Slipping away

How can I say this without breaking?
How can I say this without taking over?
How can I put it down into words
When it’s almost too much for my soul alone?

Do you know this feeling when you’re with other people and everything is fine and you’re feeling alright and then they leave and you’re sitting there and notice how you fall apart completely? You realize it, but you can’t do anything about it? Can’t stop it? That’s what’s happening to me right now. And the thing is, I know what I could do about it. All those skills and positive activities and that kind of crap they teach you to do and use in the hospitals and loony bins. But to be honest, I just don’t have any energy left to do these things. They tell you to pour your energy into everything you love and be passionate and full of whatever kind of shit, so I poured and poured and poured and now the metaphoric cup is empty. And I don’t know what to do about it. Like I just said, I know how to distract myself, but that doesn’t really change anything. I don’t know what I need to actually change my condition, but maybe it’s just a little break from things. You know, to get back my energy. But there’s no way for me to do that. There’s just too much shit I need to handle, so I wake up every day feeling like I just wanna hide under my bed forever, but I don’t, so instead I get up and get through the day, get things done, smile and go to bed and hope to fall asleep before I fall apart. There’s no other way and no other option left for me. I need to make it through. And sometimes I wanna tell the people I love that I feel like shit, but that’s not gonna change anything. They’ll either treat me like a child or a victim and I’ll drown in their pity, they’ll feel insecure and uncomfortable and won’t know what to do or I’ll get to hear extremely helpful things like ‘Don’t be down in the mouth!’ or ‘It’s just a bad day!’. And they’re right, but that doesn’t change things or help me somehow anyway. So I smile and tell them I’m fine. Makes it easier.
cassie, skins, and quote image
I love my son so much and I need to make it through- for him. I need to be there for him, be happy for him, recover for him, go to counseling for him, get my shit handled, smile, breathe, do all the shit I don’t want to do, study, focus, go to school, pass the finals, get my degree, never get enough sleep, never relax, put all this pressure on me and just get through everything. Because I don’t have a choice. I want him to be proud of me, be proud of myself, be a good role model, be happy and get the life I’ve always wanted- the life that I deserve after everything I’ve been through. All these years I’ve fought so hard and the effort I put into this struggle- I don’t want it to be a total waste of time. I know I can do this. I just don’t know how. How do you get through the day without falling apart when you feel like there’s nothing left of you? Like you’re empty and hollow?
black and white, dakota blue richards, and quote image
I just want this to be over, I want to appreciate my life and myself and stop hating myself (especially my body) so fucking much. I just want to be enough for at least once. People tell me to think positive, but how am I supposed to do that? Believe me, I’ve tried everything. But I still feel like crap on a regular basis. Everything is fine, so why do I feel like losing everything? I’m a good mom, a good person, daughter and student and I’m doing a really great job at recovering from my disorders because I never give up and always keep going (no matter how hard it is), so why do I still feel these emotions I can’t even specify? Why are my disorders always stronger than me? I really don’t wanna be a whiny weak loser, but I can’t deal with this crap in my head.
skins image

