#twseflharming

[artgirllullaby]

The truth below this... “me”

So another year huh? And all I did was… mostly be absent.

Come on, I think by this point every single one out there who follow me noticed, either you’re close, far, if you follow for my work, fanfics, or whatever, you saw that last year I did pretty much… nothing.

That comes partially from procrastination, I won’t lie, but… There’s a whole lot that was happening that I kept out to very few, and when I say this I mean that even my parents, brothers and best friends didn’t know some stuff. Only recently I got better to get in contact and talk it out to them and say all the good and the horrible that had been on my mind.

And while I know most want to share the good that happened in 2018, I need to say it wasn’t that good year for me, and to get it out, I want to say it all out and be honest. Then I know there’s nothing I need to hide or be scared of sharing because… if there’s to be known, it’s just to click to read.

That’s why I’m writing this. And because of of the stuff here is very sensible and can be triggering to some, I’m putting on the below. So… avoid the triggers by reading the tags if you have any of them, and if you do but still wish to know how I am, feel free to contact me, ok? I assure things are better now, but if you need a bit more of ease, I don’t mind doing so.

If you decide not to read, just know It’s been a very hard thing on me, but I’m getting better and I’m taking care and getting help and trying my best to keep my hopes and myself up. I’m thankful you cared to read this and I understand if you can’t read any further because of the tags. Thank for considering yourself too and not taking a hit “for my sake”, it makes me actually happy that you consider putting yourself in the position to know where your limits are and to know you can’t go further. Proud of you, little one. If you feel like, don’t think twice before hitting my ask or inbox, ok? Hugs, thanks for being here still.

#personal #me #lullytalks #venting #anxiety #depression #stress #mentalinstability #TW #twseflharming #twsuicide #twanxiety #twdepression #twstress #twgad #twdd #triggering #Triggerwarning

For you who decided to click the button to continue reading anyway, Please remember I’m writing this at once and also that you’re free to stop at any signals of discomfort, unease or triggers. Thank you for taking time to read this anyways.

2018 had been many things, it had been fun and tiring and stressful, and even enjoyable for a bit. But as many other stuff in life, when silence keeps to long it can be taken as a bad omen to bad happenings.

If you ever played Jenga, then you know how it works; if you don’t, it’s basically taking a piece on the base and putting on top and hoping that it doesn’t break down in your turn. Which in the game is fun because you have to think over your decision to what piece to move and not move the tower and the pressure you have makes it fun… In real life? makes you wonder “why one takes the weight in the base of a structure to move to the top if that overweights the top which will obviously make the project/structure fail because the base cannot hold that weight and so it will go down eventually?!”

And well, that was my in 2018, a whole big game of Jenga in which my life are the pieces, and people around me are players as me and the game is ok to everyone but me.

Some of you know, I had a co-worker who had been basically unbearable to work with from the moment she found herself pregnant, and by the law the company can’t fire her until her baby is born and a bit older (around 6-7 months older she gets the licensed and secured), and so after her time secured was over the company did fire her because of her behaviour borderline toxic/abusive toward others. Things finally where getting a bit better with the substitute and things going better in company.

I had been having difficulties with my mother, who has becoming more controlling and hovering over me. If wasn’t enough our communication that was bad begins to go to ruin to worse, rotting to the point I’m back to when I was 15 and I saw her as a stranger. I try to change and get closer. Here is the funny thing about relationships, if doesn’t matter if it’s a friend, a lover, your soulmate, your husband, your sister, your parent, your cousin, your godmother, your father-in-law or whatever that person means to you, as an universal law, it takes both parts and effort to make it work and flow.

And there I was, trying to arrange something we do, we try to speak, to voice out things that hurt and annoys me for us to change for better, because that’s how it should work. One speaks, the other listen, then it’s their turn and so after both saying their sides they try to come in a middle term or a point they can agree on to live better and no one is bitter over the matter.

But that was not what happens. Mom takes the cards I lay on the table and use against me, she takes things on the past against me, she flips the table and now she’s being accused and she’s the victim and I’m the one who’s blind to see how hard she tries to make us all happy and ungrateful, on how I keep pulling distance and I stop talking and avoid talking. I’m the one who doesn’t know she gave up her college, to work and make an career on her own, that father comes tired and deserves to rest for working hard everyday to never miss anything at home, and that she has to bare my sister OCD and ADHD while I’m not there, that she has to keep the house well and do everything… And so, yet again, my voice is cut. I lose courage, my anxiety rises, and I’m afraid of saying anything to anyone, I’m afraid to be a burden, to bother anyone.

