Ghostee

This is my anonymous blog to post my daily inner ramblings, feelings, and story. All names have been changed for confidentially purposes. 25•female•trigger warning

[ghxstee]

Post Cinco

Apologies, I will finish the rest of the last story at some other point. However, I need to take a bit of a break from that to talk about something else for a bit. Mostly, because I’m just sitting here thinking about it. 

The Holiday season is always difficult. Not sure 100% why, but I have my speculations. I am over 1,000 miles away from the family I grew up with so I don’t really celebrate holiday’s. I see my dad for the holiday’s sometimes. I can’t quite remember if I’ve explained that before I moved away from my shitty hometown 4 years ago, I only had met my dad a handful of times. I don’t really remember meeting my dad until I was five years old. The other points I had met him was when I was about one or two, and I have no recollection of those meetings with my dad. 

I remember the first time I met him very well, I remember feeling so overjoyed. Although, I really didn’t notice I didn’t have a dad until some kid in the first grade asked me what he did for a living. Not really thinking about it, I told him he was dead and shrugged it off. And the other first grader seemed really freaked out. I was pretty indifferent to the concept at first. 

Since then I had started asking a lot of questions about my dad. I would ask my great grandma every night a variety of questions. Ranging from what he looked like, to what he did. To where he was. Who he was. And all of a sudden, I felt really weird not knowing these things.

I’m not sure if my great grandma started relaying all of my endless questions to my Pop-pop (that’s what I always called my grandpa growing up), or if maybe it was the fact that he was only given a year left to live that made him seek out my father. But shortly after, my mom got in contact with my father. I met him at a Denny’s on the edge of my hometown. 

I remember when I met my dad. He smelt very clean, and he was very clean cut. My Dad was a fairly attractive younger man, in his early 20′s. Brown eyes, brown hair, and tan. Very opposite of me, who was blue eyed, blonde, pale, and freckled. But we were both very lanky and slender in build. 

He handed me a book by the name of ‘The Giving Tree’, it was a children’s book by Shel Silverstein. He told me it was his favorite book when he was younger. I immediately loved it because it was my favorite color. 

He asked me what I wanted to do for the day, and I was dead set on going to Legoland. I remember him saying we could do whatever I wanted, but somehow that was not the case and Sea World was predetermined. 

For some reason Sea World didn’t pan out, and we ended up going to an amusement park practically right across the street it seemed. 

I have so many fond memories from that day, and it’s funny because my dad was never around and I think I’ve spent less time resenting him than I have my mother. Maybe because he wasn’t around enough to cause any damage like my mom had. And sometimes I wonder if it would be different if he and my mother switched roles. 

[ghxstee]

Post four;

The mistakes you make in the beginning of a relationship whether that be a friendship, romantic relationship, familial, etc. set the tone for the rest of the relationship. Whether we like it or not it’s difficult to “forgive and forget” so to speak. Especially when it’s in the very start.

In this instance, I’m referring to my own romantic relationship with Liebe. At the start, he made some detrimental mistakes that have effected our relationship then on. Admittedly I have troubles even trusting him at this point.

It’s weird too, because I can never tell if I’m justified in it or not. Mostly because a part of me believes that if someone can do it to you once, they are capable of doing it again. However, I also believe people don’t grow unless you give them the room to.

These are two very conflicting ideologies, and I never know when or where I draw the line. I have no answer as to what the “unless” between those two statements is.

When I met Liebe, I quickly learned he had someone he referred to as his “Future Wife”. He had already come to terms with the fact that it would never actually happen though. When we refer to her, I guess we can call her “Insecurity” because she has been the basis of all of my insecurities in my relationship with Liebe.

I feel that Liebe genuinely feels remorseful for the things he put me through early on, but the unfortunate thing is once I’ve been hurt in a specific way, I can’t trust that it won’t happen again.

It’s especially hard when I alrway have PTSD, because my amygdala is already overdeveloped and hypersensitive. Things that normal people would just get over, feel beyond traumatic for me. Things that normal people can just let go of, I hold onto. They get to haunt me in my weakest moments.

