Thursday, December 6, 2012


My voice has been silent, quiet, lurking. My keyboard was replaced, by pen and by paper. Myself has changed in so many ways, yet I'm still all the same.

I seek back my blog, this time short. Next time as a friend.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Can I catch a breath?

I've barely slept or eaten in the past 2 weeks, I either have no apetite or just feel way to sick or anxious. I've been having some bad somach pains (but getting close to 3 months late, sorry for the tmi). All my muscles hurt and I just feel weak. My knees swell up when i walk and the pain spreads to my leggs. My head feels heavy which is hurting my neck.

Last night I woke up from a sharp pain on the side of my forehead area and the whole sleepless nights thing has just worn me out. Been having slight chest pains, but that got worse today. It feels like a tightness in my chest, like it's closing up. And earlier today I almost passed out, and basically just fell over.

Because of the lack of sleep and apetite, I've basically been running on caffeine and toast so I do get twitches and spazes, but it's not to bad. My therapist couldn't deffinetly notice that i was tired and urged me to try and work this out with my parents, becaue the bad news I recieved last week and just the whole situation has just put me in a bad place. And so it only get worse until i break. I actually had to convince her that I wasn't going to harm myself or do anything. And it's not like I don't have these feelings but I've only been seing her for a few months, so having someone voice that concern outload scares the hell out of me and it's awkward and weird.

I jump at everything and theres deffinetly some paranoia. And I really just want to get out of this whole situation. My parents don't really take my anxiety seriously so I just don't really know what I can do. But right now, the whole situation basically sucks. I want to breath normally, I don't want my throat hurting. I don't wanna feel ill or weak, or tired, and whatever else is going on.

Sorry to make this so long

Thursday, May 26, 2011

I have a little rant to come with as I really dunno what I can do anymore. I don't really want to go into all the details, but basically I got some bad news this week and I'm in the middle of some problems right now. Because of this I've had massive anxiety and little sleep. Nights have been filled with, well episodes? I don't wanna go as far as calling it manic since I'm not bipolar, but they are deffinatly NOT pleasent.

I have finals next week, but part of the bad news is a letter I got from the school saying that I was "disqualified" from one of my finals. I'm failing the class so they aren't letting me take the final exam. I'm pretty much failing out of school period which I have accepted (tbh I don't give a damn). But my parents wont, which is why I'm so anxious. I dropped out last year which almost made my mom divorce my dad (in her words, my games were manipulating the family against her). Last time they witnessed one of my anxiety attacks was at my midterms when they thought I was faking it, and said if I kept this going I would be on. This is part of why my anxiety has been so bad. I'm terrified of what this will do to them. Everyday they ask me about finals and job interviews, but they've never asked me about therapy or of I'm making progress on my health.

I finally got the courage to call the mental health place to get my session pushed forward, but my therapist wasn't in that day and they can't make appointments withouth her. They said I could try again the next day, which I did this morning. She was there but in a meeting or something so they were gonna get back to me. After hours of waiting I finally pulled myself to call back again, which I'm assuming was to late cause nobody picked up so they were closed (I would assume). I was hoping to get in tomorrow so I could have all this sorted out before the weekend.

I have extreme anxiety about calling in there on short notice and just having to talk on the phone with someone out of my comfort zone. So all of this is just making me look like a desperate idiot for sitting at home waiting all day. But my nights are filled with anxiety and mania? I feel week cause I've barely eaten since I either feel sick or don't have an apetite. Every part of my body aches, I've cut down on coffee to slow down my heart rate but really. I'm starting to get frustrated. And well I'm running out of ideas here.

I'm sorry, I did not intend to make this so long. But I just really needed to get this off my chest.

Monday, May 16, 2011


We reflect our bad energy over to something simpler, something we would rather be doing when reality is too hard to face. I do this every day from my own house. When my depression gets out of hand I can’t focus on the things I’m supposed to be doing, but I become a master at other simpler tasks. Things I’ve always hated have now become my main priority.

