Tw Depressing Thoughts - Blog Posts

here we go again, hiding in the toilet. fck I hate my life I wanna run away pls someone help mee

also my stomach hurt so bad I'll diee

im gonna skip class again

btw im looking for new metal bands to listen to

Eyes blade Why hello there beautiful you would make some lovely artwork

I act out in hopes that I won't be left alone. I speak loudly in hopes that people will listen. I take fast in hopes that I don't bore people. I say everything I can in hopes that people won't forget. I do so much to try and have friends but at the end of the day I'm just the weird girl who says unhinged stuff. I just want to not feel alone for once. I want to be able to do the things I dream about with someone else. I sacrifice what I want so that someone will stick with me, but I never get that in return. I let them treat me like shit because at least they acknowledge me. I'm alone even when I'm surrounded by my friends because I know they would choose each other over me.

Not An Update

I don't think I'm going to be updating Demigods of Valyria any time soon.

Yesterday, April 23rd, I had to put my cat, Xena, down because she was suffering from absent seizures and if I had brought her home she would have died in pain and I couldn't do that to my baby. I miss her.

When she was 6 months old we rescued her because she had severe wobbly cat syndrome so she couldn't walk. My parents let me keep her even though we were originally going to give her to a kennel that could take of her.

For 2 years she has been my baby, my princess, my pretty girl, my everything and now shes gone. Ive been suicidal for years and for the past 2 shes been one of the few things I lived for.

I'm tired. I can barely think of her name without sobbing, i cant look at my other cats without just collapsing because I miss her so much.

I miss how when I talked she'd respond. I dont have any recordings of her voice.

I couldnt sleep in my own bed last night because she always slept with me and I cant stand being in my room because it hurts so much.

I'm sorry.

vent I'm pretty sure no one asked or cared about

God, I just hate that talk of "oh, things will eventually get better" so fucking much. I have been to therapy for years, so did I keep on taking medication and tried physical exercise but NOTHING worked. And please, do not view this as a "but it doesn't matter doing those things and not changing your mindset" because, FUCK, i tried. I tried so hard to believe things would be better. That this crippling feeling of loneliness that genuinely make my bones ache would eventually dissipate, if not completely, then at least a little. That the little me as a kid wouldn't need to imagine a world he'd feel truly feel seen and understood because people would be like it in the future. I remember everytime I felt disconnected from others around me, even friends and family, I'd tell myself all would change one day and would lose track of time desperately desiring for simple moments that felt magical in my head, like having a true heartfelt conversation and being truly seen and understood by somebody. Now I understand that it doesn't get to happen, you just keep pushing on until you die and I don't want this existence. I feel like I, ironically, love life and it's possibilities too much to end up like this. I just...i don't know. I was diagnosed as autistic not long ago, and yeah, it surely was one of the big reasons why I felt so disconnected and different from others my age but even with that, it still feels like there's something wrong. Something that no doctor can point at or diagnose. Something rotten and wrong and deeply ingrained in me that makes people leave eventually. That make other people see me as "cool or whatever" to be around for a bit before moving on with their lives and finding actual people. So...yeah. It was depressing

Def not morbid poem

Can one tell I got depression? I don't think so...

Not gonna lose this battle this time

Sometimes I realize how much potential I have. Both mentally and physically. And when I come back to my senses I feel ashamed and angry at myself. I could be everything I wanna be, but it's all covered up by my laziness and 30lbs of fat. It's miserable to think about what I can become and I don't have the willpower to act. I can feel it, that I'm destined to be more. But how can I achieve it? Im battling depression for a long time now, I don't know how to get started when my pasts chains are holding me back. Can anyone help me?

Chat, I’m leveling up in therapy. She sent me the suicide hotline number “just in case”

Sometimes there is an emptiness that doesn’t fill. A scar the bleeds, raw as the day the wound falls. And a child that will stay forever alone in the room too startled to turn on a light and too hung up on her own words to see that the doors open. Because beyond the door is just another room, which will lead to another room, and they all look the same with the lights off. There are no adults here only children running from room to room with the lights off.

Oh god. My daily reminder that I’m depressed.

I can do it with a broken heart is genuinely so depressive episode whilest being in a musical coded, like yeah I’m sparkly and in full glam makeup and singing about getting married , sure I go home and stare at my pills for hours praying for a burst of strength to either take the bottle or to get up and leave, but like this show would fall apart without me doing everything behind the scenes and they can’t replace me this late so really I’m being silly and selfish so I need to get over this already

TW

It's crazy how with a little bit of adhd and excelling grades you can convince everyone that Ur fine, even when Ur OD'ing.

