Well, I have finally come to the conclusion that I have completely lost my mind. And I am honestly okay with this, because as stated in “Fight Club”- ‘Losing all hope was freedom’. These words ring ever so true for me in this stage of my life. I am not going through a mental breakdown, because I have had my fair share of these in my past… I have simply lost touch and maybe to some this is seen as a negative thing; however, without a certain level of clarity and stability one can lose all inhibitions and go after what is important to them deep inside. I am going to run away. I am going to go after what I want and not what my parents want or my peers want or what society wants. I am finally going to chase what is best for me because I now realize that life is so short and it can be simple. So many people place too much pressure on themselves and their lives because they have certain expectations of what it is supposed to be; moaybe this is earning a college degree, getting a well payed, stable job, or settling down and raising a family. But what about those of us that do not fit this “normal” mold? Where do we fit in society? I mean, I certainly am self sufficient and fiercely independent- I can take care of myself. But I handle my mind and self in an alternative way, as most people with mental health problems do. I am not sure what the purpose of this post it besides saying that if you have lost your mind… it is okay and there is nothing to worry about. Once you give in and let go, this feeling of empty insanity can, ironically, be incredibly fulfilling. Do what makes you happy and not what is expected of you. This is YOUR life and YOUR body and YOUR mind and do with it what you please, because in the end- we all are born into this world alone and we will all die alone. One’s only shot in life is with him or herself…
Lately I have been dealing with a lot of anxiety regarding men…okay, scratch that; I have been troubled with this “fear” of men for years, however, only now am I aware of how much it is affecting my life here in college and as a young adult in general. Since I was relatively young I have been uncomfortable being around men, especially with no other women present. I truly am not sexist and do not think that all men are out to get me; caution just envelops my life and I live with the constant regret of not having done things, taken risks.
The truth is, I really am attracted to men, but when one shows any signs of attraction or affection towards me, I freak out. I genuinely do not know what it is, but it’s become very present in my life here recently. Numerous guys will flirt with me and show interest on a weekly basis, but I usually just brush it off and forget about it. I never feel like I want to reciprocate with flirting back with them. I will often attempt to flirt but will repress the urge and talk with them just “normally” and with no hint of attraction.
Now, hear me out: I am not asexual, because I do have feelings for men…just from afar. I am so scared that they will take advantage of me or, god forbid, want to kiss me or put their arm around me. Maybe I just haven’t found the right guy yet, but there have been a few perfectly good guys who I should have taken a chance on, but never did. Do I regret it? Yeah, I kind of do in a couple circumstances.
Perhaps I can change, and hopefully within the next three days, because this really nice guy and I have been talking and hanging out for the past couple weeks. We share several common interests (he’s a vegan, artistic, musical, and an overall really genuine person). He is always really respectful towards me and he even volunteers with underprivileged kids every week! Like, c’mon, how could I not like him?
I think I do like him but I honestly don’t really know. It would be nothing against him if I dropped him, because I am not sure that I have ever felt a genuine connection with anyone. The funny thing about me is I usually do not hang out with guys because I am so cautious; but once I do, I have trouble saying “no” and creating boundaries. Because I know I cannot bring myself to saying no to advances, I usually try to avoid any situation in which a guy could be in the position to make any advances towards me. Like if there is a couch and a single chair in the room I will sit in the chair so he can’t put his arm around me. I will purposely make sure we are in an environment where there are other people, so he won’t try anything on me. I mean, the list goes on and on, but you get the gist.
And I know what you are probably thinking… all of this stems back to some past childhood experience where a man in my life betrayed my trust. You’re probably right, but this information is not going to do shit here in the moment. I need some sort of quick fix right here and now. I do not seem to have any social anxiety other than with men and I make friends quite easily-even with men, but not in romantic ways.
Sometimes I feel like I am the only one with these fears and I know I had to be one of the few people in my class as an eleven year old who lost sleep every night being on guard because I was afraid a man would come into my room to rape me. This fear strikes my hear deep and I am trying everything I can to change, but old habits die hard, you know?
This guy I plan on hanging with on Thursday wants to make me AND my cat dinner and watch a movie. He is coming over and is going to make a meal special for my restricted diet and he’s going to make Fat Louie a treat, too. How awesome is that? Why do I have so much anxiety over being alone with him?
I will keep all of my *millions* of readers updated through this struggle of mine and let you know if things change and improve.
I thought it might be interesting to share a poem I wrote last semester in my creative writing class. We were asked to write about something that deeply mattered to us and we could use song lyrics here and there to add a seperate dimension to the piece. I will put the song lyrics in bold, so you can distinguish between my writing and song lines.
Hey Child, kick open the night
See the battle you were forced into
with those distant scars on your arms
Those faint marks with a morbid curiosity about them;
pink and tan grooves with both jagged and straight edges.
