confused-chinchilla-122

[confused-chinchilla-122]

Last night, I told my mother "I wish I was dead" in a fit of rage and winter clouded her eyes. But it wasn't white and it wasn't quiet, it resembled something like helplessness and rage. She was in pain and I knew I hurt her. I wanted to say something, anything, but how do you withdraw a declaration of war? How do you stop the bombs that already destroyed homelands? In that moment I remembered how she always told me that when she was a kid, she was too afraid to sleep with the lights on. Not because she was afraid of monsters, but because she feared her grandmother would die. Because when you're a kid, not seeing it means it doesn't exist anymore. I saw the winter in her eyes again and I knew I had switched off the light, she wasn't angry, she was afraid.

And I also remembered how she always told me I'd always be 3 years old for her, always a child, and for the first time, I heard in the voice of a three year old "I wish I was dead". My heart broke. And I wanted to hug her and hold her, tell her I was sorry, that I didn't mean it. Before I could move a hand, she left the room. The entire evening, I saw myself as she saw me, a 3 year old child. I saw the child hurt herself and cry herself to sleep every week, fight her friends with her tiny hands and two ponytails, I saw her depression and her anxiety, I saw her yell "I wish I was dead" and I knew. I knew. I wanted to shout through the walls, yell and cry and tell my mother that now I KNEW, but I didn't. I wept and wept until I heard a quiet knock and a soft familiar voice whispered, "Dinner is ready".

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

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this is how it starts, this is how you end it: selfishly looking away as it all crumbles between your fingertips, you won't even look at the rear view, won't stare the terror in its eyes until it's right in front of you, until it swallows you whole

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#POV: Im goin through it again #like logically I know im not that bad of a person but also #i know it would be cruel to make anyone else have to deal with my feelings or gods forbid a relationship #considering how fucked I am i dont wanna makw anhone else be reaponsible or awarw #eh #im not a threat to myself or others #but the concept of going out in a blaze of glory then nothingness #interesting #this id pathetic

[confused-chinchilla-122]

you wear an ancestor's face. you look like a woman you'll never meet. in that mirror, there's thousands of you. and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back, shaking and deforming in the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.

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suddenly remembered this poem as i was making breakfast this morning & frantically googled “poem remembered to buy eggs?????????” & somehow managed to find it & it utterly knocked the wind out of me just as much as when i first read it

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If you have depression and find yourself taking naps often due to chronic fatigue I just wanna remind you that you aren’t wasting time. You aren’t running out of time. You need rest, you need to catch up on the energy that you spend fighting your depression. It’s all gonna be okay. Life is long, you’re not wasting it by sleeping a little more often.

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all i can say is that the traumatized little girl version of me who moved strangely through the world and was emotionally neglected didn’t just disappear because she got older. she’s still there inside of me and she comes out more often than i realize. i was given so many names at birth that i can give her one and call my present self another. and i take care of her, nurture her, parent her, and calm her down. she didn’t deserve what she got and she is still inside of me and she always will be. i carry her with me and i protect and love her.

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one fairly common experience of gifted children is wishing for pain. wishing you had some great big horrible thing in your past so that you can justify the pain you’re in, and so that you’ll deserve help. it’s exhausting and it fucks you up and to anyone out there who feels like they haven’t suffered enough to get help: you’re allowed to want help. you’re in enough pain. you deserve to feel better

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being on the edge of ‘functional’ is such a fucking liminal place of existing 

like, can I go to work every day and earn a paycheck? yeh. Can I sustain a small circle of friends and go on a few dates every few months? pretty much. can I feed myself and get a passable amount of sleep? most the time

is my apartment absolutely littered with laundry and trash? yes as well. Have a done dishes in the last week? nope. have I been 10-30 minutes late to almost every engagement in the last year? yep. have I forgotten to shower for 4-5 days, like every other week? yeehaw 

I know people look at me and are like, ‘God, she has her shit together, God I wish I could do that,’ but I’m sitting here feeling like an anxiety disaster half-person

like, we just settle for ‘passable,’ ‘almost functional,’ ‘the bare minimum of okay’ and then it’s a constant treadmill to always be a tiny bit above the curb

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don’t you just love how mental disorders are basically buy one get seven free

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Who am I to deny myself every single desire that crosses my pea brain

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“I’ll remember” is the ADHD demon talking. You won’t remember. Write it down.

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when that menstrual depression hits you in the middle of your seasonal depression in the middle of your regular depression

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I honestly believe that people who lost their childhood, teenage years to mental illness and/or trauma are so strong for still being here. Especially once you’re about 18-25 and trying to relearn how to be in society and healthy and human.

Especially when you decide to work towards getting better.

Especially when your life isn’t where you wished it would be.

Stay alive okay? If you lost your youth, I’m sorry and I’m so proud of you for still being here. Keep fighting. Your best years are ahead of you.

[confused-chinchilla-122]

Putting these up for anyone who needs them today.

Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life by Susan Forward

Why Does he DO That: Inside The Minds of Angry and Controlling Men by Lundy Bancroft