone around him, and he wanted to keep reminding Oikawa of just how much he meant to him for the rest of his life.

When they pulled away, Oikawa wore the brightest smile on his face that Iwaizumi had ever seen; he'd also realized that, in the weeks leading up to the tournament, he didn't see Oikawa smiling much. He didn't realize how much he’d missed that smile. Iwaizumi couldn't hide his giddiness either.

"If I'm going to get this treatment every time we lose, I'm gonna start losing a lot more," Oikawa joked.

"You better not!" Iwaizumi replied, his usual scowl evident on his face, but smiled at the implication that there were going to be more matches in the future.

And Oikawa, although still upset over the loss, had realized that he could be okay with losing if it meant Iwaizumi was there for him. 

____________________________________________

A/N: tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed UvU! This is the first fic I’m actually posting. If you have any criticism/feedback lmk!! I did proofread this but there might be some mistakes that I missed, if there is I’m sorry e.e’. 

[southsidestory]

you have bipolar disorder? how did you get to that conclusion? did you go to a doctor? i don’t want to self diagnose but i’ve read up on it a lot and it seems like my grandfather, father, and i have it. its made life super difficult. I even stopped writing ff bc when i posted, people wouldn’t understand how depressive episode make you not want to do anything for literal months at a time and would berate me for not updating 1/2

2/2 and my family is Mexican so they believe that mental illness is an American Thing, so i cant really go to them for help, and i wouldn’t even know where to begin with a doctor. what was your experience with it?

I did go to a psychiatrist, yes, but I had been experiencing symptoms since I was 12. I was 26 when I was finally correctly diagnosed. Before that I’d been misdiagnosed with MDD (major depressive disorder) and put on a cocktail of meds that mostly made me worse. Being correctly diagnosed is hugely important, and I highly recommend that someone see a psychiatrist rather than self diagnosing. 

But. Not everyone has the privilege of easy access to a psychiatrist, and it sounds like you’re in that category. And I can say from personal experience that I knew I was bipolar before I was diagnosed, because it runs in my family and my symptoms were astoundingly obvious by that point. Since you asked, I’ll tell you about my experience.

As I said, I started experiencing bipolar symptoms when I was a kid. I also have PTSD and GAD, and my anxiety has been with me all my life, but my depression started when I was 12. A nurse practitioner put me on the antidepressant Lexapro, which made me worse--because antidepressants don’t work for bipolar people. Our brains aren’t wired for it. So I quit taking Lexapro and didn’t attempt to treat my mental illness with medicine for the next ten years. 

I also started having hypomanic episodes as a young teenager, but I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I wouldn’t sleep for days and I’d be highly productive and feel great, so why would I complain about that or think it’s a problem? But the longer I went untreated the more severe my episodes became and the longer they lasted, and by the time I hit my 20s I was in a really bad place. Depressed 85% of the time, hypomanic 10% (although I didn’t know that’s what it was), and “normal” about 5%. My depressive episodes often lasted for months at a time, briefly broken by a week or two of hypomania, after which I’d plummet right back into depression.

I went to a psychiatric nurse practitioner when I was 22. He assumed I was depressed and put me on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. That mostly made me worse. The only thing that ever really worked was Abilify, which is an atypical antipsychotic shockingly used to treat bipolar disorder. That really should have been a fucking clue, but I went improperly diagnosed for another four years.

Being on a cocktail of the wrong meds made me worse, which led me to stop taking my meds cold turkey, which is always a bad idea. In April 2016 I had a horrible mixed episode, although I didn’t understand what it was then. For those who don’t know, a mixed episode is when someone is manic and depressed at the same time, and it’s pure hell. During my episode, I broke up with my partner right before our first wedding anniversary, quit my job, and almost committed suicide. (Then I moved back home and my mom promptly died, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms.)

Fortunately my partner and I got back together, and they helped me figure out what was going on. They’re also bipolar, but unlike me they were diagnosed as a kid, and our symptoms presented differently so that’s probably why neither of us saw it for a long time.

I finally saw a psychiatrist at the beginning of 2017, and I went in already knowing what I was going to hear. My mom had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder a couple of years before she died, so I knew it ran in my family. My symptoms had worsened significantly and my hypomania had finally become so distinct and unhealthy that it couldn’t be overlooked anymore.

None of my previous health care providers had ever asked me, “What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest?” If they had, it would have probably been obvious that I suffer from bipolar disorder, not unipolar depression. Because my “happiest” looks like extreme periods of creative productivity, days or weeks of insomnia, and some very bad decision making lol. Usually followed by a crash landing back into depression.

So I guess that’s my question for you. What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest? If your “up” periods sound like hypomania or mania, which I’m sure you’ve read about, then yeah there’s a good chance you’re bipolar. :/

And if you are bipolar, I cannot stress enough how important it is to get proper medication. I don’t want to scare you, but something like 20% of bipolar people die from committing suicide. And those are just the successful ones; the number who attempt, sometimes multiple times, is much higher. This is an extremely dangerous, disabling, potentially deadly illness. Although you can learn helpful coping strategies in therapy, and a good support system is also very important, the #1 thing you need to treat bipolar disorder is medication. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain that, for 99% of us, cannot be effectively managed without mood stabilizers and/or antipsychotics. Every bipolar person I know (my mom, my aunt, my partner, and one of my friends) didn’t get better until they were on meds, and it was the same for me.

All this to say, if you suspect you’re bipolar, I encourage you to do every single thing in your power to get to a psychiatrist. I’d like to say your family might come around, but if you say they believe mental illness is an “American Thing” then I believe you. In which case, you need to advocate for yourself now and worry about their opinions later. Assuming you’re an adult, which I’m *really* hoping you are. If you’re a minor, that makes this much harder.

When you say you’re Mexican, I don’t know if you mean you’re living in Mexico or living in the US. If Mexico, I can’t point you toward resources, but if you happen to live in the US, most major cities have FQHCs (federally qualified health centers), which are aimed at serving poor people, and many of which provide mental health care services.

If you do have access to a psychiatrist, I can give you some pointers on what to do before your first appointment. I went into mine with a list of symptoms and how long I’d been experiencing them, family history of mental illness, previous medication regimens, and a summary of my trauma. When I handed it over to my psychiatrist she was like “Well it’s quite clear that you’re bipolar. I’m sorry you’ve been misdiagnosed for so long.”

If you’re comfortable DMing me, please feel free. Regardless, I hate to hear that you’re struggling, but I do want you to know that things can get better. I honestly feel like I lost the years between age 12 and 26, because I spent them so miserable, but since getting properly medicated my life has turned around completely. I want to see that happen for you too, nonny.

[conversationswithmybipolarchild]

#2: WHAT IS BIPOLAR DISORDER?

FELICITY: Bipolar disorder is a mental illness. Key word one: “illness,” meaning you are afflicted with it. Key word two: “mental,” it being a part of the brain. 

F: Mental health is as important as physical health. They are both very important, they go hand in hand. Bipolar disorder is a chemical imbalance in the brain. Whether or not it comes upon you after a traumatic event, or when puberty hits, or if it- if you show signs when you’re born, it doesn’t matter. it is all a chemical imbalance. 

F: You are born with it, no matter what. You can go...twenty five years without seeing any symptoms, simply because you never had anything to jumpstart your bipolar disorder. But, if you have bipolar disorder, were properly diagnosed with it...you were already born with it. It was already in your brain. 

F: Bipolar disorder is categorized by highs and lows in your mood. That’s why it’s called a mood disorder [edit: it can also be called a psychotic disorder]. Not just simple, everyday highs and lows like everybody has, it’s not just “oh, I feel sad today, it’s not just, “oh, I have a lot of energy.” It’s extreme. 

ANJA: That’s why they’re called poles. That’s why it’s bipolar disorder

F: Yes, it’s the two poles, the high and the low. 

