imenoughh

[imenoughh]

I’m still worrying about him. I’m still thinking about how I hurt him, how it affected him and the guilt I feel. But that’s unhealthy. I need to put myself first. I can’t torture myself forever for my mistakes. A year later and I’m still putting him before me. I need to focus on myself, do things that make ME feel good. I need to let go of the past, let go of my guilt. I hurt him, but now I’m just hurting me too. This isn’t the way to solve things. I can’t try to resolve hurting someone by hurting myself. It’s a whole lot of hurt and it’s just encouraging more hurt to be felt and dealt by me. How is this helping me? I’m not making myself feel better, and I’m certainly not changing the past or how he feels. Hurting is not the solution. Punishment is not the solution. You can’t fight fire with fire. If I want to love others more, I need to love myself more. Compassion breeds compassion. I know for a fact that I’m more likely to be unkind to others when I’m feeling badly about myself. I can’t change the past. It’s done with. I can change my present and my future though, and to do that I need to be kind to both others and myself. I can’t fix old problems. All I can do is fix the now, and to fix and improve the now I need to live in the now, and focus on the now, its beauty and it’s issues. What’s happening right now in my life is going to suffer if I am focusing all my energy on the past. And then I’m just going to make more mistakes now, and accumulate more and more regret in my life. The only way to be better is to be better in my life now. If I want change, I need to make changes now. I need to focus on what’s relevant to my life in this moment. I’m capable. I can think. I care about many things. I can have and be everything I have ever wanted, I only need to direct my energy and potential to the present. The present is the only thing I have control over. What I did before, what I might do in the future, I can’t control that right now. All I can control right now is what I am doing right now. 

[imenoughh]

Yea I think there’s some things I still need to move on from from my past relationship. But I think I also use it as a way to hide from the present. I think about my ex more when I’m upset. It’s among my reservoir of negative feelings. Maybe I do it to punish myself, by reminding myself of really painful things. It’s part habit too. But it is also a way for me to be in denial about my current life. I tell myself I’m feeling badly and suffering right now because my past weighs down on me. But really there are things I’m doing now that are causing me to suffer, current situations and feelings that I don’t want to deal with. It’s easier, to ponder things that I know I can’t solve, or maybe more so, it’s safer. I’m afraid to take the steps forward I need to take right now. I’m afraid to try new things, and to let myself develop expectations. I’m afraid of failing, and of embarrassing myself. I’m afraid I’ll realize I don’t have what it takes to make my dreams come true. And so I do nothing, I avoid taking the steps I need to take, and ironically in doing so I cause myself to fail. I choose to fail before trying, in fear that I’ll fail. I’m afraid I can’t do it. I’m so afraid I can't do things that I don’t even want to look and see if maybe I can. I’m getting restless. I can’t keep hiding. I need to meet up with that film person, I need to keep myself busy. I need to hone my writing and photography skills. I need to jump, and jump and jump like a kid on a pogo stick. I can’t give up, not now, not yet. I’ve got so much more to learn, so much to experience, I don’t want to deny myself the wonders of life. 

“When you stop doing things for fun you might as well be dead”. — Hemingway

[imenoughh]

Why do I do this to myself? 

Why do I torture myself in this way?

I don’t know who I used to be. That scares me. I think I know who I am now.

 I wasn’t who I thought I was. 

Or maybe, maybe I’ve just forgotten the bigger picture. I don’t remember everything that was going on in my life at the time.

One photo, one text.

I think then I’ll leave the rest.

It’s a problem I’ll never solve. 

No matter how hard I try, and trust me I try, I’ll never come up with a satisfying answer. 

Who I was, why I acted the way I did.

Every day it haunts me, why why why... what REALLY happened?

It’s easier, being alone.

You only have yourself, your own thoughts and feelings to keep track of.

With others it gets complicated, and I’m constantly guessing at what other people are thinking, and trying to please them.

Where did I go wrong? How can I make sure things are different next time around?

You’re smiling. So am I. We’re so sweet on each other. 

I’m sorry to think I hurt you. But because it’s hard for me to see the places I went wrong, it’s hard for me to fully feel sorry. I wonder if I should be sorry. If there really is so much to be sorry about.

Why didn’t you leave me earlier? If you hated me so much.

But you don’t know how you feel. You don’t now and you didn’t then. That’s why I can’t figure out how you felt, about me.