All these memories got you falling apart.
Do you remember that evening at sunset, when you sat on your bed
when you were ten
and wept and wept because you knew that no matter what anyone said,
the feeling of disgust, loneliness, and fear buried deep
within the confines of your mind
could never be ripped away?
These feelings presented themselves by creeping and crawling
throughout your body and traveling to your stomach,
making it unbearable to breathe.
Like a constant stomach bug;
a fist to the gut.
You just laid there and took it.
Look back and see all that was done when you were here before.
Remember how there was a green blanket?
The threads chafing against your ankles;
allowing for a separate pain to distract from the real suffering.
A hazy aura all around,
think back and remember, child, all that was done!
Holding your grandmother’s bible to your chest,
praying it can get you through the horror of staring into the past.
All one could here is silence and a still picture with no words.
Begging the salty tears trapped within your tear ducts to release themselves
and offer some relief; however,
you feel nothing.
So, if you have read any of my previous posts you have most likely come to your own conclusions that I have my mental health struggles… and quite a few of them. These issues have been ever present in my daily life for over a decade– without a break. Honestly, I am just plain exhausted and the truth of the matter is that I cannot and will not be okay with living like this for even another couple years. I have reached my breaking point and every panic attack and psychological crash I put myself through is followed by a long period of “numbness” when I can technically function and survive, but without any real quality of life. I dream of one day thriving. Sometimes I think that I am “this” close to having a nervous breakdown, but then reality hits and I realize that I am WAY past that point. I had my nervous breakdown at ten years old. Every day since that moment has just been the after effects– the recurrent tremors after a massive earthquake. I am through and I want to know what peace tastes like.
Coming to college, I thought that things would be much different, and they are, but only just slightly. The “poison” is too close in proximity even still and I don’t know of any other way to escape this inner and outer turmoil besides to completely relocate to somewhere far, far away. I am only just 120 miles away from the core of my troubles and sometimes it’s a love/hate thing with these people, but they are the ones who grabbed at my breasts on my nineteenth birthday, called me fat as a child, isolated me from other children and the outside world, and refused to let me develop my independence but at the same time forced me to, because I was always all alone.
So, through thinking about this for years, but not genuinely considering it until this past month, I’ve talked with my therapist and we both agree that it is best that I take a breather and make a drastic change. The phrase that describes insanity, “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”, basically sums up my whole life up to this point. And guess what? Nothing ever changes because I have not made any real alterations to my life!
I am going to finish this semester of college and I will have three semesters under my belt! But I have decided that I will take about a year break from school, move out west, establish residency, pursue myself, my health and my art, and then begin school again wherever I end up–once I am ready. It is too much for me to focus on healing when I have the stress of school plus all this other post traumatic bullshit to worry about. This has been my dream since I was a child and, thanks to a bit of money I have for myself, I will move to the other side of the country.
It is both incredibly exciting and daunting at the same time, but I know that relocating is what I need to do. The fact that I contemplate suicide, even still, on a weekly basis is enough to be like “hold up, girlfriend. You have got to make a change because this is fucking ridiculous; like this isn’t healthy”.
Each and every day I fear death; which is incredibly ironic considering my history with it, but I suppose it’s more about my need of control. I figure that I am going to die anyway so I might as well die after I have had some adventure and self discovery. I need to do this for myself and there is nothing holding me back.
I am still deciding where I will move to but I have always wanted to live in either Arizona, Colorado, or Washington state. Today I am feeling like I want to run to the desert and it reminds me of the song by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I need that openness and solitude to find peace and to discover who I actually am. I’ll post the video below and please disregard the rather unsettling beginning of the video–it has some meaning to it but I won’t get into that right now. Just enjoy the song and the rest of the video!
Best wishes! XOXO
For so long I have yearned for relief, stability, and freedom. And I feel like I am inching closer and closer every month; however, it has been such a painfully slow journey over the past decade or so. Maybe I’ll find this release that I so desperately need with space, time, and independence, so my goal for 2015 is to accomplish at least two of these three things… let’s shoot for all three! And, because we all know that sometimes new years resolutions are not long lasting, I will keep this up until I reach it because I often trip, fall, and lose my balance in life, but I AM making progress.
Ever since I was a child, or at least since early adolescence, I have felt an overwhelming hunger for travel and an increasing interest of other people and cultures. I’d dream of escaping the psychological prison I was being raised in and that one day I would fly away and find my peace. I dreamed of far off places that were too beautiful to describe. Fields, deserts, and mountains with beautiful architecture and colors. These were not only daydreams but also dreams from my night’s sleep, and all day after I’d dwell on these elaborate, complex scenes to distract myself from the pain I was facing each day within my own life and home.