I laid on bed that night in silence as I stare at the blank wall and listen to whatever music is on my playlist. Because I know, I fucking know how much their lives could be different for a number of factors, one of them being the fact if I wasn’t born on the worst timing as I did, I know in numbers how much that could have changed, even if my father makes sure to assure me it’s nothing he regrets or I did wrong, I know it wasn’t planned and I know too, it could have changed everything.

Piece moved by mother, my turn is skipped. The player can’t play with shaking hands.

The temporary at work was dismissed, not because someone was finally contracted, but because the boss thought we could do without it. Now, how a company survive without it finances department? Yep, it doesn’t. So they pick someone they think they can reply on to do the job, and then guess what? There I am. Working with numbers and money and it’s stressing more and more since I really didn’t applied for this and it does make me nervous. Then I find a list of mistakes the temporary left and I have to fix, plus more work… and meanwhile I am doing that, my own work papers are there waiting in my table just piling up to the moment I finish up and go do them. Which makes me more stressed, because as long I take to do them, the rest of office needs to wait to keep the workflow. So there I am, working for two, being paid for one, getting some extra hours, and getting exhausted.

My boss moves another piece.

Therapist notice I’m getting more stressed, and things had been getting me easier and some triggers are getting back. I’m getting more and more unstable. She makes some tests and takes another look on my whole history with her on the last 2 years, she also takes a look on my medication and notice there was a change for a higher dose, and now it’s twice a day. She’s worried, she tell my parents to show up and talks to my father (cause mother didn’t show up - a piece of my Jenga went missing), only after a few more sessions she gives me a diagnosis: GAD, aka Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

I’m not progressing in my treatment, in fact, with everything going on with me, I got worse and instead of moving to eventually not need therapy, I need the sessions now more than ever.

My mind moves a base piece, the tower balance a bit.

Things continue going on, everyday begins to be harder and I find myself more tired. Sometimes I get home from work and just take a bath and sleep. I’m missing my appetite, I’m slowly cutting ties with friends and stop talking to them or most of them and taking distance without anyone noticing. I hardly access social media for exceptional to check a thing around here or there. I begin to get anxiety when I try to write once again and begin to be ashamed on myself and my cycle of self-punishment for not being able to write any longer or often, nor I have courage to say anyone besides the therapist all that’s going on.

Even so I try to make an apology and explain at least the part that because I’m working by two and being too stressed and tried is sadly taking out on my creativity, many agree and support and decide to give me the space am I thankful for… Still the two people I considered dearly as readers hurt deeply as I come to known their true meaning. That they already disliked the story on the point it is, that I should have just put as finished and given up and stop writing, and then suddenly other people who I didn’t even know begin to say things on the back and… I just wonder what happened to the respect and honesty I had asked from the beginning. To see so much hate suddenly going out of nowhere was surely discouraging, and on the state I was, I was not only discouraged as I was intimidated to even think on continuing.

Next thing I know is that just as my originals, I am unable to open any of my fanfictions and work on them. I shake, I break down on tears, I get too nervous, I’m unable to concentrate, I begin to question if they were right and if everyone else was just sorry of pitying on me or if they just played along. Then all the files stay in there with the originals, blocked in my unstable mind unable to product anything worthy.

Unknown people move some pieces, the tower shakes.

...

A week can be such a long period of time for some things, and a short for another and sometimes, for the very same reasons. To be fair I still don’t know to say if was a quick or a slow week since there are blanks in my memory and I just have the impact ones. But one thing I can tell for sure, it was a hell of a week.

Monday begins with my mother waking me up and hurrying up to get ready, she still doesn't notice that I’m not well. I try my best to get ready fast as I can, I take my purse to get in the car and get a ride to go to therapy and then go work. I open the door, she already took the car out and look at me; I just have to climb and it will be fine.

She look to me, than take a turn and accelerates the car, so there’s no time for me to catch up. And I am left there with my hand on the door looking on the empty place where I could have climbed the car just by few seconds, but she couldn’t wait because her class was more important than my therapy session. Because her appointment was more important than me in that moment there.

Another piece goes missing.

I’m taken by such sudden sadness and hurt that I wasn’t able to stand or breathe, I stay in the couch for a bit, my sister offer to take me to the therapist in her way to college, I just shake my head. I find out I got no voice, not even strength to talk or even look at her, but she shrugs and go. I somehow make to the bed and lay in there, sleeping. It’s the first time in 3 years I miss a day of work - I didn’t miss even when got sick -, I don’t talk to anyone, I don’t eat, I don’t have water, I don’t go out the bed, I just stay in there and sleep or stare at the blank wall trying to understand what is the feeling inside me. My therapist text me and I lie saying I had a problem, but will show up later in the week.