Story time;

When Liebe and I got together it was immediately following the relationship I had with Control. There wasn’t much room inbetween.

Control and I had our own apartment together. When I broke up with him, he and I were in an open relationship. I didn’t start seeing Liebe or anything during our relationship especially because the rule was that it couldn’t be with someone Control knew. And he knew Liebe, since he saw him around the Sadness Factory.

Even though I had paid for the entirety of the deposit on the apartment Control and I had together, I ended up abandoning ship because I couldn’t handle the emotional abuse he had started putting me through. I didn’t have anywhere to go and Liebe was kind enough to let me move in. He offered me an out and a safe space.

I stayed with Liebe until a few months in when we broke up. I was having troubles jumping right back into something else as it wasn’t my typical style. Not to mention all of the shit Liebe started putting me through.

Liebe hadn’t been in a relationship in four years. Getting used to that change was difficult on him. If anything I try to be understanding.

But it was difficult. He would be out at the bar until 2am without warning, I would have no idea where he was or what was going on. And I was still very aware of his feelings for Insecurity.

Liebe didn’t really open up to me, and he didn’t really spend any actual time with me. Which quality time for me has always been a need in a relationship.

Understand that I’m not trying to paint Liebe as a Villain here. He hurt me, but he is human. And the older I get the more I realize everyone will let you down and hurt you in some way at some point. Especially when you’re sensitive like me.

I left him, and ended up sleeping on the couch of a coworker for a few months. In that time frame, my ex who we can call “Colorado” and I were in the process of repairing things. He was my ex before Control and I got together, and the person who had left me the most damaged in some ways. I loved him deeply and felt as if he was my first true love.

Colorado was stationed in well, Colorado. Meanwhile I was in Idaho.

I was always honest with Colorado, but I was so far from perfect to him. I recognize he tried to repair the damages he had even done. He tried to call me regularly and listen to me. He tried to be there for me in every way he could. He had his things that I really just couldn’t get past because he wasn’t perfect. But no one really is.

While I was repairing things with Colorado, Liebe and I still remained in contact. But things were difficult with him.

I still had stuff to reclaim from his place. I ended up going there to get it and everything seemed fine. We talked and I explained how I was silly and accidentally purchased 40 joints, because I thought the packs I bought only had five each.

He said he would buy some off of me, and I told him there was no need. He could just have them. When I grabbed my stuff and had almost all of it packed to go, he hugged me goodbye. The hug felt like an eternity and every part of me wanted to cry. He held me tight and I could tell he didn’t want to let go.

I didn’t want him to let go either. And just as I was about to start crying he made a joke and we both laughed.

A few weeks later, I brought Liebe the joints. I drove about 30 minutes to come drop these off, which to me wasn’t a big deal.

I knocked on the door, stepped in momentarily to hand them off, and turned to walk out before he told me I didn’t need to go so soon since I drove all the way out there.

“There’s a concert tonight that my friend is playing, and we can go to that.”

Deep down I knew this was his way of making amends for never doing anything with me or spending time with me. But I agreed to go.

I told Colorado what I was doing so he would understand that I wasn’t trying to be shady. He understood and he was fine with it.

The entire time we were there was difficult, I was uncomfortable. I still had feelings for Liebe. We sat at the table, and we didn’t really say much. I wanted to touch him, I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted things to be the way they used to be. I just knew better than that, and I was supposed to be repairing the relationship I had with Colorado.

Eventually we left, he stuck a sticker to the dashboard of the car. And I remember always looking at it whenever I was in the car, fondly. Even though it was not my car. But the owner, explicitly expressed she did not care.

I still had things to grab from Liebe and so a few weeks went by and I had asked Liebe if I could get them. The way he treated me was so much colder. His best friend started talking to me semi-regularly which I didn’t really think anything of it. Mostly because I had no ulterior motives behind talking to him.

Liebe would periodically message me upset that I was talking to his friend, which at that point I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why he even cared because we weren’t together.