I have taken great strides in trying to improve my life and treat myself the way I need to be treated. I got into college and I am enjoying the learning and profuse fountain of knowledge constantly being projected upon me… but there is still a very large part of my soul that is missing. Perhaps it is not actually missing but being squashed by the upper hand. I cannot truly feel free to express myself and be the best I can be when I have over controlling parents breathing down my neck and telling me exactly what to do with my life because they’re the ones in charge of my finances. And please, hear me out and do not get me wrong, I appreciate all of the financial support they’ve offered me, although I just wish they would have focused some of that energy onto nurturing my mental and emotional state as a child instead of leaving me alone with my fears in the dark of night.
Since I was very young, my family has drilled into me the idea that dreaming is not realistic and that no matter how hard I try, nothing will work out. They tried to shape out my life the way their’s panned out and they do not expect anything more of me and they do not and never have believed that I am intelligent and talented. If you’re parents do not believe in you, then how could you possibly believe in yourself? This is the question I have been repetitively asking myself lately.
I would savor any opportunity to escape and go out west or even out of the country as soon as this semester is over. Yes, I know it has only just started but it will go by fast. Plus I’ll be able to focus my obsessive energy on the positives of being able to leave in the future rather than all of the negative things I always worry myself over.
First, I’ll need to find a way to pay for my escape which will involve me searching for grants, scholarships, and loans. Also, it would be great if I could find a job (preferably on campus).
Secondly, I’ll need to find exactly where I am going to go, make my connections, and start contacting people to plan it all out.
Third, I’ll need to go and find space from my parents. I will not feel obligated to talk to them everyday if they are not paying the majority of my expenses. I can set healthy boundaries and focus on my healing and development as a human being.
Fourth, I will need to take some time, which most certainly goes along with space, and let myself live life without fear, doubt, denial, and anger. I need time to sort out all of my issues and to create lasting and meaningful relationships with others. I need to take time to let go of my past and live in the present and finally have a realistic hope for the future. Being realistic does not mean I have to be a pessimist; because my goals and dreams are not so far fetched. Wanting meaningful relationships, stability, space, and time is not exactly unreasonable if you ask me! At one point I might have told you it was, but this is a sign I have grown and changed.
If you or anyone you know is in a similar place, please do not give up just yet! It is so incredibly easy to lose hope but with proper planning, organization, and faith I think that we can absolutely reach for the stars and make our dreams a reality. I will keep you updated on my progress on this matter (for the two or three people that actually read my posts! Ha).
Blessings and peace
I have seen an innumerable amount of blog posts about suicide lately and have found that it is so important and helpful to have open and honest discussions about the subject. Many people who write about suicide have not actually experienced it themselves and so it is easier for them to say it will get better or to have faith in God. For some people it does get better and it was simply a phase or hiccup in their life. Maybe having faith in God convinced them that they were completely better, but even Christians live difficult lives and at times consider or even commit suicide. Just for your information, I am not terribly suicidal at the moment and I have taken great strides in trying to help myself. I’ll just let my thoughts on this matter run freely through this post.
You never realize you are serious about suicide until you actually do it-and even then, if you survive the attempt, you still don’t think you were serious about it.
Let me tell you, from my experience, feeling out of hope has no beauty attached to it and the desire to throw oneself off a bridge or take a bullet to the brain is not the least bit poetic or romantic. There is no special way to write about driving high-speed in your car with blood trickling down your arms and reaching the middle of the Natchez trace bridge on a stupid and bitterly cold day in the middle of winter to just jump off with no reservation to land hard and numb on the waiting concrete; hopefully to die in an instant but maybe not.*** As you fall you begin to think about how all of these problems that are scary and making you literally fall apart are not irreversible, however jumping off is irreversible and there is no way to change what you have just done. Perhaps you will not die until you lay there for too many seconds, even one too many, to feel your insides now outside of you and your spirit desperately trying to find a way to escape. An inexplicable burning, literally drowning now in your own blood; feeling like you are about to vomit. But instead you die. You lay there still and quietly and you die. You never experience love. But what if you never would have? You’re leading a shitty life trying to find a way to cope with the shitty hand you’ve been dealt. There is no pretty way to say that you have sliced your arms so deep that you can no longer feel and to write dark, almost demonic things in your journal with your own purposely drawn blood. There is no nice and romantic way to say that you have spent the last decade of your life, since you were just nine years old, in a chronic dissociative state and missed out on so many memories that should have been beautiful and should have been fun and care free. It’s seriously frustrating when people try to sugarcoat situations that are nothing but dark and, honestly, horrifying. Especially those who have not personally experienced suicidal thoughts and tendencies themselves.
Once one considers suicide and plans to go through with it, the dark consideration remains deep within well past his or her recovery. A lot of psychologists and mental health professionals reference the terms “actively” and “passively” suicidal when referring to the individuals with suicidal thoughts and tendencies. To be passively suicidal is when one has thoughts of ending his or her life but is not in immediate danger of killing themselves. It is still viewed as a viable option but more of something to fall back on if needed. When someone is actively suicidal, their life is completely consumed with thoughts of death and they may be planning out exactly what they are going to do or maybe they have already attempted it. There is a rather fine line between the two and there have been points in my life where I have chronically rested between the two; however, the majority of the time I am passive.