A: The mania and the depression.

F: So mania, is when you...[trails off]...

A: It’s the high. 

F: It’s the high. Mania is the high, that means you have a lot of energy, you are very impulsive, can have a lot of aggression, rage, risky thoughts, risky behaviors.

A: Racing thoughts. 

F: Racing thoughts, absolutely. Nightmares, hallucinations, hypersexuality, violence, paranoia...

A: Also, I don’t think this is an official symptom, but coming from myself and a lot of other bipolar people, you get this feeling where you’re like, crawling in your own skin. 

F: Yeah. Definitely. I hear that one a lot. 

F: So, symptoms of a depressive episode is that you...well, you are depressed. Not just kinda sad, you feel really, really, down. When I’m depressed, and I have major depressive disorder, when I’m depressed I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to take a shower. I don’t want to get dressed, I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to be anything. 

A: There’s no motivation whatsoever. 

F: No motivation whatsoever. 

A: I don’t get depressive episodes very often because I have bipolar I, and I get manic more than I do depressed. I don’t really- I don’t have to worry about depression, unless I like, unless I have no stimulation in my everyday life. 

F: You have to stay busy in order to not get depressed. I’m the same way. If I don’t want to sit in that pit, I have to stay busy all the time. That’s why I’m constantly going, and going, and going, and doing, because if I just sit for more than a couple days, I’m in that pit and I don’t feel good. 

F: So, another symptom, another result, of bipolar disorder, is uh, suicide. There is a hefty suicide rate among bipolar people. That is- that is the worst part. And as a parent of a bipolar child, knowing the statistics around bipolar disorder and suicide, it’s enough to kickstart me into a depression. It is- it worries me. 

A: The, um, I’m not gonna say the only reason, but it is one of the biggest reasons why I didn’t try to kill myself when I was younger, was because I’m so afraid of death. Maybe not death, but what happens after it. 

F: To tell you the truth, me too. It absolutely terrifies me. 

F: So, some statistics from the NIMH, claim that 2.9% of thirteen to eighteen year olds have bipolar disorder, and eighty one percent of those kids have it severe. It’s bad enough to be hospitalized, and make their life really difficult. 

F: So I was reading earlier...about bipolar disorder, and someone asked the question, “can someone with bipolar disorder live a normal life?” And it says here, “people with bipolar disorder usually go ten years before being accurately diagnosed. Treatment can make a huge difference. It is a chronic health condition that needs lifetime management. Plenty of people with this condition do well, they have families and jobs and live normal lives.” So that ought to give you a little hope for the future. 

F: That’s...that’s the other thing. Meds...they are- in my opinion, they are a must. It’s beyond me how people aren’t medicated. 

A: I think it’s really funny how, um, how after I was diagnosed bipolar, the last thing you wanted me to do was be on meds. Now, we depend on it. We have to. There’s no choice. 

F: As you were growing up and you were being misdiagnosed all over the place, meds were the last thing on my mind. We tried every single thing else. We tried discipline, rewards, I tried diet changes, we tried all sorts of therapy, I tried changing the way that I parent! And none of it worked. 

A: Because you can’t just change those chemicals. Without medication. 

F: You can’t! Exactly. You can’t change those chemicals. Absolutely. I’m the same way with mine, my MDD. It doesn’t fix itself. I need medication to give me the right chemicals. To balance those chemicals in my brain. That is a must. 

F: So, we’ve talked about what bipolar is, now let’s talk about what it is not. It’s not learned. It’s not a discipline problem. It’s not something that you can beat out of a child, teach out of a child, train out of a child, It’s not something that’s going to go away. And it’s not something that’s just going to one day change. It’s an ever evolving illness...

A: But it’s always there. 

F: But it’s always there. And unless you’re treating it with therapy and medication, you’re fighting a losing battle. 

A: Chronic is the key word. 

F: Chronic is the key word. Bipolar disorder is a chronic illness. 

A: Which, that really scares me. Because I’ll have to live with this for the rest of my life. 

F: Let me tell you something. I’ve described severe depression as rain. Imagine you have to go out in the rain. And you have to change the tires on your car, you have to check your mail, you have to walk your dog, you have to go to work. You have to hoe your garden, mow your lawn. Daily things, but you have to do them in the rain. That’s what my brain is like every single day. I will always live doing everything in the rain. And that’s a daunting thing to think about. 

F: I can still do all those daily activities, but you know how when you go in the rain, everything’s just harder? And you’re just slightly more miserable doing them? That’s what it’s like with MDD, I’m constantly having to force myself to do things. And when I do them, I’m miserable. It’s harder for me. It’s harder for me to go take a shower than it is for other people. It’s harder for me to do things because it’s like when you’re out in the rain, everything’s just that much harder.

A: It’s like- I’ve said it before- but it’s like when you do anything, it would be much easier for a neurotypical person.   

F: It is much easier for a neurotypical person. They’re not fighting chemicals in their brain. 

A: They’re not fighting their own mind on a daily basis. 

F: Yeah! And I know that’s exhausting. I know your brain is tired. I know you’re tired. I know you are. But you can’t really think about it that way, because then you’ll get overwhelmed. I can’t think about how I will never not be in the rain. I can’t think about it...because that’s just gonna throw me back in that pit. And I can’t live my life, raise my kids, and take care of everything I need to take care of..if I’m in that pit. 

A: And it’s okay to be miserable. It’s okay to rest. 

F: As long as you don’t give up. I like Kevin Hines’s hashtag, #beheretomorrow. Today might not have been the best day, but as long as you’re here tomorrow, that’s what matters. 

F: Let’s touch on what bipolar disorder means for you- for us. What does bipolar disorder mean for you? 

A: I really hate to say this but...bipolar disorder is a part of me. And I can’t change that. I mean, sometimes I really wish I didn’t have bipolar disorder, but I don’t know what I would be without it. 

F: Absolutely. I completely agree with you. I feel the same way about myself. I don’t know who I would be. I don’t know who my father would have been, who my grandmother would have been, without mental illness. 

F: While I understand your sentiment, I think that because you’re medicated, and nobody else was, you are more you.

A: And less bipolar disorder. 

F: Yes! Exactly. When you were eight years old and running away and acting out, being violent and raging, I didn’t know who you were! I couldn’t buy you gifts, I didn’t know what you liked. I didn’t know your personality...all I knew was this child I couldn’t connect with. All I knew was this child that absolutely hated me. 

A: I was mostly bipolar disorder. 

F: One of the more prominent symptoms that you had was lack of motivation. Smartest kid ever, bad grades. It’s not that you didn’t know the work, you just didn’t turn stuff in. Soon as we got you on medication, that mostly changed. 

F: Super energy. 

A: Aggressive. Frustrated. 

F: Violent. Raging. Yeah, those were scary times. 

A: I had anger issues.

F: A lot. Yeah. You couldn’t focus on anything. I know a lot of that are symptoms of ADHD. 

A: Which is why I got misdiagnosed.

F: But its the hallucinations and the nightmares that sealed the deal. That turned things around. When we brought those up, it turned things around. That’s when the term “bipolar” came into play, and it fit. It fit you. 

F: I know that some of the symptoms in my family, that are or were mentally ill, were definitely instability. Never being able to stay put. Not being consistent. Inconsistency was huge.

A: Even me, now, medicated, I can’t stay on the same routine or the same surroundings for more than a month. I have to change something about my life, whether it be my room, or, hell, my Tumblr blog. There has to be something that changes. 

F: I agree. I’m the same way. I get very bored very easily.

F: Money! Money was a huge problem when I was growing up. You know, nobody could save. They would spend wildly. 

A: Money? You mean lack of!

F: Yeah. It was impulsive spending. That’s one of the bigger symptoms of bipolar disorder in adults. Impulsive spending. That was a huge one when I was growing up. 