I’ve always been great at school, before. Now I can’t take a note if my life depends on it. One of my favorite things to do has been simply reading a book that I enjoy. Fill it up with notes in the margins, and post-it’s full of ideas. My head just fills with thoughts and I’ve always loved putting them on a piece of paper. But it’s been months since I finished a book. My paint is dry, and my arts supplies are on my desk gathering more dust each passing day. Even my camera is packed up somewhere. My loving camera which I spend hours at a minimum wage job saving up for, and the day I finally had enough to go buy it. Wasted. I still love those things, don’t get me wrong, but I simple just don’t. I don’t do anything, I don’t even know if I miss it at all. There’s simply just no desire for it anymore, no passion that drives me, keeps me going. I claim to be this aspiring artist or wish to be one, but what do I have to show for. Maybe I’m just another angsty teenager, a wannabe day time show cliché.  

So what do I do? I fold towels, no corners. Just like in the hotels, but wait. I also fold clothes, one pile for each member of the house, then another one for kitchen cloths, one for table cloths and then so on. I mop the floors; clean the counters, a maid you say? I am no maid, but I do cook. Yes, dinner for my family. I hate cleaning, I always have, I hate the idea of being tied down to a house full of chores. I hate the life of a housewife; I’ll never be a housewife. I’ve never even had a real desire for marriage. Just the thought of being somebody’s someone, having the house and dinner for that somebody. It’s not a life, not one I intend to have. But I’m already living it. I may not have a husband, but I have the life, only it’s my family who plays that role, same situation just different people.

How about meeting an old friend? No, I’d rather rearrange the cups, mugs and glasses in the kitchen cabinet. Going out? Facing anxiety? No, I’ll clean and rearrange the food pantry. Whatever I was doing before doesn’t matter; I’m busy with this new task that takes hours, and really not worth it. So why do I complain? Most people would love the willpower right? Being able to clean all day, keep the house intact. It’s quite the opposite, I have no willpower. As I said, I hate cleaning, always have. It’s an obsession, something I don’t know if I can control. I no longer do the things I would enjoy. It even took me 3 glasses of wine to just write this. But I need it written, I need to reflect, and I need to know that this is a piece of memory that I will only look back on in the future.

Right now, I see now future past my next task. I used to dream about arts school, traveling, lectures on literature and foreign studies. Now I hear the sound of the dryer when the clothes are dry and plans for dinner. I don’t dream, I don’t hope. I simply just, am. 

Sunday, May 8, 2011

A letter to an old friend

I remember when we met; you were such a cocky little prick. Your humor consisted of verbal pornography and controversial language. To those who didn’t know you better, it might have seemed like you thought you were above them, or that you were simply just a player. The truth is you never were anyone of those things. You just knew how to have fun; you would light up a room and make everyone feel ten points happier just buy being there. You were kind to everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it. We became such good friends in such a short time. We shared jokes and stories that only made sense to us. You were always there for me and I was there for you. But then you moved away and slowly we lost touch with each other. I no longer heard from you. It was like you had vanished from earth.

Imagine my happiness when you one fine day months later sent me an e-mail. You told me I was your best friend, and you couldn’t go any longer without letting me back into your life. I couldn’t believe you were back, talking to me, laughing with me, making inappropriate jokes and making fun of me. It was then you saw my darker side, the one I always had, but the one that also grew when you were gone. Things had happened and I didn’t have my friend there to confide in. So you listened, you gave a shoulder to cry on, you told me what I needed to hear. You told me I was sick, you told me I needed help. Then you told me about your own struggles and how you had worked on them. That’s when you told me to get help. I didn’t want to believe you, I didn’t deserve help. I wasn’t sick, I was just a failure. But you didn’t see that, you saw a side of me that I was never able to, a side only a true friend can see. You begged me to get help, but I didn’t listen.

Our friendship grew stronger. We both were miserable, but miserable together. We were living far apart, with only an e-mail or instant messaging to keep us together. Eventually I started to believe you, I needed help, and I wanted help. So I asked for help, but I got rejected. That’s when you offered your shoulder to me again. I told you more than I told anyone else, and you said I was the only one that fully got you. I was the one person you missed. I wasn’t getting help at home, but I was getting help from my friend.

So what happened? You became distant, left again. You told me you wanted to stay in touch, so I e-mailed you. I told you about my life, but you never answered. Why did you stop writing back? Why didn’t you say goodbye? I wrote you another one, and then again for Christmas. I wanted to wish you joy and happiness. Then on new years I wrote you my last e-mail. I wasn’t going to keep going, write to a wall, pathetic. Maybe you grew tired of me; maybe I didn’t fit in to your new life.

