EFF

Your bigotry suffocates me.

NEON TREES

I was brought to my knees so that one day I could rise up and know the happiness that comes with perseverance.

ETHEREAL FOREST SPRITE

Late nite emergency emails to therapist are sometimes necessary. I know he can't fix anything, but sometimes I just need someone (anyone) to tell me to hold on.

I certainly can't listen to the voices around me, or in my head.

WHATEV

It took me 3 days to finish a piece of cake. I don't give a shit about food. I don't give a shit about anything.

SORRY

SHE'S DEAD TOO.

GIRL, INTERRUPTED

Well, I did kill myself. I killed the girl I used to be; she's gone. The things she used to put up with, I can't. The taunts and attacks she felt she deserved, now I know she deserves so much better. The things that used to bring her happiness, now she knows they were crutches. I will always walk cautiously in these new shoes, but I can't go back to that girl. As scary as it is to know that I died, I have now been reborn. The muscle memory is still there from my previous life, but as I learn to walk anew in these big, shiny shoes—though I may trip a few times—I know that I can't go back. I can't go back out of fear, to that small life. Those dark, enclosing walls of my mind. It's an illusion that I thought was real for 37 years. The chains of my mind continue to break apart like so much dust in the windy night. They are gone forever, gone with that girl that used to be me. I'm still not sure about this new person I've become. I'm still getting used to her. Little does she know how much more gentle I will be with her compared to the old girl who I killed. Even though she had to die, her sacrifice will not be in vain. Because of her death, now I can truly live. It's all I've ever wanted from this life: to be inside the painting, instead of gazing at it longingly from afar.

I cling to you like the motes of desert dust cling to heaven's tears.

MONEY! MONEY!

People wonder why I'm so cranky all the time. If you had night terrors every single night for the last 37 years, you'd be cranky too, bitch.

PICTURE YOURSELF IN A ROOM FULL OF BROKEN GLASS

The mistake happened 37 years ago...

BECKY WITH THE BAD HAIR

I have a very pretty name, but the way my manager says it—with sarcasm and poison on her tongue—turns it into something ugly.

FOUR-LEAF CLOVER

I'm no longer going to say "I fell in love," but instead, "I fell into love," as it is very much like tripping.

JOKE NAZI

If you can't handle my darkness, then I cut off the comedy. No jokes for you!

MAD WORLD

Donnie Darko - Mad World

OZMA & DOROTHY

I dunno, therapy wasn't so good today. I felt very vulnerable about the things we discussed, and his reaction to them. I mean, I'm glad I got a job and things are looking up, but no matter what I do, I always feel disconnected from the world. I feel like an onlooker instead of a participant. I'm afraid to even allow myself the minutest of joys, because I've been trained to reject it because it doesn't belong to me. Dr. Ben said not to be hard on myself, or judge myself, but I don't know how to not do those things. I'm still ever drowned in fear, and there is nowhere to run to. I keep finding myself in endless corridors with endless twists and turns, and they always lead to one thing: DEAD END.

RIDE OR PRIDE

The LGBTQ community has the best people: out of all the freak flags, ours is the most colorful.

I DON'T

I don't belong to any of it.

HE'S NOT WRONG

Kate Middleton's Brother James Reveals His Battle with Depression, Says It's a 'Cancer of the Mind'

SOMETIMES STARS EXPLODE

Sarah Hyland Says She Would 'Write' Mental Suicidal Letters to Loved Ones Amid Chronic Heath Battle

MEME IT

NEW YEAR, NEW ME?

Not so fast. That's not how it works. When the clock strikes midnight on December 31st, you don't magically morph into the person you want to be. After 37 years I am finally facing my demons head on. And you know what's happening? People are bailing. So perhaps, instead of focusing on a new me, I should also focus on a new entourage. I don't really have a substantial one to begin with, but I know there are people out there that love me and respect me and get me. They say when you become really sick (like cancer-sick) you find out who really loves you; you find out who is sticking by you.