F: My family was never very affectionate. They were always very distant. 

A: I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t affectionate.

F: Well, that’s the whole reason I am affectionate, is because I was starved as a child. I needed affection and I never got it. So, it was super important to me that I be an affectionate parent. I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t affectionate either, because I thrive on being close to you guys. And I don’t want to raise you in the same situation. In an angry, distant, impulsive, unstable situation. I don’t want to raise you that way. 

F: So, what did we learn today?

F: That it’s a little scary.

A: It’s scary.

F: But it can be managed.

A: It can be managed.

F: And you’re doing a fantastic job. And I’m doing a fantastic job, and your team is doing a fantastic job. 

F: Do you remember the time we were standing outside Old Navy and you told me you wanted to buy a gun?

[blank stare]

[elm-ckenzie-blog]

Major Depressive Disorder

I had a talk with my psychologist today and she offered the idea of talking about my experience with MDD on a public forum. The reason for this is because I am a writer who was working to be published and she thought it would be a good idea to write about my experience as I have the skills to do so. So, this is my attempt to do as she’s asked. I’m not sure what to expect out of this but I’ll try my best to see if I can raise awareness for how this mental illness affects myself. Please note: this illness tailors itself to whoever it affects. My experiences may not be the same as yours but I greatly encourage you to share your experience. I will always be available to talk to anyone who needs it.

I have the suspicion that I was sick for a long time before anyone realised but it was brushed off as teenage angst, that my anger and outbursts at my fairly stable family were nothing more than me being a rebellious teenager. In actual facr, I was in a lot of pain but didn’t know how I wasn’t supposed to be feeling that way. I believed that I was going through was perfectly normal and I was just doing what teenagers were supposed to do. How was I supposed to know that wasn’t the case? I didn’t know anything but the world from my own perspective and my own perspective was pretty narrow. I was a kid. I only knew what others told me.

Fast forward a few years and I drop out of high school after giving up on myself and my education and get a job. I work at this job for near on 5 years but then something starts going wrong with me. Suddenly, I’m sleeping nearly constantly, I’m barely eating and I only get out of bed when I have to get ready for work. I’m tired constantly and I’m irritable as hell, snapping at anyone who dares to talk to me. I just want everyone to leave me alone. I see now, this was the start of my severe decline but, at the time, I wasn’t aware of how much I was sleeping.

I was aware that I wasn’t eating and wrongly thought that I had an eating disorder. I now know that my MDD had robbed me of my appetite but it was with this belief that I went to the doctors. I moved back home, having been living by myself for two years, quit my job and attempted to attend university to build my writing skills. Unfortunately, my decline continued and I started getting intrusive thoughts about harming myself. At the time, it wasn’t something I paid much attention to, after all, I am a writer and random images jumping into my head kind of comes long with the territory.

The problem started when my brain started to urge me to copy these images. Instantly, red flags went off and I started searching for help. I am an incredibly lucky person that I had access to counselling the moment I realised something was wrong and also, that I personally didn’t have a problem with talking about it. I would like to thank all the people fighting for awareness of mental illnesses for allowing help to be so close and easily accessible these days.

However, I still deteriorated further. I started questioning what the point of living was. i was in so much pain that the fact that leaving this world would hurt the people around me started to seem less important then ending the pain that seemed to be tearing me apart from the inside. Wouldn’t it be okay to leave? It wasn’t like anyone would care that I was gone. Aren’t I a burden? Aren’t I hurting them? I can’t do anything right, they shouldn’t have to put up with me being sick, they don’t have to look after me. They just feel like they have to. Even when I tell people that I’m not well and they try to oppose it, my brain tells me they’re just saying it. “Filling in lifes script” is what I refer to it as. Something along the lines of “Hi, how are you?” “I’m fine, how about you?”. We say it because that’s what we’re supposed to say just as the people who tell me I’m worth something are only saying that because they’re supposed to say it. I am a problem they feel urged to fix.

For several months now I have been in therapy and have been taking medication after ending up in the mental health ward of my local hospital for a week. I am constantly fighting against the pain and the exhaustion. Wanting to end my life but also not wanting to die is a strange paradox to be in. I eventually decided that everything would be better if I had simply never existed but as this isn’t something I can accomplish I just have to hope that there will be something good at the end of this fight. I have to hope that this fight won’t be like this for my entire life and there is something to look forward to, something to continue fighting for. That’s all I can hope for and I can honestly say, that hope has saved my life countless times.

Sorry for the essay. i wasn’t sure how to start this blog so writing my story to this point in one post seemed like a good idea. I don’t know how many people will actually read this but I really want to know others stories, with any kind of mental illness. Please, tell me your stories. I’d love to know about your journeys. It’d be great to know that I am not nearly as alone as my MDD likes to make me think. Thank you for reading this far.

[she-could-only-destroy]

I need to get my story out there.

For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been in a committed relationship for over 5 years. A year before that, however, I was in an abusive relationship. I want to tell my story (and show off how lucky I am to have my current boyfriend). TW; emotional abuse, attempted sexual abuse, threatened physical abuse. Also, WARNING: Strong language

