#in other news i hate myself and i want back on my antidepressants | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barbara-herself · 1 month

Text

Anger

I used to feel a lot of anger, daily. I was an irritable driver, a perfectionist mentor to my new colleagues, a short-tempered romantic partner. I hated my anger and I hated myself for it. I hated who I was when I was angry, and from that self loathing more anger brewed. After I've started antidepressants, a lot of the anger went away - at least most of it. I still get angry, but in the right moments, I think. I want to note down what I've learned so far - as a synopsis for my later self, a checkpoint to which later on I can come back to and see if I still feel the same way I do now.

Being an irritable driver might just mean you are living in a city where there is little to no driving culture or you yourself shouldn't be driving a car. I was privileged enough to move to Sweden, where it is absolutely unnecessary to drive a car to get to places. I have sold my car and couldn't be happier with the decision.

Antidepressants do help, even if you feel like you've got it all together. I did go through a number of moderately bad mental breakdowns in my life, but found myself bouncing back relatively quickly, so I never thought I'd need chemical intervention in my brain. However, taking antidepressants has enabled me to have a prolonged amount of time where I could concentrate on what is making me angry and work on those parts. It is much easier to establish healthy habits when you are not constantly circling between depression, self loathing and fury.

Healthy habits - finding whatever works for you can take some time, but everyone has things they must do to feel better. I know that for me I must absolutely do a bit of yoga, take a walk (unless I'm sick), eat at least one healthy meal, brush my teeth and stick to my skincare routine daily. It sounds very minimal and obvious, but I have struggled with these things and figuring it out felt like an epiphany. Now these are unconditional, must-do things in my life.

I have absolutely no idea where the hell am I going in life and I have to learn to be okay with the discomfort of not knowing.

No one actually ever reaches "mental healthiness". We're all idiots on a rock in space. Even those people on youtube who say they know how to heal your trauma and mental illnesses probably have no clue what they're talking about (except for a very minimal few).

Read books and create art. Books are a great way to entertain yourself, learn new things and just have a good time. I barely ever use social media now. At first it was weird and I didn't know where to put myself in moments of waiting for a train or right before falling asleep, but the realization that staring at the ceiling was going to make me happier than staring at tiktoks has helped me overcome the doomscrolling addiction. I still do scroll, but not as much as I did before. Creating art is a great way (at least for me) to lose myself for a moment and project my thoughts and feelings onto a piece of paper.

If a study programme and/or a job makes you lose your mind and cry and vomit, consider a different path in life, if possible. Maybe this is not for you. Perhaps it was for you a year ago and now it is not - this is fine, it happens all the time. If you can't change it - sucks to be you. I guess you must stick it out then? I don' know, I'm too stupid for situations like these.

If you find yourself feeling very lonely, it's not necessarily a bad thing. Right now I'm in the weird stage in life where I've cut out quite a lot of toxic people, so I only talk to my boyfriend and I sometimes call two other friends from my home country. I am struggling to find social connections in Sweden, but I'm glad I'm not settling just for anything - I have tried a few different activities, I have learned that the people associated with it are not for me and I have moved on. I trust that I will find meaningful connections someday.

One of the jobs I've tried working had a team building exercise where we had to introduce ourselves and share one of our dreams. In that moment I realized I didn't have a dream I could share, because I didn't have dreams at all - at the ripe old age of 22 I didn't have a single dream I could think of in that moment. I remember stammering "Well, it's not a dream, but rather a plan - I want to have a PhD in chemistry one day." Today, I realized that ever since I have started writing my novel, I have dreams again - quite a lot of them, actually. This must be a good sign.

Finally - taking breaks is great. Taking one big break is good. Taking a few small breaks is amazing. Pausing work and studies for a moment doesn't mean I'm lazy, it just means that I know what's good for me. I have a rule now - never in my life is there a planned activity that is more important than me having a good night's sleep, a proper shit or a good lunch. Leaving the room in the middle of a useless corporate meeting for a pee is liberating. You and only you will ever know when you need a break. Right now I'm on a two-month study break and it's great and also terrifying. I'm learning to live with myself and love myself.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #trauma #mental health #my journey #anger #writeblr #writerscommunity #female writers #writblr #creative writing

3 notes · View notes

pupuseriazag · 3 months

Text

Tw: venting (mentions of death trauma, family problems, etc)

I think I am going through another episode like years ago, I have tried my best to keep myself stable and silence the dangerous and panic inducing thoughts but I dont know how much more I will be able to endure.

For those that dont know, I have major anxiety and phobia to death. In 2021 I had to be taken to a psychologist because I broke down in my moms arms, not being able to stop the constant storm of my brain making me panic about how one day Im not going to be here,that I could die any moment and I dont have a guarantee of whats going to happen after that... Its hell, its horrible I love living so much and I know I should already have processed the thoughts... But I cant man. I cant and its horrible to live like this.

I was medicated with anxiety pills (my mom was afraid I could get addicted to antidepression pills until months later another doctor actually prescribed them to me) and ever since I "became better" I've been feeling guilty to ask her to buy me more because I dont want to worry her more.

Before turning 18 I NEVER visioned myself getting to live 24. I cried the early morning I turned 18 because I just didnt knew what to do. I still dont know what to do.

Im at 24 and Im getting let down more and more by life. Situation at home is still shitty and I just... Dont see a way for us to leave here.

Its been 5 fucking years since we began searching for a home to move away from my dad (to clarify: my dad is not physically nor verbally abusive. But he is a cheater, a selfish person and emotionally manipulative jobless liar.) and we cant... We just cant. Everywhere expects you to be paying 400$ a month for a one room apartment or 90k for a home thats falling apart, we cannot afford to move to another departament because of my university and her job. Traffic from other cities like San Marcos, San Martin and even Mejicanos is just too fucking much. Its already too much where we live.

Even if I had a job, we couldnt be able to move somewhere better, we have been stuck here for 5 years, two fucking years taken from covid and 3 to try to stabilize ourselves after that (plus his medical bills after he got kidney stones riiiight after leaving his job, very fucking convenient)

We cant even move to my grandma's or my mom's sister's house. They live on the other side of the country and they have always been very vocal about being against my mom and siding with my dad. And even tho we have the support of some of my dad's sisters... We just cant move to their home.

Everyday I wake up here is like being stuck in a time loop. Every day is the fucking same and I just find a way to distract myself before being yanked back to reality, same with my mom. And you know the worst? I also have to be my moms therapist.

Im tired man, all of this is driving me crazy and the hopelessness I feel when I realize my position is just... Overwhelmingly sad. I hate this life, I hate the life I was given and I hate being brought to a broken family, I hate that my life could have been better if ONLY my dad was not a piece of shit cheating on my mom and putting HIS family side before us, I hate that things could have been so... So much different if only he was a good person. Im not strong enough to continue pretending its not affecting my mental health, no wonder the intrusive thoughts increased these months... These past days.

I feel miserable, I feel worthless, I feel like everything is not worth it. I have insomnia until like 4 am and I panic when I cant find anything I can listen to so I can get some sleep. I havent been able to draw because I dont feel its worth it... I have only been able to distract myself playing and going to uni.

And even putting my family problems aside, I still cant find joy or hope. National news and seeing how this country its being turned into the gringos/politicians playhouse, how even if my life was "better" Im still in danger for being a queer afab person. How people still have blind faith in a fascist regime and money runs lower and lower for the working class meanwhile they proudly announce the inauguration of gentrified beaches and zones of San Salvador, displacing markets and historial establishments to put a fucking starbucks and other multinationals to be more gringo friendly while zones like Apopa and Soyapango are heavily militarized and the police can just say you are linked to the gangs to abuse you.