*Trigger Warnings: Details and Descriptions of su*c*d* attempt, su*c*d*l ideations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, drug use, guilt, anxiety, bipolar depression, PTSD symptoms, eating disorder, passive aggressive humor.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 7

12:06pm

So yeah, I tried to kill myself. Emphasis on “tried”. I packed up all my shit, so that you and Gem wouldn’t have to touch it or look at it. I took those pills, all of those pills, because I couldn’t and still can’t cut myself. And, I waited in an alley 2 blocks from your apartment in the biting cold for 3 hours, so I wouldn’t die in the apartment, your home.

That slap must hurt, doesn’t it?

Then… nothing.

Nothing happened happened that is. I waited 3 hours, watching Steven Universe to leave with my last chance at happiness and nothing fucking happened. “Oh well”, I thought.

So, I got up, walked back to the apartment, called an ambulance because I took a shit ton of medication that was going to do something other than k*ll me. Went to the hospital, told them not to call you for a few hours because I didn’t care to. The drugs kicked in and I was high out of my mind, couldn’t even walk by myself (HA! LOL), and then… there you were.

I only remember two bits from that conversation. 1.) That you got me food because I realized I hadn’t eaten in however long I was there. And 2.), That you were kicking me out, said I couldn’t come back, that first you felt guilt that switched to anger, that you're "shipping me back to my mom", that what would I think if Gem found me dead in my room, and what would it be like for you both to have to find a new place. And I said, “I’m sorry”.

And I still have more sorry's to give. I know that what I just said was hurtful and unfair and completely victimizing myself, even if it is my side of the story. I’m so sorry for that. Genuinely, I’m so sorry.

I’m sorry that me arriving came at a time, where you and Gem were struggling with new jobs and the eventual lawsuit possibility. I’m sorry that I was another person with damaged mental health added to your household, when you felt like you were the only one keeping everyone afloat. I’m sorry that I never just told you the truth, my truth. Of how I was feeling and how much I was struggling.

I’m sorry that things never went the way we expected. I’m sorry for not being there for you and Gem, the way you both were for me. I’m sorry that I “fed off the energy in the space” and “exacerbated what was already in the space”. I’m sorry for not seeing the obvious signs that you both needed space.

I’m so sorry for not being able to leave the house or eat without being told. I’m so sorry for not being able to find an out-patient program or a job fast enough. I’m so sorry for making you be my one and only protector and supporter.

I’m so sorry for becoming your and Gem’s suffering, instead of just my own.

I’m so sorry for putting myself in your hands when you weren’t prepared.

I’m so sorry for making you take responsibility for me.

I’m so sorry for sharing more with Gem than with you.

I’m so sorry for not making my choice to say, “Yes, I’ll come stay with you”, shown and worth it.

I’m… so sorry… for putting you and Gem through the trauma of me attempting su*c*d*, and the strain that must have caused.

I’m.

So.

Sorry…

For Everything.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d* attempt, su*c*d*l ideations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, guilt, anxiety, bipolar depression, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 6

12:06pm

I’ve realized that I wasn’t broken or shattered when I came to you. I was cracked. Hundreds of jagged lines waiting to be smoothed over. But from Langone to those next 6 weeks, pieces were starting to fall faster than the cracks were sealed. The first hospitalization at Emory, moving to New York, our fights, my Granny passing, more fights, my birthday, to that last Monday that I saw the apartment, to the last time we were together. Everything in-between was beautiful and warm, and those specific moments were pain and suffering.

I thought I had reached my breaking. But the truth is, my breaking point was 100 times higher than I ever thought. My mask was too thick, right? So thick that as tears rolled down my face onto the floor and as “I’m sorry” rode along my shaky breaths, the splashes and shakes couldn’t be heard.

You know, it was the smallest thing that pitched me off the tallest cliff that is my breaking point. It was another of your fights, another “open conversation”. I bought my tickets to go see our cousin for Christmas, something that you not only suggested, but I informed you that I decided upon the week before. And, as I listened to you say it yet another slap to your face (this should be a new record at this point, what’s the count, 6?), as I felt the quivering of my anxiety claw at my lungs, as you brought up trying to buy my tickets as if it wasn’t the first time I was hearing it, as I felt a good moment fade… I knew I needed to leave.

To rid you of my presence, my two suitcases, of my laptop, of the heels I bought as my birthday present to myself that I returned because you suggested (another irresponsible spend), of the list I made you of all my favorite foods of me washing the dishes and cleaning the bathroom and staying home and watching the cats as you and Gem traveled on a trip that I was invited on first and of the packet that you and Gem promised you would help me with but didn’t and of me with my angstand my sorrowand my guiltand my anxietyand my depressionand me…

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 7

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, guilt, anxiety, bipolar depression, insomnia, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 5

12:06pm

I was hiding my anxiety, my depression, my rage, my insomnia under my mask that I guess was too thick. So thick that it shadowed the drips and drops of the truth, my truth, that I hoped would grow into waves large enough to show on your radar. That I was not okay. Not okay at all. But okay enough to manage, right?

