You are my reflection

When you see so much of yourself in someone you care so much about, what do you even do? I see myself in you and I worry because the struggles are there behind your eyes and no one will listen to me when I tell them how to try and help you. What is it when you tell me how you feel and I just nod and agree because after about 12 years that feeling has become home to me?

I am struggling so much lately and they only notice when I say something, but why should I say something? I am trying to change the rhythm in my brain to make more sense. I need this to deliver the ideas that I fight every day. How can I make you understand that you don’t know, but I hope you never know? I am afraid of telling you how much worse it could be and then you following the line on the map I just drew.  I am afraid of laying out the steps I planned so many times and having you be the genius who finally executes them. I am worried that all my stress and worry isn’t really for me at all and then one day it will all be gone because so will you.

When you care about someone so much that you become the annoying parent they never had. I am just trying to make you understand that someone cares about you whether you think it’s the person that should be doing the caring or not. You are young and much of life is a struggle, but the rewards are beautiful.

I no longer know whether I am writing this to someone else or myself because I am afraid this is truly what I have needed to hear all along. Please help me understand, but also please understand. It is not anyone’s short comings that made me hate my life. Sometimes I hate other people, but I think I have just been struggling too long. I have been sending out all my troops and all of them are on their knees begging for some god somewhere to come rescue them.

My heart has found the deepest parts of hell and kept digging.

I am without the range of emotion that is sometimes required on the resume of life.

I quit.

Thanks for coming to my TedxTalk.

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Call-out

When someone calls you out in front of people and you have anxiety. My professor just called me out for not going to one of my classes, but like it’s not actually my fault? I’m sorry that I do not have the energy to get up, put on clothes, go catch the bus, and sit in your class for an hour and a half.

I hate this. I already feel guilty that I have stopped doing things, I have plans to make them better, but then something else happened to change the plans. I finally have some words to say about what has been going on and now I am sad because as soon as I felt confident enough to say what has been going on I get called out. I know that a lot of people see that as something good and something that can make people not do the thing again, but for me it makes me want to stop doing the thing.

I have serious issues with my mental illness. It hasn’t been this bad since I was in middle school. I was so bad that I wanted to die. My feelings were so reflective of how our current societal climate is. I was so down that I wanted to beg my mom to bring me my insurance card and let me go to the stress center. I wanted to check out for the weekend, but the entire weekend I had things to do.

I PUT MY MENTAL HEALTH IN THE BACKGROUND FOR MY JOBS. I wanted to die, but I forced myself to do things that I was so uncomfortable doing. I therefore found days where I was in a bad place and I removed other people and things that set me off. I did this for others more than myself. I didn’t want to be in the middle of the day and then go off on someone.

When someone hasn’t been doing something don’t call them out. This is a very particular sentence, but honestly don’t do it. Especially not in public. I am saying this in the sense of if someone isn’t performing something that they once could do and you know they have mental health. Things happen, different things happen. Things keep happening.

Abnormal Thoughts

Today in class we were talking about the different forms of depression. He brought up suicide and I was thinking about the phrase This makes me want to die. I say it when something terrible happens. My body is really sensitive to lights, sounds, etc. and certain things make me want to claw my face off. I say this phrase and I get chastised to not say it anymore. 

Okay?

People have made this phrase such a joke that I cannot honestly say this phrase without having at least one person who thinks they know me or some stranger who wants to look like the best person jump down my throat and tell me that it shouldn’t be a joke and I need to stop. 

Why do we do that? 

We hush people. We tell people what we think they should be saying, especially if we don’t know them. 

Why is mental health such a taboo topic? Why is there such an issue to talk about what is wrong? We act as though there is no issue, but it is more likely in college that someone will miss class/ a meeting/ homework etc. due to a mental illness than being physically ill. Anytime I have been sick I will go to class, but I have missed months of class because I can’t get out of bed. I am paying thousands of dollars to be miserable. 

I wish that I could scream I. AM. NOT. OKAY. and someone would hear me. If you hear me then I hear you. Trust me, I understand that there are issues you are going through and I am here for you. 

This is the first post I have made in a year and that is because I feel like there is no point. No point to me trying, no point to caring, but I think it is the lack of words that has caused me to close myself off from the world. I have missed expressing my feelings. I have missed doing the word thing. 

Sunday

Dear day of the sun please listen to the silent apologies that cross the threshold out of my larynx into the wind. Please stay with me as I gather up my windpipe to utter the words in chronological-I mean alphabetical, I mean, shit. What do I mean? I mean do we ever really mean what we say? And for that matter why are we so mean when we do mean it? I was weaning my tears when my fingers stopped, freezing as though winter entered in the middle of July. It’s June and too soon grades will be due and I will be too because I understand this is the last time I will need to say anything about my grades.

So much tragedy and on such a sugary goodness day. Forgive me for I am cynical of the well being and the well wishes that wash the dirt down the well until we forgive and forget, but please never forget. My tongue is swollen and my spit dried up and the words refuse to exit out the way they came. My tears, however, have never let up. Bursting the dams on treasures buried so long ago. I remember why I refuse to come out and play. I remember why I hide while everyone else slays in their lives. I forgot to live mine a long time ago and it is only now that I am getting my words back.

