Mental Instability - Blog Posts
Even more
Because of some mental health issues my .om wants to throw away her painting and art in general. He are some of her paintings.
Because of some mental health issues my .om wants to throw away her painting and art in general. He are some of her paintings.
Champions ALWAYS find a way đ
iâm such a ârewatch puppet history at the first sign of troubleâ ass bitch
Warnings: Implied Arophobia (external and internal), Dehumanization
Other Notes: Author just kinda is self pitying and also has poor writing and now youâve been warned so itâs your fault if you read it
Pining is often seen as one of the most heartbreaking things. The idea that you are hopelessly in an unrequited love is a textbook formula for tragedy. I have never been on this side of pining. I donât expierience romantic love at all so how could I really. This doesnât stop me from wanting to be in a relationship with someone though. Even when I know objectively iâd be quite a poor partner. I find myself wishing for a partner sometimes, someone to love and hold but whenever I try to put a face to it the idea inevitably falls apart, because any face (fictional or otherwise) wonât be able to incite that love in me. Everything I start thinking this way I feel like an outsider looking in onto this âuniversalâ human experience, something that separates me even more from those around me. How could I be human if I canât love like them? So no Iâve never pined after someone, but ivâe wanted to. Ever since arbitrarily picking someone to have a âcrushâ on in elementary school Iâve wanted to love someone, to be infatuated and trip up on words while dreamily putting our initials together and planning a wedding in my head. To feel heat rise up to my cheeks as confirmation of my love, of my humanity. I would even take an unrequited aching type of love, even if only to finally be on the inside for once, to not be the heartless one rejecting the protagonist, to not be the villain in a romcom, to not be loveless. Instead i am left pining over the idea of pining, love only ever twice removed, an afterimage at best. I really do love love, it just doesnâtât love me back.
TW: Alcoholic tendencies, Nicotine addiction, Self-harm, Disordered Eating, Implied cycle of abuse.
Iâve always been hypocritical. Quite frankly its one of my most consistent traits, thinking myself immune to the rules i hold for others. Itâs kind of funny honestly, becuase hypocrites run rampant everywhere and never seem to like their own kind. I canât say iâve avoided this either, i despise hypocrites myself which in turn makes me even more of one i suppose. Normally my hypocrisy shows most when discussing bad habits, when i urge my friends to eat despite having been starving for days at my own volition, when I say to put down the blade while my wrists are still painted red, when i indulge in hate for my parents while black out drunk with a cig nested between my fingers. I guess thats more excusable then other kinds of hypocrisy at least, as it comes from care for others and a lack of care for oneself. But that always feels flimsy to me, a rose tinted hue over my actions. Besides justifying my actions encourages me even more right? It doesnât really matter what you answer there because at the end of the day i will still be starving. I will still be in a pool of blood. I will still have cigarettes for breakfast and whiskey for dinner. Maybe theres still hope for change but i wonât persue it. Iâd rather die like this then risk being worse for the chance of being better. Thats my biggest crime - being to set in my ways to get better.
TW: Dopamine chasing, Toxic Friendships, Codependency
I have always been one to chase hapiness highs. By no means is this the most negative part of my personality, nor a particularly uncommon one, but it does lead to some side effects. For one thing I can not sit down and fully immerse myself in media as the happy feelings would take to long to develop so I dive head first into the fandom instead. And ill stay in the fandom for a while , consuming every once of media I can about it until I inevitably loose intrest and stop caring about it all together and start the cycle again. Not the best cycle admittedly, but far from the worst. However the inbetween of losing intrest in one peice of media and latching on to another one is the worst. I will drift aimlessly with nothing to do, as if hollow , drained entirely. The color seeps out from my world and I am left yearning for something to reintroduce it, to get back to my high. The real trouble is when this attitude effects my relationships with people. I will find someone and talk to them and then my thoughts get consumed by them and they will be all I talk about, all I care about. I will distance myself from the others around me in order to get more of my new subject of intrest. And then the high will fade and I want nothing to do with them, but they are still atached to me. I will grow to resent them for taking up my time as if I was not the one to start the relationship. I can tell they have grown to rely on me for their hapiness much as I had done to them. I will try to reignite some amount of intrest but come up dry, and in doing so grow to despise them entirerly. Once the codependency ends It seems more and more like a chore to talk with them. And eventually I leave their life as suddenly as I entered it leaving them being confused and hurt because se despite my explanations they donât understand my way of thinking- how could they? Their perception of me is clean and glossy because Iâm adept at showing that to everyone, at hiding how I truly am. And thus the cycle starts again, with me convincing myself that this time it will be different - that I can learn to stay.
