hello, are you there?

has your heart ever felt so heavy that you wondered how on earth it was doing its job of keeping you alive?

maybe you’ve cried so much that you don’t have any tears left and your aching body is tired from all the sobbing.

or maybe you’ve pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt and dragged your sharp nails down your wrists for the first time in years, leaving the all too familiar red stripes down your arm.

and then you feel fine for a couple days (maybe even weeks), and you think to yourself that maybe this is the turning point for you. this is the point where you’ll finally feel normal for the first time in your life.

i feel great, this is great, life is great.

but then it slams into you like a goddamn train. you drive past Sunset Drive-In, where a boy once took you for a movie, and you grip the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. you hold your breath until the movie theater is out of your sight, but the thought of this boy is still on your mind. you two haven’t talked because he’s not alive anymore.

you don’t understand how or why you still think about him, but he creeps into your mind at least once a week. it’s infuriating and depressing to say the least.

and when it gets really bad, to the point where you’re starting to think

this is the worst i have ever felt in my life, i will never recover from this,

your mind wanders back to the thought of that boy, wondering how on earth you are going to avoid the same fate as him, even though you two are carved from the same stone. you two were so different, and yet so similar.

you wish you could see him one more time, just to talk. you wonder how lonely he must have felt toward the end.

your heart hurts for him.

you look at the clock, it’s suddenly 1:30 a.m. and you close your eyes.

you wake up the next morning, forgetting the battle from last night for a split second.

oh wait. that happened.

you feel awful again.

lather.

rinse.

repeat.

 

 

 

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let’s be honest.

i haven’t written on here for a while, and it’s mostly because i’ve been up to my eyeballs in school and newspaper responsibilities. i always go through these phases where i say that i’m finally getting better and that this is the part where i turn over a new leaf and become a ~*~new person~*~. but let’s be real, healing isn’t linear and there’s no deadline for me to improve myself.

i’ve never written something so blatantly honest about myself, so i thought this would be a great time to start since i had a fantastic night out and a killer breakfast to top it off. (i’m looking at you, brenna. i love you and i mean it.)

i’ve suffered from depression and anxiety for many years.

just writing that sentence out brings up a lot of murky thoughts and feelings, but i realized today that i need to be much more honest with the people in my life about what’s going on with me.

so anyway, back to what i was talking about. as a result from my depression and anxiety, the inner workings of my mind work a bit differently than everyone else. for example, in high school up through sophomore year of college, i slept way too much and was constantly exhausted. chalk that up to iron deficiency or depression, but it was hellish to be alive. i remember never feeling fully rested and avoiding social situations because those would make me even more tired to the point where i’d have to spend even more time sleeping to recuperate.

on top of that, my anxiety causes me to have crippling breakdowns that can only be solved through a good cry in bed and a nap. i’ve dealt with that on and off for years, and it especially gets worse when i’m romantically involved with someone.

combine that with a lot of problems with self-worth and self-love, and you get a very complicated tangled mess that i’m still trying to work through, even after years of therapy.

i’ve self-medicated with a lot of booze, junk food and by seeking validation from other people, which has lead to a lot of heartache, misunderstandings and anger.

i guess the reason why i’m writing all of this is because today is the first day in a very long time that i’ve felt truly grateful for everything. i’ve had moments where i honestly didn’t know if i was going to make it through, because i couldn’t see where the chaos would end.

very recently, i was very very close to throwing in the towel and calling it quits, because i didn’t see the point anymore. i couldn’t see myself being strong enough to claw my way out of this hell hole. i remember being swaddled in my bed, crying so hard i didn’t have any tears left, and not for the reason you’d expect. it wasn’t because i was so sad that i wanted the earth to swallow me up, but rather because i was imagining trying to break the news to a much younger self that i was finally giving up on her.

i remember vividly as a teenager believing that it would all get better as soon as i grew up. but here i am, nearly 22 and wanting to end everything because i’m still the same person, with the same issues as when i was a teenager. essentially, nothing had changed.

imagine spending more than half your life struggling with a mind and body that took twice the amount of effort to keep sort of running? and then realizing that this is what normal looks like for you? and then pushing your body so hard that you crashed and didn’t have the heart to pick up the pieces? and then wishing you could just sleep and never wake up?

imagine how difficult it is to break that news to your starry-eyed and (somewhat) hopeful younger self that you wanted it to end?

but thinking back to that moment, i’m glad i hid that kind of rock bottom. because the remorse i was feeling for almost letting down my younger self meant that i still cared. deep down, there was still a tiny bud of hope that i attribute to what pulled me through this time around.

god, it’s difficult.

anyway, i’m writing this because i realized that memorable moments in life aren’t as few and far between. it just takes a bit of open mindedness and flexibility and patience.

thanks for reading.

and to my younger self, we’ll hang in there. i’ll take care of us.