My world was changing so fast and everything was too much, yet slow enough and just not enough that I could see my only motivation to even have a world, flickering in and out with every interaction. With every text left unsent. With every phone call unrung. 

I thought things were getting better, I thought I was getting better. But how could I with no therapist, no meds, no one to help me sift through that packet, no one to talk to? All I had was that packet, my laptop, and two older sisters that switched from laughter to comfort, to withdrawn to frustration. From me being there, to me wanting anything but anywhere…

The way you spoke, the way you acted, the way you looked, set me on edge. I felt like an intruder in your home, and during some of your “open conversations”, I felt like you thought so too. There were lines drawn in the sand, when you said you would always prioritize Gem over me, when there shouldn’t have been. There were so many contradictions, “We’re not roommates in college” vs. “I’m not your parent”, or better yet, “You’re an adult who can make their own decisions” vs. “You should at least inform me of what’s going on, so I can help you”, that should have been cut and dry. There were assumptions, so many assumptions, “I think you look for drama” vs. “I think you were trying to be insensitive”, that could have been questions. 

So many times, we had “open conversations” that were plainly and painfully, just one-sided. In which your claws were out, and I cried and apologized. Even the one time I found the strength to stand up for myself, I ended up saying “I’m sorry”, drowned in tears enough to last a lifetime.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 6 Part 7

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, hospitalizations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, guilt, bipolar depression, anxiety.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 4

12:06pm

My resolve sparked the shift. The shift from watching my pieces scatter from me sporadically to gluing them back together. By the time I landed, I knew there were expectations for me, whether they were from you or my friends, or even myself. Everything was still moving too fast, I really couldn’t keep up, but all I could think about was that I had to and that you two were there to help me.

But only half of that was true.

After I landed and we went to Langone (hospital), I think both of our expectations broke and we didn’t know what to do. I was in an unfamiliar place (New York City) with a deadline of January 1st to move out. I was losing myself throughout that entire time, and instead of finding hope, I found rejection immediately. Langone was the destination in my mind that would turn the tides. I would be able to heal and receive the treatment that I needed to kickstart the right kind of growth. I was ready to let go of my control of myself and release my inhibitions in the hope of something great… for me. 

But instead, I was rejected and I walked away with a packet of every out-patient facility in the NYC area.

Everything was too much. I was broken and was fighting myself to not to want to give up, for you and everyone else, and I decided to keep saving face and see it through. Then maybe, it would be for me too.

After Langone, you were upset, it was nowhere near the plan of me staying in the hospital for 2 weeks. I think that’s when I shied away from you and confided in Gem. I was upset too that Langone didn’t work out, but I was so tired, too tired, of trying to lift off the ground and take flight. I needed time to gain more energy, to repair my mask that was so close to completely breaking. Because if I wasn’t okay enough to manage, then all of your efforts and money would have been wasted. So, I did just that. I rested for almost a week, and felt strings lifting me to dance a song I didn’t know.

You guys did your best to pour into me. By telling me to journal again, to eat, drink water, to get outside. Despite all that was on each of your plates, you made sure I knew that you were there for me. But, how you specifically did it took much longer to understand.

I felt like I was an intruder in your home. A parasite taking what you had for a gain I had not identified or knew existed. I was trying to be so careful; not to do something wrong, to upset you, to make you question if bringing me there was a mistake…

You asked me to wash the dishes, I started washing them almost every time, so you wouldn’t have to ask again. You got upset that second week that I didn’t take out the trash and recycling on time, I made sure to take them out by the end of each day. You told me to clean the bathroom on the weekends, I put time aside to clean it on Sundays. You told me y’all like to spot clean throughout the week, as soon as I saw cat litter on the hallway floor, I was sweeping and moping the whole house.

You told me that I was irresponsible with money, that it was a slap to the face, even though it wasn’t with your money. I stopped buying things that was just for me, bought groceries for the household, and occasionally bought a coffee.

You told me that you expected me to go back to school in January, then when I said that I didn’t want to, you only said okay. I started looking at colleges and scholarships and made a list.

You told me that you didn’t have the space for me to regularly let you know the progress I was making, even though I was putting in all this effort for you, for you to keep seeing me alive and well. I stopped talking because there was nothing left of me to pull from and share.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, harassment, trauma, hospitalizations, breakdowns, triggers, depression, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 3

12:06pm

That incident with the driver triggered me, so badly to the point where for the next week, it was like I was back with Dad and with my step-dad. I couldn’t separate my past reality with my present one. And, 4 days in, I stopped going to classes. I missed 2 weeks by the time that I almost acted on my su*c*d*al ideations. I stopped myself though, and told my therapist. She suggested I go to an in-patient hospital down the road at Emory, and I took it. But, it made everything worse, and I regretted it.