On top of that coming to terms that I may not end up working in anything art related and having to accept thar if I ever get a job Ill have to rot in an office, seeing how even tho I want to stay away from the norm I feel forced to join it... And that also means having to ""accept my prewritten gender role"".

Everyday that passes feels as if life will force me to live as a straight cis woman or otherwise I will just have to accept being alone the rest of my life.

I know Im being too negative right now, Im letting out how I've been feeling because lately its just been... Too much. Last night I even had a small disagreement with my mom because Im just not in the mood for being her therapist during this we're dealing. I know my dad is an asshole and I know hes using the few money he has to pamper his other woman instead of helping with the bills, I already know he tries to lie to us and acts as the victim. Its tiring to go through the same conversation about him everyday.

So yeah, back to my life... I just wish for some peace you know? I wish for a house where I can actually see the sky from my window and not worrying about at least my family problems. Srry for the sudden emotional explosion

#zagreus rambling #venting #Ill try to see if I can get another prescription of the anxiety meds soon #maybe with those things could get more bearable #I cried writing this so... yeah

2 notes · View notes

homemadefactory-1993 · 4 months

Text

Today will be the first day in me getting my life back together. For nearly 6 years, I was on antidepressants due to difficulty with transitioning from active duty to the civilian sector. I joined the National Guard in hopes of a better opportunity, and getting something better than the leadership I was dealt by others. I had a lot of personal demons and never found full satisfaction in life. Eventually, after a attempt on my own life, I was voluntarily sent to a psychiatric facility. There, I got my first prescription antidepressant that actually seem to make a difference. A while the effects were generally positive at first, the reality eventually took hold. Eventually things got worse, due to my own poor choices and inability to go forward.

I was prescribed an antipsychotic, that basically made me emotionally numb and gain roughly 20 pounds over a couple of years. Eventually, I was medically retired from military service. Which gave me much needed money, due to my depression basically ruining my opportunities for a job or motivation to find one. I eventually got my first full-time job that assisted me greatly, but I hated the customers and the lack of enthusiasm from leadership above.

One day, I was sent back to the storage unit that only employees go into. After a half hour discussion, I was terminated from my position due to violating company policy over questionable circumstances given by them. I lost all of my money, basically being unemployed. Eventually I found a new job in a different field all together, and I seem to be arguably very efficient at my job as told to me by my coworkers and fellow supervisors. I went back to school during this time, while the first instance didn't work out so well. The second one pretty much made me come to the realization with a lot of things.

Eventually I took a break, and went overseas to meet a special someone. It really gave me motivation but then, things didn't go as planned with school. Eventually I was dismissed from that program, and then joined a new program all together where I was on my way to become valedictorian of my class in some way. During February of 2023, I got the approval from my psychiatrist to get off the antidepressants all together, over the span of a year or so finally trying to get off of this stuff.

I felt very proud of myself, and I definitely felt the weight come off of me literally. As I lost nearly 5 lb in 2 weeks after getting off that stuff. While completing the second semester of my program, I got a phone call from a potential employer which I took immediately. As I was fed up with the uncertainty of the my current employer, and leadership basically ignoring me altogether. The school that I finished my second semester with left an open door for me, as they were on good terms with me overall and I never started anything like some other students. Then I started my current position at this agency.

It is arguably the most fulfilled I have ever felt at any job, but the training took a while to get to as it is standard with this position. I definitely see my ups and downs, but I definitely feel satisfied overall. I decided to get myself better altogether despite some of the gripes I feel from employment. I want to improve myself, and get back to a weight that I am satisfied with. Along with brushing off my native tongue, and learning the language of my eventual spouse.

I did not do much anything on New Year's Eve or today at all. But, I definitely feel a lot more prepared for the world, and its challenges. I and definitely going to take myself in the right direction, and use all the knowledge and experience I have acquired in life for the betterment of myself and those I care about.

Wish me luck everyone, as I finally take total control and lead the example that I want others to follow.

#thoughts #reflection #life #motivation #future

2 notes · View notes

rosethornewrites · 6 months

Text

I saw my new PCP on Monday and got the fun job of explaining my conditions. I’ve previously had doctors who ignored my needs or told me to lose weight, so it’s scary to have to try to convince them that, yes, I am very sick, too sick to work, but I don’t want to be that sick. I miss working. I miss keeping my mind engaged.

So I decided to preface everything with, “You know, a year ago I was a professor at a state university, living in my own apartment. Before I got sick I used to go to a ton of events and travel places. And I spent so much energy pushing through to try to keep going that I burned myself out. Now I am in so much pain and have so much brain fog that even getting out of bed is a challenge. It feels like my life has crumbled around me, and I want to get it back.”

And then I discussed my medical history, what I’ve done to get treatment so far (getting on Medicaid, getting a behavioral health specialist, a dermatologist, a rheumatologist, etc., all involving dozens of phone calls each just to find someone who specializes), the setbacks I’ve faced and how it’s changed how I face seeking healthcare (that all my providers are women is not an accident), and the medications I’m currently taking and what they’re for. How I discovered I can’t have sulfa antibiotics.

It’s a lot—just the medications, I take a biologic injection every two weeks, 2 anxiety medications, an antidepressant that also helps with fibromyalgia, a controlled substance for my pain (NOT an opioid), a medication to control my insulin resistance, an anti-inflammatory, a low dose of antibiotics, and blood pressure medication. Oh right, and birth control, which is supposed to help with the HS. That’s just the prescriptions—I take OTCs and supplements that are meant to help keep my conditions under control because I researched copiously while trying to push through.

How long it took me to be diagnosed with HS (despite telling my PCP at the time I thought I had it, I was diagnosed on sight by a gynecologist two years later, who then referred me to a dermatologist), and the story of how I realized something was terribly fucked up with my body. The struggles with pain. How I take cannabis but hate that it doesn’t allow me to have a clear mind. The years of insomnia, which is a symptom of multiple conditions I have.

I have so many horror stories about my health that my horror stories have horror stories, and those are fun to relate, in graphic detail so they know exactly how bad it is.

It’s this fucked up cycle of having to convince a doctor you’re sick (apparently they don’t want to believe you if you say you are) and actually get treatment, except you get stuck on step 1 because everything must be weight-related and therefore I should just lose weight.

I been fat my whole life. This other shit is new. Catch up.

But then they get mad if you’re “difficult” aka advocating for your health.

Knowing that nearly everyone with chronic illnesses goes this, and even worse than me typically, is distressing.

I knew my chronic pain was fibromyalgia because my mom struggles with it and eventually got diagnosed after being told half her life it was in her head. I was lucky. I have to consider inheriting a debilitating illness from my mom lucky because at least I knew what it was from her experiences.

Every new doctor I see, I feel like I have to vet for egotism because that’s generally the mark of a hot dog who won’t listen or care.

All I really want is treatment so I can maybe get my life back.

