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Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Crashed.

I seriously hate to admit this, but I've found myself feeling like I'm in a depression.  Again.  I'm frustrated to be back here again, and I absolutely hate the way this feels.

I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, I don't want to go to work, I don't want to do anything.  I don't want to talk, I don't want to write, I basically don't want to do anything that might help me. 
But I am doing all those things, I am trying to help myself.  And the truth is, it fucking sucks.  Trying to help myself when I feel so depressed that I don't want to be helped is extremely difficult.  But I'm trying, because I have to.  I'm trying, because I don't want this to be my whole story.  I'm trying, because I've been through worse, and I know it will get better again (even if it doesn't feel like it right now).

I also have to confess, I did cut today.  Four times.  I am not at all happy with this, I am not proud.  I'm actually very ashamed of it, and I think the only reason I'm writing about it is because shame is a terrible thing to feel, and if I don't acknowledge it, it will eat me alive.

This relapse happened for a lot of reasons, and I'd be lying if I didn't see it coming.  I'd be lying if I said I did everything in my power to stop it before it got to this point.  But I did let it get to this point, and now the only thing left to do is ride it out and know it isn't forever.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

It's late and I can't sleep...

It's kind of late, and I kind of can't sleep, so I'm attempting to write something to kind of process my thoughts.  Ugh, I'm so tired, and want to sleep so badly, but I just can't... I feel so frustrated.

The past few days have been an emotional roller coaster, just constantly up and down, and I haven't really been able to figure out why.  Nothing in my life has changed recently, at least not significantly.  I'm feeling frustrated with myself, frustrated with the mood swings, and just frustrated with things in general.

I've been kind of letting my mind explore all day, but can't come up with anything that would explain this.  But now I've gotten to thinking about myself and my thinking habits.  I don't think anyone else is the problem, I think I am the problem.  I'm an indecisive person, and have an impossible time feeling absolutely 100% sure of anything, ever.  Three months ago today, I made the decision to get help and was voluntarily admitted to the hospital for ten days.  Since then, I've been staying (mostly) healthy.

The problem is, I have a long history of being a pretty self-destructive person.  When things are going well, I seem to almost get bored of it, and anything can become an excuse for a relapse.  I don't mean the issues with hypomania/depression, that's a whole other story.  I mean, if my life is going well, it's like recovery stops being a huge priority.  I just kind of... lose my focus on getting better, and then it's only a matter of time until I let all my old habits take over.

Right now, I've just realized that I'm letting this happen again.  I've lost my focus... my bedtime has been slipping back a little later each night, I'm less conscious of the foods I'm putting into my body, and I've stopped caring about making any progress in therapy.

Recovery is supposed to be a daily battle, and I've stopped fighting.

Which makes me realize... what I'm going through right now, in a sense, is my own fault.  I hate saying it, but the reality is, I can fuck around and blame whoever I want for as long as I want, but that doesn't change what this is.  This is something I got myself into.

I let my indecisiveness in almost every other aspect of my life drift into the most important thing I've done for myself in my entire existence... which, given my past experiences, is a pretty fucking dangerous thing to screw around with.  Instead of sticking with my decision to get better, I've started questioning it.  Like... Do I really want to get better?  What if I don't?  What if I'm better off back where I started?  etc etc etc

Yes, I've got a lot of shit going on in my life right now, but I think my absolute biggest source of frustration is myself.  And I fucking hate admitting that, because it fucking hurts.  And it drives me absolutely insane to know that nobody in my life has ever hurt me as much as I've hurt myself.

If anyone else treated me the way I've treated myself, quite frankly, I wouldn't have taken that shit for very long.

The worst part, though, is that I spend so much time going in circles with this stuff.. like, yes, I've done some pretty terrible things to myself, which makes me very frustrated with myself.. and then I get angry with myself for that, and it just.... I do not know how to be okay with myself.  At all.  I'm trying, but I'm not there yet.

I hate that I'm not okay right now.  I hate the way realizing this makes me feel.  And emotions kind of terrify me in their own kind of way.

And I hate that I can't just stick with my decision to get better.  How fucking ridiculous is it that I feel better when I'm sick?  As in, it's much more comfortable.  That's where the indecisiveness comes in even more.. do I want to live a long and healthy life?  Or a shorter one that, while miserable, will at least allow me to stay in my current comfort zone?

I really need to get back on track with my recovery, but right now, I feel like I don't even know how.  Scratch that.  It's not that I don't know how.  It's that I don't want to be uncomfortable.

But... I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other, because I know I'm sick of going in circles, and I know that if I can push through this, that will make it easier the next time it happens.  If I let myself keep moving backwards, then I know that in three months, I'll be sitting here feeling the same way, having exactly the same fight with myself.

I'm sick of fighting with myself over the same old bullshit.  I need to stay strong.  I will stay strong.


Scarecrow..

So today really isn't a great day.  It's kind of been a difficult week, and I'm still working on figuring out exactly what it is that's throwing everything off.  But..... Alex & Sierra's lyric video for "Scarecrow" was released this morning, and I'm kind of in love with it.  I've listened to it several times already, and it's just one of those songs that makes the day a little bit better.  Sooo if you haven't heard it yet, goooo check it out on youtube.  Like now.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

I've been absent.

I've been absent from blogging..  I know.

Things seem to be getting better lately, though, which is amazing.  I've started biking again, finally, and even though moods have been very up and down, I'm learning to live with it.

More than that, I think I might be learning to embrace it.  I'm learning that a diagnosis doesn't have to rule my life.  It's a part of my life, for sure, but it isn't everything.  I'm so much more than that... but more on that later.  :)

Thursday, April 10, 2014

"My head is like a prison cell."

I'm going to say this right now.  I've never written about this.  I have avoided this topic like the plague.  But here goes...

Last night, I was struggling with body image.  I was seriously hating on my body.  I struggled with the way I look, and that just got me going even more than ever on one of the most personal issues I have with my body... my scars.  Sometimes it feels like my story is written on my body in such a physical way that there's no denying that it was real (not that I would want to).  I kept thinking that I wish my story could be written entirely on paper.  On paper, I can control what it looks like, and, ultimately, I can at least look away from paper.  Paper isn't a part of my body.  But my story isn't written entirely on paper... it's also on my skin.  My arms, my legs, it's there.  It can't be denied.

I always worry that when people see my scars, they judge me without hearing my story.  I worry that they see the scars and don't care about anything further than that because, hey, people who cut are all crazy, right?  Wrong.

So last night, I kept thinking about how my scars remind me of the battle I've been facing for almost a decade now (seriously... September will mark 10 years since the first time I harmed myself).  It hurts to be reminded of the pain of my past so constantly... and the fact that it hurts me made me want a distraction.  A physical distraction.  Quite frankly, it made me want to cut myself.

Which honestly, I realize, seems absolutely ridiculous, because the physical scars are what had me upset in the first place (among other things).

I think what it really comes down to, above all else, is that I don't know how to feel.  I've been numbing myself for so long that I don't know how to feel anything without being overwhelmed by it.  I can't feel anything without starting a fucking war with myself in my head.

So that's where I was at last night.  But I got through it.  And I got through it without harming myself.

I did a lot of writing, a little yoga, and I felt better.  I went to sleep, woke up this morning, and had a really great day today.

Sometimes, when I feel the way I did last night, I feel trapped, like my body is a cage. 

I'm feeling a lot again tonight again, so I've been writing again.  It helps.  I honestly believe that writing can be more therapeutic than anything else.

Today was a good day, but that kind of scares me.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but I've had so many experiences over the past couple years that lately when I have a day that's anything above "mostly okay" for no specific reason, I start worrying (yay anxiety....).  My mind goes to this place where I start thinking, "What if it isn't just a good day?  What if it's the beginning of a hypomanic episode?"

Sometimes, I miss being hypomanic.. because who doesn't love feeling like they have a ton of energy and feeling super productive?  I know I'm actually not at all productive in this state because my mind is constantly going and going so I can't really focus long enough to get things fully accomplished, but it's that feeling..

It's what comes after that that scares me, though.  It's the inevitable crash into depression.  It's everything that comes with the depression.  It's the not wanting to get out of bed... feeling exhausted despite having done nothing that day... the constant, persistent, never-ending negative thought patterns... the feeling of being out of control... the moment when I get so desperate to escape that I take apart razors to get to the blades.. the moment when I don't have patience for that so I use scissors instead.. the moment where I give up and stop caring about whether or not I continue breathing... the moment where I have to go to the hospital.  It doesn't always get to that point, that's worst case scenario, but my mind just goes there sometimes.  I worry about the possibility all those things happening again.  It's not somewhere I ever want to be again, even though it's happened more than once.

This is what goes through my head when I wake up and just have a really great day.  Seriously, I'm afraid of being happy, I'm afraid of being depressed.  I'm afraid of feeling because I've spent almost half my life trying to numb myself.

Ten days clean (yeah, I'm back to that, I know), and instead of being proud of myself for this small step forward, I'm scared of what the next big emotion I feel might be.

But... despite all this, I'm sitting here, I'm breathing, and I'm fine.

This is progress, because I'm allowing myself to feel these things as they come.  I'm not numbing it.  I'm not numbing it because I don't want to look back on my life someday to realize I never allowed myself to fully feel what I should have.  Because emotions are one of the most important parts of being alive.  They need to be felt.  The good, the bad, the terrible, and the absolutely fucking amazing.

I can't say I'll always be this strong, I can't say "forever"... because the thought of allowing myself to feel everything and not harm myself for the rest of my life, forever, is still seriously, completely, entirely, absolutely overwhelming to me.  I'm taking this one day at a time.  It's the only way.

But for today, or at least what's left of it, I'm going to try and just let a good day be a good day.  That's all it is, and it's amazing.  <3


Tuesday, April 8, 2014

"What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it is supposed to be."

I've always had an image in my head about what I thought my life would look like.  About where I would be by now, the things I would be doing, the things I would have done by now, the list goes on.

My life has not turned out at all how I had imagined.  And I think, possibly, I might be thankful for that.

Yes, I'm ultimately the same person I have always been, but a lot has changed.  I'm not a different person, I am a person who has grown.

Something I have learned all too well recently is that recovery means progress.. not perfection.  I still struggle, I still have bad days.  Often.  I still have nights where the pull to cut is strong.  Very strong.  I still have ups and downs.  A lot of them.

I've learned that my decision to get better does not erase any of my problems.  They're all still there, and aren't going away any time soon.  But my decision to get better does mean that I am now working to get through my issues.  And reminding myself every day that feeling terrible isn't going to kill me.

I think acceptance is still a big struggle for me.  It always has been.  Not struggling to accept others, but struggling to accept myself.  Struggling to accept my life as it is.  And struggling with the possibility that others may not be 100% accepting of who I am (more on that later).  But I'm working on it.. I'm making progress every day.

And progress doesn't mean having a good day.  Progress means getting through a bad day and knowing I have the strength to get through the next one.  Progress means making sure I get enough sleep, get to therapy, think as positively as I can, and take care of myself in general.  Progress means taking things one day at a time, one step at a time, and continuing to do the next right thing for myself.

It doesn't mean I'm "fixed", it doesn't mean I'm entirely better, it doesn't mean my problems don't exist.  But it does mean I'm still going in the right direction overall.  And if I take one or two steps backwards, it doesn't erase all the work I've done.  It just means I need to work to get moving in the right direction again.

It also means not getting wrapped up in the fact that my life is not at all how I expected it to be, but letting myself live life as it comes each day.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

"You no longer have a secret, you have a story."

I have to admit, I was absolutely terrified to share the part of my story that I did last Monday.  I was scared of how people would react - what they would say, how they would feel, and more than anything, whether or not it would forever change the way the people in my life look at me.

Aside from the messages I have received, and the comments posted on Facebook, I really don't know what people are thinking about my experience, or even just the fact that I felt that sharing my story was something I chose to do.  Days later, I still worry about it a little bit.. but one thing I have realized, is that it doesn't matter.

What does matter, is the fact that I made the decision to stop keeping my struggles a secret.  Because the thing is, everyone has their own set of struggles and personal problems.. and I felt like by pretending everything in my life was fine, I was only encouraging my problems to eat me alive.  It's like keeping everything a secret was only encouraging that secret to grow into something bigger, something much more toxic.

After opening up and sharing what I've been going through, nothing has changed.  I'm still the same person, I'm still dealing with bipolar disorder, still trying to recovery from a decade-long battle with self-harm, and still fighting like hell to get better.

The one thing that has changed is the fact that I'm not hiding it anymore.  And that, on its own, is a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.  It's one less thing weighing me down.  And to be honest, I feel as though that is making a very big difference in my journey to recovery.

Not only that, but after deciding to share my story, I have had a lot of people contact me... some with words of encouragement, some sharing parts of their own story, and some just to say that they care.  To everyone who has taken the time to do this, I cannot thank you enough.  Your words have given me, and continue to give me, motivation to stay strong.  You are all a huge source of inspiration, and I love each and every one of you.

Over the past couple weeks, I feel like things have finally started to make a shift in a more positive direction.  This is very much a daily battle, but I am so thankful that it is a battle that I still have the opportunity to fight.  If things had gone differently a couple weeks ago, that may not have been the case.  I am grateful for the fact that I'm still here, writing this, and working my ass off to get better.  I'm still constantly reminding myself that recovery is possible, and it is worth it (and yes, I seriously just put a sticky note on my mirror that says that).

I have very strong faith that I can handle this.  There are going to be good days, and there will be bad days, but I keep reminding myself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and I will get through it.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Skyscraper.

Cannot believe I will be seeing Demi in Toronto in... 14 DAYS.


Monday, March 10, 2014

"Never getting help doesn't make you brave."

I cannot believe I'm writing this, but I believe the stigma surrounding mental illness is there because we don't talk about it.

I know, personally, that stigma has had a huge impact on my life.  I've suffered (mostly) in silence out of fear.. feat that no one will care, fear of what people will think, fear of losing people.  Fear of not being taken seriously if people find out what is really going on with me.

But here's the thing.  I've pushed people away, I've lied, I've done almost everything that I can to avoid the real problems in my life.  I've spent years trying to just "fix" everything with band-aid solutions.

Basically, I've been a wreck for a very long time, and by not being honest with those around me, I have managed to isolate myself from everyone who could have helped me much sooner.

Ten days ago, I felt more alone than I ever have before in my life.  I was hurting more than words can say, and felt like I was stuck so far down in my own personal hell that nothing could ever save me.
But, thank God, something in that moment made me pick up the phone and choose life over death.

I got to the hospital.  To the person who got me there, thank you.

So that's where I've been...getting help.  Working to get my mental health back on track.  I know I have a very long way to go, and that for a long time, this will continue to be a daily battle that I will have to face.  Bipolar II isn't something that goes away.

While I can't deny the difficulty of all this, I am very grateful for the fact that I am still alive.  I was literally seconds away from choosing the alternative less than two weeks ago.  The thought that if I hadn't picked up the phone, I would not be here typing this right now, is an absolutely terrifying thought.
I never want to feel that way again.

Recovery is hard, and there are going to be a lot of bumps along the way (as I've already experienced), but it is possible, and it is worth it.  Even though I'm nowhere near where I want to be yet, I keep reminding myself that it will be worth it... that it IS worth it.

Also, there is absolutely nothing wrong with asking for help.  As I've learned, by isolating yourself in hopes of making everybody else more comfortable, you are only making things more difficult for yourself.  Usually, asking for help is the best possible thing you can do for yourself.  I know it's the most worthwhile decision I have made in my life so far.