The thing that Liebe still had was a set of bedsheets. I know you’re probably thinking, “Big fucking deal. They’re just sheets.” Except I’m weird and my sheets are important to me, especially when they’re of a higher thread count. I love nice linens. Probably due to how I was raised or something.

Eventually I went to recover them. He was supposed to wash them, but I lost hope on that happening and just went a grabbed them from him myself. It was frustrating waiting for him to get around to it, and with the way he was treating me I wanted to cut ties.

Or that’s what I thought anyways. I grabbed the sheets and he handed them over and practically slammed the door in my face. Which I never understood, and honestly when I think about it I feel it had something to do with Insecurity.

Shortly after, I messaged him asking what changed after the concert. Why had he started being so cold. His response was something along the lines of him feeling I wasn’t ready to be friends or something which never made any fucking sense to me.

Eventually, the coworker I was residing with needed to rehome a litter of kittens. And the one that had trouble finding a home, I offered to Liebe because I knew he would take good care of her.

I brought her over, again with Colorado knowing who I was with and where I would be. I hung out and gave her time to warm up to her environment and Liebe had just gotten done with a road trip to see family for some disheartening reasons.

His best friend and I sat outside the apartments bullshitting and discussing various things while we smoked our cigarettes.

Meanwhile I was receiving messages from Liebe like “You guys are being loud”, and then once I quieted down, “You guys are awfully quiet out there, are you making out?” And a handful of other shitty messages.

We made our way back in after smoking like five cigarettes.

Liebe was in the living room, and I asked him if we could have an actual conversation and talk things out like adults.

I explained to him that I didn’t stop having feelings for him. And that him acting jealous was crap. He calmed down, and asked to lay his head in my lap so I could rub his back and I had no problem with that. I still cared for him.

He and I talked and shared music as we typically did. He accused me of having a broad taste in music and I was a little offended but it was nice for he and I to just be getting along without any weirdness.

Admittedly, this is when I should have left. It was about one or two in the morning, and I should have gone home. But Liebe offered to let me stay since it was so late. And to him, I was still single. There was no one else.

These are things I still feel guilty for.

Liebe has always been my Achilles heel. That night I ended up sleeping with him. I left feeling like a sack of shit.

I did try to turn him down on multiple occasions, but I fell victim to seduction.

The next day, I immediately called Colorado and explained what happened. I couldn’t be dishonest, and I couldn’t hide my actions from him.

He begged me to get help because these things weren’t like me, and my mental health was a rapid decline. He just wanted to see me be the best version of myself, but he recognized I was self destructing. I agreed to start therapy again even though I had always been opposed to it after negative experiences from my childhood.

I told him I would and that I was sorry, he even gave me the opportunity to fix things. Which I never deserved in the first place.

-To Be Continued-

[ghxstee]

Post Numero Tres

Tonight I find myself in the apartment alone. Nights like these are always weird. As I explained previously, I grew up in a large family. Outside of the fact my Grandparents from my Mother’s side had seven children, my parents did not give me a short supply of siblings either.

My father and mother never had more children together. I was the only spawn from the two of them. However my Mom had four other children, and my father two. 

I never knew what it was like to have an entire space to myself overnight until recent years. Even at that, that was a rare exception. For the most part there’s always someone around. It’s very rare to get nights like these, and not that I’m complaining. Simply put, they just feel weird. 

So I find myself alone in this empty apartment wondering what to even do with myself. 

Outside of all of this, I’ve been caught up in other earlier trauma’s. 

I anticipated that this blog would make it easier talking about the things that really spiraled my PTSD into motion. The first series of events particularly, as that is the hardest experience of my life to put into words. 

I thought that maybe typing would be the loophole on discussing these things, thinking that the verbalization of such events was the struggle point. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Instead, undoing all the sticky entanglement of trauma no matter the method, is still difficult. 

It feels (metaphorically speaking) like pulling glass shards out of my brain with tweezers. A very sensitive and precise procedure. If I pull the wrong shard at the wrong time, I feel I could leave myself just as damaged or more so, than if I just left the glass to begin with. 