#disability #health care #fibromyalgia #hidradenitis suppurativa

6 notes · View notes

lyon-amore · 2 years

Text

Tears for you One-shot

Set in chapter 7 I wanted to write how Macie was when Jake was missing, I hope you like it ^^ -------------------------------------------- It had to have been a weekend like any other. Of which I went with Lian and listened to how anxious she was for her baby to be born. Or just go for a walk. But not. I had been discouraged for two weeks, with no word from Jake.Lilly and I managed to crack his riddles, create the #IAmJake movement, but nothing. There was no news of him. I couldn't deny that ever since I'd seen Jake's video, I'd watched it one too many times every night before I went to bed.Although on weekends, I repeated them depending on the time. Just to see how stupid I had been to say things I shouldn't have said to Jake. I pet Henry who is lying next to me, while with the other hand I play the video.In it, a distorted image, along with a “familiar voice”. The only way to hide all traces of him. “By the time you see this, I'll be gone.” The first tears escaped me when I heard him say those words, had he really left? Without me being able to apologize to him for everything I said? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Macie Let's talk about Hannah's antidepressants ??? It is that I would not have imagined that she could have depressions. But nothing changes us. In case you think something has been done. It is not something that has to be dealt with. Macie For me, it is something that should be discussed ??? What are you talking about? Do you think we should stop looking for her, because Hannah might have done something to herself? Macie I just want you to be prepared ??? Change of subject. Macie No, it's really important to me I just want to protect you ??? Thank you. And now we change the subject. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That conversation must have left him crushed. A complete stranger was telling him that Hannah might have committed suicide, that maybe Jake had lied when he sent his voicemail and he was actually worried because she must have told him something. There were too many theories running through my head back then and Jake wasn't much help either. He was a bit more distant. "I'm Hannah's half brother." Those words hit my chest, because I had insinuated that his sister could have taken her own life, what kind of person was I? Ah, yes, one who didn't shut up, who gave her opinion without thinking about the consequences. I cry harder knowing that at that moment of insinuating it, he must have hated me, something I couldn't have endured. That's why I tried to copy him, so that the atmosphere would change. But that didn't change what I had told him. Now, that memory hurt more than before. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jake Macie? Do you think Hannah did something wrong? Macie I guess so ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Who could say that to a family member? Who?!If I had known before that Jake was her brother, then I would have kept quiet about my thoughts back then. But… He couldn't hate me after that… right? Because he confirmed to me that he liked me when I told him I like him... I think I think too much about it, but what do I do? I don't know where he is right now or what he's thinking. Perhaps he changed his mind after he told me that he missed me, that he reflected on his feelings and hated me after everything I told him about his sister. I want to know if he is alright, if he has been able to settle somewhere or if he has eaten well… what if he is hurt? That running away they shot him and that's why he hasn't told me anything to worry me? I only have this video to comfort myself, to feel as close as possible to him again while I await his arrival. It was strange… I had never behaved like this before with any man. Not even with my first boyfriend, I mean… Everything was different with Jake. Perhaps it was ridiculous to say it, but it seemed like a part of me that was missing, did it make sense of what I was thinking? Maybe not, but it was how I felt with him. It was not the cliché “mystery boy”, there was something about him that attracted me, he was someone who cried out for help even if he didn't. Someone who felt that he needed me. "Thank you for our conversations and for your bravery." My lip trembles at those words. It seemed more like a farewell than the last sentence. "We'll meet again when the time comes." I say his words at the same time. He told me that if I really needed him, he would be there. "I swear since you were referring to Nymos, I'll never forgive you." I take the phone to my chest, clutching it against my body. "You said you wouldn't leave me alone…I don't want you to leave me too, Jake…I don't want to lose another person I love." The message notification sound plays and I quickly look at it. To my disappointment, it wasn't Jake. But Brian, Lian's husband and a good friend of mine. Well... For now, because he kept wondering about what it had to do with the "criminal" that he and his team were chasing. When I found out, I felt betrayed. I had to lie to him. And again, at this inopportune moment, he sends me another message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian Macie, please, this is urgent. We need to talk now, don't put it off now. Trust me and I promise you that nothing will happen. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I dry my tears, letting out a big sigh. Why didn't he leave it and that's it? I had already told him that I had nothing to do with it. Although Brian was like me, intuitive. Maybe that's why we got along... Until now. "I'm going to block you for a day." I mumble. I was very angry with him. I knew it wasn't his fault that I fell in love with a government-wanted hacker, but I wish he'd stop insisting. I had already told him everything I had to say. I get another notification. Jessy. Hours earlier, we had learned that Phil had been arrested and he was terribly upset that some of the group were suspicious of him. I didn't, of course. But I was worried about Jessy. That your friends thought that about your brother without any proof, it must be painful. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jessy Hello Macie ☹️ Macie Hello Jessy 😔 Jessy Sorry that I was disconnected Macie Oh well you don't have to apologize for that ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I could understand her anger and how unfair it was to be accused of something that you were not guilty of. The sad thing is that many times even though you proved your innocence, some people were going to point you out forever for not believing in you.It was horrible. Jessy had become a great friend of mine and what was happening to her was very unfair: first the attack and now the arrest of her brother. Things really didn't seem to be going well for her. I wish I could do more, but until Jake came back, there was little I could do on my own. I knew about investigations, but not if it was about hacking important things. I really missed him... I wish I could talk to him about everything that was going on. We were finally able to talk about the attack and I was honest that I felt that what had happened to her was my fault. Her words encouraged me by telling me that I was irreplaceable for everyone. Then, it changed to something that surprised me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jessy I have to ask you a favor I know it's asking a lot, but it could be very important for Phil Can you explain to me everything you and Jake have found out so far? And send me the files you found? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I bite my lip. I refuse along with a 'I'm sorry'. I couldn't send her everything Jake and I had gotten. It was a pact between us not to teach everything we had found. I just had to be honest. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Macie With complete sincerity... I can't talk about these things right now Someone has tried to hack my phone Jessy Oh God, what?? Macie You can imagine what is affecting me, right? Jessy Yes 😕 Sure Pretty dodgy I'm sorry And... Is Jake? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I frown at her words. Everyone was making me doubt him, which I hated. Why can't they just trust me? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Macie No He would never do that ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The conversation ends with Jessy telling me to let her know if she could help me or talk to her. I thanked her and put the phone aside. "Come on Henry, it's time for Mommy to take a shower… I can't stay in bed all day." Henry doesn't move because he's still sleeping, yet he's still the only one I can tell everything that's going on. It was like therapy for me. After a shower to clear my head and change into comfortable clothes, I watch Jake's video again. The vicious circle… The usual guilt… And that I wasn’t the one who published information about him. I've already made it very clear to Lilly, if Jake never comes back, I'll never forgive her. The notification sound sends my heart racing again, but then stops when I see it was Jessy.Seriously, I have to stop getting emotional every time I hear it, it's not good for my mental health. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jessy Hannah only had a single address saved in her car GPS And right in front of this house I am now Macie I'm a bit confused now 🤔 I didn't know what you had in mind to do Jessy Phil needs my help Macie 🙁 And besides, I've been wanting to see what was on Hannah's GPS for a long time Richy was convinced that Hannah didn't have a GPS in her car But Lilly sure she knew Macie And the address is in Duskwood? Jessy No, um Ashview Hills It's taken a while to get here, but I hope it's worth it So I'm going in now Wish me luck 😕 Macie Let me know later please ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nymos's warning jumps right when sending that message. I roll my eyes, along with a laugh.It was telling me that they was trying to access my camera. As if that were possible. "Not today, gentlemen attackers." I say, hitting the reject button. The program fails and the warning continues.I stare at it for a while before reacting. "No, you can't get in." I hit the decline button again and wait.It fails again. I wait a bit after rejecting again. The screen cuts to black, then shows me some guys in ski masks. One was in a suit and the other wore a black shirt. Then I remember Brian's words: ‘’we need to talk now, don't put it off now.’’What if he had warned me? What if all this time it was them trying to access my phone? Would he really have come this far? I tremble scared as soon as they take out a computer. I didn't understand what they were trying to do. Then, when he press a button, another little screen appears. They were trying to access my camera. "Jake… Jake?" Where are you? I need you…" I whisper to myself, my voice trembling. "Why me? What do these people want from me?" The one in the suit points to the screen. Pointing at me. My eyes start to want to burst into tears. Feeling unprotected. Within a few seconds, the connection drops. I look at the screen confused, it had returned to normal. I wait a moment, and instantly a message brings a smile to my lips. Happy to read those words. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jake Hello Macie. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And finally, the tears I shed are of relief and happiness.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jessy #duskwood original character #original character #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #everbyte #everbyte game #everbyte studios

23 notes · View notes

auspicetaker · 11 months

Text

hi tumlr

my queue ran out and i’ve been too busy playing TotK to update it. i’ve been doing some personal writing today that’s probably not interesting to anyone else, but i’m putting it under the cut if you’re interested in reading me complaining about all my life problems and not doing anything to solve them.