We are our own enemies

Since I started school again, I’ve been relapsing even though I gave everything to prevent that. But that’s the point of all this, isn’t it? No matter how hard I try, I’m never good enough. I feel like that’s the main problem in my life. Nothing is ever enough.
alone, beautiful, and dark image
I saw a doctor today because of my swollen ankles. Wanna know what his ‘medical explanation’ was? I’m too heavy. This shithead dares to stand up and tell me my freaking ankles are swollen because I need to lose weight. Well, first of all: I’m not overweight. Unlike someone who actually studied medicine, I do know what a BMI is and that mine is definitely normal. Not to mention that you don’t actually even need a BMI to tell whether someone is overweight or not; you just see that- especially as a doctor. Well, he didn’t. But there are more things about his ‘diagnosis’: I gave birth to a baby exactly five months ago and have been kind of busy since with my finals and, well, my BABY. And he knows that because he is- no, was- a friend of my mom’s. And last but not least, when he made that fucking so called diagnosis, I was actually stupid enough to tell him I suffered from a severe eating disorder for half a decade and really don’t need to hear that shit (I didn’t say shit- I’m way too polite when I talk to adults who act like douchebags) and his explanation for that was that I’m just a badly behaved pubescent teenage girl. Right. THAT’S my problem. Thank you very much DOCTOR.
But that’s actually not where I wanted to go with this post. I just used it as an example for moments when I feel like I’m just not good enough. Not thin enough, in this case.
broken, depressed, and heartbroken image
No matter how thin was, I was never happy with what I saw in the mirror. I remember when I looked into that stupid thing three years ago and my ribs were sticking out and I was wearing those way too huge jeans even though they were the smallest ones the store had had, I looked at all those visible bones and all I thought was: There’s still weight left to lose. This isn’t it.
It’s always been like that and now that I’m not obese, but did gain weight during my pregnancy (even though that’s basically the most natural and normal thing in the world and happens to every woman) and that fucking kills me inside every single fucking day. I don’t tell anyone but my counsellor I’m seeing again on a regular basis now. Why should I tell anyone else? They wouldn’t be able to help, so what’s the use? I’d only get fake pity and I really don’t need that. Those things don’t get better when you talk about them. Some things do, but not this crap. It only gets worse.
enough, grunge, and indie image
Same shit with my achievements: they’re not enough either; never have been. Back in elementary school, when I came home with an A, my dad used to take a look at it and then, instead of commending me, he would tell there were still a couple of points left I could have scored. That’s the mindset I grew up with and that’s been part of me ever since. Sometimes I don’t even bother to try cause I already know it won’t be the way I need it to be. Like maths. Already gave up there cause I know there’ll never be something better than an E- even though I worked my ass off to get better. It’s always the same shit. You try and work and put so much effort into something and screw it up anyway. Sometimes I think I just can’t take it anymore. This sick craving for perfection. Where’s it gonna get me? Nowhere. Because it doesn’t exist. You will always find something to criticize. There is no finish line, no point when you’ll be like ‘alright, now I’m good enough’. Who or what do we even have to be good enough and perfect for? Who the hell cares anyway? Why are we doing this to ourselves? Why am I doing this to myself? I know EXACTLY where it will get me. I’ve been there. It’s basically the road to destruction, but I’m taking it anyway, hoping it will be different this time, hoping I’ll make it this time. Hoping I’ll be happy this time. Hoping I’ll finally be able to live with myself, cause right now I’m just not. I can’t stand myself. I’m not what I need to be. Who I need to be.
book, books, and boy image
Who am I even trying to satisfy? The disorders in my head? The stupid people at school or other crap? My family? Myself? My son? I want him to be proud of his mom, but I’m not like other moms. I don’t have the perfect husband and the perfect house and the perfect job and the perfect life. Nothing is ever perfect when it comes to me. And I actually know that the perfect housewife’s life usually isn’t perfect either, that nobody’s life is, but I just can’t convince myself of that. Who am I and who do I need and want to be? And why is nothing ever enough? Why is this voice inside of me never satisfied with my accomplishments? Who is this voice? Is it me or society or my disorders? Why the hell do we hate ourselves this much? Why are we making ourselves our own enemies? There’s no need for it. But it’s what we do. Every single day, we put ourselves down because we can’t live up to some stupid expectations we or somebody else made up for us. And that’s what makes us fall apart. It tears us apart so badly, we need something to keep the rest of us together sometimes. Like drugs. Legal drugs since I’ve had my son, but still drugs. I’ve been smoking a couple times again even though I actually quit when I knew I was pregnant, so I got an e-cig now. Looks stupid and doesn’t exactly taste like a normal cigarette, but there’s no real smoke, smell, nicotine or cancer involved. I just need it to calm down a little. Oh, and I’ve been drinking a couple times. Vodka in a water bottle so people wouldn’t notice. I didn’t get drunk; I don’t do that because it’s stupid, ridiculous, low-brow and immature, but I drank a few sips here and there to keep my head from exploding at school. It’s stupid too, but I can’t help it there. Cassie describes it perfectly:
school, failure, and skins image
I just need something to keep myself from falling apart because I love my son more than anything, but there is nothing. Nothing inside of me expect for the love for him. He’s like this huge light in the middle of all the darkness inside. But no matter how bright the light is, the darkness won’t fade away completely. See, nothing is ever enough. I keep smiling and telling people I’m okay because they wouldn’t understand (I only tell people when I know they’ll understand cause telling others would be useless) and I take care of Jamie and I’m always there for him and somehow make it through every single day and pass my exams and all the other stuff, but all the pressure makes me feel like dying. I wanna let go, but I can’t. I need to hold on and somehow get through everything, no matter what it takes. I don’t have a choice. I’ll probably never be happy, but Jamie needs to be. He deserves it. I probably don’t.