I’ve been trying to start small, but I almost feel like I’m dancing around and avoiding the bigger, heavier subjects. The ones that make my voice feel small, and my throat close up. The parts that leave my tongue heavy and paralyzed in my mouth. 

These are words I haven’t even been able to say to Liebe, there are experiences that I keep trapped in myself because letting them out feels like opening up Pandora’s box for the world to see. 

These very specific occurrences make me feel embarrassed, ashamed, disgusted with myself, and broken. But the hardest part, is that I don’t know where to start. 

Do I start at the furthest point in my memory? Do I describe it all from the start as if my life was a book meant to be read from beginning to end? I’m unsure. 

[ghxstee]

Post two,

Tonight’s the second night of sleeping without Liebe. He started the graveyard shift at a new job. It’s been a bit difficult for me to adjust because one of the best parts about sleeping is that I get to do it next to him. Plus I’m kind of ridiculous about cuddling.

With him being gone it reminds me that this guy spoils me to death. I’ve never been so fortunate in my life.

But accompanying lonely insomania fueled night, is the irrational fear that Liebe is getting bored of me. Logically, I know that is ridiculous. But it’s hard to convince myself otherwise.

On top of all of this, we have the presidential election and I’m nervous as to how things are going to play out.

Admittedly, I hate both Biden and Trump. I think they’re both deplorable in their own special way. I could go on forever about that though. I’d rather not.

Aside from all of this mess, I must admit I’m struggling mentally. Everything seems like a massive down point currently. Liebe and my best friend (We’ll call him Flip) don’t really get along the best. Its been slightly frustrating for starters. I’m more of a peaceful person. I don’t like conflict and chaos, and I try to minimize it as much as possible. However, I do understand it has its place in the world.

Genuinely, from my perspective they both seem to be looking for reasons to dislike each other. Whether that be subconscious or not. It drives me crazy. Perhaps that’s why I look for the good in things, so I don’t create conflict. There are very minimal people I dislike in this world. I should add, that I know personally. I can only really think of two people. Even at that, I stick to myself and a very select few people.

It’s made me feel caught in the middle a lot lately, and that’s a feeling I loathe and despise. I’ve been thinking about the why though? I mean, no one really likes being caught in the middle but it’s a feeling that automatically frustrates and pisses me off when it’s two parties I am equally close to.

I’m aware that part of that is my childhood.

Growing up, I was raised by my grandparents. They had seven children including my mother. One of which happens to be one of the two people I personally dislike immensely. Which would be my youngest uncle. We’ll call him Monster for now.

When I was a young girl, around 4 and 5 years old, Monster did some things that I can never forget. Awful things that no one that age should have to experience. The way he mentally destroyed me and the impact this has had on me, are one of the biggest reasons I started this blog. I cannot tell my story out loud. There’s a lot of pieces I can just never say. I’m always fearful of how horrified people will be by my past. Or what I’ve been through, and the idea of sharing that makes me fearful that I’m giving others a piece of my trauma.

Or I’m always afraid people will be disgusted with me for my past experiences. Even though I technically didn’t do anything. But overall the feeling I’m left with is this feeling of disgust with myself. Like I’m forever tainted and broken. It makes me feel isolated. And alone. Like no one would really get it.

When it gets real bad, I always want to lock myself away.

I sometimes imagine that if I curl into a tight enough ball, that just maybe I might be able to pull myself into a void. Hide myself. Disappear.

However, I can’t. And that’s the hardest part. There are so many days where I just want to fall off the face of the Earth. And not even in a suicidal way. I just want to take a break and then come back to it.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t stop for anyone and I’m aware of that. No matter how badly I want to just fall away from the entirety of existence, I know it will never happen.

Anyways, my grandparents had seven children. And when my mother had me she was only seventeen. Two of her siblings being older, and the other four being younger.

Growing up in such a big household, no one could ever get along. Especially when it’s a bunch of college kids, and teenagers. I was constantly in the middle of things. Dragged into picking sides, and I remember how much it made me cry. I remember begging and pleading for everyone to quit fighting constantly.

Things would get thrown, sometimes there were physical altercations, naturally screaming was involved as well. Holes would end up in walls. Being 4 and 5, that was a terrifying environment. I never understood what was going on. I could never wrap my head around why everyone would constantly fight.

I remember one night, my oldest aunt sat me down after one particular night that was extra bad. They always tried to hide me from the fighting, but I always knew what was going on. She tried to explain that the way our family fought was completely normal. She normalized the entirety of how everyone always acted towards each other. Like none of it was toxic, like that was an acceptable way for people to treat one another. I never forgot that.

I remember there was one night where Monster even got in a fight with his older brother, who we will call Hero. Hero had Monster pinned to the ground with his elbow in his back. And in one motion moved to have his entire forearm shoving his neck into the ground.

Monster eventually got the upper hand, rolling Hero over and onto his back. And they went like that for what felt like ages, just barreling down the hall.

It was another one of those nights. Where the fighting felt like it would never end. But no one grabbed me to move me into a bedroom. I bared witness to the entire interaction. I screamed my head off, following them down the hall. Screaming for them to stop. But they just continued. Tears were running down my face, uncontrollably. These were the things I always wanted control over.

The older I got, the worse it got.

Instead of just being on the outside always begging people to stop, I started getting dragged into everything.

When people fought, some how it ended up being my fault.

There were so many times where someone would break out into a fight with another person in the house could and I would often get blamed for it. Supposedly it was always my fault people fought each other.

The first time it was supposedly my fault, I’ll never forget.

I don’t remember what the fight was over. But it was between my Grandmother and Monster. They were upset over something and I happened to be present for it. It turned into a full blown yelling match, and Monster getting locked out of the house.

I always felt bad for him, even though he had done terrible things to me. I still couldn’t help but empathize and feel bad for him regardless.

Eventually things escalated and they just got worse. Unfortunately the memory gets a bit fuzzy here. For some reason the only way to actually settle things was to call my Grandpa. I’ll never understand that. Anyways, no one can get ahold of him. So this fight just keeps going. It’s started to get bad. There’s physical threats being thrown around that I vaguely remember, and then I remember Monster just getting into one of the trucks and just leaving. For whatever reason that made me freak out. Possibly because I was left alone with my Grandmother, who at that time was abusive. At this age she had already hit me hard enough to make me bleed in the past.

The last thing I wanted was to be left alone with her.

Eventually, my oldest Aunt (We’ll call her Ducky) returns home to handle this entire fight. I get sent to my room, and so I lay down in bed. Maybe five to ten minutes go by, and things kind of calm down.

I feel like the coast is clear. Peace is returned. Except I was so wrong.

Before I knew it Ducky was in my room. She had a fistful of my hair and she was continuously hitting me. With each hit she was telling me “This is for making Monster leave.” “This is for making your grandmother upset.” “This is for making them fight.” And it kept going like that for so long. Of course, I was begging her to stop, but I didn’t fight it. It hurt. I was just ten.

I told myself that was what I deserved. That it was my fault. It was punishment. I didn’t fight back, because I was supposed to just take my punishment. This was normal.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, I was driving home with my Grandpa I learned that what happened wasn’t okay.

We were driving home from town. I always tried to stay as close to him as possible, because He was the only person who ever felt safe. I had mentioned the occourance with my aunt. I felt horror rise in my grandpa as I explained what happened in a nonchalant fashion. As if it was just a casual conversation. I could tell he was upset, but he tried his best to hide it and explain the gravity of telling him about those situations. How it wasn’t okay. How next time I needed to get help. He asked where he was, as if he was almost disappointed he wasn’t near to protect me.

As much as I could be upset about things, at least I always had my grandpa.

[ghxstee]

Day one;

The best place to start I suppose, set the scene for my current life. Currently, I live in an apartment with my significant other and my roommate, as well as four cats. It’s a fuckton of cats, I’m not going to lie. However, I’ve learned to love and appreciate each and every one of them. Starting out I should admit that I am partially a crazy cat lady.