5/31/2023

What’s my problem? Well…

… I’ve been bleeding continuously for months, maybe years. I’ve lost track. I’m on hormonal birth control to manage my brutal PMS symptoms (debilitating cramps, migraines so bad I can’t stand up, hellacious mood swings) but now I’m just on a low-grade period forever. Not sure what’s worse - the whiplash of the highs and lows of the natural cycle, or being stuck somewhere in the cycle eternally, not up or down, just blood and tissue leaking out of me day in and day out for months and months on end.

… I’ve been wishing to get on T for some time now. I want the facial and body hair, the husky voice, increased muscle mass, new stinky boy smells, a roughening of my too-delicate facial features. However, getting gender-affirming healthcare, even in a trans-friendly blue state like mine, is no small undertaking. Everywhere I’ve called is either not accepting new patients or has a prohibitively long waitlist. I have an appointment with an endocrinologist in a few months, but since he’s just a straight-world endocrinologist, not someone specialized in these things, I am extremely apprehensive he’ll just shut me down. It’s happened before. The T feels like a new avenue to pursue to deal with my endless, miserable bleeding, some different exogenous hormones instead of the estrogen I’ve been taking. It feels like a small glimmer of hope, so obviously I am already prepared to never get it, to have it be taken away if I do get it, or for it to not work out like I imagined.

… My job is falling apart at the seams. My colleague who was my greatest support was taken away from me about a month ago, unceremoniously laid off due to financial issues (concerning) and I’ve been floundering ever since. I made so much progress with my self-loathing and avoidance around work stuff, and it feels like I’ve taken eight steps back. No, not even that I took the eight steps myself, it’s like I was picked up by a giant claw and thrown all the way back to a more dysfunctional self. I had something good going, it felt tolerable, and now I am floundering, trapped with my stupid boss on his sinking ship.

… I need to work on my resumé, apply to other stuff. I have always hated job hunting. It is a particularly odious form of the sort of normal-person lying and deception that is necessary for survival in our society. Creating a version of myself that’s palatable to prospective employers, then scraping, bowing, and doing little dances to try and get their approval or consideration… it makes me sick. Part of what was so great about getting this job was that I don’t even think I ever gave my boss a resumé. He already knew me and I was able to just use that goodwill and prior record to pirouette into this current role. Which in retrospect may have been kind of a red flag.

… My mental health has taken a bit of a nosedive in these past few months. Part of it is that I’m tapering off of the antidepressants that I’d been taking for my entire adult life. I was doing okay, but there’s been a few stumbling blocks in a row and things are tough, now. Things I thought I was doing better with (self harm and suicidal ideation) are back in a big way. I’ve accepted that I’ll struggle for a while, maybe forever, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay for the return of my full range of emotions. Long-term SSRI use leaves you in a state of not-depression but also not-happiness. You don’t experience pleasure so much as you experience the absence of pain. For me, at least, I also experienced a profound dulling of what little creative impulses I had. On that front, tapering down SSRI’s has been revelatory - I feel like I’ve unlocked a long-buried self who desires to write and make art, who has aesthetic visions and preferences. I’m collaging again, making art in my journal, learning to make digital art on a tablet, creating wall collages in my room. It doesn’t feel like something new, it feels like something very old that I lost and am finally returning to. All this to say that I’ll take an uptick in my brain screaming for blood and death (god knows I experienced that already on my full dose of SSRI’s) to get a shred of that old self back, to feel the joy and thrill of creation again.

… Speaking of aesthetics, I’m so fucking sick and tired of all my clothes. I want something new but I don’t know exactly what. I’m tired of the black-and-green color scheme I’ve been rocking for the past 5 years. I’m tired of the skinny leg silhouettes and the too-small band tees. Again, I don’t know what I’d replace this all with. Shopping takes time and money, and I have little of either. In-person shopping is a sensorily draining and overwhelming experience, and online shopping leaves me either paralyzed with indecision or, worse, pulling the trigger impulsively and then wracked with regret. I have made a few stabs here and there towards a new personal aesthetic, getting colorful, oversized new button-down shirts, for example, but it’s slow going, and in the meantime I’m left with what I already have. And I’m so, so sick of it all.

… My house and my room are in a state of flux. My roommate is moving out, and my girlfriend is moving in. I’m sad to leave my roommate (nine years cohabitating!), apprehensive of change, but mostly excited. It’ll be incredible to have my girlfriend by my side all the time. That’s a dream. There are many, many nasty and frustrating corners of my room I keep saying I’ll deal with, and the clock is running out. My closet is a mess, my storage areas are inefficient and cluttered, and I simply cannot seem to get it together enough to do anything about any of it. Additionally, I decided I’d redo the peeling bathroom paint myself, even though we’re renting and it should be my landlord’s job, and it’s taking forever. I have very limited time and resources to deal with the many stages of scraping, stripping, sanding, spackling, priming, and repainting. The bathroom is currently in the “scraped and stripped” stage, but not yet in the “sanded, spackled, primed, and painted” stage, and it looks absolutely terrible. I feel stupid, panicked, overwhelmed just thinking about it. I’ve painted myself (ha ha) into a corner and I just have to keep going, despite the fact that I never want to look at the fucking bathroom ever again, at this point.

… There are other things that are necessary to my survival and health that I’ve been avoiding dealing with, or just haven’t had the resources to deal with. I’ve needed new glasses for months now but can’t seem to make myself do anything about it. It takes a Herculean effort just to go to work, cook food, do the dishes, and do my laundry, so higher-level tasks like “writing a resume” or “shopping for new jeans” or “making a necessary medical appointment” just keep getting pushed off for later. And later never comes.

3 notes · View notes

chaosgremlinlivinginyourwalls · 10 months

Text

I was 9 years old when I got my first period. I was 9 years old and I was taller than everyone else in my class. When I was 9 I hated myself more than anyone. I was 10 when I met them, the one who singlehandedly brought my world down around me. I was 10 the first time I held a knife to my stomach, ready to end it all. Then I thought of my mother sitting in her bedroom. If I had gone through with it, she would have no middle child left(I had a younger brother who died soon after he was born). I was 11 when I found out they had lied about everything, I'm still not sure they ever loved me. I was 11 when I let them back in my life, but I was angry. Angry they had lied. Angry they had taken away almost a year of my life. I was 12 and starting middle school. I let them back in once more. I was still angry but I loved them more. They I was 12 when they left me once again. It was a long game of cat and mouse, except I just wanted the affection they had once given me. I was 13 when my mom died. My carefully created world fell around me once more. I picked up the pieces by Monday and went to school. It had only been three days. I needed normal. Dad didn't understand. A month after mom's death I was put in therapy. I loved my therapist, sure she scared me at first but she was always kind and always listened when I needed to let down the walls I built. Those walls would go right back up the moment I left her office. 6 months after mom's death, there were bleeding red lines on my upper thigh. Then school started and they were back. We're friends again, but I'm still just the extra. A few months later, I want to be left alone for a bit but the keep poking me and I get angry. I grab their arm a bit too hard and end up leaving a bruise. Though I didn't know that because they ignored me for a week. Another few months go by and they end up moving schools. We have no way to contact each other and we just stop talking. They get a phone and say they'll text me when they can. They never do. I block their number and cut them out of my life. I had been thinking about everything that has happened in the 4 years we've known each other. The last instance was in March-May. I seen them yesterday(4th of July) and I panicked. I've cut myself multiple times since last July and I've been on Antidepressants since August. It will be 5 years since I met them on August 23rd. I'm tired of them taking up my time. They have broke me so many times and I'm done letting them walk all over me. I'm not a new person but I'm definitely stronger than the 10 year old they met. The 10 year old girl they met was trusting and hurting. She opened up and got hurt. She was honestly a little foolish. I have no trust left and I'm broken but healing. They have no power over me. Not anymore. You've lost.