I went without telling anyone, and I thought the school would handle all necessary communications with my teachers, like they said they would, but they didn’t. I was bitter and sad and angry and numb the moment I stepped out of the hospital after almost a week. Then, I spoke to you and the New York Plan started.

You were the first and only person that I told about the hospital. I thought you would be mad at me, at least I made myself believe that. But, you were the opposite, you were mad at Emory like I was, and after you told me what you went through to try to find me, I thought you were finally starting to understand why I didn’t like it at Emory. You were fiercely protective of me like you always have been, and I knew that my big sister had me.

But then, you called back later that day and said that I should fly out to New York the next day, and for the first time, you scared me. Everything was moving too fast all of a sudden, and me, being where I was, just out of the hospital and so ready to die, I was so ready to come to you, but the logical side of me pumped the brakes so hard and so fast.

Of course, I needed the support, I wanted the support, but there was no way that I could just up and leave, but also, leave and then what? We didn’t talk about that first. I had to think about my college trajectory, how things would change, what I would be risking, what and who I would leave behind. Everything was too much to work out to just leave the next day. I processed and understood that enough to take a pause, which in hindsight, I really commend myself for.

The next 2 weeks were awful. I was breaking down crying almost every night, trying to wrestle with the fact of leaving not just just Emory, but the life that I had staked everything and was failing to maintain. I was losing an already lost battle, but it was just catching up to me. When my professors told me that I either would need to leave or fail my classes, when my therapist was pushing for me to go, when my advisor told me leaving would save my full-ride scholarship. The world decided for me what would be next, and I watched my world shatter. It was heartbreaking and frustrating and so filled to the brim with grief that I was drowning, truly, when I already thought I was. But, there was you and there was Gem.

And even though I had a January deadline to meet and the pressure equaled my sorrow, I knew what to be done. So, I filed the medical leave, and jumped on the plane.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of parental abuse and physical abuse. Descriptions of threats, violence, verbal abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse. Mentions of Bipolar Depression, anxiety, PTSD, self-deprecating thoughts, self-esteem issues, people pleasing, rage. Saturday, Jan. 28th, 2023

2:16pm

My dad texted me early in the morning,

-This is my response to very bluntly and directly tell him off

and here’s what I said to him:

To Dad,

“Listen. I did disrespect you and I did curse at you. I’ll admit it, and I’m taking accountability for that. I don’t like being upset and I certainly don’t like yelling and cursing. However, what I did that day was lesser than what you deserved, you deserved worse. Now, I’m taking the time out of my day to respond to take another chance for you to take this opportunity to hear what I am saying and make a change. But, to be honest, my hopes and expectations for you aren’t high.

      First, I want you to understand that you will always be my dad and I will always love you. I care about you deeply, but it will have to be at a distance. Your behavior in how you treat Angel and I is deplorable and disgusting. You are selfish and narcissistic. You are controlling and manipulative. And, you don’t have proper self-reflection skills or any empathy for your kids. I’m sick of it, and I don’t have the tolerance for your behavior anymore.

      Time after time, you and I have had conversations, where you never ask me what is going on in my life in full. Every single conversation consisted of talking about yourself, or offering advice that had no relevance to anything that was happening for me. You constantly talk about how much you want to be a part of my life and how you wanted a “seat at my advisors’ table”, but you don’t deserve to because you never showed any real care or interest or attention to me and my life. This “highlights” thing you have is the only thing you care about when it comes to Angel and I, but that’s now what being a father is about. Being a good PARENT (not just being a father) is about raising your child to be their own individual, while you as the parent, help them along the way. It’s not just giving me money, “slapping rocks”, working out, and “highlights”. You should be there to listen to your kids, to tend to them, to be there when they fall, and to correct them when they go wrong. You do none of these things. The year that I was starting college, I had to continuously remind you of what my majors were because: you 1) never asked what they were, and 2) never listened and remembered. And that’s the SMALLEST example of how you treat me that I could think of. You have threatened to kill me, called me embarrassing, tried to tell me that I’m not man enough, and god forbid, try to manipulate me to turn into you.

      You never want to hear when I’m struggling or in a dark period, yet you think that you should be an “advisor” for me. What do you plan to advise me about then? You have never ever been there for me when I’m going through a hard time, but you think I should lean on you for what? Support? No, for money, right? Because that’s what you talk about all the time.

      I want you to sit and think about what you ACTUALLY know about me and my life because I guarantee that it’s not as much as I know about you, and what you SHOULD know about me. I feel like a prop for you to make yourself feel and look better. Either that, or you’re living through me vicariously with all the “highlights” you receive from me. And you expect me to not be hurt by all of that and much more from you?

      Did you know I have Bipolar Disorder? Did you know I took a break from college? Did you know I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from you and every other excuse for a father figure in my life? I bet you didn’t.