Right now the 2 main stressors in my life are my mother and my partner. They are talking behind my back, gaslighting me at every opportunity, and attacking me because I am traumatized (which is only triggering me further). They are guilt-tripping me, judging me, and essentially sick of me and my "problems." I get it. I'm a difficult person to love. It is a result of the ongoing abuse and neglect I suffered at my caretaker's hand. I am literally acting out of a place of fear and rejection. And they are blaming me for it, even though it is a direct reaction to the suffering I endured, and continue to endure, on a regular basis. If I was suffering from any other disease, say diabetes or cancer, I fear I would be telling an entirely different tale. But this is the story of my life: a harsh, unsafe, battered childhood. Growing up feeling worthless, then unable to have meaningful, interpersonal relationships. Enter marriage. Enter more feelings of worthlessness. Enter disappointment, disgust, and anger from spouse. Enter guilt and resentment. Depression doesn't magically go away. Thoughts of suicide don't stop badgering your brain just because you wish it so. Every 3 months, my review always comes back the same: unsatisfactory. Spouse is literally doing the exact thing my mother did to me for decades—telling me to snap out of it. This gives one the idea that "it" is a choice. It's not. When I was not being abused, I was being neglected. When I was not being neglected, I was being abused. I did not choose these things to happen to me. I am working to get better, but apparently the rate I am going at is too slow. Not enough satisfactory improvements are visible. These evaluations, along with the backtalk and judgement, do not help me move forward. If anything, they contribute to my feelings of utter worthlessness, and ultimately propel my suicidal ideations to a fevered pitch. I know for a fact that these individuals are not doing this on purpose. Thanks to Dr. Ben, he has shown me that most people do *not* know how to deal with suicidal people. In fact, they often mistakenly say or do triggering things without even realizing it (sadly, they think they are helping). So I no longer take these punches personal. However, they still hurt me to my core. And that's what I need to continue to work on: my pain. It has such thrall over me, that I don't even know what it feels like to be safe, happy, and light-hearted. Being forced to grow up very quickly (homeschool myself and younger sibling; protect self and sibling from unstable, violent home, etc.), I never had a moment to rest or be a child. I was raped—emotionally, mentally, psychologically. I honestly feel like I have brain damage from the experience.

I'm not writing this for myself. I am writing this for anyone out there who is struggling with severe and debilitating mental illness. You are not alone. I know that doesn't ease the pain, or make the battle any easier, but know that I am here for you in solidarity. I will never turn my back on the broken, discarded, and misunderstood. You are my brethren. We will get together someday, you and I. We will be in heaven, not the one above, but the one in our hearts. The heaven that unfurls when 2 broken pieces find each other in perfect harmony and love.

Until then I keep my animals and books close. Nothing has changed.

REST IN POWER, YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL

Gay Latin Music Star Kevin Fret, 24, Shot and Killed in Puerto Rico

SAFE

It's locked away
where no one will ever find it. 🔑

DEAD & ALIVE

I am Schrodinger's cat.

2019 YOU PESKY DEVIL

Today was not a very good day. I ended up going to therapy pre-anxious, wanting to talk about certain topics. In the end, I just rambled for the entire hour, going off on a million different tangents. I felt like Trump when he vomits a word salad without really saying anything substantial. Then the topic shifted, and things got really Twin Peaks-esque. The word "transference" came up (he said it; I had it in my head from before), and then I told him I felt like I was Dale Cooper's big faded face saying, "We live inside a dream."

Then after therapy, I recorded a 26 minute video of myself discussing mental health, the New Year, etc. I put a lot into it, getting really emotional and even tearing up at some points. At the 26 minute mark I noted that my phone only had enough room to record 10 more minutes of video. Then my phone battery died. When I turned my phone back on, the video was *gone*gone*gone*.

I have no room on my phone for the UberEats app.