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Before, society wanted to “stop to stigma” because mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. However, it’s as though mental illness has been a “trend” and society tends to romanticize it nowadays.

Yes, mental illness is nothing to be ashamed nor scared of – I live with mental illness every single day of my existence, but it is also nothing to yearn for or aspire to have.

Mental illness is not beautiful. It’s living with the devil on your shoulder and bringing you down constantly. Even when you think you’re doing “fine” and exceptional, it’s still hovering over waiting to make it’s move. And let me tell you, when that shit hits – it fucking BLOWS.

You see, mental illness is so immoderate; so consuming. It’s agonizing. Mental illness takes over every aspect of your life. There is nothing beautiful about it, pain isn’t alluring.

Mental illness is not adjectives to describe how the fuck your day is going. I hear so many people say, “I’m so depressed, I failed my test.” or how their boss is so “Bipolar.” Or maybe their mom is “Psychotic”. Maybe they lost at a video game so it’s, “Wow, I’m done – I’m gonna kill myself if I lose again.”

Society throws these terms around and it’s as though the whole world self diagnoses without even understanding what they mean.

No, you’re not depressed because your package came in late. And I’m sorry love, you’re not “anorexic” because you skipped a damn meal.

Romanticizing these terms and calling them beautiful, only hurts the ones who live with them on a day to day basis. It’s a daily battle and we’re lucky if we even get out of bed or leave the house. The struggle every day is whether or not to give up, do we keep livin’ or choose to die?

Please be considerate to those around you who face these complex challenges. Pain is pain, and it hurts.

 

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Shattered Soul

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Your words stick to me like glue, but you’ll never realize – the damage you’ve caused along my brain.

It’s like a shot to my heart, causing skilled aim; your hit that only inflames my soul, drowning me in bloody shame.

What comes over you when you treat me like that?

You’re fucking me up and there’s no going back.

I never want to leave but I feel like I won’t be here much longer, because your hands on the trigger and your temper seems to get much bigger.

Maybe it’s my veracity that aggravates you or the way I gait back and forth, or maybe my screams that drive you berserk.

Well maybe it’s not me at all, maybe it’s you and having no self control. But what I don’t know won’t kill me, but it’ll surely hurt.

The more you open up pulls me in but when you belittle me, it’s like you beat me with a pistol. Your blows cause bruises along my body – until you can no longer recognize me.

Perhaps I can’t even recognize myself, therefore – Who am I anymore?

When I look in the mirror I don’t know who I’m looking at. You’ve dismembered my soul, and my bloodline runs flat.

 

When will I ever be worth it?

When will I ever be worth it?

Stopped calling names and told it’s ended.

It’s not an everyday occurrence but it might as well be, because you belittle and drown me every fucking week.

It could be the smallest of things or bickering back and forth, you end up treating me like shit making me feel like dirt.

It’s always something, or I’m “bitch”. You tell me to shut the fuck up or call it quits.

I always end up surrendering after losing my shit. What else am I suppose to do when you treat me like this?

You end up apologizing after realizing what you’ve said and done, “it’s never gonna happen again” you say, you put it on your sons.

But mistakes repeated are no longer mistakes, you’re choosing to break.

Flowers can’t always suffice for apologies, you need to change your ways.

Because if you don’t treat me right, someone else will, then what? It’s gonna be my fault why I left, you suck.

You always tell me you’re gonna be “better”, well I’m also sick of your false promises – they’re always broken.

You make me feel so low and not confident.

This is why I struggle with self worth; Your cousin did this same shit but you may be worse.

I just want to be worth it than most. I wanna mean something and be enough for it to stop. Just tell me you love me and lie, I’ll believe it eventually if not.

When will I ever be worth it?

Maybe you’ll care when I die, and you’ll regret the shitty things you done to me as you kiss me goodbye…. 😔

Poetic Sadness

No one understands what it’s like – to feel lost and lonely inside.

You wake up  wishing the pain would just go away, but it stays trapped in your mind like a vigorous wave.

Scars on my skin and scars on my soul; Some scars are exterior and others are within, they all tell a story but most stay hidden.