Tw: Failed Suicide attempt, Suicidal thoughts, Self harm (hinted), Abuse of Power, Psych Wards, Implied other forms of Abuse, Severe Mental Illness, Forceful Medication (Mentioned)
My time in the mental hospital wasnt fun. Of course no ones reallly is but regardeless. It wasnât necessarily the worst, but i have some horror stories. Like when an adult patient came into the childrens ward becuase he was âstill in highschoolâ and was loudly argued with and then had to be dragged out by the police. Or when i got put in the bad corner for tapping on the wals during quit time and then when i asked for a pen and paper to write down my feelings ,a coping mechanism we had just talked about in group, i was denied and then was left becuase someone else started having a breakdown and asked to be moved to the other mental illness timeout corner so i was less likely to hurt myself ,literally taking initiative and attempting to do the best for my own mental health, and was then called attention seeking for bothering someone when my fellow patient was having a breakdown (the guy who i was asking permission from was just sitting at a desk). What i hated the most was the fact that i wasnât allowed to say goodbye to anyone because they took me away during quiet time and when i started arguing they threatened to keep me for another week. Sure i have more stories, there was a nine year old who was both suicidal and homicidal, but guess What? She was nice. She had to be put on paper only gowns, lived in the white room, had to be forcefully fed meds, and had been to that specific hospital 5 times alone, and she treated me with more compassion then any of the nurses did. We were friends, i helped her draw, and she confided in me terrible things she had not told anyone about her home-life because i treated her like a human. I never saw her again. The point to this, above all else, is that this system doesnât work. I felt just as suicidal as I had before but now I was more scared to tell the truth about that because I didnât want to go back. The people in power have no one to check that they are actually helping and the patients become inmates more often then not. And I know that ill try and commit again, and i hope to god that iâll succeed, because i can not go back there again.
In honor of suicide prevention month, here goes my story. When i was 8, i decided I'd had enough. My sister stopped talking to me, i had lost my favorite person, my friends left me, and my parents didn't care. I tried remaining happy, to please my parents and my teachers.But then my third grade teacher started yelling, I'd flinch and cry. And when my fourth grade teacher yelled and said I'd disappointed her, i cowered behind a locked restroom door. And then, at the ripe age of ten, i tried to die. I figured, what was the purpose? He was dead, she left me, i was alone with time to spare. So I grabbed a kn!fe and i ¢ut my arm. And it didn't bleed and i was mad. I was mad it didn't bleed, so i ¢ut again. Eventually, i found it addicting. Every time i would ¢ut deeper until one day, i found no amount of ¢uts would satisfy me. So instead of wanting to feel something, i didn't want to feel at all. So by the beginning of spring when i was twelve, i was overd0$ing. Any kind of p!lls i could take, i did. But when i couldn't feel anything at all, i met someone. She lit up my days and i loved her smile, and the way she aligned and how she spoke. So i followed her around, like a lost puppy looking for its owner. But when i told her i loved her she became distant. I loved her with everything i had and i thought we would grow up together. I was wrong. By early October of the year following, she left. I cried and yelled until my voice went hoarse. I spent a week without talking. I took a trip and met my niece and said i would live for her, i would live so i could show her the world when she grew up. But when i got back home my walls were painted a light shade of gray, and my sheets were missing, and all the p!lls were gone, and i couldn't find a single fucking kn!fe. I was fine up until then. But then my parents started to try to fix me. And then, i came out. And i thought it would be fine but i think it was never okay with them. So i shut my door and blared my music, and anyone who dared to open the door would have to leave. The Sunday after i came out my mom tried taking me to church to "help me feel better" and i denied. Then she tried pulling my arm towards the car while i was screaming and hitting and crying and i couldn't stop. When i finally wrenched my arm free i went to the only room in the house with locked doors and hid in the closet. I went back into my closet to breathe. And then i heard pounding on the door and locked myself in the