I never anticipated on having four cats, it just happened. My boyfriend had two cats and I had two cats. And neither of us were about to give up our babies. For the sake of anonymity, we shall call him Liebe. German for “Love”.

Anyways, our relationship started out rough. I was in the tail end of a relationship I had no desire to be in, but struggled to admit to myself when I met Liebe. I had seen him around the place that we worked often. All the time actually. I couldn’t help but notice as I felt an instintaneous attraction that I can only explain as love at first sight. As lame as that sounds, I truly do believe it and admittedly one part of me eats shit like that up and the other part of me is extremely skeptical. But I think that’s due to my own jaded perception of love after the first handful of relationships I had gone through.

I saw Liebe around work, and for the sake of the story let’s say we worked at a Sadness Factory. Everything about that job made me feel quite hopeless.

Liebe was always around the Sadness Factory it seemed pretty similarly to the same schedule I happened to be there. I would see him regularly and the days I didn’t, I noticed. However, a part of me felt truly guilty as I found him to be completely stunning and felt an unnatural draw to him the moment I saw him, all the while being in a relationship. We will refer to my ex as, Control. And as I continue to explain my story, you will understand why.

I never confronted Liebe when I would see him. To be honest, I was really unsure of how to act because I had never faced an attraction like the one I had to him. The entire situation seemed terrifying and like the perfect opportunity to make myself look like a complete fool.

And holy shit, let me tell you how right I was about that.

Besides, I was in a relationship already and I felt whatever form of relationship that blossomed between Liebe and I, would be inappropriate and disrespectful to the one I was currently in.

One day after work, being the perfect little worker bee I am, I went up to my bosses desk to check on how well I was performing at the Sadness Factory. I needed to make sure I was keeping my job happy, even if it wasn’t really keeping me happy.

My former boss and I were also particularly close and she was a wonderful human, and sitting and talking with her was always a pleasure. So I sat at her desk and shot the shit for a bit, before Liebe showed up at her desk. My internal panic set in.

I was faced with this situation where this guy I already had some inappropriate draw to was standing right in front of me. He discussed a few things with my former overlord and she got up to leave shortly after. Leaving me. With Liebe. Alone to make awkward conversation, that I was absolutely terrified of initiating in the first place based off the mere fact the situation at hand was completely foreign territory for me.

He was sweet, quiet, slightly reserved, and shy. Admittedly it was really hard to just try and act natural. Although those words became my mantra in the first five seconds of being presented with this situation.

Act natural. Act natural. Act natural.

And then the words and concept became foreign to me all in one breath. I was faced with this absolute cutie, hazel eyes. Thick rimmed glasses, a full beard. A few inches taller than me, standing at 5’9. High cheek bones, narrow nose, and three facial piercings. A face I truly wanted to spend hours studying, wondering if I would ever catch a flaw in it. A full sleeve, and his other arm being slightly lesser full of tattoos. In my frenzy of being overwhelmed by how taken I was by this stranger, I lost my mind completely. My brain was running in circles trying to make conversation. In my panic, I brought up the easiest possible thing to discuss. Tattoos! His tattoos! The saving grace to my conversation.

Nope. I was wrong. Terribly wrong.

In my panicked state, I reached down and grabbed his arm and exclaimed “Ooh tattoos!” Like a very observant five year old. That’s when the party really started and the real panic set in.

A quick piece of background, but I am very big on personal space. Particularly touching without consent. As a lot of my trauma is derived from being touched inappropriately, without my consent.

My eyes expanded to the size of plates, and my heart beat picked up rapidly.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just touch you. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t typically invade someone’s space like that. Especially just because of tattoos because I know how annoying that is. I’m so sorry.”

Oh. I fucked this up for sure. Breaking into someone’s personal space like I had the right within five minutes of meeting them. And then the classic panic sorry. I was super fucked for sure. This guy probably thought I was weird, and there was 100% no way he was interested in me at that point.

He reassured me I was fine, and he was gentle and kind about it. I remember the small smile he gave me, and I remember how I still felt awkward and silly but I could tell that he truly wasn’t bothered. Which put me at a little more ease.