What I have found to be relatively helpful is to not take it one day at a time, but one hour or even just one minute at a time; in times of crisis, a day can feel incredibly overwhelming. Trust me, I’ve been there! This can make it hard when you are full time in work or school, but what’s more important, ultimately? Meeting those deadlines or YOUR LIFE? As someone who also has OCD and is a bit of a perfectionist, the whole take it one minute at a time thing is frightening. But you have to do what’s best for you. It’s your life on the line, not your manager’s or professor’s- if they knew what you were going through I truly hope they would understand and cut you some slack. Although, there definitely are a lot of heartless people on this earth.
I am one of those people who lives in a chronic state of denial, so when I was, in reality, very serious about suicide, I did not actually take myself seriously. When I think back on my childhood, DENIAL, covers all of my memories in big, bold letters. Even though I still am in denial about so may things, when one takes some space and time to step back from a situation it is so much easier to see where you really were mentally.
Maybe it takes years and years for some people to return to a healthy and content state of mind and maybe some people never really get to this place and this thought is what scares me like none other. I am just waiting for my full recovery and I refuse to believe nothing will ever change for me. I am trying my hardest and am legitimately exhausted; however, I always try to hold on and have faith. There are so many times when this is extremely challenging and my depression, panic, post traumatic stress, and fear overshadow any prospect of hope and change. I believe that I am an inherently optimistic person, so even in the darkest of times this tiny, squashed voice within my mind is screaming at me these huge questions, “What if it gets better?” or “What if you were about to fall in love?” or “What if you get the chance to travel and truly escape from your situation?”. I have a love/hate relationship with this voice, however, because nothing seems to ever really change and I am just left to face one obstacle after another. Sometimes I feel like I have tried everything to help myself within the first few months or years of feeling this way and there could not possibly be anything that works because I have tried it all: the drugs, my own coping mechanisms, God, prayer… you name it, I assure you I’ve tried it. But I am relying on that little voice to keep me alive.
So this is my experience with being suicidal and I urge you to get help if you are in the same position. I cannot tell you it will get better today or tomorrow or even within this decade, but I will be holding on right along with you.
***Obviously I did not actually jump off the Natchez Trace Bridge because I am here writing this. I am simply describing what could have happened if I had decided to jump that day last January. I was so, terrifyingly close. I got the descriptions from others’ experiences with surviving their attempts.
Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I saw Sia’s new music video, “Elastic Heart”, in my suggestions box on youtube and I decided to go ahead and watch it. I was already so impressed by her music video for Chandelier and knew this one would be primal and artistic much like her previous one. Honestly, I was so blown away by the emotions and energy projected through the song and the video that it gave me chills. It’s just not often that I come across so much raw emotion in music these days and especially with a popular artist like Sia- though I was not surprised because all of her previous songs and videos are fantastic as well.
A profuse number of individuals have been saying that it symbolizes pedophilia and the struggle to get away from an abusive father, but it just isn’t the case. Unfortunately, many people may believe this from watching the video because they are only mirroring their own personal experience and history with Sia’s song. So many people have gone through difficult childhoods that perhaps it is not so surprising that this was triggering for some. But it doesn’t have to be! Apparently. this video represents the struggle Sia had with her father who had mental illness and the back and forth between them- she escapes but is drawn back in and then she tries to bring him out of the cage (i.e. his broken world) but she can’t and he has a hard time letting her go, but in the end she escapes and he doesn’t. The relationship between father and daughter is not meant to be sexual and I just so utterly wish that the one’s that are were not. It’s devastating and soul sucking and I know this from personal experience.
Shia Labeouf and Maddie Ziegler did such an exceptional job on this dance and I was surprised by how well Shia did with his dancing; however, a lot of it was just running, jumping, and lifting… but still! Shia Labeouf has been in the news the past few years with being a little “crazy” but he’s stated that a lot of his problems come from being traumatized by his father as a child and then also having abandonment issues. It also seems that he has been doing significantly better in these last few months. I think that they needed to cast someone who is capable of feeling a great deal of emotions and feelings while also having the capacity to express them in a universal, though still rather personal, manner; and the choice to cast Shia was an excellent one. Maddie Ziegler, an eleven year old dancer, also did an amazing performance and the dance chemistry between them was eloquently done and well extended for viewers to witness.
Ultimately, I simply wanted to express my feelings towards the “controversy” of this music video and I hope that you watch it with an open heart and mind. The story is so broken and human and I think there are so many of us that can relate to this song and video in even just one small way or another.
Here is the link: