Tuesday, July 4, 2017


Isn't it stupid, sad, and funny how you can unravel so quickly. I don't know if it's the stress or the PMS or that I forgot to take my meds this morning, but while I was okay - not great, but okay - this morning, tonight I'm in one of the darkest places I've been in in a while. People said little things here and there and my anxious mind took advantage of my insecurities to spiral those minor comments into a much bigger ordeal.

I feel inferior because I didn't go to a "good school." It didn't help when he made the comment about my "backwoods school in the backwoods town." Everyone probably thinks I'm stupid because I went to schools they've never heard of.

I feel stupid because this summer just keeps proving over and over again that there's so much I don't know.

I feel frustrated that I can't express my feelings to people when they've hurt me. I don't want to get mad and say something hateful that I can never take back. But that means I just don't say anything and the anger festers inside of me. I hate that about myself, but I don't know how to change.

I feel insecure because I hate criticism and I'm already so fragile inside and words on a screen are so hard to interpret. They feel so harsh.

I feel disappointed because I can't get the chance to get to know a guy and I always freeze when we're all talking in a group and I can't be myself. I just want to be appreciated for who I am, to get to know someone for who they are. Why does it have to be so hard.

I feel like a square because I don't drink but I don't because I'm screwed up and I don't want to become dependent on alcohol to try and alleviate the pain and just end up making things worse.

I feel lost because I don't have a ten-year plan. I don't even have a plan for the next ten months. I don't know what my calling is. I can't find my purpose or my place. I feel like I don't have an impact. The path I'm on now feels useless and I hate the rat race of advancing yourself and impressing big wigs instead of helping other people. I hate the criticism and the stress and the feeling stupid all the time.

I'm sick of the suicide jokes, the toss-away schizophrenia comments, the misuse of the descriptor "manic-depressive," the fake masks we put on and the stones we through in an effort to make ourselves seem cool. I don't know how to correct people when they say insensitive crap and I'm mad that people don't realize that it's not okay to joke about people's suffering.

I don't have answers. I'm haunted by the wrong answers I gave. I keep trying to put myself out there, but it's terrifying. I've grown so much, but people don't see that. I wish people could be more open, more sensitive, more loving. I wish we didn't all have to tear each other down. I wish I could write crap like these blog posts and they could be considered a contribution to the world, not something I have to hope my boss never finds.

It's stupid, sad, and funny how this darkness hides in the back of my mind, haunting me with the fear it will return. It amazes me how even when I'm doing well, the thought of turning back to self-injury still lingers in the back of my mind. I don't know why. I don't even have scars any more. I don't want to go back there, but for some reason it's always calling to me. Some nights I hear it louder than others - I have to put the music on a little louder to try and drown it out. I have to count the minutes until tomorrow to make sure I keep going. I have to remind myself to keep breathing. Count up and down. Maybe in the morning life will look a tiny bit clearer. Or I'll be busy enough to crowd out all these overwhelming feels and thoughts, if only until they all they come crashing back out of the closet again.

But I'll just take out my headphones and broom and sweep up the mess as best I can one more time.

One foot in front of the other. We can do this. We'll make it through this. We may never bloom where we're planted or whatever it is they say, but maybe one of these days we'll be able to put down some roots and feel comfortable in this skin.

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