I still continued to make a fool out of myself throughout the rest of the conversation I’m sure, but I don’t really remember the rest of it. I remember pointing out my boyfriend who also worked at the Sadness Factory as to not give the wrong impression. To keep myself out of trouble and to avoid a potential fight later that evening with a Control. I was mostly stuck on the awkward interaction and the fact I completely blew any form of this guy thinking I was even remotely cool.

Which in itself felt problematic again, considering I was already in a relationship. So it shouldn’t have mattered that much.

It also shouldn’t have given me butterflies in my stomach when I received the friend request on Facebook shortly after.

Anyways, the main point of this post tonight is that I often end up upset with my significant other. Liebe gets on my nerves sometimes, not because he’s a bad guy. Not because he treats me poorly. Mostly due to my own extremely unreasonable expectations of the poor man. Tonight’s no exception. And lately it’s been more difficult to find the minimal patience I had to begin with, which is also no fault of Liebe’s.

Sometimes it just helps to remember those details of our relationship, and then think to where we are now. Things have gone so far and the beginning was so hard. And I will continue to disclose the details of our relationship throughout all of this, and how it’s continued. How it’s helped me grow. How I’ve watched him grow. How incredibly proud I am of this person. But nights like these I remember back to the beginning. I recap the entirety of our relationship, and I remind myself I am fortunate. Because I am. I’m a pain in the ass and this guy sticks through it all with me and helps me figure it out.

He apologizes. He works on himself. He compromises. He supports me. And most importantly I know he loves me at the end of the day. And if I were left with one person by my side, I know it would be him.

[ghxstee]

Well, this is my first post. So I’ll begin with a disclaimer. I don’t really anticipate that anyone will care, or that this will raise any form of following, because I don’t personally find myself particularly fascinating. Nor do I really care to be. I actually feel that my problems are about average, then again I suppose it depends upon whose concept of average you want to go by. I could probably do some profound continuation of that thought by adding in a variety of famous people’s ideologies of average. Although, I’m not going to do that because I don’t care. If however in the event my story is read by some sort of small audience, whether that be even just one person, I should explain what this blog is and what it’s about. I could have done that up top in the description, however I did not feel there was enough room for what I need to say because I’m honestly winging this. This blog is supposed to be raw and honest, mostly therapeutic. However, I’m changing everyone’s names in my story to keep completely anonymous. This blog is meant to be for myself. My inner ramblings. The things I’ve never been able to get off my chest and say to anyone, the works. This is basically my diary, and my way of feeling unconfined. But at the same time, if this does reach people my hope is that it helps someone else or other individuals feel less alone on certain topics.

So let me truly begin, my name is Ghostee. Or that’s what I’ll be known as throughout this series of unfortunate posts. Don’t ask me why? Mostly because I have no answer as to how I came to the conclusion that I would refer to myself as such.

Anyways, I’m twenty five years old, and I was born October 15th, 1995. My birthday was a few weeks ago. And I have been having this quarter of life crisis, assuming I live to be 100. Which is very doubtful by the way. I’m already 25 and I have a hard time believing I won’t accidentally die because I’m stupid or end up just offing myself at some point in time if I’m being entirely honest. Everything feels very rough lately. Amidst all the global and national bullshit. Just the entire bullshit state of the world.

My mental health has pretty much taken this rapid decline, I struggle deeply with PTSD, and as a result a fuckton of depression and anxiety. With a whole mess of complications. I’m not proud of this by any means, I fucking hate this aspect of my life and how it effects me and the people around me. I have a terrible tendency to withdraw and isolate myself, and I genuinely understand people care about me in my life, but not intially. I have to rationalize on a very consistent basis through those things before I even recognize this is true. So I will say, with work, things do get better. But it takes work. When it comes to mental health you have to work towards getting better. So I can at least promise if you want it to get better it definitely can. But I won’t lie and say there are not tiring points where it just feels like an overly long winded battle.

Anyways, here is to the beginning of many idiotic posts about my life, my story, my feelings, thoughts, inner ramblings, musings, and words I could never say out loud.