      I CAN”T HANDLE YOU BEING IN MY LIFE BECAUSE YOU. ARE. TOXIC. When I’m not feeling like you’re “molding me into your image” (which is something you have said out your mouth to me, by the way), you’re sucking all of my energy by me just trying to have a relationship with you. All these years, I’ve tried to adapt and change myself and “just deal” with you because anything with you is better than nothing. But, I realized after EVERY falling out we’ve had, you never sat down and thought about what YOU DID to ME. I was the only one trying to change and make things work, while you just  waited for me to come crawling back to Daddy. I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS. AND, I don’t owe you for anything that you have done for me, you’re a parent. You signed up for this.      So, going forward, I think you should go to therapy. I think you need professional guidance to realize how you treat people, especially your family. And, until that happens and you experience change, you and I will continue to not have a relationship. I love you to the moon and back, always will, but I will no longer tolerate your vile treatment of me. I am not just “your offspring”, I’m my own individual. Please, do me the favor of not contacting me again until you’ve grown.”

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of verbal and emotional abuse, su*c*d*l thoughts, PTSD symptoms, self-deprecation, anxiety, and depression.* Monday, Nov. 7th, 2022 Part 2

4:37pm

Here’s what I would say to her:

“To Angel,

I would like to have an open conversation please… I’ve been holding in a lot of stress and anxiety surrounding you, that I just don’t know what to do with. I feel so stifled, and like I’m only able to say or do certain things to avoid any negative responses or retaliation from you. I haven’t appreciated the way that you have spoken to me lately, when you are bringing up issues that you that you want to address with me. It comes off as condescending and that there’s no consideration for me in the “conversation”. And while mentally, I know that you are not coming from an ill place, emotionally and how I respond physically, I can’t tell whether or not I should be guarded with you. Because I’m scared… of what and how you will say things. 

When you are trying to give me advice, you don’t ask for consent, or if I have any experience in the matter. When you’re trying to teach me, it’s very abrasive and as if I’m dumb to not have known it before. When you are telling me to fix something or reminding me or helping me, it never feels like just that. It’s as if I’m being scolded like a child, or that I need to meet your standards and expectations of me. I’m starting to react to you talking to me as if I’m on the watch for an ambush.

There are better ways to approach these “conversations” that will be easier for me to receive, but I hate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells with you. I have processing issues that affect my memory and I’m recovering from severe, disordered eating habits, and it’s going to take a lot longer than 3 weeks for me to learn all the ways you like for the house to be maintained. So, instead of speaking to me in such a brash manner, I would greatly appreciate and prefer if you could change how you bring up issues or topics with me. Especially so that it comes off in the way you intend.

I feel like you disregard how many times I have said that I feel that I have to make myself small in a way that is so far from what I mean. I don’t feel like my being here in this place and this new facet of our relationship has really cemented yet, but you have fallen into this pattern of interacting with me as if you know me so well. It’s not the same for me, not even close. I’ve not started feeling like myself again like I should, and while my days here have been lighter and easier to deal with, it’s only that and nothing more. 

You have no idea of how I am actually doing or feeling or thinking because I don’t feel comfortable sharing it with you, nor do you properly check-in with me. At least, without it being in comparison to yourself. I’m literally alive only because you want me to be, and yet, I feel like I’m being picked apart and belittled for not saying or doing things the way you would. It’s controlling and does not make me want to approach you for anything other than what you must know. 

Like, I feel like I am just now learning who you are, and that you don’t feel the same because you keep saying that “you know me so well”, but you don’t. Not with us only building a relationship 3 years ago because, remember, we grew up on opposite sides of the country! There’s so much you don’t know, and it doesn’t feel like you even notice that you don’t. Yet, you jump to speaking to me in ways that I don’t need or want at this time. 

I just need a gentler deliver that isn’t accented with a vicious tone to then be excused by saying you want to continue these “open conversations” when you’re finished, when it has NEVER FELT MORE ONE-SIDED.

And, if it feels like you have to change the way you communicate, in order to talk with me, then I’m really sorry to have asked for such a truly difficult task like this, but I really need this at this moment in time.”

Part 1

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, su*c*d*l thoughts, self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety, and depression.*

Monday, Nov. 7th, 2022

4:37pm

Dear Me,

I’m struggling so much to control my anxiety and stress since my birthday 2 days ago. Deadass, I am so confused to the point where I don’t know where to begin, but I know that I am feeling so depressed and tired and empty and numb and exhausted. Gem’s extreme levels of vulnerability and the amount of breakdowns she has, is triggering and makes me upset for her, but also myself, because I don’t know what to do with myself and I feel out of place. 

Then with Angel, the way she speaks to me just gets to me. It comes off as if she is SO upset with me each time, or is looking for something to berate me over. It’s as though she’s projecting her frustrations onto me, but then, painting it over by saying that she is trying to have an honest conversation or teaching/advising me. It makes me so anxious and sick to my stomach when she talks to me because it’s like she’s going to be aggressive or “attack me” every single time. 