We shouldn’t have held on.

But we were dumb, and naive and alone. 

And now here I am, typing away at 1am, a year later.

I panic every time I pass by your house on the bus. 

I’m afraid to see you.

I push it away, and say it’s just regular post relationship anxiety.

But I’m truly afraid.

How much we hurt each other, and yet how we kept on reuniting as if drawn by a magnet, it terrifies me.

I’m alright, I know.

Can push it away, just say go.

I think to myself, I wish I’d never met you.

But that’s naive too, because I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you.

Maybe some of our experiences have negatively affected me, but certainly I’ve been positively affected by you too. 

I learned a lot about the realities of relationships.

I learned to be more patient.

I learned I can be a real b to the people I love most.

I learned how much my actions affect others.

I felt a bond I’ve never felt with anyone before.

~I don’t remember. A lot of my life feels like a blur. It’s hard to move on from something you don’t understand.

[imenoughh]

There’s something that's upsetting me, but I feel like I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. And to be honest, I don’t know if I want to. What will they be able to do? And it’s about my ex, who everyone in my life is tired of hearing about. And I'm embarrassed at how much I still think about him. 

I’ve been idealizing him, I knew I was but not to what extent until yesterday. I saw my friend who had been away at university. We hadn't really talked in so long. She was a mutual friend of me and my ex, its because of her that we met. I decided beforehand though that I wouldn't ask about him. I knew it wouldn't make me feel good. But she brought it up, and so we talked a bit. She told me she’d noticed that he was weird, and that there was something off about him. They aren’t friends anymore, none of their friend group is friends with him anymore, because of his huge ego and how great he thinks he is. Apparently they hadn't talked for three months, and then I don't know im guessing a month ago, she reached out to him and asked how he was doing. But he was really rude to her, and called her a bad friend for not hanging out with him (he hadn't made much effort to see her either). So then she stopped talking to him. She also told me that in the summer he tried to feel her up. Of course she rejected his stupid horny ass. That really hurt to hear. I didn't really show that to her though. But wow. She’s one of my closest friends, like what the hell. So I asked if he tried to hookup with a lot of girls, and she said yes sort of. Sortof because he acted like he didn't and wasn't a player but he was. He always told me that too, that he didn't hookup with many girls, and that he only wanted to sleep with people he was close with. Bullshit.

A week after he cut me off (saying he still loved me but was too hurt to stay in my life, but that if I ever wanted to have sex he’d be down af:)), he kissed one of his best friends. I only just found out that they kissed. Anyways, I told my other friend who was friends with that girl that I'd been jealous of their relationship when we’d been together. And she told me she was gay. He knew I was a bit jealous of her and all the girls he hungout with. WHY DIDN’T HE TELL ME. So I saw him a few days later, and told him it was funny that I'd been jealous of her cuz I just found out she was gay. He swore he had told me. Nope, never I said. He proceeded to tease and tease me about how stupid it was, and how they were only “friends” and he was not in any way interested in her like that. He acted like the idea was totally ridiculous and said I had absolutely nothing to worry about. One week later, he kissed her. And then right after that I heard that he was telling that girl how he thought they were meant to be together and blah blah. He’s a liar.

Also, soon after we orginally broke up, we were still in each others lives. I realized I still had his Spotify account, so I was planning on deleting it. I just checked to see if he had been listening to any new good music. there was a huge playlist he’d made for this girl, and a caption saying how much their “connection” meant to him and how special she was. I got jealous and asked him about it, and he told me they were just friends. But that was the same kind of things he said to me. He insisted I was just being paranoid and that it was nothing. I believed him, then, a few weeks later I see him and he told me he like her and that if she lived near him (she’s from out of town) that he would date her.

Both times he just made me feel like such a fool. Like I was crazy for even suggesting it. And I believed him. I always believed him. He told me he was a psychopath a couple months after we broke up. But he made it seem like nothing, even a good thing. He said how lots of successful people are psychopaths and that they are really smart (both of which is often true). Anyways, I wasn’t actually that surprised, I’d often felt he lacked empathy at times. I told I wasn’t very surprised which surprised him. “Really?” he’d said. “When I told my friends they were all so surprised.” He’d told a group of his close girlfriends. Months later I found out that he hadn’t told any of his friends, not even his best female friend. He lied to me. And why did he tell me? Why only me? We were not on very good terms then. Part of me feels like he trusts me and thats why. But I also feel like he just wanted to mess with me. It sure worked. I went into a panic after that. 

