Mental Problems - Blog Posts

I was sick last week, and that gave me the opportunity to waste all my time on reading and writing and thinking...

Now im just simply feeling like I might cry in any second, I'm tired of school, tired of everyone, especially myself, and i can't focus on anything.

I fcking hate myself for it, because I have really important exams and events coming up and I don't even have a reason to feel this way.

I know the problem is with me, but I can't help it, I might just give up at this point.

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, hospitalizations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, guilt, bipolar depression, anxiety.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 4

12:06pm

My resolve sparked the shift. The shift from watching my pieces scatter from me sporadically to gluing them back together. By the time I landed, I knew there were expectations for me, whether they were from you or my friends, or even myself. Everything was still moving too fast, I really couldn’t keep up, but all I could think about was that I had to and that you two were there to help me.

But only half of that was true.

After I landed and we went to Langone (hospital), I think both of our expectations broke and we didn’t know what to do. I was in an unfamiliar place (New York City) with a deadline of January 1st to move out. I was losing myself throughout that entire time, and instead of finding hope, I found rejection immediately. Langone was the destination in my mind that would turn the tides. I would be able to heal and receive the treatment that I needed to kickstart the right kind of growth. I was ready to let go of my control of myself and release my inhibitions in the hope of something great… for me. 

But instead, I was rejected and I walked away with a packet of every out-patient facility in the NYC area.

Everything was too much. I was broken and was fighting myself to not to want to give up, for you and everyone else, and I decided to keep saving face and see it through. Then maybe, it would be for me too.

After Langone, you were upset, it was nowhere near the plan of me staying in the hospital for 2 weeks. I think that’s when I shied away from you and confided in Gem. I was upset too that Langone didn’t work out, but I was so tired, too tired, of trying to lift off the ground and take flight. I needed time to gain more energy, to repair my mask that was so close to completely breaking. Because if I wasn’t okay enough to manage, then all of your efforts and money would have been wasted. So, I did just that. I rested for almost a week, and felt strings lifting me to dance a song I didn’t know.

You guys did your best to pour into me. By telling me to journal again, to eat, drink water, to get outside. Despite all that was on each of your plates, you made sure I knew that you were there for me. But, how you specifically did it took much longer to understand.

I felt like I was an intruder in your home. A parasite taking what you had for a gain I had not identified or knew existed. I was trying to be so careful; not to do something wrong, to upset you, to make you question if bringing me there was a mistake…

You asked me to wash the dishes, I started washing them almost every time, so you wouldn’t have to ask again. You got upset that second week that I didn’t take out the trash and recycling on time, I made sure to take them out by the end of each day. You told me to clean the bathroom on the weekends, I put time aside to clean it on Sundays. You told me y’all like to spot clean throughout the week, as soon as I saw cat litter on the hallway floor, I was sweeping and moping the whole house.

You told me that I was irresponsible with money, that it was a slap to the face, even though it wasn’t with your money. I stopped buying things that was just for me, bought groceries for the household, and occasionally bought a coffee.

You told me that you expected me to go back to school in January, then when I said that I didn’t want to, you only said okay. I started looking at colleges and scholarships and made a list.

You told me that you didn’t have the space for me to regularly let you know the progress I was making, even though I was putting in all this effort for you, for you to keep seeing me alive and well. I stopped talking because there was nothing left of me to pull from and share.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

I hate it when the punishment your mum gives you for your room being a mess is you cant leave the house until its clean. I cant stand being in this house and not going on a ride somewhere. It just becomes a loop. Wake up, go to school, come home, sleep, and repeat. I need to go somewhere or ill go insane. But no. I cant. Until that one thing gets done. I hate it. I hate it i hate it i fucking hate it. Until eventually i have a mental breakdown and become destructive and start hitting things or physically hurting yourself. It feels like your whole body is burning hot. And the only thing that will help is inflicting pain on yourself or it will only get worse. After its over your just numb.. you feel nothing. No emotions, or feeling in your body. You could cut yourself and not feel a single thing.

there are two types of depression:

and they both suck

I feel like an old beaten up dog that is just wandering around looking for someone, anyone, to love me.

I finished high school

Voices

*tw for suicidal thoughts*

I gave them names.

I don't know why.

But now the one who's voice is sharp,

the one who's favorite word is "useless",

her name is Lexy.

And she's perfect, but I hate her.

Beautiful, graceful, cruel.

I envy her so deeply,

but I never want to be her.

Ever.

The one who barely speaks,

the one who's unrealistically optimistic,

her name is Angelle.

She can be comforting and gentle

but she's so flaky.

And the one who listens,

that's me.

Sara.

Passive, at their mercy,

letting the voices manipulate

the way I think.

I know, I know.

"Who names the voices in their head, you schizo?"

Me, that's who.

Because believe it or not,

when I imagine someone else is telling me to kill myself,

it's easier to say no.

strange thing

"she's a strange thing, isn't she?"

his voice wasn't bitter, simply amused

and I crumpled

like an old newspaper

because I am a strange thing

a midnight sun

so cold that I burn

anything that brushes

against my touch

because however briefly

I appear bright,

my darkness always leaches

life from what I love

Easy

People are hard

And talking is hard

And feeling safe is hard

And forcing myself to reach out is hard

And you are easy

So I kept reaching for you

Until I got slammed with the realization

That I had become emotionally dependent

Again.

You gently helped me realize this

And how I need some space to get better

And while forcing myself to sever that reliance

Is freaking hard

It’s harder to wake up to the fact that it was there

To the fact that my friends felt ignored or replaced

And I didn’t even notice

What was going on in my own head.

cluttery brain

Little snips of paper

bearing random words

assemble themselves into

scrambled pages

a spiteful little breeze

blows pages across

prone piles of guilt

and sassy little sparks

play across the ceiling

the anxiety spiders

skitter across the floor

sowing worry

while those she loves

dance in and out

patting the weary walls

to comfort her cluttery brain.