The next event is after I am able to speak better again, which I’m not sure if was next afternoon or two days. I walk into my therapist office and then find out my health insurance decided to cut the therapy sessions I still had, they want the word of any other doctor saying I do need the therapy and I need to do that in every 3 months or they won’t allow me to continue my treatment. I try to argue with them and reason that I wouldn’t be going if wasn’t necessary, still they say it’s a new rule to everyone so no exceptions. I can’t go to therapy, nor my therapist can treat me out her office, to pay each session it’s out my reach and I already pay for health insurance that should and does cover my treatment, so these rules make absolutely no sense… All I know is that I need my other endocrinologist to give me permission to get treatment, even if there’s nothing to do with her, and the appointment I have is a month away.

Health takes a piece. The tower starts shifting.

I make a huge mistake at work. Because my head isn’t in place I misunderstand the information I am given and end up messing up part of the payment I needed to do. I paid the wrong provider, the other one who does need the payment is stuck and now the central need to find a way to locate the other guy because until the right provider gets the payment he are getting behind track. I get stuck the whole day stuck between fixing my mistake, calming the provider and having to listen silently my boss calling me angrily for a solution.

Work moves a piece. The tower is barely standing.

It takes the next day to put my paperwork in order. the problem of paying the wrong provider still on going, but seems on a way to solution, so I could take a bit of time to focus on getting the work flowing and laughing in a way to avoiding to cry.

Last day of the week, so I can take a bit of rest, I just need hang in there a little bit. Just a few more hours and I could be home so another piece could go missing.

As we get home, my mother gets out. She starts arguing with me and father, ordering we don’t even leave the car, cause my sister needs assistance. I immediately think of the worst as she just is learning to drive and than my father replies it’s not that big deal the car failed her. I am between angry and confused, angry for worrying for a minute that it was something dangerous, confused to why my mother is making such a fuss over the car simply failing on my sister trying to turn it on and making such a fuss on having my father go there.

Things begin to scalates as she raises her voice and begins to argue with him and she tries to calm her, only making her angrier and then threatening to make a scandal and break the car window if he didn’t go. And then changing her mind to do it if he didn’t get out and let her go alone and get out the car.

Neighbors were already starting to look, I was the only in home by them aside the two, tired, getting triggered by all the stress and situation, anxious and then… something snapped.

The tower fell down as I touched to move a piece.

Somehow I took my mother hand and said determined enough for her to get in the car that they both should go. That I wanted them out the house, out of my reach and out the house. She listened by some miracle and I got inside breaking down right after before blanking out.

August 13rd, 2018. I probably won’t ever forget this date. It was a friday, I can remember clearly because it I just had laughed on the irony that it was a friday 13rd and it was being so bad on me at work. It was night and the dog was around me as if he sensed something was wrong… or he just wanted to go for a walk.

Things are blank, as if for the moment I broke down I wasn’t really there, like wasn’t me in my body, or taking control, or too shocked and overwhelmed to notice anything and just let it move and do whatever my brain decided it was best to.

Now that I used Jenga example I find it as a perfect example to explain that blank moment. It’s the moment a player found themselves holding or just after placing the piece and everything comes tumbling down, there’s a paralyzing moment that everyone around stay still in shock watching the tower fall in a mix of wonder and confusion to move only after all the pieces stopped to fall, then you and others try to evaluate how it failed the strategy before picking the pieces around to put the Jenga together again for another round.

That was that blank moment, the moment of wonder and confusion, of complete loss in which I lose myself and the control to the point I don’t even remember how things happened exactly.

All I know is that suddenly I had a knife on my hand and was standing on my kitchen and looking on my other arm.

;

I took one breath, I had went to the kitchen and started to something to relief myself. I took a second breath, I decided to hurt myself because the punishment of all my wrongs seemed like a way to relief back then. I took a third breath, I was just about to cut myself; I don’t know if would be a deep cut on my wrist, arms, lightly or whatever, but definitely wasn’t a good thing that I was up to take hurting myself to that point, and worse, to have no idea on how far I would have gone if I just suddenly get back into my senses in that seconds. I took another breath, I put the knife back in the drawer and close it.

I start to cry again, but for another reason.

Because it had been 10 years. Ten fucking years I had celebrated and considered successful just to find it this demon back again on me. I’m not just depressed and anxious as I thought. I’m back to when I was 15, in this very same kitchen when I sat in the table with a knife on a hand and a bunch of mixed medicines on the other side as I watched the clock and decided when I would put the end.