There’s no question of how I’m doing, or a thought of what I’m going through. She just wants to release whatever she wants to without any pushback. She’s controlling the situation to her own benefit without any regard. It’s like she forgets that I’m fighting my hardest to stay alive afloat, and only telling me what’s wrong with me(?).  It reminds me of our dad and how he used to talk to me and how I used to feel. She’s trying to “help” me “learn” by “advising” me to do certain things. But, it’s all a nice way of saying that she’s controlling me. But, some things are true and things that I truly need to work on, yet the consistent way that she delivers them is so awful. I just feel helpless.

Part 2

*Trigger Warnings: Su*c*d*l thoughts, Self- Deprecation,depression.*

Tuesday, Nov. 1st, 2022

6:48pm

Dear Me,

I’m not really excited about my birthday this Saturday. I think that how I view my birthday directly reflects how I value myself. I convinced myself that I don’t matter as much or am worth much, so why celebrate? I don’t get to celebrate in any way that is enjoyable, if there’s a celebration at all, and the day I’m born doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.

It’s a reminder of time passing and the stress of the unknown time to come. It’s like a checkpoint to see where I’m at and how much I’ve done in a short amount of time. I never expected that my life would go on for so long, which, inherently, is a good thing (apparently), but it scares me. 

I don’t think that I’m worth the effort, but I know that I would be upset otherwise.

So, let’s hope I feel better when the day comes…

Tuesday, Nov. 1st, 2022 Part 3

4:35pm

I got emotional during our conversation a few multiple times, because I felt the need to defend myself against what she was saying. I’m very glad and proud of myself for speaking up for myself with how assumptive she can be. She was being harsh and aggressive about trying to get me to leave the house everyday, and I finally told her how I felt. I said to her that I have a lot of anxiety about going outside, in public, and that me appreciating my alone time does not necessitate going out. It’s a struggle to get out, and it doesn’t help that I’m in the midst of attempting to establish my own roots here. Trying to make this city, this moment in time, feel like mine. Thankfully (?), she calmed down, but she still pressed that she needed her own time in the house completely alone, like before I arrived.

So, I’m glad that Angel told me about this cafe, because I feel really comfortable here. I need to wake up earlier and figure out to leave the house quicker and be gone for a long time.

Part 1 -- Part 2

Tuesday, Nov. 1st, 2022 Part 2

4:35pm

The second thing we talked about was Angel (again) needing to draw the line between her and Gem vs. me. She brought up how she needs to pour into herself, the same with Gem, but they haven’t been able to because they have been so focused on me (?) and their jobs. She also talked about how I enter the living room when they are having conversations between just them, and how I need to be more mindful of that. She then felt the need to say once again that she will always talk and choose Gem over me and to not take it personally, which I don’t (?). 

But, what’s bothering me is why this has to be a conversation topic that keeps coming up? I don’t mind if Angel or Gem don’t always tell me things and want to keep things within their relationship, but I’m not the one coming up to them asking for them to share things with me. They share a lot with me, to begin with, off of their own decisions to do so. Even though she said that she doesn’t want this to feel like roommates, I don’t feel that way at all. It feels uncomfortable because it feels like I’m invading their space and their relationship. 

I will definitely be more mindful of their conversations, and will try to leave the house more often to satisfy that need. I respect their relationship, but it’s not like it hasn’t dawned on me that they’re my older sisters and that my stay is temporary.

Part 1 -- Part 3

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and passing, grief, loss of family members, illnesses, and emotional breakdowns.*

Thursday, Oct. 27th, 2022 Part 2

4:46pm

Last night, Angel asked me about Granny (my great grandmother) and I told her about Granny’s conditions. After I answered, Gem asked me a lot of deep questions about how I felt about the situation. I’m not ready to witness Granny’s conditions firsthand, even if it’s over the phone. I feel this fear and pressure about addressing the situation. After I finished expressing that vulnerable feeling, she asked if she could give me a suggestion. I had the immediate thought and feeling of apprehension to say, “Not at this time.”, but instead, I nodded my head because I wanted her to feel that she had the space to support me. And, because of the pressure of her being Angel’s partner and the choice of saying no, seemed like a possibility for either of them to feel hurt by that. 

She then proceed to tell me things she wished she had done when time was leading up to her grandmother’s passing. She was extremely triggered and started to sob as she spoke. Then, Angel shared about her experience grieving her grandmother by celebrating her life, with photos and altars, and finding comfort in the qualities in herself that she got from her grandmother. Gem brought up her grandfather afterwards, and talked about that time while crying as she relived it. Angel was getting up and leaving, finding things to do around the apartment, through that part of the conversation as Gem spoke.