I just. I do want to move on. And I have in many ways. My feeling are much less, and I still think about him more than I want, but its not that bad. Or it wasn’t, until I heard all of this. I guess the image of him that I had in my head was just crushed. I feel betrayed. I feel lied to. And like when I felt this way before, it makes me question everything. Was any of it real? Did he even ever love me? Was he just using me for sex? He acted like he was this amazing kind romantic sensitive guy. Was it good and things just went south, and he changed? I’m trying not to think about that, because it’s nothing something I think I can't  really answer, but my mind keeps going there. For now I want to believe the latter, that things got bad, I hurt him, and he changed. He used to tell me that I was deflecting my guilt onto him by being angry at him and blaming him for things. I thought there was a good chance he was right, I've done that before. But I don’t know, maybe it was partly that, but really I think that I actually want to be the bad guy. I want to be responsible for us breaking apart, and hurting him and us. Because then I’m in control. Then it was my fault, not his. Then I don’t need to feel afraid that people are going to hurt me, because I’m my own biggest threat. I want our relationship to have been as juicy and beautiful as I see it. I want him to be a great guy. I’d rather preserve my idealized image of him than submit to reality. I’d rather hate myself than believe that the person I trusted more than anyone in the world isn’t who he pretends to be. He just disposed of me. 

But even still its hard to believe, and his version is much kinder. He just couldn’t trust me anymore and I had hurt him too much. But he still cared about me so so much. I like that. Because then it’s all my fault, and he's not at all unreasonable. And although I and everyone I've talked to thinks he could’ve forgiven me, I just have believed he has a harder time forgiving people. I guess that’s still possible. But he lied to me. And all he seemed interested in was sex. I just feel like he realized he didn’t want a relationship, although technically we were broken up we still acted basically the same, and that instead he just wanted to be with different girls. And he knew I might not stick around if he did that, and maybe being relationshippy annoyed him. People told me he used me, and he was shitty to me but other than a few times I never really believed it. And I still don’t know. 

I know I need to move on. And I don’t want to be with him. I just want to know. And honestly sometimes I imagine running into him again, and us dating again. But that wouldn't be good, right? And I say I’d like to preserve my beautiful image of our relationship, but I don’t know how to do that when he’s lied to me. I feel like I don’t know him.

I need to stop thinking about this. Im going to watch tv. I’m seeing my friend tomorrow. Like always there's no solution to this, no answers to my questions. 

[cwote]

just prove your worth to yourself :))

[imenoughh]

I didn’t realize I’d actually posted a decent amount here. That was a year ago. My life’s really different now. And of course some things are still the same. I’m in College, and I get along quite well with my parents. Spend more time with them than my friends lately actually. Maybe I never mentioned him here but I kindof thought I did- I broke up with my boyfriend a year ago. He officially cut me out of his life this past June. When my depression went to shit, so did our relationship. It turned into hell. I’m doing better in school, I don’t sleep all day- although I still sleep probably more than the average person. I started being a bit more honest with people, telling them when they upset instead of keeping everything in. I love myself more. It’s still something I’m struggling with, but I’m making progress. I’m learning that, like most things in life, it’s something I need make a conscious effort to work at every single day. 

I’m really writing because I had the urge to try and look at my ex’s social media. I knew it was stupid, but I also really thought that I wouldn’t find anything, considering he blocked me. But I managed to find a photo of him on a mutual friends account. It was taken right around the time we started dating. I still think about him, and picture his face. But in my mind his face is a bit blurry, and distant. I felt such a strong reaction when I saw the picture of him. Such an uncomfortable reaction, one I hadn't expected or felt in a long time. I felt sick, and guilty, and jealous and sad. I’m still feeling it a bit. I don’t exactly know why that photo caused me to feel so much. It was like a reminder that he was real, that he is real. That’s a real person and I hurt him. Sometimes the guilt causes me to push his pain away, and I avoid seeing that I really did hurt him because knowing that hurts me so much. How did I do that? Why did I do that? Is it just hard for me to understand because I’ve changed into a completely different person now? Would I do that again? to someone? to him? And then I think well it must have been something he did, that’s the only explanation he must’ve treated me badly. Because surely I wouldn’t cheat on an innocent boy who was so kind to me. No matter how shitty I felt inside. I know I felt less than. I felt less than in life generally, and less than in our relationship. He’s the one I idolized, and I didn't think I deserved him. I didn’t think he understood me. I was right there I guess, he told me himself he didn’t get me. 