#toxic love #toxic frienship #suicidal thoughts #shitty parents #mental health #dead mom #Suicide attempt #depression tw #tw vent #tw death #Cw #sh #Tw self harm #Suicidal tendencies

3 notes · View notes

lucysweatslove · 2 years

Text

I’m gonna be talking about weight, body image, disordered eating, health and medical anxiety, generally triggering things so I’m putting it under a read more. It’s really just a ramble and nothing worth reading- a brain dump for me more than anything else. For those who don’t want to read more but want to just know- I’m doing okay but life has had other plans and I may have something actually wrong health-wise which has been triggering for me.

So, way back in 2018 I gained like 30 lbs in 2 months (mid October to mid December). I was devastated. I had already gained 20-25 lbs or so during actual recovery from my disordered eating which I was doing on my own/without support, so I was really struggling. I was so ashamed of the weight gain and how I looked that I didn’t want to see my PCP (note: she was an NP, but that doesn’t impact what I think of her- I didn’t want to see her because of my own shame and thinking I should just be able to manage my weight on my own). So here I was sitting around 180-185 lbs and for the first time in my life actually obese, not sure how to cope. I was confused about how I could’ve gained that much so quickly- I didn’t buy Halloween candy that year, gained the weight before Christmas, and didn’t do thanksgiving festivities even. My eating habits hadn’t seemed to change, and there was no way I was suddenly that much less active. But still I blamed myself.

Not even a month later I started a new job and also decided I wanted to try to diet again because I hated my body’s new “fat” appearance. Except I was worried about calorie counting being triggering. I was newly married and planning our actual wedding, so while I wanted to be “shedding for the wedding” (VOMIT) I also didn’t want to go back to Hell aka rigid restrictive eating that would drive wedges in all of my relationships. I tried going back to the gym and eating a lot of chicken breast and veggies, thinking if I restricted TYPES of food I would be fine. LOL NOPE. I tried keto thinking it would be a way to not fixate on calories… this was unsustainable because I just didn’t have enough options and I LOVE LOVE LOVE fruit. Each attempt at whatever I did was met with initial weight loss and then extreme hunger, a big trip, some outing, my actual wedding, which would kick me out of that mindset and I’d gain it all back. At one point I thought it was my antidepressant (since it made it hard to care about anything), so I went off of that, had a bad reaction to another one, and then essentially didn’t have a medication for months. Including on my wedding.

By the end of 2019 I was essentially that same 180ish lbs, and I had decided I needed to “get my life back.” I got on a new antidepressant shortly after an illness, and I realized I was sitting on my hands waiting for somebody to give me permission to apply to med school. So I decided to face my insecurity regarding my “downward trend” (due to health reasons) in undergrad by… going to grad school. I applied in early 2020. I started to go back to the gym, count calories, I really thought it would be fine since I didn’t have fear foods anymore and felt “basically recovered.” Like, calories were the less extreme option because it gave room for me to eat all the foods I love.

And then I started getting back spasms, and the fevers started, and I started and graduated grad school, and then my husband needed new hips, and I got a new job, and littered in all of that were attempts to just mindfully eat more produce and love my body more. At one point in grad school, I admit to buying really low calorie dehydrated food packs to “make the most of my winter break” but it was absolutely MISERABLE to eat those and it got super cold and I just said nope, not going back. Throughout that time, I just thought that I was fat now, and that’s all anybody would see. I honestly doubted that my disordered eating was ever problematic MULTIPLE times because… I’m fat now? That’s literally it, that’s the whole reason I started to invalidate my own experience. School and work and health issues had really decreased my activity and focus on health and nutrition, I felt awful in my body physically, and I had no idea how to make any kind of actual healthy change because up until this point, and even at this point, I only knew “health and wellness” in two contexts: disease process and medicine, and dieting and exercise for “weight control.” Nobody I knew actually ate balanced diets if they weren’t actively trying to become or stay thin- it wasn’t “normal” or “natural.” Exercise? Same story except for actual athletes, but even those that I knew talked about weight control all the time.

Fast forward to 2022. I came into the new year feeling like I needed to make a change because of how I felt, but my husband and I were in counseling and I knew a major sticky point for us was my lack of going to med school. I think my desire to “make a change” was in large part about control because I didn’t feel like I had control over med school. I was CONVINCED in my mind that me being fat now made me a lesser candidate. I might get an interview, but I’d be judged on how fat I was and would instantly have a bias over me. I was tempted- truly- to drop to 800-900 calories a day with 2-3 hours of exercise and try to shed weight quickly. But I kept up searching for body positive and HAES content. I reminded myself of all I spoke on in my sports nutrition class- health has far less to do with our weight and size than our habits. At this point, I felt really good about body positivity. I made my focus on activities I love doing, getting good MICROnutrients (no deficiencies here), etc. This is when I “came back” to tumblr in early 2022.

I then started to feel the same way I did before- it was, once again, becoming a bit of an obsession, and my body was fatiguing. My heart quite literally felt off, and I was dizzy all the time. I thought maybe with everything, I was taking in too much potassium and a higher activity level. I gave my body time to rest and… I just stopped doing the things. Work got busy. I signed up to retake the MCATs. I got COVID.

Honestly at the end of Covid I was back to around 175lbs. I was feeling okay about that- it’s still “fat” but I was happy to be feeling healthier and I could FINALLY start studying. After my first COVID day where I had an episode of intense muscle pain where I could not move, I was totally fine with my weight. While I was starting to study, though, I noticed my blood pressure was low and I was still feeling kinda meh. I was hardly hungry, and my bathroom habits changed. I wasn’t too upset with this, since it meant I could study for longer at a time without getting distracted by bathroom trips, and I figured my high stress levels were playing a role by essentially halting that “rest and digest” I should’ve been in for way too long.

After I finished the test, my stress seemed to reduce, but my heath stuff didn’t. I had a week off work and decided I wanted to start hiking again, see waterfalls, etc. And so I did. While I loved it, I kept feeling really dizzy all the time. I focused on getting more salt in my diet and making sure I was eating some carbs before and after the trial. My appetite improved, but my GI tract still felt sluggish. Often, I would feel actually hungry, but I’d also feel like my stomach was way too full. My reflux was really bad at this time, and that also made my nasal issues worse. My sleep suffered a ton, and I would spent 11 hours in bed because it would take me 3 just to fall asleep. I also noticed my lower stomach had fresh new red stretch marks.

At this point now, now only can I barely breathe out my nose most of the time, but my nose is bleeding often (just slight, small bleeds- no dripping really). I’ve tried PPIs and H2 agonists to help with the reflux. Honestly, as gross as this sounds, the only thing that helps is actually going to the bathroom? But usually when I go, it doesn’t all feel “out.” I’ve taken two laxative doses in the past couple of months to get some longer lasting relief. I visited my sister for a week (got back a week ago), and while down there, I realized my shorts that I bought to fit me last summer felt tight in the tummy. I thought it must be constipation or something similar, or heat edema, but it still was not fun to feel that “fat.” Also, I realized my 34G bras were getting tight, even on the band size, so that was extra weird. Even my sports bras weren’t fitting right. Usually a band in a L is too loose but I put up with it to fit my breasts, but between July to now, the bands starting getting tighter. Which means gain.