If you knew what went through my mind, you’d think the devil was confined. These demons have tried escaping through paper and time.

The tears I’ve cried are angels from heaven, they know I’m suffering carrying this burden.

I ask that that they keep me safe and heal my broken heart, but time will tell if I’m worth it or not.

Though this girl couldn’t be sad anymore, for I became numb. Somehow that got worse and death to a fixated curse.

Painted smiles on a face, it was the perfect disguise. It’s like a master at the brush telling infinite lies.

You see the dimples show through and a laugh so contagious, but my wrists are now stained and my eyes cry insane.

Not strong enough to continue any longer, so God take my soul – for this was too much to handle.

So I’m sorry to say that the devil has won the battle…

Now the angels cry of sadness as my funeral’s at the chapel.

1st post of 2018

 

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Hello fellow readers, bloggers, and world. It’s been over 6 months since my last post, so I’m not going to lie to you guys – it feels quite offbeat being back. I’m not sure where to inaugurate so I’m just throwing myself out there.

For many unaware, my health has been shit for about 4-5 months. It started out with everything I ate was making me feel nauseous. Eventually, it went away. Yet as that died down, it gradually took over my head. I was constantly disoriented, dizzy, light-headed; Truth is, the only time I felt “fine” is when I was sleeping, so I started sleeping more. Naps in the day got longer and I would sleep up until’ I had to go to work. It got even worse with headaches and migraines on the daily and I didn’t feel like myself. I would cry to my boyfriend saying that something worse was wrong and that I felt like I was losing my damn mind. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror anymore.

However I did see myself freaking myself out more. I had gone for blood work and thinking of endless possibilities of what the disclosure could be. In fact, I was hoping something would appear just so I could have clarity with whatever it may be. I had called for my results a week prior to my 2nd appointment. I was babysitting at the time and was getting so anxious being on hold for about 10 minutes before the nurse got on to speak to me. When she did, she was thinking she had enlightened me by telling me all blood work came back negative for anything to be concerned about. I found myself inquisitive even more and asking how… I even told the nurse she disappointed me because in that moment I really felt like I needed to be in a psychiatric hospital. I was not making this up… Now I know I have had a few loose screws but this was the tip of the iceberg for me and I couldn’t take it any longer.

I only wanted to cry because nothing felt right. There came a point where I couldn’t even hold a conversations with people at my work and I felt like my responses were so slow – I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t, atleast it felt like it. Sensed even worse for my boyfriend because as good as he is to me, I was more anxious than usual. A few times he would have his arm around or on me at night in bed and I would fling it off and dart to the bathroom to be alone for a few minutes. I didn’t see how bad I would get overwhelmed with situations. I felt more moody and at this mark, I had also been late on my period. Now I was thinking, either I am pregnant and it was too early to detect in the blood work so I’ll have to wait a few more weeks or it was the stress of everything that had taken over.

This situation consumed me, my thoughts, and now my body.

Finally, the day had come for my appointment. Though I knew my results, I wasn’t sure what my doctor would want to do…. She tells me my blood work was normal, and then looks to me with compassion and tells me it’s my anxiety and depression. Can you believe that? 4-5 months of this bullshit for it to be only my anxiety and depression. Okay, so I have dealt with this… I live with this, it has NEVER been this bad before. I wanted to convince her it was something else. But who was I really trying to convince here, the doctor or myself? She said it was my built up stress that has caused my depression and that anxiety is just the cherry on top.

For the past two weeks, I have been taking Prozac as prescribed. Yep – That’s right! I have officially joined Prozac fucking Nation. Extremely anxious and hesitant to even take it, this was a reason I stopped taking my zoloft 3yrs ago; Because it gets worse before it gets better. I didn’t like having to rely on a pill to keep me “sane”. I found other outlets for it all but throughout time, I had fallen out of them and slowly transpired into combat… And I had only been losing against myself.