I’m wasting time right now. Trying to answers questions I can’t possibly answer. The best I can think of is I was depressed. When I feel depressed, everything loses its color. I stop caring about things I used to care about. I care less about myself, and the people around me. I’m not as friendly. I question everything. I doubt everything. I avoid everything. I think friends or others must not really like me, because what’s there to like. I think people who act like they care about me or see value in me are lying to me. I get suspicious, I feel afraid. I’m so afraid of failing that I fail on purpose or by default. I ruin things for myself, relationships, and I’m aware that I’m doing it. I just watch and cower. 

I guess I’ll never stop feeling guilty, and I’ll always regret certain things in my life. I’ll just do my best to improve every day, and cope better and better with my mistakes. 

-----at times I think I’d do anything to earn his approval/forgiveness....

-----If I could fix things I would, but not at the expense of my whole life’s happiness. 

because I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be punished eternally for one stupid mistake. because my life is worth more than that. It’s worth more than forever hating and minimizing myself. I am so much more than that one mistake, that one night’s kiss. And I'm more than the following outlash I had against him over text. I am more than that. I am not always kind, but I often am. I care deeply. I’m artistic and creative. I am so much more than those things. And maybe he made the right choice, maybe I really would have made him unhappy and he made the right choice for himself. Maybe he couldn’t see how much I was because of his pain. He saw only my mistakes and discarded everything else, every kind thing I’d ever done for him. Maybe he really saw everything and still found the cons to outweigh the pros. But I don’t. I don’t think my mistakes outweigh my successes. I don’t think I’m not worth being around. I can see myself for all that I am, for the darkness and light, for the beauty and imperfections, and I think I’m fabulous. I am beautiful. I am worth getting out of bed every morning. I am worth loving. I am worth forgiving. That’s okay if he sees none of this, because I do. For him I’m not worth it but that’s okay. He’s looking out for himself, just like I am. I’m worth it. 

edit: maybe... I was so depressed at the time. I felt myself heading down hill and believed I would keep going. Things would get horrible, and or I would kill myself. Nothing mattered. All of it would end or be destroyed anyway, so destroying it myself didn't matter. I cheated partly or largely because I thought we were going to break up anyway, and I already hated myself. I wanted to kill myself and considering I'd be dead anyways none of these problems would bother me, none of these relationships would even still exist at all. I pushed people away. I once read that either cats or dogs when they get close to their natural death they stop engaging as much with their owners, so it doesn't hurt them as much when they die. I don’t know if that’s at all factual, but I think that’s how I was getting in some ways, one way in which depression works. You withdraw in part so others aren’t so affected by your negativity. You hurt people to protect them from a future with you that you believe will be even more painful to them. Because you think you’re not worth it. and if no one’s going to believe you when you say it, you need to prove your unworthiness to them with your actions. and so much of you regrets it and knows you’ve made a terrible mistake, but some part of you feels safer. Some part of you believes you’ve saved them. Some part of you is relieved that you no longer have to worry if things will go to shit, because it’s clear that they already have. The not knowing decreases. The fear of the toll your depression will take on others decreases. But now, now you’re really utterly alone, and you know it. And you’re so afraid. and your fear of failure, it’s no longer simply a possibility but it’s a horrifying undeniable truth. and when the negative thoughts about yourself seep in, it becomes a lot easier to believe them. You’ve convinced not only your lover that you are truly unworthy, but you’ve finally convinced yourself of it too. The pain doesn't go away. Breaks from the this deep darkness become so rare. The chaos you felt inside you for so long is no longer just inside you, it’s all around you. The look on his face makes you regret ever wishing he’d understood how depressed you felt. You’re reminded that despite how bad you feel inside, you never want anyone else to feel the same way; you’d rather feel alone than see another suffer. and it’s over. You have hope you think things will get better, we can work through this. but really it’s all ruined. things will never be the same. you will never be the same. he will never be the same.

and anytime you notice how much this experience has taught you, and almost feel glad for it, you feel disgusted with yourself. To think you benefited in any way from someone else’s pain. 

and forever on you keep thinking one day one day... one day he will want me back. But that day hasn’t come, and deep down you know it never will. but each time you do something you know he’d like, you imagine him asking for you back. every time you’re on the bus you search for his face, constantly mistaking strangers for him, because you miss him so badly. 