I weighed myself this morning at 195.8 lbs. literally the heaviest I have ever been. Up 20 lbs in the 2 months post-COVID, and that’s with me hiking more AND I started physical therapy for my back. Husband was confused and said something seemed wrong- because that’s a lot of weight to gain and he hasn’t seen me eat THAT much. He encouraged me to talk to my doctor, but I’m still convinced all they will say is that CLEARLY I’m lying about my intake and tell me to track calories and try to lose weight.

I’m also going to a water park this weekend, so I tried on my bathing suits, and none fit in a way I’d be comfortable with. A couple bottoms fit, but I realized all my tops didn’t- none of them have cups big enough to cover up my nipples in a secure enough manner, so I’d be constantly worried about “wardrobe malfunctions.”

I’m having kind of a hard time with all of this, but I’m trying right now to make sure I have clothes that fit my current body first. My mantra rn is “I deserve clothes that fit my body right now.” So I bought a size up in the shorts I bought last summer- I hope that will work. I also ordered 6 new tops in bra sizes, instead of the normal S/M/L/XL sizes, because I need them to actually fit. I got 3 tops in 2 different sizes after measuring- 36 bands and, because I’m kind of worried about how that will fit since there aren’t the 3 rows of hooks and too tight is far more noticeable than too loose, 38 bands too, just in case. I’m just praying that one size will fit me, and then I’ll return the ones in the other size since they were expensive.

Other than the new clothes for the water park, I feel a bit at a loss. On one hand I physically feel somewhat unwell quite often, and I’ve ran through the lists of potential culprits from anything from something as benign as stress to something as serious as a Cushing’s syndrome (such as from an ACTH-releasing tumor). Part of me is also terrified I may have diabetes now, even though I’ve never had any signs of pre-diabetes before now, but I’m thinking possible PCOS which can lead to insulin resistance. The obvious answer is “talk to my PCP,” and in general my PCP now is great, but I have an appointment in October and really don’t want to have any “preventable” disease and I feel like I need to be “doing all the right things” prior to seeing her anyway. And I’m scared, too, that when she suggests things like dieting, I will just burst into tears because the idea of what that means is… I guess invalidating to me.

Here’s the reality: finding yourself obese after eating disorder recovery is tricky enough as is. If I bring up the fact that I have struggled with my relationship with food and exercise, people automatically assume that I binge eat and just DON’T exercise/have never had the “discipline” to make myself exercise even if I don’t like it. They treat me like a liar when I clarify. When I bring up the couple periods of rapid weight gain with people who know and understand my history, I’m still told that I probably just didn’t realize how much I ate because I wasn’t actively tracking my calories and weighing my food. I’m constantly told maybe I just don’t have the willpower or discipline other people have, and I need to cultivate that, but that’s not a problem- the problem is I will take that “willpower” or “discipline” to a level that leaves me and the people around me absolutely miserable.

When I was thinner- “healthy weight” with a BMI around 21- nobody said those things to me. My mom not included (as she will find some way to criticize my appearance), I was never told my heath problems were BECAUSE of my body, or that if I gained 5 lbs over a couple weeks it was because of my eating habits (“oh I’m sure it’s just water weight from extra salt”) and that I was CLEARLY lying about my intake. And I was never told I needed to go on a very low calorie diet and exercise more if I complained about constipation.

Idk I feel like I have to do so much more for people to even consider that something might be wrong with my health other than being fat, and often what I have to do is really psychologically damaging, and nobody wants to admit that.

#lucy rambles #trigger warning #calories #weight #obesity #bias #eating disorder #btw no I’m not pregnant I’m literally bleeding right now #also I am on bc to regulate heavy periods and my husband has had a vasectomy

7 notes · View notes

efflorescentdeath · 1 year

Text

I absolutely have been thinking about how much easier it would be to just be dead right now. I feel as though I have really lost, not only my best friend, but myself. I lost touch with reality, so much so that I don't even know who I am. I feel physically revolted by myself and my actions and choices. I hate who I have become, I hate who I was, I just hope I can like who I will become, one day.

If I could go back 6 months, just 6 months, and start over, I would in a heartbeat. Instead I feel stuck dealing with myself. I hate that no one really understands the way my brain works anymore, because I don't even.

I'm so upset that I keep hurting people, as a new self-destructive tendency. I wish I could just destroy my body like I did in high school, not my relationships. I wish I could grab ahold of my brain and steer it into the right direction, instead of ruining everything good that has ever happened to me.

I wish I would've tried harder to be better. I wish I would have not soaked in the self-loathing that came with the thought of being on a fucking antidepressant. I wish I would've just taken the goddamn medication. I wish I didn't want to take my own life right now seeing as though it is the ultimate form hurting others.

I want to be a child again. I hated my life then, but it was easier. I wish I was 16 again, stressed about not being able to see a future but nevertheless, excited. I wish I was going to get pancakes before school because rehearsal got cancelled. I wish I could rekindle the love that made me feel like life was worth living. I wish I never got to the point where I ruined that love. Where I ruined his perception of me.

I wish life was easier, and I wish I had something to look forward to, something to make me hopeful.

I wish I felt like me, not even happy, just me.

2 notes · View notes

that-gay-jedi · 1 year

Text

Really wish my obsession with not wanting my judgment or autonomy to be tampered with, which is usually fairly healthy and useful in that it causes me to hate advertising on principle and draw boundaries with manipulative people etc, would stop trying to "protect" me from the new meds I thought I willingly agreed to try. Apparently, on a level beyond my conscious control, not as fucking willing as I thought.

Literally every day for MONTHS now I've been going through the motions of taking the pill out of the bottle, sitting there with a glass of water in my other hand, and my mind just fights with my own muscles for however long until I eventually give up on ever getting it into my mouth and I put the pill back in the bottle and say "Maybe tomorrow." I don't even know if people who haven't experienced this understand what I'm talking about, it's like I'm arm wrestling with myself and losing.

I understand exactly why I'm like this, but I'm literally already taking one antidepressant by choice and have been doing so for many years, so it seems weird that simply adding a second one would be a problem.

5 notes · View notes

pelle-ohlin · 2 years

Text

I want to talk for a little while, anonymously, about how hard it was to get diagnosed properly with mental illness as a person “assigned female at birth”.

(For the record, I don’t consider myself “female” except as in body. I recognize all people with this anatomy will share a certain experience and bond that can not be undermined or even shed. I have always been male on the inside since I was a child, but the world was never ready to give me the . . . uh, reception I desired, so I repressed it - More on this later. At this point I honestly consider myself a “starseed unconcerned with gender, but somewhat obsessed with its presentation due to toxic patterns from the previous generation.” I think of gender presentation as a way to fuck with people and get what you want, and nothing more.)

But anyways.

It took me ten years and more false diagnoses than I could count to get diagnosed with the proper conditions and to find a medication that would actually help. The conditions I actually have are “Autism Spectrum Disorder” (formerly known as aspergers, which I greatly prefer. I hate the new umbrellization of it), ADHD, and OCD. There is also some schizophrenic overlap, but my psychologist can’t really figure that one out to this day and says it’s probably just the autism and OCD manifesting in weird ways. He does not think I have true schizophrenia.

The only drug that actually helps me is Adderall--also known as Amphetamine-Dextroamphetamine--basically meth. Benzos would MASK the symptoms but not HELP like Adderall does. (And thanks to constant fuckups from doctors and endless misdiagnoses, I’m still addicted to Klonopin to this day, although now I mainly use it to get to sleep)

Things I’ve been misdiagnosed with:

General anxiety disorder

Panic disorder

PTSD

Schizophrenia

Bipolar disorder

Depression (I probably do have this because I talk about killing myself like every other day lol. But it was a symptom, not a cause)

And this is ALL BECAUSE DOCTORS CAN’T ACCEPT THE FACT THAT PEOPLE BORN WITH FEMALE ANATOMY “CAN’T HAVE AUTISM OR ADHD.”