As I mentioned, I have been in a committed relationship for over 5 years with the love of my life. Before this, I had a few "serious" (what I thought were serious) boyfriends, & I was with one of these boys for over 6 months. I know, not a long time, but FOREVER when you're 13 like I was. This boy emotionally and verbally abused and scarred me, and towards the end it got dangerously close to physical and sexual abuse. Like I said, I was 13 when we started dating. We were in 8th grade, and I had been crushing on him for about 2-3 years prior. When he finally asked me out, I was ecstatic, and even THAT is an understatement. Little did I know...my life was about to become hell. It started like any other middle school relationship; sitting beside each other in bus room and at lunch, calling each other every night, and texting each other a lot when we both got a cell phone. Then it turned into him texting me 24/7, even at school, to see what I was doing. If I took more than ten minutes to reply (even at school), I got accused of cheating and “being a whore”. Keep in mind, at this point we’d only kissed a few times. This was around 2 months in, & I just thought he was being over-protective because of how much he cared. We said “I love you” for the first time sometime that month, and I believed him. At barely 13, I was ECSTATIC to be “in love”, so when I would go to his house & he would demand things from me (I’ll let you imagine, but not actually having sexual intercourse), I let it happen. I let the red flags slip because he wasn’t hitting me. I wasn’t in physical pain, so it had to be healthy and normal, right? Keep in mind, this was only about 3-4 months in. This behavior went on for another month or so, and then it got worse. EXPONENTIALLY worse. When I’d go over, we would play “hide and seek” with his little brother while his parents had their attention elsewhere. The only real rule was that their room, that they had shared at the time, was off limits. So, of course... my then-boyfriend would take me & “hide” in there since his brother wouldn’t be checking. (He was only around 9 at the time, I believe, so he didn’t know any better). He would make a blanket fort on the bottom bunk (his bunk) of their bed, and we would lay there and make out for, like, ten minutes until his brother gave up and yelled for us to come out. One time during a game of hide and seek, he pulled out a condom from his sock drawer. A grape-flavored condom. At THIRTEEN fucking years old. We were both virgins, and I didn’t have any desire to change that. I didn’t even realize what it was until he asked if I was ready to have sex with him. I said “no” repeatedly, and he just kept saying “come on,” “it’ll be fun,” “you know you want to,” “just let me do it,” etc. and kissing me and trying to take my clothes off and put his hand down my pants, getting more angry and aggressive as he went. He was not letting up and I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified. At this point I yelled, “Time’s up, (brother’s name)! We’re in here! (Boyfriend’s name) cheated!” That, of course... made him even more furious with me. He angrily tossed the condom back into his drawer as his brother came in the room, and that was that. Neither of us spoke about it to each other ever again. Around month 5, he threatened to hit me for the first time. I was in Tennessee at my grandma’s on vacation. We were texting about how much we missed and loved each other, and he asked if I had been seeing another boy while I was in Tennessee. I told him “no,” but he didn’t believe me. He just kept pestering me about it until eventually, I got tired of his constant accusing and put my phone in another room and just relaxed with my family. After a few hours, I went back in and got my phone. I was flooded with a stream of “WTF are you doing?”, “I know you’re cheating right now you stupid whore,” etc. I texted him & told him I “had” to put my phone away because I got in trouble for being on it too much. He said “I don’t believe you, I know you were cheating on me.” After a while of me crying my eyes out in the back bedroom trying to convince him of the truth, he finally believed me. I remember the next text he sent me word-for-word. It’s been nearly 6 years and I can still recite it perfectly. “I swear to god if you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill the boy and get you with whatever strength I have left.” My heart sank. My fairytale had turned into a horror movie, and I was terrified. I didn’t tell anybody, and for the rest of the trip he kept telling me what he would do if I ever cheated. When I came back home to West Virginia, I made up every excuse not to see him. Freshman band camp was starting soon after I got back, so of course that was my main excuse since only band students can be there (or so I said). After discussing the overview of that summer’s events with friends (I left out the attempted rape & threatened physical violence), I knew it was time to end it. I texted him that it was over (dick move, I know). He pulled the “I swear I’ll kill myself if you do this,” “I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe,” etc. So I texted his parents to check on him & they said he was fine. I ended it then & there. I was free. Until school started, anyway. Luckily by the time classes began, I was dating a “big bad” junior. He would not even DARE talking to me because he was terrified of my new boyfriend. So...that was the end of that (you know, except the depression, anxiety, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder [PTSD])... I had already been showing signs of Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), but my mom was holding off on treatment for me in hopes that it would be better once I was free of the hell I was in. But...it got worse. I developed full-blown MDD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), and signs of PTSD (not diagnosed so I don’t know for sure if it’s that or just a sub-set of my anxiety). From then, I had the boyfriend that scared him off, but that only lasted a few months. Then came...the big one. My first love. The only one I would ever want to be with. (Or so I thought). To make a long story short: this kid and I had been off/on for a few years, best friends since we were in diapers, and I had known I loved him for a while, but pushed it off because he wasn’t interested at the time. We dated for a few months for the last time, and then he broke it off because he “wanted to be single”...even though he started dating someone else a few days later. But we’re on good terms now, so I won’t get salty again. Then...when healing from my broken heart, I decided to message the first single, attractive boy on my Facebook IM. (Yes, it was still called Facebook IM, with the automatic pop-out boxes and everything...damn I’m old). This boy & I knew each other for a few years prior, because he was (still is) best friends with my older brother. We talked on Facebook for a few days and then exchanged phone numbers. We were in the same section in band, and we sat next to each other at community band practice. After about a month of being close, I knew I really liked this kid and there was something special. He asked me out one night at 3am & I said yes. 5 years later (as of June 10th, 2017) here we are. We’ve had an apartment together for over a year, and we’re more in love than ever, and keep falling deeper in love every day. This man has loved me through everything. Every psychotic break, every inconvenience, every suicidal moment, EVERYTHING. Somehow he hasn’t given up on me. I don’t deserve to have someone like him who loves me even half as much as he does, but GOD am I lucky. I truly believe that we are two halves of a whole, and we were destined to be soulmates. He is my other half, and I’d like to think that I am his other half as well. I could not be any more thankful for this amazing man. He is my soulmate and my saving grace, and I honestly don’t think I’d be here without him. To make this whole story short: Life was shit, but then Andrew came along. And I love him so much for that and everything he does. Side note: HUGE thanks to my amazing Criminology professor for helping me realize that my story matters, and it is valid. The abuse may not have been physical, but it left me scarred. And that’s okay that I am scarred, because I am lucky enough to be able to come forward today & tell my story from the outside. If ANYONE has anything like this that they feel they need to talk about, whether it’s advice or just venting, I AM HERE. I will always be here. YOU ARE WORTH MORE. I love you.

[aquarianlights]

Hey Killian, it’s been a good minute huh? That one strangers back from a long stay in an institution. I’m sorry for not being around to give you the kind words I wanted to. You’re a beautiful man my dear. I love that you can go into long flowing monologues over the littlest things. The way you put words together is unlike anybody I’ve met before. Keep being you, my dear Killian. You’re stronger than you know and I believe you can be anything you want. You can do it!

It’s okay. You need to take care of yourself, too, okay? I’m going through a major, major rough patch in my life and honestly the only place I can vent is on a completely anonymous site where no one can find me. It’s the one and only place I keep anonymity. Which is very weird. I mean, I’m transparent about who I am and everything but the site is so... small and unknown that no one would ever trace me back to anything like the normal social media sites. It’s unreal. I’ve used it a lot in the past, but I was never really, er... anonymous on it. I stretch the truth a bit on there to make me feel more comfortable. Nothing about my life. Everything about my life on there is true. More-so facts about me. For instance, I don’t disclose my transgender status and pass myself off as cisgender very blatantly. Little things about myself like that that would make a reader NOT connect it to ME. Lies about Killian not being my first name. Lies about my initials. As my initials are KQR. Stuff like that so if someone WERE to find me outside of that site, they wouldn’t so much be able to connect the dots unless they were to find this answer right here, which is highly unlikely. But honestly... if it does come to light, I wouldn’t be that upset about it. Because the lies aren’t big and it’s not like I’m forming friendships or bonds with anyone there. And no one looks up to me or forms bonds with me like they do on social media. It’s more of a ....follow my journal entries and send me messages if you want. I can make certain entries private if I want. Blah blah blah. Like. I don’t make anything private, obviously. Anyone who knows me would know that. In fact, anyone who knew me WAY back in the day would actually know what site I’m talking about and yes, if you’re one of those people and you’re thinking about a certain site that I used to be very popular on a long time ago anonymously in the top most popular diaries/journals section for... gosh, months, years? I don’t even know. But if you’re thinking of it, you’re right and yes I’m back there and yes feel free to go find me. I’m p easy to find if you know what to look for. My entries are all true to my life so if you know what site I’m talking about, then you’d be p intimately involved in my life in some way (or... a stalker of some sort LOL) so you’d instantly be able to read even ONE of my entries and know it was mine either from my writing style or from the content of my life that I write about.

I mean, I’m definitely not suppressing emotions like I used to. That’s stupid and immature and the most childish thing anyone can do. Like, no, I’m not a fucking teenager. I’m 26. I’m not suppressing anything. I express my emotions freely and let them flow however and whenever I want or need them to in whatever way I desire wherever I desire. But it’s also nice to have a place where I can be completely anonymous to every single goddamn person on that site and just... be able to vent nonstop and not bother anyone because of my chronic pain issues and the psych issues that come with having severe chronic pain and the stress that goes along with my life and my majors in my two schools. It’s ridiculous.

I don’t know if it’s been scientifically proven that bitching and whining and being loud and noisy about your issues when they’re severe and interfering with your daily life can help... but it has ALWAYS helped me. ESPECIALLY when they’re physical. I feel like that’d be a neuroscientific view of triggering the active distraction mode versus the passive distraction mode in your brain when you literally cannot do anything because of the physical pain and there are no pills or IM or IV meds to help anymore and all the physical therapy, electrode therapy, gels, creams, patches, and anything else will not help. The only thing left is a neurologist... and for that, I have to wait for my insurance to transfer. Sigh. LONG fucking wait and who knows if it even will, tbh. Fuck the government. Fuck america.

Anyways... I’m just having a really rough time because that’s the biggest issue right now and that’s just overshadowing all the other “major” issues which would be like... the major issues in a normal person’s life that would p much shut down even the most neurotypical of people, but I seem to be handling it like a boss. So idk. I’m a fucking demi-god, though, so that’s why probably. Pfft.