I wish we were okay. I wish we still smiled together. I wish he approved of me. I wish he cared about me. I wish he wanted me. I wish he wasn't so put off by me. and then, if all my wishes were fulfilled, maybe I’d wish for someone else. 

[imenoughh]

It seems funny to me, this life. It always seems like one big joke. How many times can Ellie feel like her world is falling apart? How many times will she think she’s hit rock bottom? It puts those breakdowns in perspective. If you think you are at the worst right now, remember all of the other times you thought that. It’s an extreme, and so the worst moment of your life can only happen once. I suppose even if you can honestly say “this is the worst I’ve been through yet”, then it’s still not the worst “of your life”, because much of your life is still to come, therefore more opportunity for bullshit to come. Maybe it’s depressing, but like I said, I think it really puts things in perspective. 

[imenoughh]

There’s a lot I wish I had the guts to say to people. I wish I had the guts to open up to more people about the struggles I'm dealing with. I guess I am afraid that no one will care. I wish I had the guts to tell the people I care about just how much I mean to me. I guess I am afraid that they won’t feel the same way, or that they will think I am being weird or coming on too strong. I wish I could tell the boys and men in my life that I love them all, instead of being afraid that some will take it the wrong way. I guess ultimately I am afraid that the people I tell myself I have such strong connections with don't even care about me at all. It feels unkind almost, to have this insecurity, this deep-rooted fear that no one really cares about me. It feels so unfair to the people like my parents and my friends who show me day in and day out that they do care. Sometimes I care about people so much that I put them above me, I idolize and cherish them so much that I start thinking they shouldn’t care about me as much as I do them, because thats how awesome they are. Sometimes I love other people more than myself, and I tell myself that they should love themselves more than me too because that’s how incredible they are. It’s easy to smile at people you care about, it’s easy to be kind and friendly towards them. But it’s not easy to look them in the eye, be completely vulnerable, and say “I love you”. It’s easy to text friends hearts and I love you’s, it’s harder to do in real life. It’s a funny thing love, you’d think it’s something people could easily spread and proclaim, after all, it is rare that someone says they care about you and you get offended. It’s generally a positive vibe. Then why is it so hard to spread love in a serious manner? I think it’s because love is a really cool thing. It’s a cool thing to feel, and the idea that your feeling of love towards someone might be altered depending upon the response of the person, that’s scary. You want to protect that feeling. You want to believe that you and that person actually do have a connection. You’d rather keep it low-key and to yourself than risk finding out if it is actually real or not. 

Furthermore, once you admit that it is real, you become aware that you could also lose it. If you never say it out loud, if you never really think about how much a person really means to you, it can feel like no big deal whether or not they are in you’re life. You can convince yourself they don’t really matter to you. It doesn't work though. The heart wants what it wants. If you care about someone, you care about them, whether or not you are able to admit it to yourself or them. It’s so funny how we think if we just ignore things, that it will be like they really aren’t there. It’s that feeling, you genuinely believe that you can just ignore some things. But you can’t ignore it forever, and just because you succeed for a bit doesn't mean it’s not still there. It’s so sad when this defence mechanism kicks in and ruins something beautiful. When two people who really care about each other are too afraid to ever tell each other how they feel, too afraid the other doesn't feel the same way, that before they know it they’ve slipped out of each other’s grasp and have lost each other forever simply because neither knew how the other felt. See, I don't think it’s just me. I don't think it’s just me who holds back telling someone how much they mean to me with the fear that they don't feel the same. I think there’s a good chance the people I struggle to say “I love you” to, also have the same problem. It means that I can either never say it to someone, or I can. I can wait for them to say it, but they might never, and not even because they don't feel it, but because just like me they are afraid. What I am saying is that someone needs to step up. We can’t both be waiting around forever. By not saying I love you to someone who also loves me, I am screwing both of us over. I want to say it, and they want to hear it. If I really care, I can say it, and their response shouldn't matter. 

[imenoughh]

I walk this lonely road, the only road that I have ever known.