After FINALLY. FUCKING FINALLY. getting diagnosed with (SEVERE) ADHD as an adult last year, I’ve completely turned my life upside down. I’m serious, it’s fucking clown world levels of bizarre. I’m able to function socially on a level that makes no sense. I was able to get a job that pays more than both my parents combined in like 2 months. I can sit down and write 4,000 words in one day where before I would struggle with a couple hundred.

And when I look back, the signs are fucking absurd. I have fucking EVERY PRESENTATION of early childhood severe ADHD. Screaming in the halls, getting up and walking around during class, doing bad in school despite being really smart, blah blah blah. I was abused by the Catholic school system instead of actually being treated, but that’s another story in itself.

Same with Aspergers. Jesus fucking christ how obvious was this one? I used to run an entire fucking blog focused entirely on dead. I get hyper-interested in things and lose my goddamn mind. Socializing is like navigating a fucking mouse maze in flowers for algernon for me (after he starts getting stupid again). I’ve felt like an alien since my first sentient memory.

But no, since I was born “female,” doctors always wrote it off as “anxiety.”

When I take Adderall, the anxiety is gone completely. It feels like I can focus. It feels like I was blind all my goddamn life and now I can fucking see.

The benzos would just fucking put a god damned blanket on the fire. This shit actually calms me down and makes everything clear. Imagine the shit I could have done if I got on it before I was 30 years old.

But anyways, I was also thrown countless antidepressants, weird anxiety medications, even antipsychotics . . . But when I for the first time took that little blue pill . . . I was like ...... Oh.

I’m not talking “I shift around a little bit in my seat and feel edgy” I’m talking the ADHD was so bad my mind would be racing in fucking crazy thought loops LITERALLY 14 hours straight sometimes. It was literal torture combined with the pure O-type OCD. Horrible.

It feels like I’m alive again when I take this shit. When I take the benzos I feel dead.

(I have an atypical response to all SSRI-type antidepressants so for anxiety benzos are my only option. But surprise, IT WASN’T ANXIETY you god damnd idiots)

3 notes · View notes

masterzholtan · 2 years

Text

On the subject of Happiness 3

"Crazy as it sounds you won't feel as low as you feel right now"

I haven't written in this for years and I hate my handwriting so a diary has never appealed to me aside from that one summer I had no internet and played Pokémon Ruby for 6 weeks straight and wrote down how much I hated my parents for not paying the bill.

It's been a mad old journey and I've just reread the posts below about 2016 being amazing and my summer of freedom after the abuse id taken in the years prior, I gushed about joining University and here I am with a First Class Honours degree in Computer Science and a fucking gaming industry job that treats me so well. Look at how far we've come Andy.

I've not thought about what order to write stuff down in in this but I guess I wanna start near the top as in the reason I remembered this little diary existed. I met a person and they fill my heart with such joy and happiness, they are hilarious and beautiful, and together we're really going to take on the world and show others what love looks like. We are perfect for eachother, she told me she loved me and I'd never thought about that ever being a possibility again after all I've been through, I have my moments where I struggle (thanks for that youknowwho) with realising that it's real, and she does actually have these feelings for me and wants to spend time with me, touch me, treat me, laugh with me. And that's why I'm writing in this because a few nights ago she showed me she wrote about me in her diary and it was a real sweet thing to be let in to something so private for her. I can't remember what she wrote exactly because I wanted to read it quick and give back this tome of her thoughts and feelings of times passed, but the one thing that got me was how she described me as "The man she wants to spend her life with" or words to that affects and I've never been so honoured to hear that. In fact I don't think I've ever heard that from any partner before, always the giver and never the taker. She is not like that. I truly love her and trust her. I'm confident that we are it and that makes me so happy.

It's funny how these thoughts of my new partner came racing through my head at Download 22 just past as Biffy Clyro once again make me cry with Machines. The song that soundtracks my depression and anxiety for all these years and with my friends arms around me again as i weep to Simon Neil for I think the 6th or 7th time. I think of this blog so many years ago, I think of that summer of 2016 where I found myself and learnt myself, I think of the time at Uni, I think of the emotional and physical abuse, I think of being sick every morning for a year, I think of how sorry I am that i couldnt support the friends and partners that have come to pass.

I think of where I was and where I am now.

My friends haven't changed since I love them all as much as I do if not more than ever, they all love me still despite how annoying I am. Like a little chihuahua of excitement I am. But I think their tolerance for me will withstand a lifetime

I can't think much else to write. I'm still me, I still celebrate December 15th every year and will continue to do so, I was about to write about antidepressants and how it'd been so long, but I got back on them 2019-2020 and couldn't get my prescription when lockdown started so it's been about 2 years since, I had some private counselling in 2021 and 2 quick sessions this year because of how I was struggling to deal with Isolation, grief and eating which I told no one about except if you're blessed enough to read this

I can't say anyone is ever truly happy because our wants and needs change but I am getting pretty fucking close you know xx

3 notes · View notes

squirrelpudding · 2 months

Text

March 1st, 2024

Today my mom came into my room saying my doctor[s office] randomly mailed us a list of references for therapists, but all of them were online/call only, no in person. I have had several different therapists, and they were all fine, but I don't really think the traditional style of therapy works for me. I stopped going because the place I used to go to closed. I had it every two weeks, and that was too long where I couldn't remember what had happened in that time, but one week would've been too short, and I wouldn't really have anything to talk about. I think also I can only really remember things that happened to me that match whatever current mood I'm in. And when I went to therapy, I was usually just happy that I could get out of the house, so I could only really remember the happy things that had happened in that time. There was a lot of shit I could've talked about, but never did because I wasn't in the mood. Also, I couldn't really open up to any of my therapists because I knew nothing about them. One hour every two weeks was not enough time to feel comfortable enough with a person to talk to them about certain things. Maybe if I went back now that I am less shy and have a much easier time thinking of things to say. But also I don't really have anything to talk about. Right before the clinic I went to closed, my therapist had me do a bunch of tests, which resulted in a full analysis of me. It was really interesting, because it was a lot of stuff that I felt was true about me but wouldn't have been able to point out about myself.

"In her social relationships, Anna has strong wishes for acceptance and closeness. She is sensitive and cautious, and seeks cooperative relationships based on safety and trust. She is content to maintain a few close friendships, and she tends to be selective of her friends while seeking to avoid conflict. She feels less assertive than most of her peers and, as a result, she feels she needs guidance and assurance in order to take chances. Her thoughts are often disrupted by her excessive fear of social rebuff, a fear that is often intensified by her tendency to anticipate rejection. Her lack of self-assertiveness, tendency to underestimate herself, and anxiety around assuming mature and responsible roles cause her to withdraw into isolated activities and allow others to make decisions. At times, she may become distracted by inner thoughts that arise during social interactions. To counteract the pain these ideas and preoccupations carry, she may have learned to avoid emotional experiences and suppress events that stir disturbing memories and feelings. These defensive efforts may prevent her from developing the close and accepting relationships she desires" - excerpt from the report made by my old therapist

I just think its interesting. Anyway, I was thinking about therapy because I was thinking about how I always get depressed in an unmotivated way in the fall, and then fix myself second semester. I'm still depressed second semester, it just doesn't reflect in my grades. I'm the only person in my family who is not on antidepressants, and one time my mom suggested I start taking them, but I think she forgot and I never brought it up again. I have all As and Bs in school, which I have never had before. I've had As and Bs, but I usually also get a C or D in something. I've never not had a C.

The pictures attached are from the trip I took with my friend to Las Vegas and LA during the break. I was going to blog about it, because it made me feel like I am an actual teenager, but now I don't really feel like writing about it. I think the point of this blog is to document my life, and write about important stuff, but more importantly its just to get me to write. Last year, I completed all my new years resolutions except the one that said "write more". But I don't want to force myself to write, otherwise I will get tired of it and start to hate it.