I cannot even BEGIN to list the amount of adulting things I am doing on the daily that people are not even slightly seeing because it’s all overshadowed by the fact I need really long breaks and need to be laying down a lot because of the fact I now have the prodromal symptoms to scoliosis and need an MRI stat. So that would just be fucking FANTASTIC to add on top of fibro and ehlers danlos. Fucking shoot me, tbh. I’d take death over this chronic pain any day. ANY DAY.

The pain is so bad that I’d take all the years of suicidal MDD where I was attempting suicide every other day and slicing myself to shreds all the time, barely existing as just a pile of apathy and lethargy, unable to even function as a normal human being coz I was too busy trying to die all the time and fighting with all the people who were forcing me to stay alive.

I literally stabbed myself with a pen just to try to take my mind off of chronic pain and see if acute pain would make it better. Wanted to stab myself with a steak knife but couldn’t do it... coz my A&P classes have me freaked out I might hit something... ugh. And I begged my roommates to hit me over the head with heavy objects or punch me as hard as they could in the temple or strangle me or rip a chunk of my hair out or stab me for me or ANYTHING that would cause major acute injury/pain. They wouldn’t do it. And the pen stab felt like a mosquito bite for about 2 seconds. And all my very serious migraines that impair me to the point of being unable to function at all just feel like pressure now. My joint and muscle pain from fibro and ehlers danlos... are practically gone because of how bad my spinal pain is. And when they examined it, sure enough, ligaments were out of place and either popped out or inflamed...very badly. And the lumbar region ... that part of the spine was just... too far down. It was reaching way too far down into me and sharply pressing onto or into something. And it’s twisted. The wrong way. And it’s fucking agonizing. Thank fuck the doctor was like “Jesus christ, fuck the opioid epidemic... you need this.” Because everything I have been using---voltaren gel, tens machine electrode therapy, lidocaine patches, oral nsaids at the maximum dosage, tylenol at the maximum dosage switched every two days with nsaids, lyrica, physical therapy, valium, who knows what else at this point---hasn’t done a single thing and it is only getting worse and worse every single day. And it’s getting to the point where my gait and my speech and my gestures and my vision and my concentration are..... gone, so to speak. And I’m experiencing the worst sense of vertigo ever and I’ve almost blacked out so many times that it’s terrifying because I have to lay on the nearest object---NOT lean, but LAY. The floor, a bed, a table, a chair.. LAY down on it. Otherwise, I would black out. And I have absolutely NO idea why.

A neurologist is my last and final hope... coz I’ve seen every single other fucking major specialist, barring a chiropractor which is a LAST resort option. If anyone is medical... you’ll all know why and I know you’re all snickering and nodding along with me.

ANYWAYS

Life is fucking painful and I am playing Dark Souls on nightmare mode. I thought living with crippling suicidal depression and a ton of psychotic disorders was daunting and impossible to live with. HAHA. Fucking hell, man. I look back at all those years and fucking LAUGH thinking about it compared to the pain I feel right now. NOTHING compares to it and I would take it all back and get off my medications if someone would just take all of this pain and these physical issues away. For fucks sake. ...thought it was impossible to live with... thought it was the worst thing in the world... I was such a child. Lmao.

So..... that’s the major thing that’s overshadowing everything else that would break a normal, neurotypical person and would probably break neurodivergents just thinking about it, nevertheless doing it, so idk how the fuck I’m functioning. I really don’t know. Here I am at 6am writing this reply because the pain is always too intense to sleep with. Even with these pain killers. Sigh. Fuck this.

Ahem... Rant over. I really go on rants about the most random of things. Jeeze. But that’s why I love myself. And why a lot of people love me. Or hate me. Either or. Doesn’t matter which. Haha.

But I really hope you were put on the “good” side and not the “bad” side or the “bad” building so that you don’t have ward induced PTSD or came out worse than going in. I’ve never been on the good side, but everyone who has are the people who are always the ones who are the ones saying “No omg wards saved my life and they are great whine whine wards are amazing and I’m gonna voluntarily commit myself every time I’m feeling anxious now hahah they’re so good for the soul!” and stupid stuff like that. Maybe not to that extreme NORMALLY, but I damn well HAVE seen it to that extreme quite a few times and dear god it’s annoying because they are the ones who are set in their ways and won’t listen because they’ve been in wards so, obviously, there’s no such thing as a “bad” side or they would know. So they call to find out or ask at their next voluntary admission and see if there’s such a thing and when they get the answer of “no” on the good side, they come back adamant that there’s no such thing because they don’t know how that works, how the laws work, and what the entire purpose of the “good” versus “bad” sides are and how they came about in an historical context and they don’t even bother to listen attentively for the slight codes over the speakers or the hushed phone calls to and from each side. Or, if they’re lucky, it’s COMPLETELY out of sight and out of mind because it’ll be a completely different building instead of a different floor or different wing. And then they get REALLYYYYYYYYYYY set in their fucking ways. In that case, it’s fucking IMPOSSIBLE to talk them out of it because “Well what you said didn’t happen, so it’s wrong. Duh.” Yikes. Just... yikes. Like, hello, hi, yes, I’m Killian and I stopped counting my institutionalizations at 20 times so I don’t know how many I’ve been in now but I’m p sure I know how it works now. Not to mention I dated someone who worked at one. So you can just, uh, fuck the hell off, yeah? (That’s usually some snarky response I have in my head when I’m flabbergasted at the ignorance these people have, honestly, to not know of the existence of the separation of the two and WHY they are separate and WHY it’s all hush hush when you’re on the good side and you don’t hear about it and WHY you have a grand fucking jolly good time on the good side and feel it genuinely helped, WHITE BECKY. ugh. Me at these people, seen below, as a corgi.)

.

..

...

BUT ER YEAH SO UH

I really hope you were on the good side so that you actually got help and so that you didn’t come out worse and with a huge extra shot of PTSD attached to your already very valid issues. And I’m so sorry if you got accidentally or purposefully thrown on the bad side. It happens accidentally a lot. Hell, an older woman with Alzheimer’s was on my unit once. It helped everyone, though. There wasn’t any blood spilled while she was there because everyone was doing their best to help her. She didn’t belong there at all and it was just her grandkids fucking her over for some reason we weren’t privy to and ... oh jesus christ, man, like thank fuck I have a heavy medical background. Came in handy. Really did. Ofc, as soon as she left, it was back to the blood and nonstop fights and lockdowns and thorazine cocktails and getting strapped down for nothing more than a sarcastic comment and all the physical and verbal abuse from staff and patients alike and the not getting seen or heard and this and that blah blah blah I could go on for hours.

But ahhhhhhh......... Just really hoping they purposefully (or even accidentally... either way is perfect) put you on the good side and you came out either the same, okay, or better for it. Take care of yourself and heed your own advice.

I want you to do something for me, okay nons? I want you to take every bit of those kind words you say to me and I want you to imprint them on yourself. Can you do that for me? Take all those words and internalize them and make them your own. If it helps, imagine I’m saying them to you. Okay?

I mean, in the end, you do you. Coz you’re an awesome person and a loved person. So... if that means ward time, then okay. That’s fine. You do you. I had to learn that the hard way. It’s not a bad thing. The only bad thing is the PTSD associated with it all and ofc all the things associated with PTSD... which is uh... you know... kind of er.. LIFE CHANGING IN THE WORST OF WAYS.

SO take care of yourself, okay? Dw about me. If I die, then it’s a purely good thing. If I live, then it’s an equally good thing and bad thing. Either way, I win in both scenarios. Since there is no getting rid of chronic pain. Especially the two chronic conditions I’ve been diagnosed with and now THIS spinal thing that I have no idea what it is except the prodromal to scoliosis or possibly actually scoliosis. . .which could and WOULD destroy my life. So. Right now, I have no reason to live, tbh, The pain is THAT intense. Yes, I have reasons but they’re overshadowed by how intense the pain is... Except for Echo. He’s the only thing thing I’d have a hard time leaving. I’d have to find someone I know and trust with steady finances throughout their entire adult life who knows how to handle spitz breeds and can properly take care of a neurotic 17lb pomeranian and really has the time to devote to him and all.