And to anyone else out there who is struggling.. please know that you're not alone.  You're never alone.

Monday, February 10, 2014

'Cause when a heart breaks, no, it don't break even..

So this really hasn't been a great week.  Really.  I'm kind of at that point where, honestly, all I want is for someone to just give me a hug and tell me that everything is going to be okay.

The past few months have been a whirlwind of... just everything.  And then the past few days, there are a whole bunch of (not so) little things that are just building up on top of all the other things I've been dealing with.  Ugh.

And after two hospitalizations in the past few months, I have to admit that my faith in myself has been shaken.  Maybe a little more than shaken (but I'm working on rebuilding it, I promise).  I keep reminding myself that everything I'm going through is a human experience.. I mean, even though I'm dealing with bipolar disorder, I am human.  And that God wouldn't give me more than I can handle.  Yeah, I said God.

I'm not a religious person, but I do have faith that there is some sort of higher power up there.  Or out there.  Somewhere.  I mean, after everything that has happened in the past decade of my life, and the fact that I'm still here, on this earth, living and breathing and existing.. and trying to build a life for myself while struggling with the indecisiveness that I know probably the majority of 20 somethings do.. there are a lot of things that I haven't yet opened up about in this blog, but I do believe that the fact that I'm still here is nothing short of a miracle.  And the fact that I'm recovering from the demons I have faced (and often still do face), is probably an even bigger miracle.

I guess what I'm getting at is.. I have faith.  It's really not any more complicated than that.

So when things happen like right now, where everything feels like a struggle, well, to be honest, I've found myself doing a lot of praying lately.  I don't even know who or what I'm praying to, but I know that the majority of what I'm going through right now is entirely out of my control.  Call me crazy, but that little bit of faith that maybe there's someone or something out there that may or may not be looking out for me, helps me stay strong enough to get through it all in one piece.

Maybe it's crazy, maybe it's late at night, or maybe, just maybe, it's all going to be okay.  One day, one step, one minute, one [insert anything else], at a time.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Thursday, February 6, 2014

"Maybe we got lost in translation
Maybe I asked for too much
But maybe this thing was a masterpiece
'Til you tore it all up
Running scared, I was there
I remember it all too well

You called me up again
Just to break me like a promise
So casually cruel in the name of being honest
I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here
'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it
I'd like to be my old self again
But I'm still trying to find it
After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own
Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone
But you keep my old scarf from that very first week
'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me
You can't get rid of it, cause you remember it all to well

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so
Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known
It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well"

     - Taylor Swift, All Too Well

...I really have nothing else to say right now.

Friday, January 31, 2014

"You can't live your life waiting for someone to fix you."

It's true.  It's been an extremely difficult lesson, but really.. as difficult as recovery is sometimes, as difficult as it is on those days where I really, really am struggling.. I'm the only person who can pick myself up when I've fallen down.

I'm slowly learning that there is a HUGE difference between being independent and being alone.  Dealing with a shitty day on my own, without relying on others to attempt to pull me out of it.. like actually fighting my own way through those days where I feel like I can't hang on another minute, is not the same as being alone.

Being along is just that... being alone.

Being independent... ultimately I'm learning to take responsibility for my own mental health.  If I have an off day, I have an off day.  But that isn't an excuse to grab the closest blade and press it into my own skin.  On those days, there are a million things I can do.  A million things that won't cause more damage, a million things that can hopefully ease the pain I'm feeling emotionally... I can go to the gym, go for a run, write, curl up in my nest with hot chocolate and a good book, the list goes on.  And if all that fails... I can still ask for help.

Another thing I've learned - asking for help does not equal giving up that responsibility for my own health.  And the thought of that, now that I'm actively working on my recovery, actually seems like kind of a ridiculous concept.. asking someone to be there with me as I go through a difficult or painful situation, doesn't make that person responsible for my well being.  That's still in my hands.. as it always needs to be.