Once she finished, I told the both of them that I appreciated what they shared with me, and thank you. But, I really didn’t mean it. I appreciated that they wanted to help and support me, but what transpired and what they said was not what I was expecting or what I needed/wanted in that moment. When I said that I wasn’t ready and as I shutdown when thinking about what they were saying, I thought that it was understood that I also did not want to get in too deep either. Gem inserting herself in my moment of vulnerability with Angel at first, then speaking about her periods of grief while crying, shifted the conversation out of my comfort zone, worsened my fear and anxiety of my Granny’s health, and centered the conversation from me to her. It was triggering and much more emotional than what I wanted. While she and Angel spoke, it was so hard to stay present and not disassociate. I wasn’t trying to go through that and it left me feeling empty and numb afterwards. Throughout that conversation, all I was doing was imagining the many different scenarios of confronting Granny’s illnesses, her death, and after, I almost cried too as she spoke about her grandfather. It was filled with such heaviness. I wasn’t ready then, and I’m still not ready…

Part 1

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and passing, grief, loss of family members, illnesses, and emotional breakdowns.*

Thursday, Oct. 27th, 2022

4:46pm

Dear Me, 

It’s a beautiful day today as I sit here at an espresso bar. It’s a clear, sunny day with a chill breeze, I feel comfortable without a jacket. This afternoon, I woke up at almost 1 o’clock, which is very late, but it felt amazing getting up. It was sort of a dead sleep, but because I fell asleep at almost 5:30 this morning, I guess it was worth it.

Angel was able to get her car, even though it was terribly difficult and infuriating. Gem has been really stressed lately and has a lot on her plate because of work, and it has me worried about her.

I feel like today has been probably the best day for me since I’ve moved to New York City 10 days ago. My mind is the clearest it’s been in a long while, and I actually feel more present. Life and the world around me feels tangible and touchable and I feel like an active part of the it today. I hope it lasts!

I’ve been listening to Demi Lovato’s new album lately, and I think that the pop punk/ pop rock genre might be a resonate genre of music for me. This album speaks to me in a way that Willow’s album did in a similar way. It’s an album filled with grief, longing, rage, desire, and love. I’m noticing that I’m gravitating towards the slower songs and those with interpolated meanings. This album is heavy with trauma and seeking relief, and I heavily relate and never knew I needed this album or genre in my life right now. I feel seen and heard by this album and it feels elevating as well as relieving to have this. I think my favorite songs are Substance, Eat Me, City of Angels, and 4 Ever 4 Me.

Part 2

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of abuse, nightmares, neglect, PTSD symptoms, and depressive feelings.*

Saturday, Oct. 22nd, 2022 Part 3

10:30pm

I had a nightmare last night that repeatedly woke me up. I didn’t remember it until I was writing in my other journal. Last night, my Papa told me that my stepdad, James, came with my Mom to California to visit, which in hindsight, I should have realized that sooner. We talked about James being there and how Papa would react to meeting him for the first time, but initially, I was just joking around. It wasn’t until the nightmare that I realized how triggered I truly am by James.

It was about my Papa confronting James about his abusive treatment of my brother and I after getting upset. The situation was really aggressive and resulted in my Mom packing up their things and leaving early, while ending things with Papa.

I find it a little defeating and irritating that James still sets me off after all this time. I don’t think I’ve processed that trauma at all, and it clearly still affects me. I’m still harboring all this hurt and trauma from both him and my Mom. From the moment that man entered our lives, my mother stopped being a mom to me when I needed her to be. I’m disappointed and full of rage towards her and what my childhood was like from that point onward. I really don’t understand why I still talk to her, other than holding out hope.

I want so many things for my mother that I not only grieve my childhood, but also her experience. She is so powerful, resilient, and intelligent, but James stunts all of that. I wish that she felt that she could stand alone, and realize that she does not need him to carry on. I wish that she could have everything that she needs and wants, just not with him.

Now, I also wish that she had those things for my own benefit as well. To have a mother who is not trapped by a narcissistic man. She has only ever fulfilled his wants and desires and prioritized him, while neglecting me. I love my mother to death, but I also resent her. All because of her love life choices. I wish things were different…

I think that I need all the time I can have away from college, so that I can focus on myself and heal. I have so many desires that I want in this world, but it feels like it will never happen. I need the strongest reminder that things are going to be okay, that I will still have a chance, and that things are not over yet. Because I have not suffered through so much for this to be the end. I deserve to be on this journey to heal and I deserve every good thing coming.

Part 1 -- Part 2

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and depressive feelings.*

Saturday, Oct. 22nd, 2022 Part 2

10:30pm

But today was different. I slept in this morning, and woke up feeling a lot clearer mentally and didn’t feel as physically sick as I have been. I still feel slower and unstable, but I was in a better state than the past month. I felt like dressing up today and tried to find an outfit that would be cool to wear to go out and purchase some new journals and pens.