closet, wishing and hoping she wouldn't get in. But she did. And i tried to calm down but she wouldn't let me, and she was telling and i could tell she was crying but not out of love or sympathy or pitty, but of anger. And then she called my dad to calm me down because she was "busy". But as i was calming down she walked by the door. I didn't have to look to know it was her because i could hear the pattern of her steps in the hardwood floor and i was afraid. I started to get angry but i couldn't move because my dad was holding me back. So i did the only thing i could do and i yelled. I yelled for her not to touch me. And i yelled for her to go away. And i yelled and yelled until my dad was shushing me and the dog was barking and the birds were screeching but i didn't care. A child shouldn't have to memorize the sound of their parents footsteps. A child shouldn't know how to ¢ut. A hidl shouldn't have to feel like if they couldn't please their family they were worthless. A child shouldn't have to worry about being safe in their house. A child shouldn't have to yell and fight to get away from their parents. I was seven when childhood ended.
Maybe, just maybe we could try to build a wall that permits our growth and breathing than by disguising our safety under the impression of a wall that inconsistently foreshadows our own strings from being intertwined by anotherâs, you know itâs not wrong to love :) you never did anything wrong by loving
"you might as well be an incongruous elephant hanging from the ceiling" -Bubbles. (the first real insult I've said in a professional workspace)
this may be the peak of my anger coming out. I have always tried to be patient and kind in all ways possible, I think reaching your breaking point changes everything. To everyone reading, please don't forget to put yourself in high regard, doing good in the world is always important but you have to be okay to make that change as well. You should have morals and you should be firm in your stance. The is the first time I have and hopefully ill have the courage to do it again.
Iâm sure many are affected by the news weâve received as of late. This does hurt, if you did not know this person thatâs okay as well. The event has been occurring time and time again with people of all sides. Iâm sure you can relate to a time of mental challenge. Maybe youâre going through them right now. Reach out! Itâs okay. We must prevent this from happening, for the sake of all. Young children to tend to young adults and adults to older adults. From people struggling in school or career or their marriage/ relationship or with themselves. We have so much power at the tip of our fingers. Use it in a good way. I hope this message is reached by many more.
numbness became a second skin my brain seems quiet yet too loud in its silence and wherever I am there is nowhere to be my heart is trapped inside of my mind thoughts float heavy through my veins exchange my blood with what is left to survive the night the day the losing in between
I would love to allow me to be loved by you But honey, oh honey donât doubt the loudness in my head words which scream how not enough I am over your words how much you adore me I want to let myself fall right into your arms where you would hold me tight and close but still every little bit of space would be just enough room to develop a black hole which teleport me right into my brain where my thoughts wait like thirsty wolves ready to punish me for letting myself fall for you
Honestly I think my mom wants me dead.
Why the fuck do you only notice my cuts now?
Where were you 2 years ago? You only notice now because ive given up on trying to hide it. All 4 of my limbs are covered in cuts, so i guess it was only just a matter of time... if only my fucking teacher hadnt made me take off my hoodie, you still wouldnt know or care.
He broke me so many times, but for some reason i'm only at peace when im with him
- i know this will end horribly, but im out of here soon anyways...
I feel like im being shaped and molded into what you want. You're chipping away pieces of me, and im letting you.
- it would feel nice to belong somewhere
This guy told me the other day, "i think im gonna be depressed today" as if you can choose it. He doesnt know the first thing about it, because if he did, he would know that it chooses you.
- i really wish it was a choice
What happened to me...
Im screaming on the inside, and you dont care.
I'm so sorry. You deserve far better than anyone i can be. I cant give you what you want, but i want you to know that i will always love you. I really tried, but when we met, it was a completely different world.
Maybe someday though, years from now, when i get my shit together and im not suicidal, we can try again