Most people cannot handle a pomeranian or spitz breeds in general and I honestly did not know that until I got Echo and owned him. I thought I knew what I was getting into just from extensive research and my grooming parlour history and my volunteering history and my pet sitting history. But... no... I had no fucking idea the extent at which you have to go for spitz breeds. And double coats. It’s... WAY above and beyond. And then on top of that, he’s diagnosed neurotic which is a little different in terms of what that means in dogs than in humans. So he’s, er... snappy and he’s very... adversarial. 

“A neurotic dog can be defined as a dog that is excessively anxious and highly emotionally upset.”“If your dog seems moody, in need of constant reassurance, and excessively suspicious of other dogs or cats in the house, or even of human beings then chances are you've a neurotic dog.”Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/1113508

That’s a pretty damn good and concise article on canine neurosis. Echo is more extreme in his neurosis than most. It happened before we got him. That’s why they called him “The Bully” and told us “Oh no, you don’t want him” when I was adamant that “Uh yes. That is going to be my dog and you cannot tell me otherwise. I don’t want the others. I want him. He is my dog. He is MY dog. I am HIS human. We are family. . .” I have never had a connection wth an animal like I do with my son.

...which is why I cannot die for him. And why I DO have one reason to live for that DOES overrule the pain and how intense it is.

The rest of my reasons... some come close, some are right at the border... some are right ON the border... but none are above it. If you get my drift. Echo is the only thing keeping me here.

...and honestly? It sucks. It sucks that I have to remain here because that’s how bad the pain is. My dreams to stick with pre-med and follow it through all the way to my dream residency program and one day be an attending at that hospital and take on a fellowship.... That is one of the VERY few things that are so close to the top of the border that it’s almost bursting through to Echo level... but not quite. And that kills me. Because I finally found my purpose and I may be knocked out of the game before I can even find out if I can make it there. Because of my body and because of physical disabilities that I cannot help and could never foresee. It had nothing to do with genetics. Nothing to do with my drug use or my alcoholism. Nothing to do with any of my habits. It was all completely fucking random. It was literally... Ehlers Danlos and fibro? “Some people are just born with it.” That is verbatim what my rheumatologist said to me when I begged him for answers on why this was happening to me, holding back tears. “Is it genetics? Is it what I did in the past? I used to do a TON of illegal drugs and drink a ton, too. Usually at the same time. All day and all night. It was terrible. For years upon years. And I’ve been anorexic for a long time. And this and that and... I don’t know. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!?” “Some people are just born with it.”

Fucking hell.

Alright, I’m gonna shut up.

But, man, that felt good to rant.

Thank you for being my muse. Lol.

And I appreciate the encouragement so much.

People either LOVE my little novellas to death... or they’re like “What the fuck is with you ranting about absolutely nothing when someone just says “hey” to you? Completely unnecessary.” I’m like “Uh, FIRST OF ALL” and then I complete that WITH A NOVELLA LMAOOOOOOO. And usually get the answer “Uh, okay, professor. I’m not reading that.” And it’s great because I usually didn’t write it for them. I usually write it for me. So I know they’re not gonna read it ahead of time because of hat comment.. so I just write about a ton of stuff that I’ve been needing to vent about for a long fucking time and get it out and no one will read it because they think it’s a furious, passive aggressive rebuttal to some nice guy(tm) telling me he hates the way I go into tirades like this. HAHA. So it’s a win-win situation for me when people like that pop up in my life. The simpletons who give me one word introductions or one line phrases. I get to respond with huge novellas and they get SUPER offended about it for some reason and feel it’s necessary to tell me how offended they are in that passive aggressive manner and it’s just... ahh, it’s so refreshing to me because it feels like my weekly debt collector calls. I absolutely LOVE my debt collector calls. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, if it’s a debt collector, I stop what I’m doing to answer it. It’s just so much fun. I feel bad for one of them, though, coz it’s the same guy who has been assigned to my case and I end up changing my spiel to him every time. So now LAST TIME HE ASKED ME “Is your name [birth name]?” as per usual to confirm it was me before going into “This is a call to attempt to collect a debt” spiel. And I answered with “You know, I’m actually not sure. You tell me.” And he FUCKING HUNG UP ON ME AND I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN MY LIFE. Every debt collector call I get brings so much joy into my day that I just... even if I’m having the worst day and I’m sobbing on the couch about to slice my forearm open... if I debt collector calls me, I will answer and pretend to be a forlorn widow, twice abandoned, which is obviously why I’m crying because my partner just ran out on me. TRAGIC, AMIRITE. I like it when they have enough heart to ask me “What’s wrong” when I say “I just... don’t know if that’s my name... I’m in such dissarray right now that I don’t even know who I am anymore.” And they say “Maybe I should call back later.” And I say “OH no no, this is a fine time. I need a distraction. Desperately. Please. You’re all I have.” Which then normally chimes the hesitant “This is a call to collect a .... actually... I just... what’s wrong?” And then I have to force myself to keep crying as I put my 10 blade down and go “Well, you see, it all started when...” and I make up some super elaborate story, choking and voice shaking all the way. Improving on the spot. It’s SOOOOOOO much fun. Jesus fucking christ. And by the time I get off the phone, I’M NOT SAD ANYMORE AND I DON’T WANT TO KILL MYSELF ANYMORE!

But the ones where I can just... answer EVERYTHING they ask me with a question... and then when they FINALLY (very frustrated at this point, ofc) get to the end in double or triple the time that they should have, I’m guessing, and can ask me “What would you like to do about x amount of money/How would you like to pay/take care of this?”, I instantly drop whatever facade I had going to say something like “Bitch please, you can send that bill to the orange in the whitehouse. He’s the one who is forcing it to continue happening in the first place.” I keep that one as concise as possible. It has a major variation of that every time, though. Telling them to send it to Trump with the implication of how opposed I am to our healthcare system and how angry I am about my exorbitant medical debt and how completely unnecessary it is that I have it and how the 1% should be fucking paying it until the ones in power fix it to the right system, with absolutely bitterness seething from every fucking syllable like fucking poison. And then, ofc, they stutter on the end of the line: “I, uh... we... we can’t do that, so, uh... how do you want us, to, uh...” “Well, dear, let me spell it out for you. No, I really will spell it out for you. Are you ready? I have the address to the white house. Got a pen and paper handy? Computer?” “What? No, you can’t jus-” “Okay good. So the address is-” And I go on to speak OVER THEM with whatever address is listed online that I can find in the moment through a quick google search and as they try to cut me off, I just talk as loudly as I can. And every time they try to cut me off or tell me they can’t, I just get this super chipper, sadistic tone and go “Awe, thank you so much for sending it for me! I’m super excited to hear the response from a piece of fruit! Don’t think those tiny hands are big enough to hold a pencil, but we’ll see, eh?” And the jokes just go ON AND ON and I have a fucking MILLION of em and they don’t STOP and they’re terrible and I DO NOT STOP until the debt collector on the other end is so frustrated that they finally say “I’m going to put it down that you’re not going to pay.” And I just keep responding with. “You’re such a sweetheart for getting that payment taken care of for me! Now, where did you say you worked out of again? What’s the weather like? Super hot here in New Orleans... gonna be one HELL of a summer. GET IT!? HELL!? HAHA” Click. Line dead. And then I’m just fucking howling as I drop my phone.