So there you have it. I ended 2017 with being another statistic and I am okay with that. I know that if I want to feel better, and genuinely be happy I will have to continue this path for a while. This journey has just started and I hope on the way I find more outlets I can stick with to help balance my chaotic emotions and ease my anxiety. It hasn’t been the easiest and I don’t expect it to be. I don’t want anybody’s pity or sorrow, I only ask for empathy amongst others. Because as I try to get clasp acceptance and understanding for thyself, I ask that others can respect the position first.

My suffering has been a blessing although I haven’t verified it yet. Despite that, I do recognize that things can be worse and they’re not. I know that I haven’t lost all hope and I am realizing that I needed to believe in more of me. However, the struggle isn’t over yet. I am stronger than my battles and I was destined to fight them – And face them head on, I shall. ♥

Anxiety 2 Art

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People ask what it’s like living with anxiety, and to put it plainly – anxiety fucking sucks.

It’s the overthinking and breakdowns from all that has built up.

It’s getting excited to go somewhere only to bring it down because of the process in getting ready – anxiety hits you like a ton of bricks. There you have it, that is the disorder in a nutshell. It conveys you when you least expect it.

Anxiety transpires into every aspect of your life: It controls the way you think, feel – it’s your actions on a day to day basis.

Unfortunately, it feels like you’re drowning – there is no saving yourself.

In the presence of it’s upcoming: the finger biting, lip picking, leg twitching and foot tapping is just the jist of it all. Anxiety follows me like the devil on my shoulder.

My body immediately gets overstimulated and causes me to get overwhelmed in even the most minor situations.

My thoughts race faster than I can catch up with them. My eyes emerge with tears which in that moment – I could create a waterfall of them.

Living with anxiety makes me look like a stuck up asshole for numerous reasons: I hate talking on the phone, I don’t like creating conversations with strangers, I can’t ask for a condiment by myself at a restaurant, I either respond to text messages too embarrassingly fast or “years later” because I don’t want to seem like an idiot for writing something stupid.

Some days are harder than others. & it’s either I feel everything at once or I feel absolutely nothing – again, there is no in between.

I don’t mean to be a dick, but I find it hard to talk to people and normally if needing to present in front of other people – my body gets hot and I start stuttering.

It’s hard for eye contact depending on who the person is, because if I am not comfortable enough around you – I will keep distant. In the crowd, I feel like I am constantly being looked at and judged; Like everyone somehow knows all my mistakes and can see my flaws.

In groups, I am typically the quiet one given’ who we are with or where we are at. Most think I am shy, and sure. I can come across that way but really when I say I am shy, I mean that I am an anxious being and scared of making a fool of myself.

Anxiety means that I fear failing.

Anxiety means I will start freaking out over things, big or small. Anxiety means I will have to remove myself from scenes due to overthinking and because I feel my breaths getting deeper and deeper and it is only a ticking time bomb before it turns into hyperventilation.

My meltdowns will happen at the most inconvenient moments and there is nothing I can do to cease it. However, anxiety also means that I will cry in the shower or the bathroom at work because I am mentally and emotionally exhausted from my own thoughts and terrified for my own well being.

I get anxious as I type this and am so irritable and snappy – truth is, I don’t mean to be. You see, when my body gets overstimulated, I can’t handle it. I don’t know what to do with myself at times.

Even when anxious, some will never know. It isn’t always visible, it’s hard to keep composed. What do I do? Remove myself, once more. Taking myself out of the equation makes me seem stuck up or anti social.

Anxiety means nothing is ever okay, nothing is fine. Even when I say that I am, just know that that is 80% of time – it is a lie.

One things fershure, I am just trying to get through my day to day tasks. I just want to be genuinely liked and wanted; I want to be needed and consoled. I just want to feel like I belong in this world and anxiety keeps me from thinking otherwise.

Anxiety means that I am told to “calm down” or “relax” quite often. The last thing an anxious person wants to hear is that. In reality when these things are said, it in fact intensifies my reaction. It makes it worse…

Anxiety means that my stress level goes from 0-100 real quick. My fears also go into a deeper level. It’s shitty to live like this.