I still wonder sometimes what your life is like. Do you ever think about me? Or was it that easy to just leave? Were we ever friends? Why did you come back into my life only to leave me again? Do you even remember me at all? Do you care?

Yesterday I made some progress in therapy for the first time since I started going. Oh yeah, I’m in therapy now, I’m trying to get better. That is what you said you wanted for me. For the first time since I started, therapy didn’t feel like the worst thing. I wanted to tell you that, but somehow I don’t think you get my e-mails. You worked hard trying to convince me that I deserved help. Maybe that was it. You felt obligated, guilty. Whatever your motivation, it doesn’t matter. I had my friend, and I am grateful for that. So how am I? I’m not ok, and I won’t be for a while. But I can be, if I’m strong enough. I’ll get through this, just like you said I would. I wonder if you’ll ever see me then. See me when I am free from all of this, free from my problems. Just like I wonder if I’ll ever you again, your happy old self. Wherever you are, I wish you a happy and long life.

You were a great friend, and I’ll never forget that

Saturday, May 7, 2011


While I was in my therapists waiting room a boy around my age came in. I’ve never seen anyone under 30 in there and so it caught my attention. He asked me if he had come to the right building and showed me a little note with the department name on it. I smiled and said, - Yup this is it. And we spoke no more with each other. I dunno what brought him here, but I secretly wished him good luck…

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I'm not a poster child, so what?

I mentioned in my previous entry that I have been in therapy for the past few months now, which is still something that I am trying to get used to. So I thought I’d give a little brief summary from someone just starting out as a “mental health patient”.

Although It’s been a little over 2 months now, I’m still very new as I’ve had to cancel quite a few time due to s funeral, exams and one last minute cancel because I was stranded at a bus stop (story for another time). Whenever I did cancel it would take a few weeks before I got back in, and I’ve never been the one to ask for more. This is probably because I’m still trying to accept the fact that I need it. But the way things are now, I am not going to do anything unless someone push it on me, like ask for more session, or calling in during a crisis. I deal with things alone.

It’s now been over a month since I talked to anyone about this which has thrown me completely of track. The reason was the stranded at the bus stop fiasco, and I didn’t get a reschedule until a month later, which was last Friday. First I was upset, that I would have to wait that long, but then I got used to waiting a little too much. So when the day came I was too freaked out and couldn’t get out of bed. Skipping that appointment was surprisingly easy. It wasn’t until the next day that I was freaking out again.

I have now gotten a new letter in the mail about an appointment this coming Friday. If I choose not to go, that will be it. I will be discharged from they’re services and I get to go on with my life as if this whole therapy phase never happened. This is extremely tempting to me as I’ve wanted to just drop the whole thing. It’s the easier way but also the coward way. I feel worse than I did before I got help, but apparently it gets worse before it gets better. But also, for things to get better I have to fully accept that I do in fact need help, which means the people around me has to accept it to.

I don’t like to claim that I have depression or anxiety, my therapist told me that, but it’s still hard to wrap my mind around it. And maybe I need to hear it from more people, like my own family. But this whole experience has just been a don’t ask don’t tell policy. The only people that know I see a therapist are my parents and my best friend. My parents have never asked me about it, never asked who my therapist is, when my next session is etc. Nobody makes sure I go to my session nobody asked me what she is like. In fact I don’t think they even know she diagnosed me. As far as anxiety and anxiety attacks go, my mother thinks I’m faking it, and I’m not really sick. And so I start to wonder about that myself. Maybe I’m not sick, maybe I am being childish. And that is why I struggle so hard to open up with my therapist. How am I supposed to tell a stranger when I can’t even tell my own parents? Why is this something that I have to hide? Why do I have to feel ashamed about this? If I do in fact have problems, I am ok with that. At least then I would know why I feel the way that I feel, or why I do the things that I do.

And that is why I dread each session so much. By not knowing I play it safe. But if I let my guards down, than she might see me as a fake and a poser, like my parents do. And I just can’t take that rejection. I don’t know maybe I just need to hear from someone that I did the right thing by accepting help. Maybe all I need is for my parents to say, hey you have a problem, but that’s ok. You need to get help. But the fact is that I have an easy way out here. I can stay home on Friday and, no one would notice, no one would care. The pressure would be off.