And my POINT is (yes, I actually have a point, wow haha) that when good guys(tm) feel the need to point out their unnecessary opinion about my completely unnecessary novellas of ramblings, I like to respond with one paragraph of a “FIRST OF ALL” message so they think the ENTIRE message is going to just be a passive aggressive rebuttal... and then I have a bunch of fun with the response and get to vent a fuckton about what’s going on and get to also have a ton of fun and throw in “did you know” facts and horrible, horrible puns and dad jokes and then end it with a paragraph that seems like it would be fitting to a rebuttal that was started in the first paragraph because I legit do want to write a rebuttal but I don’t care enough to say much but I love to use the opportunity to vent in a public space (usually here on tumblr when a nice guy anon sends me a question I deem stupid or in a threat on fb that I deem stupid and a nice guy(tm) is mistreating my friends and I have to sigh to myself and step in and make everything better, as per usual, because confusing the masses with doublespeak and making people question whether or not they’re absolute correct information and absolutely wrong information alike is right or wrong is my specialty). 

Public venting is the only way that things make me feel better because I need an anonymous audience. I don’t want to force people to listen to me whine, but I need a platform where people CAN listen to me whine if they WANT TO (and surprisingly a LOT of people do lol) and get feedback and help and similar stories and advice and such of their own free will without me prompting anyone or asking for it. Helps a fuckton. Just writing stuff down in a journal or notebook? Doesn’t do a fucking thing for as a coping mechanism. Forcing people to listen to me? Boring and defeats the purpose and isn’t a coping mechanism for me coz that means they’re not actively listening. Like psychologists. People who are fucking paid to listen. I don’t trust people who are active listeners. I need passive listeners. People who will overhear a conversation in a coffee shop I have on the phone with someone in a corner while there’s a group of perfect looking, white, trust fund, fraternity and sorority people chatting and laughing loudly in their expensive brand name clothes in the middle of the shop and have that one person come over to me after I’m done with my phone call to say something about how they like this or that about how I talk or was interested in what I was saying and wanted to know more about x or y. Or something else about a topic or the way I spoke and gestured or something weird like that that really intrigues me and makes me feel heard and appreciated and loved because I never prompted anyone into coming to me. Never.

And that, my friend, is the story of why the grinch stole christmas.

No, that’s the story of why Killian literally needs a public platform to vent on.

Okay now I’m REALLY done. I swear. I promise. I fucking PROMISE lmaaaaoooooo. Sorrryyyy.

Nah, I really hope you’re okay, fam. Coz I certainly most definitely 200% am NOT haha.

Live long and prosper.

[theanxiousqueen]

FROM THE HORSES MOUTH

Well, this will certainly be different. Okay, let’s get started.

Hello to all of you out there beyond my computer screen. My name is Eliza, aka The Anxious Queen, and I have GAD, OCD, PTSD, and MDD. I am a familiar acquaintance with mental illness. I am an enemy of my own brain. I am a dreamer who fantasizes what it would be like to be “normal”.

This blog was started on a whim after I sat down at my computer this morning and realized how much my life has been turned upside down in the last 8 months. My need for an outlet has always eluded me and talking about my feelings with my loved ones is not my forte. Holding a conversation verbally is also not my strong suit - I typically say the wrong things, trying desperately to convey a meaning that I know isn’t coming across well, and before I know it, I’ve either insulted someone, embarrassed myself, or am being made fun of for speaking my mind.

Every day, I hop onto Facebook only to be met with a flurry of posts talking about anxiety and how people who don’t have it, believe they have a good understanding on it when in reality, no one will ever have a good enough grasp on what it is truly like to live with this debilitating disorder unless they have it themselves.

To this day, mental illness isn’t handled with the care and respect it deserves. It’s treated like fragile glass and swept beneath the rug to be dealt with at a later date. Figureheads turn a blind eye to the growing masses who are coming forward showcasing severe distress and the inevitable result is the shootings we see on TV. And who do the people turn to? A close-minded president who would rather spend his time Tweeting his thoughts and treating this country like one of his reality TV shows than showing his face for support like any past president we’ve had and coming up with ideal solutions to help eradicate the problem.

Frankly, I’m sick of it.

Mental illness has become a taboo subject that no one wants to touch on. But unfortunately, it’s here, bitches, and it isn’t getting any better! Ignoring something that exists doesn’t make it go away any faster. In fact, it’ll fester and grow until one day, it implodes and becomes infected and before you know it, it becomes a pandemic that you can’t get rid of.

...

You get what I’m saying, at least, right? 

Mental illness is more severe, more dangerous, and more common than people would like to believe. Depression isn’t just having the sniffles and crying for a day. Anxiety isn’t worrying about whether you paid your electric bill yesterday and then shrugging it off fifteen minutes later. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder isn’t just needing shit to be cleaned constantly. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder isn’t merely a flashback.

It’s crippling with your brain ticking off every little thing wrong; small, big, real or not. It’s the weight of the entire world’s problems resting on your shoulders - a burden that you must carry because sure as hell no one else will! It’s the looming shadow of “What ifs” following you day in and day out. It’s your biggest fear cradling you and cuddling you in bed before you try to sleep, but low and behold sleep isn’t your friend and you’re left to lay there listening to whoever is next to you snoring away, if you even have a bed companion! 

It’s guiding yourself blindly in the dark with no hand to hold, no working flashlight, no wall to feel and stairs to trip you at every turn.

It’s hearing your dog whine and instantly worrying whether they’re sick or dying before calling every vet in the city and forking over money you don’t have to fix what MIGHT be wrong with them. It’s your phone ringing with “Mom” popping up on screen and your heart drops because just MAYBE this is the moment you discover she’s in the hospital and you have to rush there to say goodbye. It’s you constantly looking over your shoulder for whatever disaster will happen next because it always happens to you. And its so crushing and painful - it steals your breath and every happy thought you have.

Anxiety, Depression, OCD, PTSD... Mental illness in general is a thief that robs you of you, and the process of winning yourself back is exhausting, painstaking, and brutal with no real guarantee that you’ll even be able to recover any of the pieces that was stolen from you. Sometimes the pieces you have don’t fit together like they use to, or you discover you’re missing something and you don’t know what it is.

Anxiety isn’t always losing your shit. Sometimes it’s staring off into deep space with your head resting in your hands, other times its hyperactivity or the need to cling to whoever is around. Talking to fast or too slow, fidgeting, not fidgeting, pain in the muscles, headaches, nausea, dizziness, fast heartbeats, chest pains, fainting spells... All signs of anxiety.

There’s no cure for it and telling someone to “Get through it the best you can” doesn’t do anything. Sometimes one thing that helps you to “get through it” one day, doesn’t help you the next.

Every day, I have an anxiety attack. Every night, my sleep is disturbed because I have nightmares and panic attacks that elevates my breathing, causes me to flinch and kick, and makes my heart beat so hard that it wakes me up. I don’t know what to do about it except live.

That seems to be the basis of all the treatment I’ve been subjected to. Live through it, find your safe place, and run to it. Breathe. Take a shower. Color. Talk to someone.

Do mundane things to distract yourself from the shadow that looms over your shoulder and whispers in your ear constantly, and maybe one day if you ignore it enough, it’ll go away.

What if I don’t want to ignore it?

What if ignoring it is the problem?

What if the distraction is the problem?

What if I don’t know what the problem is?

There is no simple treatment for something that hardly anyone understands. I’ve lived with GAD and MDD all my life and I still have no real comprehension of how to handle it. Constantly, I have friends who approach me, seeking advice on how to deal with a panic attack that they’re experiencing and often I’m left scratching my head and telling them solutions that only work about 35% of the time for myself while internally screaming and thinking I may have just made their problems worse.

What may work for me may not exactly work for you, but I have to be doing something right. I may not feel sane, but pulling myself from bed each morning is an accomplishment I feel is worthy to acknowledge. Going through the motions day to day seems normal enough, even though everything that exists outside of me lives to pile on the backbreaking stress that is sure to one day put me in an early grave.