I had forgotten how much I love to read. In my English class, we are reading "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien, and I finished it today. I really really liked it. I like most books we read in school, but this one was different. I can't stop thinking about Mary Anne, and the part where she was staring off, and when asked if she was okay she said that was the happiest she had ever been. I don't know why, that just stuck with me. I used to read a lot in elementary and middle school, but I kind of stopped in 8th grade, I think because of covid and such. But my friends and I talked about starting a book club. I really hope we do it, because it would peer pressure me into reading. But honestly I don't think we will get around to it because we suck at making plans and organizing people. I think tonight instead of playing on my phone for an hour before bed, maybe I will read. Maybe.

#blog

0 notes

nicetrynicetry · 3 months

Text

127

V is back from what seems like a decade in Brazil, with a tan and good stories and her uncanny ability to soothe me. We catch up in my studio, and it is heaven. I scramble for things to tell her that I haven’t already chronicled here or relayed on the phone. “Tony Robbins says according to a recent study SSRI antidepressants don’t work”, I explain. “Well that’s a stupid study”, V says, “because now all the people having a placebo effect will read it and get depressed”. I believe in placebo, celebrate it. But then why are these drugs so goddamn difficult to wean off? Or is that placebo too? There must be millions of people who went to a doctor about hopelessness and are now unable to orgasm without devices that break up municipal concrete, numbed to deep feeling and chained to prescriptions. I am one of them. I’ve taken all the pills and they all seem about the same. V counters that she has seen me feel a great many things. But perhaps I could be feeling more. I could also be bored, ascribing to pharmaceuticals what naturally occurs in my stupid head. I forget to ask V whether she read about the gallerist found dead in, as it happens, Brazil, with stab wounds that some think were from a screwdriver

I get a wax. Ill-advised, given the state of my genitals, but there is a cancellation fee. Thrush isn’t contagious. I only get a wax when there is the looming promise of intercourse. The part that is a little sad is that I rarely even want intercourse (CC: SSRIs). I only ever want to kiss. But I clean up shop in case I find myself in a kissing situation and then bowing to perceived pressure to go further, as I often end up doing. If unspoken boundaries are to be crossed, the body should at least be in good order. Obviously I would rather a wildly hairy body consumed by desire than a hairless one that wishes to please and that cries later. But when we can’t have feeling, we can at least have aesthetics. This all is made funnier by the fact that my body never looks pristine. I have zits on my ass from biking a lot, and this halfway-to-womanhood shape that I’m convinced is from starving myself out of puberty so many times. Also my bottom incisors are worn down from stomach acid erosion, revealing their cross sections, which have brown middles. Picture Nabisco’s “fig newtons”. I rebuffed a man who claimed to have fallen in love with me at H’s New Orleans wedding and he got so angry he said all my bottom teeth were brown. I wrote about it on here, and I still brush too hard in his honour

The Hungarian woman waxing me shares my government first name, but spelled more exotically with Z’s and A’s everywhere. “I always search on Pinterest for what other Isobels look like”, she says. “And? How are we looking?”, I ask. “Usually very dark brown hair”, she says. I ask if her family ever experimented with shortening her name to Bell, and she shakes her head violently. “Because Bell sounds like the Hungarian word for intestines”, she explains. She talks about her boyfriend and how much she hates her dad, the merits of Hungarian wineries and being rejected from art school. She asks if I’m Scandinavian, and I say a little. “Your face is quite nice”, she remarks, studying it in the harsh light, “I would recommend some lipstick”. I rush to reassure her that I would usually wear lipstick, but that I didn’t bother with it tonight. It is very strange to have someone spend 15 minutes in close proximity to your labia and then begin commenting on your face. But I’ll take it. Even if she’d called me ugly I would’ve left her the same giant tip, and that’s the problem

0 notes

diaryoftheunidropout · 6 months

Text

DAY 237

Days pass and it seems shit doesn't get better. In fact, it might even get worse. Also, I love how I randomly remember this account.

First things first, my mom has been in the psych ward for a week now. It stops her ED from getting too out of hand, but the real problem is her body image issues. That's what's causing the ED and it REALLY doesn't feel like the ooddles of doctors, psychiatrists, therapists and so on at the hospital seem to realize, or care, somehow. They also prescribed her with new antidepressants which she's having an allergic reaction to, but they say it's "normal" and are going to increase the dose. I hate them. I hate them so much and that's why I'd never want to go to the psych ward. They do the bare fucking minimum like feeding you and cleaning your room which are things you often can't do yourself anymore when you end up there, but they don't actually help you get better so when you go back into the world you can look after yourself again. Maybe I'm too harsh on them, and I'm sorry.

For my part, things are really shitty. I haven't gotten out of bed in 6 days now. I have had a pretty bad cold for a week too, so that'll justify it. Seriously, the truth is I'm going through a really bad depressive episode. It started about a week after I quit my job (so around the 25th of September I guess) and it hasn't left me since (we're the 3 of November right now). Most of the times I got out of bed were because I was seeing my relatives (I spent a week at my grandparents's and at my mom's, I saw my godmother a couple of times). My uni "friends" have completely given up on me and have straight up stopped inviting me to all their little parties and hangouts. I decided I didn't want to celebrate my "uni best friend" 's birthday anymore and came up with an excuse. I'm really disappointed in them. Or maybe I'm disappointed in myself because I should have been the one trying to organize stuff with them. But when you know they've created a groupchat with just the three of them, for some reason, and that was about as soon as I dropped out, you know you're not really part of the team anymore. I wonder if when my "best friend" doesn't walk fast enough compared to the two other girls, they just leave her behind like they did when we hung out the 4 of us, except I'd always slow down and wait for my "best friend" so she wouldn't be alone. I wonder.

These past 6 days, I don't really know what I've been doing except binge watch the last 3 or 4 seasons of BoJack Horseman. I absolutely ADORED this show. It's beyond what words can express. I've also started to develop a strange interest for dolls, specially the new Monster High dolls and Rainbow High/Shadow High dolls. It's okay, I'm going through a little phase and it brings me some comfort. I've also started reading Macbeth since I'm seeing the play in London in December.

All I pray for is winning the lottery. Whenever I don't forget, I play. I usually don't win much, but I play and I pray. Because I don't see how else I could get out of the deep. Just thinking about getting a job makes me feel an even greater amount of crippling anxiety and depression than I already have to bear every day. I've sort of convinced myself I deserved to have this little miracle happen to me because with all the shit I've been through, there is no one that could save me, not even myself, not doctors, not family. All that could save me would be becoming a millionaire and never having to worry about finding a job and losing my freedom, all of that to barely earn anything anyway. If I were a millionaire I could finally be sure I'll always have a roof above my head.

Lately I've lost the will to do things. I don't wanna celebrate my birthday. What is there to celebrate? It's gotten so bad that, although for a few months getting ready to see BTR tour in Europe was my top one priority in life, it's something I can barely find interest in anymore. When I think I probably won't be able to afford doing the whole tour I think "whatever", even though a couple of weeks ago I would have cried at the mere thought of not doing the whole tour. Things are changing quick. I'm losing interest in everything, nothing gets me excited. The BTR side of Twitter is hella toxic, you'll get cancelled over anything by a bunch of hypocrites.

I'd like to go back to the gym but I don't have the money, nor the will anymore. I've been asking for social aids (which I have the right to) but they're not giving me anything.

I don't have much else to say. I hope next time I write here things are a little better. I doubt they'll be, but I hope, still.

See you later :)

"Mr Blue I told you that I loved you

Please believe me..."

0 notes