Why do some of us hate so much? Why were we forced out of the womb that once promised to love us no matter what into the world that promises to hate us no matter what. I have seen so much happiness exuding from the inner lips of my comrades and the irony is that they are the ones who have been screaming. The ones who are silent now, picking up their soldiers, laying out their own funeral clothes are the same ones who have had to shine every rainbow after a rainstorm just for you to remember that they never were swept away by the flood. Storms are beautiful, but with the right force they can become a force to be reckoned with.

Because sometimes you gotta scream (a little bit louder)

I gotta get this off my chest
Nothing matters, nothing yet
Running in circles,
too bad it’s all just in my head.
The sepia steam rumbled between parched lips
Running my throat dry until you said goodnight
There was no hope when I was younger, now
No hope till I’m stronger, but how?
I used to cry and then I stopped running,
Floundering, sobbing, I was flying.
Drowning, pouring,
Now, I just feel plain boring.
Years ago I ran out of things to say.
My throat a mountain of crumpled up sandpaper,
I stopped talking a while ago.

I found my edge and my confidence, confiding in the chiming tides of the
ebbs and flows of the seashore sharing my inner core.
I feel as though I am running out of time but I am honestly just probably
just running this line. I made it myself out of tears and lies.
Come with me.
Rise.
..

….
…..
I’m growing, showing, I’m ready to share. Nothing really matters, or does it?
I’ve ruined the past,
but that is why it’s history.
We are in the presence of the present and that is truly the present present
we are presented with. Love me, tell me I am hopeless. I am here.
Fight me and push me around. Tell me what I am doing wrong.
I am always wrong,
at least that’s what they told me. Tell me I am wrong.They pushed me around
and told me I was wrong. I was always wrong.

Sometimes it is all too much

I haven’t written in so long. It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to, but I just haven’t. I honestly think there is a correlation between me writing things out and the feelings that build up. I feel that sometimes I am too hard on myself and the people I love and it is a negative experience.

This entry will be all about what has been happening lately. I think people should read it and if they don’t then I guess that is that.

I want to preface this by apologizing. I know I said I wasn’t going to do that this year, but this is as sincere as I can make it. If you read this then you will understand. 

I consider myself to be a person who is very ambiaverted. I like to go out and be social with people, but I have a level that is very introverted. If I push myself too much socially when I am at this point then I get overwhelmed. This is something I did not completely understand until this week. I have been crying, a lot. So much water coming out of my eyes, no wonder I am dehydrated. Haha (joke).No, but seriously, my feelings have been all over the place. That’s a lie, they have been in one place- deep down inside. I have been so sad this week. Not just sad, but sad sad. The kind of sad that people forget is an actual issue and instead try to romanticize it. It feels as though I am a house that everyone forgot to turn the utilities on for. Not quite. I don’t actually know how to say it so that other people can get the feeling just right. Just know that what I am feeling is down, dark, and restless.

At first I thought I was stressed. I have four papers due today, a quiz, an outside assignment I still have to do that was due Wednesday, and quizzes I am doing today so I don’t have to worry about them tomorrow. That is a lot when it is set down. I am stressed, but that is manageable, that is fine. This isn’t stress. Was it something that someone did? No, I have gone through that. I have actually been more at peace with the people I have been around than normal. So what is it?

It’s many things!!! (YAY!!! I hear you cheering, right?)

I have been sick, I didn’t go to a class and a meeting, I then stood in the rain with my backpack open, I then froze, I then ran across campus for something that was pointless, I tried for something that was pointless, I worked on something that equated to something pointless. Yes, I am sad. I am sad at the events, but I am sad because I am missing important things that I would normally do at this time of the year because of how busy I am and my lack of transportation. I don’t get to do certain things because it would require depending on other people and that would require working around their schedule because they aren’t as flexible. I am sad because I am going to look like an idiot taking a quiz I wasn’t able to study for, I am sad that my professor purposely made his tests harder because his students did well. I am sad because I am cold. I am sad because I am always sick or in pain. I am sad that I am always disappointing people. I am sad that the things I have been unable to do this week has resulted in a mountain. I am sad because I can’t instantaneously fix this. I am sad because I hate disappointing people. I hate when people are upset with me. I honestly cannot take it because it hurts my soul. I am sad that I cannot participate in class at times because my throat swells up and I forget what I was going to say and then run around in a circle and then end up saying the wrong thing.

This brings me to my next point. My anxiety has hit an all time high. I have been having it hit from all spots in my life. I am anxious at school, at home, when I am asleep. Nothing makes sense, but this is what has been happening. I am strung out. I am not even stressed about school anymore. I am stressed, but not.

Difficult, see what I mean? I can’t breathe, I break down at anything and everything. Yesterday I cried on my bathroom floor because Alyssa huffed at the game and I thought she was getting mad at me. I have befriended so many bathroom floors this week I think I should start paying rent. I can’t breathe. I am so angry. I am so miserable. I am pissed and frustrated and so, so, so sad.