What those don’t understand is living anxious is more than being beyond stressed. People think they can relate and most actually romanticize it and self diagnose thinking you are the same… No, that’s not how it works. Stress and anxiety can be inherently different. People may be genuine however, doesn’t necessarily mean that your anxiety is. With that being said, when you try to be empathetic – it may be truth but it isn’t helpful.

Anxiety is toxic. Anxiety is exhausting: emotionally, mentally, and even physically. 

It’s distracting, makes me forgetful, snappy, lazy and unproductive most days.

Pills are a last resort to keep sane and the last thing I want is to feel is this fucking way.

In all honesty, anxiety is being attacked from something you have no control overit’s being brought down by something you can’t flee from. 

It holds you down like an anchor…

Remember this: you’re stronger than all battles. You’re a warrior and you’re not alone. ❤

P.S. Know the DIFFERENCE between worrying and anxiety before you romanticize and claim to have it, please.

The Infliction

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Do you ever feel like the weight of everybody else is on your shoulders?

Do you ever feel like you’re not going to be good enough no matter how hard you try?

Do you ever feel like nobody genuinely likes you & that people only talk to you because they feel bad for you?

It sucks and leaves you with the feeling of feeling beyond shitty.

Bad enough I tend to already worry, overthink and create absolutely ridiculous scenarios but damn- Either this anxiety thing is seriously kicking my ass or I am in all honesty losing my fucking mind. Maybe both?

We’re going to go with that so I don’t feel as bad nor straight loca for the emotions that have taken over my mind and sentiment state.

Though the constant need to feel like I need to apologize for feeling so deeply is past me, I won’t do it anymore. Just because it’s okay to feel and express yourself. So instead, I will clasp this time to self indulge in my own despondency, nobody else has to- right?

Fuck, nobody will even take the time to check in and ask if I am okay…

Even though one will most likely fib and use the typical, “I’m fine” dash, it’s still nice for somebody else to notice you haven’t been yourself lately. It’s courteous to ask how others are doing rather than shunning possible reality of their world to the side.

And that’s the point: I will always ask how someone is doing. I will always ask if somebody needs a helping hand or guide. Why is it that nobody can do that for me?

Wanna know another shitty emotion? Feeling alone… Now there’s a difference between alone and lonely. I am no way in hell lonely, however when you feel this alone and lost, it can get lonely walking the path alone with no hand to hold onto & nobody to talk to.

Did I just contradict myself? Eh, who cares? Life is contradicting itself so I pity those who live their life like Mary fucking sunshine, alright.

Because real life problems do exist and people are living proof of disorders and life issues arise every day. Like a flock of fucking seagulls, this shit just hits me suddenly. There is no denying that. And what’s even worse is that I can’t help but feel EVERTHING at once.

It’s either the concern of everything or utterly nothing. Why is it these two cannot differentiate? Do you readers notice the questions I have questioned? Oh, and there goes another. Because this is what happens in my mind. A 1000 questions zoom through faster than speedy gonzales.

For those of you who don’t know me too well and tell me how joyous I always am because I am always smiling, laughing or shimming (which is a stupid dance I do), think again.

This is documentation on what nights are living with these disorder is and know that, this is only the beginning and nothing compared to the horrendous thoughts that actually come across my brain.

I once read that all emotional pain lasts 12 minutes, anything longer than that is self-inflicted. Call me skeptical, but I didn’t ask for this.

Okay, I don’t ask to feel like shit on sleepless nights and overthink every little thing in my life. I don’t ask for the tears that creep down my pillow at 2am or the constant battle of thinking what is it that I am doing wrong.

I hate this feeling, and sometimes I just don’t want to feel altogether.

Because it is exhausting- To be tired of being tired, fucking sucks balls.

If I knew the answers, I wouldn’t ask for help.

To strangers and friends reading this: I’m here, always.

And for those who live the same way I do, it’s not a bad life- just a bad night.

You’re a warrior battling yourself. Don’t give up! It’s nights like this that make us lose our shit but stronger than before…

& Lastly, thank you to whoever took the time to read and check out my blog. Embrace yourself, walking the path to life isn’t easy, but it’s a beautiful struggle. ♥