To be honest, I think that's maybe part of what made my most recent hospitalization so unbearable.. so painful.  The fact that it felt like my independence.. my ability to make my own decisions in regards to my own life.. it felt like all that was being stripped away from me.  That and the fact that when you're alone in a room with nothing to do all day but read, write, and think... let's just say shit gets real.  I felt every single emotion, and it was fucking raw.  I've never felt so vulnerable with just myself.

And it felt like I wasn't being listened to... like because I was there, it was generally assumed that I wasn't fit to make my own decisions.  Which, quite frankly, was fucking ridiculous.  I made the decision to go there on my own because I knew that it was the best thing for me in that moment.. that if I continued to try and tough it out at home I could end up seriously harming myself.  I was definitely not my normal self, but the fact that I made the decision to get help without being dragged there kicking and screaming, really shows that I was capable of making the right choices for myself.  It wasn't recognized that way there... it was like all that was irrelevant and all that mattered was that I had this label stuck on me... bipolar.

Yeah, it's an illness.  But it doesn't mean I'm not human.  I absolutely hate the stigma that comes with mental illness.  It's like... if I were diabetic, I'd still be treated as a human.  I'd be treated the same as any other person.

But with mental illness, there's this thought that just because something's a little off with me emotionally, I'm not the same as anyone else.

Here's the thing.  I'm flawed.  Yes.  But so is every other person on this planet... we all have our own scars, battle wounds, wars to fight.  Personally I think that these flaws are what make us beautiful.  The fact that a person can face whatever it is they have to face and still be standing at the end of the day.  The fact that everyone has their own battles, but really, we're all the same.

Just because I've been diagnosed with mental illness.. it doesn't make me any different from anyone else.  Nor does the fact that I've spent the past decade fighting a self-harm addiction.  That's just the battle I'm fighting.  And guess what, I'm still standing.  I'm still alive.  I'm still human.

So I guess what I'm saying is, to those people who are so judgmental when it comes to mental illness (or even judgmental when it comes to people who are willing to speak openly about the battles they face - you probably know who you are)... I don't owe you anything.  And I certainly don't have to keep my mouth shut for your sake.  Stigma exists because people aren't willing to talk.

This entry definitely did not turn out even close to how I thought it would... End of rant.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Mirrors

Oh my god.  So I'm kind of obsessed with Mirrors by Justin Timberlake.. and I'm also kind of really in love with this cover.  Excited as I am to see Fifth Harmony (AND DEMI!!!!) in March, I soo wish they did more stuff like this..


Religious people are afraid of going to hell, but spiritual people are the ones who have been to hell and don't want to go back.

"Walking around on eggshells trying not to offend people is a waste of time.  It's easy to get caught up in trying to please others that it takes away from being ourselves.  You aren't going to be perfect or loved by everyone.  It's so much  more gratifying and purposeful to just live your life and learn from your mistakes so that you don't have to go through them again."
      - Demi Lovato, Staying Strong:  365 Days A Year

This really got to me today, I think because I can relate so strongly.. sort of.  I feel like with certain people, I am constantly walking around on eggshells to an extent that pretty much drives me insane.  Around these types of people, I get so wrapped up in trying to be exactly what they want, that I completely forget about my own needs.  When I stop to think about it, I realize that I've thrown away all these significant parts of myself just to try and please someone who can't be bothered to take the time to even realize it.  I tend to lose sight of not only who I am as a person, but who I want to become, in those relationships. 

I don't want to be that person who is constantly trying to achieve perfection and be loved by everyone.. but I also fear that that person is exactly who I am at times.

I'm trying to realize that perfection is literally not possible.  And not everyone is going to love me or appreciate the person that I am.  And more than that, I'm trying to realize that that's okay.  Much easier said than done.

As for learning from mistakes, well, to be honest I feel like I've spent years repeating the same mistakes.. over and over and over, to such a point that it's just exhausting to think about how much time and energy I've wasted on the same bad habits.  But hey, most bad habits can't be broken easily. 

I've made a lot more really huge mistakes than I'm willing to write about tonight.