For Blue Skies

It’s been four long years
Since we last spoke
How’s your halo?
I never believed you
I only wanted to
lies, life, and good image
Before all of this
What did I miss?
smile, fake, and skins image
Do you ever get homesick?
I can’t get used to it
I’ll never get used to it
black and white, sadness, and boy image
I’m under that night
I’m under those stars
We’re in a red car
You asleep at my side
Going in and out of the headlights
car, cool, and city image
Could I have saved you?
Would that’ve betrayed you?
skins, suicide, and Effy image
I wanna burn this film
You alone with those pills
suicide, american horror story, and black and white image
What you couldn’t do I will
I forgive you
I’ll forgive you
I forgive you
For blue, blue skies
I’ll forgive you
quote, let go, and snow image

So fucking alone

I feel so alone, I can’t even breathe. There’s this huge hole inside of me and it’s black and deep and keeps growing and devouring everything of me. It’s like I’m losing myself bit by bit. Every night, another part of me just fades away into the darkness and I can’t reach out and get it back. That part; I feel like it’s gone forever. And it hurts. The pain is so intense that I struggle to keep breathing. Why does it hurt so much? Why can’t I get better? Why am I feeling like this? I’m not alone, so why am I so lonely? And why the hell am I not healing? The wound is bleeding and I keep putting plasters and bandages on it, but it won’t heal. I just keep losing blood. That person in the mirror; it’s not me. I’ve been replaced by depression and it hits me like a freaking hurricane, destroying everything it touches and leaving nothing behind expect for destruction. Damages that can’t be repaired, issues that can’t be fixed. Can I be fixed? Is there even hope for someone like me? After all these years, is it even possible to fully recover? Or will a part of me always be dead? Will I always feel like there’s something missing even when I have everything? Is this ever gonna end? Since giving birth to Jamie, I’ve been feelingalive for the very first time in several years, but still there are parts of me that are always hidden away, always in the shadows. This kind of fits right now:

When you go into the ER, one of the first things they ask you to do is rate your pain on a scale of one to ten. I’d been asked this question hundreds of times over the years, and I remember once early on when I couldn’t get my breath and it felt like my chest was on fire, flames licking the inside of my ribs fighting for a way to burn out of my body, my parents took me to the ER. The nurse asked me about the pain, and I held up nine fingers. Later the nurse came in and she said, “You know how I know you’re a fighter? You called a ten a nine.” But that wasn’t quite right. I called it a nine because I was saving my ten. And here it was, the great and terrible ten, slamming me again and again as I lay still and alone in my bed staring at the ceiling, the waves tossing me against the rocks then pulling me back out to sea so they could launch me again into the jagged face of the cliff, leaving me floating faceup on the water, undrowned.

I wish I had a Freddie to save me. But darling, this isn’t Skins and I’m not Effy.

Who am I?