Patterns keep repeating, change seems unreachable. We are all humans, we are programmed to behave a certain way. I keep thinking this time will be different, they will change, I will change. I keep thinking love and hope is enough. But it’s not, love and hope don’t bring about change. They leave you standing still, ignorantly thinking that by hoping and willing something that it will happen. It keeps coming back to this, I keep on coming back to this same place. It’s what comes when your hope starts to wear out. When you realize, for the millionth time, that you fucked yourself over yet again. That you convinced yourself that you could work with this life, that you could be enough as you, so long as you try a little. Well guess what, some people try their whole goddam lives and never get what they’re after. Trying isn’t shit, and the truth in this is unbearable. What can we do but try? I’m told my depression and suicidal thoughts are a disease, that it’s some horrible lie I am being told. But maybe although horrible, maybe it is really the truth. The truth always comes out, right? Well guess what keeps coming back to me again, and again... I will never be enough. I might be enough, even more than enough for some. But for myself, I will never be enough. My quality of life will never be enough for me. The deep emptiness that’s always stalking me can never be filled. I can try, I can get my hopes up, I can feel “happy” and excited about things, but at the end of the day, that void still remains, unchanged, unaffected by all my desperate efforts.

Sometimes I wish i got more attention for my mental health issues, by doctors and psychiatrists. I sometimes fantasize about going back to the hospital, being cared for day in and day out with little to do. They kept me in check there at least, I knew i wasn’t doing well. I feel like I’ve rushed to hard into recovery, and I am completely brushing aside the depression still prominently remains. I feel so good at times, but I also always feel so close to tears. I’ve gotten better at holding them back, to enjoy a moment and not get lost in past hurts. It doesn’t always work though. And when i get home, alone, sober, I am fully exposed. I have started running again from my feelings as I have done more than once before. It starts slow and subtle, gently urging yourself to push a saddening thought out of your mind. Then you go hangout with your friend when you really want to cancel because you are sad and you need some personal time, but you don’t do that because you made a commitment and you love them. Your decisions become less and less sure, pretty soon you’re just saying”oh well, why not right?”. That’s when you really start to lose yourself again, that’s when you are disrespecting your emotions. When you smother your inner child with the pillow, saying hush you are nothing. “It’s nothing” “It’s nothing” Say it enough times and eventually you’ll have to believe it! Only that’s not true, is it? You can’t stifle your emotions like that, the truth, like it’s said, always comes out. I need help with my marijuana use, I started using it to help me with my recover because my antidepressants were not enough. I didn’t want to get somewhat “addicted” again, I even thought I could just use it until I started feeling better and then stop. But that logic is flawed, because how can I expect to retain the progress I have made while taking away one of its biggest contributors? Do i feel sad again, do I throw myself back into that dark place, or do I continue lying to myself, and feeling good with drugs? It’s not an easy choice. Sure, I could go back to the dark place, and “figure all my shit out”, but have you been in that dark place? Do you know how dam hard it is to think, to “problem solve” in that place? It’s fucking hard. It is the place where all problems lie, and where all problems are created. And things aren’t really that bad right now, I have got plentiful friends and hobbies. But i think eventually my drug use and my feelings are going to catch up with me. I think i am just on a vacation in Las Vegas. Sure it’s great fun now, but when i return home, and the bills come in the mail, I’ll start to question if it was really any fun at all. I don’t know how much more i can take it. I might try again tonight, and dear god i hope i succeed, because if i don’t, i could be in more pain then I have ever been in my whole life.

[imenoughh]

I hate the feeling in my stomach like things could be different like maybe someone does care. I hate the idea that maybe I can get better. I am scared to even try just to get let down again. How can you recover from depression when you feel so helpless? If I am the only one who can save myself, well thats where I say fuck me and shoot me because like hell ill be able to help myself. I am the one who got myself into this mess in the first place. I need help. I need serious help. I need more than a couple pills and therapy once a week and “How are you’s?” from family and friends. I don't know what I need but I know I need more. 

I hate when someone asks “are you okay?” because I say no, no I am not. But then when they offer to talk suddenly I don't know why I am sad and I am unable to talk to people. Maybe the root of my sadness is no reason, its just stupidity and an obsession with feeling this way. Even when I am not feeling so sad I still want to die, I can't stop thinking about it. It’s the one thought that will not leave my head. There isn't always a reason or a feeling attached onto to it, just the thought the impulse the desire to be gone. 