All-in-all, what I post here, I hope it at least helps to alleviate someone’s anxiety, if not to spread awareness. If I am able to achieve that, then at the end of the day, I can pat myself on the back and hopefully get a good night’s sleep.

HELPFUL RESOURCES

@noshameinoursickness - What is Anxiety? / Degrees of Anxiety / On Anxiety Medication

Anxiety/Depression Support Blog

@recoveryisbeautiful - Types of Anxiety Disorders

@mylifelivingwithanxiety - Tips for Dating Someone with Anxiety

@disintegratedsanity - How to Bring up Your Own Mental Illness Issues With Your Friends

@mentalillnessmouse - Getting a Therapist Step-By-Step

@katimorton - Which Type of Therapy is Right for Me?

Online Counseling College Blog - Coping Statements for Anxiety

[theglassbutterflii]

In Flare ... I Write

When I have flares, or when the MDD “comes out of remission”  - I must say it is a whirlwind of a time. Sometimes I honestly don’t know in my mind if I’ll make it through it. I always have to FOCUS on the fact that - this is temporary - just remain consistent and it will pass. This thought is not always easy to keep up -�� because sometimes flares are more than hours. Whats worse is sometimes you don’t know WHY there was a flare-up.  It’s a horrible experience. But, it does pass - the thing is to let it pass. I use to hold on. 

I actually had a flare this time for over a week - I was down. In fact I’m still working on getting my energy together to clean my kitchen. I eat snacks vs eating a meal because I haven’t meal prepped yet, and through all of this - I’m still able to hold conversations, make people laugh and be here for friends - but at night, when I’m alone - I spiral further out of control - and I cry for at least 2 hours straight - until I’m sleep. 

Well, this time I said ok ... I’m going to video myself tomorrow morning when I wake up. I woke up at 3pm - so it was not the most MORNING moment I had. IT was also a disappointing moment because I hadn’t awakened on time again. So with this whole feeling of disappointment, I grabbed my iPad and I turned on the video and I just started talking to myself about how I felt. That moment birthed my very first piece since I’ve left the hospital, and started my meds, and my journey to better myself. So here is the transcribed piece that came from that talk with myself on Wednesday, November 15, 2017. This is all off the top of my head - 

I don’t normally explain my work because of course, it is what it is. But after thinking more about it, it could be looked at metaphorically -Below the transcript. And the audio -

Just One Reason (Life)  *audio*

He wasn't perfect but he was perfect for me Until I found out He was being the he that he wasn't meant to be ... so in my discovery ...

I knew that I had to either readjust or leave But I must understand that people change and things change and seasons change and ... change is the constant

So it was never going to stop But I did have to drop a little bit of knowledge on him

I had to let this man know that I know who you are ... Now I had to ask this man how could you be who you were toward me all of that time ...

All of that time that I thought you were mine and I thought we were us - but we were nothing - but you, me and who you showed me.

i didn't want to offend you ..

Because of course, I knew that you knew what you were doing - I didn't know how to tell you that I had figured out who you were - and you weren't the real you - so I just sat back and watched it - you know and let it stew inside of me ...

And thennn ... you did the ultimate

You played me for dumb because I couldn't come ... forward and tell you who I knew you were. I knew that the personality that you displayed was not who you were ...

So hell I was bein played. I knew the love that you say you gave was not real ... so my heart you decided to steal?

All under false pretenses ... All under mass pretends - You came with a plan - You knew from the beginning what you were doing - but you didn't care what you were doing because it was fun for you - it made you happy to have someone be happy because of you - It made you happy to feel the love because somewhere along the lines - the lines had been cut and you didn't feel love .. that much.

So you decided to create a love line by .lying about who you were.

Now see this ain't no catfish shit - so lets not even go there. Cause I don't give a fuck what you look like ... I don't give a care ...

All I'm sayin is ... you were not who you ARE ... when you came to me. And you took it too far. And when it got deep So deep that you couldn't even pull yourself through you knew there was something that you had to do - to get out of this quicksand and you then ran and hid until you felt it was safe.

You felt it was safe and you came out with the biggest story ... the biggest issue ... to excuse you from the shit that you did, because you know my heart - hell you had it

So you knew if you came out with some big shit ... my emotions it would hit - and I wouldn't hold you responsible for leaving me

You knew that if you came through with some good shit ... some omg whoa is me what the fuck i’m go do, where i'm go be type shit - that I would put myself behind you - behind all of your issues -.  

and just do you pursue youI’ help you be there for you do everything for you care for you and forget about myself ...

The problem in that way of thinking ... the problem in that method of thinking is I didn't just forget about me - I lost myself. I lost myself because my heart was so overtaken with caring about you.

I lost myself because in my eyes it wasn't wise - to leave a friend in limbo in hurt, in pain - but you did the same ... to me.

I allowed your problems, your issues, your emotional imbalance to imbalance me ... causing me to be more or less free ...

I wrapped my wings around you so therefore I couldn't be fly I directed all my wind toward you so therefore I couldn't take flight I gave you everything that I knew I should be giving to myself cause I felt you needed help

Now, I could have very well been burying my issues in yours ... This ain't about who's got more problems. This is about energy being directed, redirected, sucked up - taken whatever the case may be - this is what this is about - this is about absorption  - absorption of emotion this is about exhaustion emotional exhaustion This is about taking caution when you deal with people.

I don't know how long you have to know somebody before you know if they be who they say they be ... I DONT KNOW Maya said when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time So Hell you said who you were, it was the first time ... I believed it So Issssssssss the fault mine IS it my problem? Is it something I did? Is it because my emotional GPS was off from the beginning and it guided me toward you? Or was it some type of magnetic pull that I couldn't get out of - Where it just drew me into the pool of fuckery that you swam in -

I don't know what it is I don't know why I can't let it go I don't know why I want you to hurt as much as you hurt me I don't know why I want to have my emotional pain manifested into physical strain on you ... I don't know I don't know why these things are happening

All I know is that you broke my spirit. And it hurts me to hear it ... coming out of my mouth That I allowed another man to break my spirit. You ain't the first you ain't the second - hell I don't even know if you're the third ... and you may not be the last because I seem to move so fast - when emotionally - I need to slow the fuck down.

I need to chill out Find out what I'm about I need to do these things before I get so tired of me Before I get so tired that once again - I won't want to be

You know I pray every night for myself For you For those that I know that love me For those that I know couldn't care less about me

I pray for their understanding Their motivation their self-esteem All the while I should be praying for me I should be praying every single hour of the day that I just want to stay - here

I should be praying for God to give me just one more chance to make this work I should be praying for God to understand that, I am just a woman. I am just part of man that he created

And he knows my mistakes ... he knows the flaws - the moves I'm going to make before I make them And sometimes I get pissed about that - cause I'm like God why you just couldn't tell me - this man ain't right.

There is a path I have to take A lesson I have to learn Points I have to earn In order to be prepared for whatever comes my way

Pastor say if God ain't talking to the storm he's talking to you I believe that I do -

So I'm trying to listen.

But I have lost the spirit of Forgiving

I have tried I have faked it I have acted I have reacted I have tried to understand I have tried to overstand Overdo Underplay The role that I gave to you -

You know I don't even know if it's me or you I can't forgive - all I know is that at this point in my life, the desire to live - is slowly fading.

I know I know I can't blame that on you - cause like I said before you just who u be - when you wanna be - and that's just the person that you chose to show to me -

I wish people would understand, that before they make that plan - to come into somebody's life and switch it all around - if the person is doing good without you - and you don't plan on being true - leave them the fuck alone. Because ... some of us have a problem moving on - Because our whole hearts get involved - and it's hard to resolve - the mistakes that we made. And sometimes that price that we pay - Is our life.