Have you ever asked yourself that question? Because I have. Like, you know, multiple times. I can’t even count them anymore. I don’t even know if I’ve lost myself or just never knew who I was. I used to think I was special somehow (like a special kind of weirdo) because I really don’t know anyone who has as many sides and shades as I have.

large

People don’t understand it’s possible to love darkness (the night, goth music, art and such), enjoy normal teenage stuff (drugs- yeah, I like them, but I don’t do them anymore, sex- but I don’t have sex anymore because of Jamie, parties- though I don’t attend any anymore, teen movies and books, Starbucks..), get obsessed with things (currently: the British show Skins), hate trends and society, but somehow be a part of it too, expect way too much from yourself (like getting all the A’s in school, study medicine or something and become someone people know and respect), be a good mom (and yes, I am despite my age and that stuff and I actually do and sacrifice everything and anything for him, do everything right and I’m ALWAYS there for him), be smart and well educated (like the fact that I actually like Dante and Shakespeare and don’t just fucking pretend), love nature and animals (yep, I’m that kind of girl that only eats vegan stuff and freaks out when someone throws his cig stub in the grass or treads on ants), have mental issues (because of my blog I don’t think I have to name an example), but I’m stronger than anyone I know and I definitely think and ask way too much about, like, everything. I’m curious and I’m not ashamed of it. Actually I’m usually not ashamed of anything. Everyone hates lies and hiding secrets and still everyone does these things. Well, I don’t.

So that’s me. Normal? I hardly think so. Special? I don’t know. I don’t think I know anything anymore at this point. This point. Where is this point? Where am I and how did I get here? When did I become this person and who is it? Have I lost control? Or did I let go? What the hell is happening here?! I honestly don’t know what to think, do or be anymore. I don’t feel bad, but I don’t feel good either. So what is it that I’m feeling? Shrinks always tell me confusion is a condition and not a feeling, but I don’t know another word to describe what’s inside of me. Whatever it is, it’s a huge mess and I don’t even know why. All I know is I can’t sleep and I’m feeling torn apart inside. Yeah, that’s a feeling! Right? Fuck it, I don’t know. I don’t even know what tears me apart inside. People ask how I feel and I don’t even know what to answer because I just don’t know. Am I okay? Am I crazy? Is this the life I wanted? And if it’s not, then what kind of life is it that I want? And will I ever get it? Will things change? Will I change myself? Change them? There are so many questions and no answers. I’m just sitting here confused AF and not being able to sleep though I’m really, really tired. Of everything and nothing and most of all, of myself. Because I’m just way too complicated. No wonder I’m single, right? Nobody can handle me anyway. Not even I can. I want to fit it- and somehow I don’t want to. Does that make sense? No. We’re told we can be anything, but I don’t even know what I wanna be. Just be yourself, right? Well, what is this ‘myself’? Who is it? Is it something narrowly and accurately defined? Am I supposed to figure it out? Will I ever?

large

I know how people want me to be, how they want everyone to be (turn on the TV and you’ll know), but do I wanna be like that? I don’t hate myself, not anymore. But I don’t know myself either.

And I’ve lost who I am, and I can’t understand.
Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love, without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on.
But I know, all I know, is that the end’s beginning.
Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart.
Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent.
All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain.
All is lost, hope remains, and this war’s not over.
There’s a light, there’s the sun, taking all shattered ones.
To the place we belong, and his love will conquer all.

 

 

Are we ever ready to let go?

I tried to walk together
But the night was growing dark
Thought you were beside me
But I reached and you were gone
Sometimes I hear you calling
From some lost and distant shore
I hear you crying softly for the way it was before

Where are you now?
Are you lost?
Will I find you again?
Are you alone?
Are you afraid?
Are you searching for me?
Why did you go? I had to stay
Now I’m reaching for you
Will you wait? will you wait?
Will I see you again?

large

You took it with you when you left
These scars are just a trace
Now it wanders lost and wounded
This heart that I misplaced

Where are you now?
Are you lost?
Will I find you again?
Are you alone?
Are you afraid?
Are you searching for me?
Why did you go? I had to stay
Now I’m reaching for you
Will you wait? will you wait?
Will I see you again?

goodbye, Nina Dobrev, and sad image

I won’t drown again.