I’m suicidal again.

;

It’s enough, and I’m done. I just… couldn’t. I put myself on bed, in a way of self-grounding, I decide I will not leave the bed for the next days or talk to anyone unless necessary. And I did well, because I seriously had no idea what I would be able to do if I left that bed in the state I was.

Only in the third day I speak to my closest friends about it all and get some relief, I listen to music to try keep my heart from failing me. I am unable to be back on me again for months, I get back on therapy. I get diagnosis that my depression got in the stage of Deep Depression and at this point, my therapist alone isn’t able to do much alone. I’m somewhere between trying to recover and accepting things are just as they are. She recommends me to get assistance in a group with my family and send to my father, I decide to give a try even if not giving much hope.

My father doesn’t receive the message. Therapist mistook for my mother number and sent to her, my mother dismiss the message and says it’s no big deal and I should not mind about it. I feel hurt she dismissed so easily without talking or even looking up to it, but on the other side I’m also accepting the fact she doesn’t take me as her daughter anymore. And little by little I realize that’s not just something from my mind, as she doesn’t talk that much with me, but with a friend she has with my age and often tries and offer help to her, and then there’s me there. I set in my mind I need to leave home so she can take the daughter she wants to adopt in, and because I need my own air.

My father realizes I’m not well and that my relationship with mother is going from bad to worse to even breaking. He tries to help, my therapist call her in once again to try warn her and tell her. She avoids and miss the meet ups just like a thief runs from the police, and I decide that if she’s not even trying at all, then I won’t either.

My medicine changes to twice a day, I’m still bad, but with therapy back I’m getting a bit better by the days. I decide to travel alone in my vacation to somewhere new and where I know no one and no one knows me.

So I find myself in Curitiba in December.

The city is pretty and with gentle people with smiles and colors around, or so I’ve seen. Maybe it was the feeling that I had space for myself, that I could take a breath and not worry about it. Which also led myself to taking a walk in the grass.

Bad things happened still, true, but to be sincerely? The worst has passed for now, other still to come and, it’s ok in a way. I’ll fall down and cry and be on the ground for a while as I need, and then take my time to recover and look up and be able to talk about too.

So it may had been I took a blind eye to the world and to the rest of you, but the truth is that I don’t. But it’s hard to discuss when there’s too much pain and hurt inside you. and as much it was egoist of me to focus on myself and turn my back to the world, sometimes is necessary. and I learned that now, sometimes it is necessary to be egoist in reason to get better and it’s ok, as long you do get better and know where are your principles.

Taking the trip made me realize that. It also make me realize that taking a time away for yourself, taking a bit to breathe is ok. That my absence in order to not hurt anyone else might have been a void, but was a void necessary for me. I needed to relearn that taking a time to walk on the grass, to look in the sky, take a breath, to look around and take a moment in life… to do any of that wouldn’t destroy the world or anyone else.

The world wouldn’t end because I needed a break. No one would die because I wasn’t able to finish or accomplish something as I wish, just as no one died so far. the one one who has been dying with all this it had been me, killing myself slowly inside out.

Now I do realize that. I’m still far from recovering, I do realize that and know very well, I still have depression episodes and anxiety attacks often, I’m still on a long way to say I’m alright. Maybe I’m never gonna be 100% fine or sane per say, maybe some part of me will always have anxiety and depression because of my brain or whatever but… I hope in that in my lowest moments I am able to look at this moment where Lullaby wrote this about the real me and I can remember to step down a bit.

I’m 25 now, I celebrated 10 years over giving up on suicide when I was 15, and after that… even if I still have suicidal traces for now and dealing with them, and even if I had a recent episode… I guess I can celebrate and count over again, so in ten year I can celebrate 2 times, right? This may be stupid and sound optimist but really… It’s just me trying to take the needle of good in the pile of garbage this all had been. Doesn’t erase the garbage and all it had been, just... trying to desperately find a little thing useful so I can say it wasn’t all Hell and throw it away like I did with my teenage years.

So this is it. I was absent and I’m recovering, right now I’m trying to get on track of writing and reading again. I am 25, diagnosed with Deep Depression, GAD, I have to take medicine to keep in control. I have to change jobs and hope to do soon. I try as much to listen and comfort everyone and make laughs because the last I want if to anyone else to feel the way I do.

And with that being said, I can breathe out and finally put the last year as it is: the past.

As I always say, let’s prepare for the bad and always hope for the best, and onwards to 2019. :)