My friends keep on congratulating me for wanting to get better, saying “people don't always even WANT to get better”. I felt weird whenever they said that, but maybe its because they are somewhat wrong. I still want to die. I want to feel better but I don't believe its possible, and I am afraid to put in work that will not pay off. So I’m afraid to even try to get better. In a way I don't want to get better, I want to stay stuck in this place I hate and yet know so well. I am afraid of what lies or doesn't lie beyond. 

[imenoughh]

So I guess no one reads what I write. I don't care about follower count, it would just be nice to know someone maybe cared or related. Oh well. I kindof gave up on this Tumblr account, and everything really. I was in the hospital for a few weeks for attempting. I still want to try again. I thought that maybe if they couldn't help me with my low mood, I thought that when I left the hospital I at least wouldn't still want to die as much. I was so wrong. I feel like the hospital was just a pause button on my life. Now I am back to the same old thing, hating it all just the same. I can’t get out of bed to try and do things to make myself feel better. I feel lazy. The truth is if I could take a pill to die right now I wouldn't, only because I don't want to hurt the people I care about. So I’ll stay on, living this life I hate, contributing very little, just to save people from my pain. I want it to stop. I want the low moods and the low energy to stop. I want to feel joy from something anything, I want to be able to stay awake for an entire 12 hours. But that isn't happening, and it isn't looking like that is going to happen. I keep wanting to talk to my ex, but I know I am better off without him. I feel so lonely and meaningless without him though. He gave me his hand when I was down and now that he's gone I have no way I know of of getting up again. I am on new medication, but I can't say I’m noticing much if any of a difference. I think its helped a bit with my anxiety more than my depression. I wish I had someone to talk to. I wish I had someone who understood. I wish I had someone who could inspire me to get out of this hole, because I sure as hell am my own worst cheerleader. I hate my life as it is, but I have no motivation nor energy to try and change it, and even if I did, I don't think I am capable of truly enjoying anything, so what would be the point even?

I have nothing to say to anyone yet everything to write here. Then I stop writing, which is really sad as its my best form of communication and expression, but I don't even see the point in writing my woes and worries when nothing can be done about them.

[imenoughh]

Solo Friday

It’s Friday night, and all of my friends and many of my peers are at a party. I am at home, with my dog, eating cheesy bread and brownies I ordered. I was invited to the party, but I just am not in the mood. Often my friends can sway my opinions, but when encouraged to come by a few people, I stood my ground. The past few days have been hell. I have depression to begin with, and my boyfriend just broke up with me last weekend. It was somewhat mutual, but had more to do with me not treating him well enough rather than vice versa. It was a real shock to both of us I think that me not loving myself could affect our relationship so much. He was getting tired of getting hurt, and I do not want to inflict any more pain on him. We are going to stay friends, we have such a close bond, and generally do enjoy each other’s company. Anyways, we agreed not to not communicate at all for a week, so that it feels more “real” to the both of us. I knew it would be hard, but I didn't think it would be this hard. Almost every moment that I am not completely distracted by something else, he is there. He is just sitting in a chair, patiently waiting for any moment I can miss him. I miss him so much. It hurts so much. The more I miss him the more I think I am in love with him and am desperate to be with him. But I have to watch these thoughts, because I know I cannot be with him. Maybe in the future, he said, we will be together, but not now. That possibility fills me with light as well as temptation- I want him now. And then I remind myself why we broke up, and why it will be good not only for him, but for me too. Furthermore all of this pain scares me, because it scares me just how much of an impact he can have on me. I fear I may have developed some unhealthy dependance towards him. But maybe this is just a regular hard breakup, and as much as everyone says “never depend at all on others”, I think a bit of dependancy develops in almost any relationship. Simply getting used to seeing someone on a regular basis, and having that company, can be a sort of dependance. Humans are not meant to be completely alone, we all desire relations. Despite this, I have resisted the dangerously strong urges to text him, and am doing my best to stay strong. If I can get past this, which I know I can, then I will be stronger. Everyday I hold my ground and stay sure of the breakup, the bigger I get. Maybe physics don’t apply to emotions, because right now I feel like I am shrinking as well as expanding. I honestly did not mean to go on about my breakup, I am sure it seems so stupid and like not such a big deal to most people. As much as I want to apologize for babbling about my possibly overdramatic feelings, I will not. I am resisting the urge, as I should not have to apologize for my thoughts or feelings. This is how I feel, this is what I have to say, this is my unique story. 