Honestly, though, I think I'm learning.. or at least possibly starting to.  The same cycles that I've been going through for years, I'm now able to recognize.  I know now that when I sink into an episode of depression, it isn't going to last forever.  I've honestly been trying to think about it in a less negative sense lately.. I mean, I can tell myself that "it always comes back to this and therefore there's no point in continuing my life", or I can tell myself that the fact that my depression comes back does mean that it always goes away.

Episodes of depression (like the one I'm dealing with right now), despite happening over and over, I know that they do always end eventually.  They don't last forever.  And knowing that these feelings aren't going to last forever, even though that knowledge on its own won't make the depression go away, it does give me a little bit of hope.  I think, maybe, that tiny bit of hope is making me feel a little bit stronger this time. 

I read another quote tonight.. "Change your thoughts, change your life."  I've heard it about a million times before, but I think it's actually starting to make sense to me.  I think changing the way I think about my life, and all its ups and downs, really does have the power to change my life.  Again, easier said than done.  I know. 

But.. as I've realized with these episodes of depression.  That one little change in my thinking about it, although very small, has the power to give me that little bit of hope that I so badly needed to get me through it.  Knowing that my survival rate for these episodes is 100% is a pretty damn good reminder that I'm going to get through this one just like I have all the others.  And if there are more in the future, I know I'll survive those too.

This is all a process, and lately I've been reminding myself of that about a million times.  There are going to be good days and bad days.. sometimes even good weeks or months and then bad weeks or months.  Mental illness or not, those ups and downs are all part of life.

And part of this process of recovery, for me, really does mean a huge learning process.. (finally I might actually get back on topic here).  I need to learn that I just can't please everyone.  I can't.  It's that simple.  There are specific people in my life who I have literally driven myself insane trying to please, and I just can't continue doing that if I want to stay on this journey to recovery.  I need to focus on living my life, the way I need to live it.  I need to focus on keeping myself healthy, and focus on my own needs.. that's the only way I'm going to recover from this roller coaster I've been trapped on for the past decade.

Because yes, I've been to hell.  No, I don't want to go back.




Tuesday, January 28, 2014

No other way to say this...

Recovery fucking sucks sometimes.  There are some days that are just so difficult, like you feel like you're crawling out of your skin just trying to remind yourself to breathe.

There are days where you don't want to get out of bed.  Where even the thought of getting up and getting dressed just feels like too much.

There are days where it hurts to breathe, hurts to think, hurts to try and think of anything else other than that horrid fucking monster you're trying to escape from.

There are moments where you don't know how to just get through the day without falling apart.

But.. it's okay to feel these things, because recovery or not, feeling these things reminds me that I'm human.  I'm not a machine with no emotions.  Sometimes being human means feeling these raw emotions, no matter how impossible they make things feel.  Sometimes, it's okay to just let yourself feel these things, even if it means constantly reminding yourself that these feelings will not kill you, and at the end of the day, you'll still be standing, in one piece, still living, breathing, existing.

That's where I'm at right now.  Reminding myself that what I'm feeling, it's not going to kill me.  Being knocked down (by anything) doesn't always have to be such a bad thing.. because maybe, when I stand back up, I'll do it a little faster and a little straighter than the last time.

For tonight though, recovery means knowing when it's time to stop fighting with myself.. and knowing when to just curl up in my nest with hot chocolate and a good book.  I'm thinking that time is now.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Midnight Thoughts

The past week of my life has been really overwhelming, but has also given me a lot of time to think over a lot of parts of my life.  And about my recovery.

Something I used to think ALL.  THE.  TIME., and something I hear quite frequently from other people going through issues similar to mine is that, "I don't know how to recover".  

And I think, sitting here, half asleep at almost midnight on a Tuesday night, it's finally sunk in.

I don't think anybody knows how to recover.  I think recovery is something you just... do.  One step at a time.  One day at a time.  Sometimes even a millisecond at a time.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Crash My Party..

Okay, seriously, I am obsessed with this song, and have been for months..