My sister, Angel, and her girlfriend, Gem, made breakfast and it was nice. I did notice that my mood started to drop as time passed. I was very withdrawn and didn’t feel like talking, but it was okay, I’m hoping I will start to open up more as I get more settled in here in NYC.

I got up from eating breakfast and started washing dishes to do my part in helping out, while Gem and Angel continued to eat and talk. I was getting frustrated with myself because I felt stunted from everything I’ve been through lately. All of a sudden, I started feeling hot, dizzy, and had trouble breathing, I think it was because washing dishes was proving to be more taxing than usual. I ended up being okay eventually.

Right as I was finishing cleaning, Gem called me over, and told me that she and Angel bought tickets to a dance performance for my birthday. I was grateful for the gift and very surprised that they were thinking of my birthday in the midst of all that was happening. But I still didn’t feel moved, I felt dead and empty in response. I did my best to communicate that this was exciting and that I was thankful, but I felt disappointed that I didn’t respond better.

I started to feel unsettled and anxious after that, the restlessness that I have been feeling here lately has been nonstop. Then, Angel was very late getting ready for work and seemed very anxious, paranoid, and rushed. I was just sitting on the couch while they both were rushing around the apartment. Her anxiety was starting to rub off on me, as I was concerned for her, but also uncomfortable with just sitting in the middle of that. She gave me a rushed hug and ran out of the door, and I realized after that I was anxious because I was anticipating for her to snap at me.

I feel like I shouldn’t be here and that it was a mistake for me to move in with them and that I’m not enough, and I thought they felt similar… still do. I’m waiting for the moment this all falls apart, that I screw up or make a mistake so bad that they resent me. Because I don’t trust myself in anything right now or believe in myself.

But, I found out later that Angel felt bad about how she left and said goodbye. It isn’t really hitting me until now that everything was fine and she probably wasn’t even thinking about me. I need to remind myself that I am not resented or being antagonized for being here. I deserve to be helped. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to have the life that I’ve wanted. This is the path needed to get there. I am safe. I am loved and am loving. I am cared for and supported. I will get through this.

Part 1 -- Part 3

*TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of su*c*d*l ideations and feelings and depression.*

Saturday, Oct. 22nd, 2022

7:27pm

Dear Me,

This is Day 5 of my New York chapter, and I don’t feel whole. I’ve been struggling with my depression since the beginning of September and I’ve slowly been losing my perception of myself and the feeling of being alive and real. I was feeling extremely suicidal and lost my will to keep living; my reasons to keep living and to not view my death as my only escape and release.

I went to the Wesley Woods facility to receive more intensive care and to follow through with my obligation of surviving for the people who love me. It was an awful experience, filled with constantly masking, suffering with little help, and lies. I left that facility feeling numb, confused, hurt, betrayed, and like nothing but everything changed. Then, being confronted with leaving Emory U. to go to New York to look for better, proper treatment was earth-shattering. I feel fractured a thousand times over, hurt beyond my bones, and drained of my entire being. I pushed and pushed with urgency to file the medical leave with such disingenuous people because I wanted a change immediately. It just exacerbated everything and left me feeling empty and hollow. Not human, just a shell with no direction.

I left Emory feeling heartbroken and empty (with one friend lost), and arrived in New York feeling unstable, spaced, and unmotivated. I feel completely lost in space and time, and I can’t bring myself to feel positive or negative about this change. I can’t even say what I want right now, I’m just repeating things from months ago. It’s frustrating and disappointing. I feel defeated and I don’t have a genuine reason to keep going.

After being here in New York for 5 days, the answers that I’ve been searching for and desiring have still not come. I feel like my mind is taking up too much space, while also being microscopically small. I’m exhausted and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. My sister and her girlfriend have put in all this money and time because they love me and want to support me, but I don’t even understand what this love feels like… I wish that I could take what they have been saying to me and feel it deep in my bones that it’s true and that it holds meaning, but it feels just as empty as I do. They and my friends have done so much for me, but I’m struggling to see the path and end goal. I don’t feel worth it or that I deserve their worries and effort because I don’t feel it for myself. I wish things were different…

Part 2 Part 3

hi my name is duchesstopaz and i’m a trauma survivor. there are so many things that i want to say, need to say… but no one who can understand if they don’t listen. i want to use my blog to just vent and get out all of this that needs an escape because it’s eating away at me. i am constantly evolving and changing and have grown so much over all of these years. i have a story to tell and this is one of the ways that i can share. so please watch as a 20 y/o shares way too much on the internet lol :). feel free to interact if you would like, feel free to give advice if you would like, but this is truly something purely for me that i would like to share.

moving house soon, I'll finally have my own room and I can cut as much as I like at night, what are my parents gonna do? watch me sleep? nu-uh.