[imenoughh]

New Prescription

I got prescribed Bupropion today, 100mg. I am hoping it will work better than Fluoxetine. I’ve been feeling very anti-medication the past month. The month before, I wanted to get prescribed any medications I could get my hands on, but I was not too successful in acquiring them, and those that I did get prescribed did not help. And from this I lost hope in medication to make me feel better, or at least, to actually BE better. I have been crying a lot more the past 3 weeks that I have been off of my medication. I have had more panic attacks, and feeling not just depressed but episodes of feeling completely out of control. My school counsellor assertively said she thought that I should get back on my medication immediately, and I guess I finally was able to acknowledge that I have been worse since being off of my medication and agreed to her proposal. I went to see my GP today, and had the best appointment with him of my life. I was able to communicate how I was feeling, and what I thought I needed. He provided me with multiple options for my depression. One of the options which I chose was Drug Based Therapy (DBT), and I was able to speak up to him that I wanted to try a different medication. Fluoxetine is better than nothing, but the improvement while there is slight. I feel awful right now, and on Fluoxetine I feel less awful, but aweful nonetheless. I suppose I assume too much about people’s reactions, because I was happily taken aback by his response. He fully supported my concerns, and suggested Bupropion. I also suggested that possible a mood stabilizer would help, and he did not disregard this statement. He said that mood stabilizers like Lithium were very potent, and he did not yet think this was necessary. I fully understand his concern, maybe it is too much for even me. I said that I was feeling so down that I thought I might need something very potent, and he listened and said I could be right. He did not prescribe me a mood stabilizer as well, but I feel hopeful that if that is something I do genuinely need, that he will be supportive and get me what I need to feel better.

[imenoughh]

No Hugs Tonight

***NOTE: this is from yesterday night, my family turns off our internet at 11pm each night so that is why I was not able to post it.

Hey. It’s a bad night right now. I don’t know why, I made popcorn and watched a movie with my mom, actually enjoyed myself a little. But then I came down to my room to get ready for bed, she came down to say goodnight and give me a hug, and I instantly got so triggered. She said “I thought you said you wanted more hugs, because they make you feel good”. I just said “I don’t know, I don’t feel like one right now sorry”. Her being too close to me has been setting me off a lot lately. I believe it is because I am in a generally fragile state, and also because I don't feel safe so close to her. She hit me exactly two weeks ago. And I know it’s dumb because this has only happened one other time in my life (she has grabbed me many times and shoved me against a wall once), I am not a victim of physical child abuse. But I can't shake it. I guess I am not sure if I want to either. That night was traumatizing. I do not trust her, I do not trust either of my parents. I am really scared. Worse more is I feel as if my feelings are not justified, because they could be being affected by me having gone off of my meds abruptly. They likely are. I just feel like this is how I really feel. Maybe it is not right, but the drug free real me, this is how she feels. I think that matters. I don't think I should have to be drugged and numb in order to please those around me. I think I should be allowed to think and feel in a way that’s unique to me. We all have different perspectives, varying levels of sensitivity. Are we not all supposed to respect that? I feel a lot calmer after writing this, which is what I was hoping for but not actually expecting. I was about to cut before I realized I needed to post for today. Specifically, was trying to work up the courage to cut myself so deep I ended up in the hospital. When I feel as overwhelmed as I did, I cannot control my thoughts. I wanted to cut, but then I am trying to love myself more. However I was refusing to do any other positive self-care activities. They were definite “no’s” in my mind and would do absolutely nothing to help me. I was angered at the mere thought if trivial self-love routines like meditation. So in order to help myself get better and still cut, I decided I would cut myself so dangerously that I would need to immediately go to the hospital. There I would be checked in, given emergency care, and taken  s e r i o u s l y . I need help, and I am scared it is not happening fast enough. If physical pain were not so painful, I know I would be gone by now. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I am a huge pussy when it comes to hurting myself so violently that I might die. Regular cuts, fine. Bruises, ya. But broken bones and deep ass cuts, nope.

[imenoughh]

[imenoughh]

[imenoughh]