I’m relapsing. I cannot deny it anymore. It’s true and though I don’t say it loud and tell people, it’s happening. The thing is: it’s different this time. I have a reason to fight. This is not about me anymore; it’s about my son. He deserves a mother who’s there for him, takes care and loves him unconditionally and not some psycho stuck in her sick mind. I’m not gonna let the disorders win again; not this time. I’m stronger and better than that. It hurts like hell, but I’ll make it through. There is no other fucking way. No way I’m gonna give up. Not. This. Time.

broken, amy lee, and band image

 

 

Down again.

I can’t hold on to me, wonder what’s wrong with me

I thought it was over. I thought it was gone and I was over it. I thought it was alright. But I was so, so wrong. It always comes back and it’s never gone. I’m having the nights again. That kind of nights I was so scared of, that kind of nights that ruined everything. I can feel it in every single bone when it comes and can’t do anything about it. I’m just sitting there on my bed and feel it how I fall apart. Suddenly, I just lose myself completely and break down and there’s the pain inside of me, screaming, aching, trying to kill me. And I feel like fading away all over again. I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want to lose myself again. I want to live, I want to be happy, for god’s sake! After all this shit, I fucking need it! But life’s not fair after all, right? You don’t get what you want. Maybe I don’t deserve it anyway. And I can officially say that depression is back now- only at night, but the nights are the worst. But I won’t officially say anything because I don’t want anyone to know. They wouldn’t understand- nobody would. Not even I understand. It’s never enough, no matter how hard I try.

Here in the darkness I know myself

relapse, beautiful, and eminem image

Recovering- for REAL.

I know I haven’t written in a while. I didn’t know what to tell. I was ‘released from custody’ three weeks ago and I’ve been doing pretty good since then- at least mentally. Physically- not really. Lately it’s been hotter than in the desert out here and my pregnant body doesn’t seem to be so happy about it. But hey, I’m still able to get out of my bed and get my shit done every day, so whatever. I’ll get through it. I’m still having those moody ups and downs, but it has already gotten SO MUCH better. Like, seriously. No sudden crying for no reason, no breakdowns because of ridiculous stuff. Just… A mixture of pregnancy and BPD (borderline personality disorder). Right now I realize even though I haven’t written in weeks, I have nothing to say. Nothing spectacular has happened since I left the hospital. I’m actually doing really good. Even better than I had expected it. Hey, it sucks to be pregnant because of all those shitty side affects like weight gain, pains everywhere and such crap, but at least I’ll have a beautiful child afterwards, so let’s do this. My mind seems to be getting better every day while I tell myself to keep going and stay strong. There are those bad days and critical moments, but I know what to do and am always able to snap out of it somehow. I have no idea how I made it here, but now I really am recovering. 

All I can tell you is that the most important part of recovery is wanting it, realizing you deserve it and never, ever stop believing in yourself, your dreams and future. And you must never stop refining yourself. 

What it’s like with depression

Before I started my therapy in the psychosomatic hospital where I still am right now, I went to school and on one of my last days, we talked about the topic depression. I could have killed everyone in the classroom. Depression is when you’re sad all the time, the teacher explained. And sometimes you don’t feel anything at all. And a student responded, then I have depression too! The class laughed and others agreed with him. Why is depression even an illness?, someone asked. We’re all sad sometimes. And I felt the urge to scream. When I think back, I know I should’ve stood up and tell them what it really means to be suffering from depression. 

I would have said: 
Do you wanna know what it’s like with depression? It’s like drowning. Expect you can see everyone around you breathing. You’re in a huge dark ocean and you’re struggling and struggling so hard, but no matter how hard you try, you just can’t reach the surface. You cannot swim. And while you’re drowning, you try to scream, but you can’t because only water fills your lungs. And you’re suffering down there and nobody can see anything. They just see the ocean’s still surface. Not what lies underneath. When you’re suffering from depression, it’s not just sadness. That’s not what it feels like. It’s living with a constant pain, the water in the ocean, that pulls you down every single day. And you try so hard, but you just can’t fight it. Sometimes you think it gets better, but it just takes a break. And then it comes back and it crashes down like a wave and makes you lose the floor under your feet. You can take pills and numb the pain, but it won’t fade away. 

But I couldn’t. I just sat there, dying inside.

. | via Tumblr