So how does this tie into the reason I was apologizing? Well, I have not been able to do anything this week. I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone and being touched makes me cringe. It is so bad because I have reverted back to the way that if I say something and the person doesn’t know what I am talking about or if someone looks at me in a strange way then I get really panicky and just shut down. I have gone so inside myself that I don’t want anyone to talk to me. I have no motivation to do the things that I need to do, but I also have the high anxiety factor reminding me of the little amount of time I have left in order to get things out of the way and turned in on time. Example, if I have an assignment I forget I won’t send my professor an email because I freak out and shut down because in my mind they automatically don’t care. I cannot do this, but I have to. I am broken, but I am not done.

So, my friend who has somehow remained through all of this, thank you. Also, I’m sorry. Sorry for cancelling, for replying with one words, for averting my eyes when I see you looking because they are glassy from the rainstorm I just walked through. I’m sorry for wanting to run away, and actually doing so. I’m sorry that when I get like this I get so dark and narrow-minded that I can’t reciprocate the love that I know comes from you. I’m sorry that when I laugh you can hear the echo from the hallow chrome between my throat and my lungs. I’m at the point where when my phone vibrates it makes me feel sick because it means people need something. I’m sorry for not being involved. I’m sorry for being withdrawn.

I’m so sorry, my friend, I am.

When it rains, it pours

Be kind with me, be gentle with me.

By the time I discovered I needed this sign it was too late. The shattered shards shone in the moon light. Everything looks beautiful in the moonlight, even glass bottle spread across the black tar of the road. Beauty: a word I have often heard, but so much deny exists anywhere near my person. Only one can penetrate the barrier surrounding my pit. The walls enough to cover an ancient castle, but for naught I am in the mud cowering in the corner. Even though there is no way for the walls to be dismantled I hide in the corner for fear of someone coming in on the attack.I am already exhausted from the battle that does not exist. My walls hide me from the world I don’t even know exists and yet I am shaking. I get overly worked up and then apologize. I cry my eyes out then slap on a smile. I’m so used to the “I’m sorry” before there is anything to be apologetic about. I am already used to the covering my eyes as the rainstorm begins in the room so that no one else gets struck by lightening. I am so used to the lies that I can’t believe anyone ever when they tell the truth. Unlike most, when they are together until broken, I am shattered until someone can find the goddamned glue to stick me back together. I am a tumultuous, rocky mountain high as the waves crack my surface. I take my heart and shake it out telling it to stop listening so much to my brain. I constantly think that I am not worth it, but my heart knows better. My brain likes to hate everything I do. It shows me terrible images that I would run away from. It would be different if any aspect I had a single create bone in my body, but I suck at creativity and lately the words have run away like a prisoner sentenced to life . I am stuck in a literary prison. Where the hell did this all go? Words, media, pictures, art I got this, I had this, I had.

I believe in everything I have ever committed to. No, that is a lie. I lie, I lied, I have never lied. I am a liar in my own right. I am finding my voice to express how I feel, just bear with me. No matter how much I chip away at the wrongs inside my head it seems as though there is never anything better uncovered below. When I set forth working through it all I hoped there was some gold in the depths of my soul, but now I am questioning the logic of finding the shiny glass in the grass behind my house and thinking it was beauty. IT’s beautiful, I AM BEAUTIFUL. I AM WORTH IT. Why can’t I feel this way? Why does the worth of my soul require the effervescent words from someone else to give me five minutes of hope before I am thrust back into the paradox of the grand jury facing the trial head v heart. I once was good at so much, but now I am so bad that I have no desire to continue doing what I once loved. I can barely get myself to care anymore. All I want to do is be around Alyssa which I’m sure is more time than she would like dedicated to me. I am not reflecting on her or anyone specific. I am reflecting on myself. As much as I never feel I have any time I know I have too much time alone to think inside my head. I have too much time to reflect on every syllable, action, or emotion that has ever occurred in my lifetime. Each breathe I take is a fight I have within myself. The battle is lifelong, but I know it won’t always be misery. Before this week I had been having a fantastic succession of being in an amusing mood. Things had been pleasant, but people around me know I don’t believe in the system of things are good. It has been proven in personal experience that whenever something is going really great chances are something is going to come along to not just test you, but to completely rupture your world. You will be pushed into repeatedly uncomfortable situations which will be used to test what is really important to you in life. I know what is important. I know what I care about and how I need to be better for that, but I need people to understand that it isn’t just me being selfish or mean when something happens and I get upset, I honestly am the type of person who hates change. I like schedules and I like things repeating. I hate when shows get cancelled because it makes me feel as though something is missing. My brain gets disrupted when I am forced to change and when people expect the change instantaniously with no conversation I freeze. When things change in this way I just shut down; I stop what I am doing in order to maintain from being hurt, but often end up hurting myself in the end. I am used to being hurt, I just wish there was a way that I could fix my brain so that I wasn’t always hurting myself. When all people look for are scars they don’t always pay attention to the sallowness in your eyes, how weak your voice is or how hard it is to swallow. When all you want is to hide in the deep hole surrounded by the towering walls what are you supposed to do when someone climbs over with the intention of saving you?