i drank and said i’d meet my abuser and now i highkey want to die
either tomorrow or the next day
fuck.
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@possum-teeth
i drank and said i’d meet my abuser and now i highkey want to die
either tomorrow or the next day
fuck.
So apparently my workplace’s wifi has games blocked, so I can’t go on neopets, but i can go on tumblr. where i can randomly happen upon pictures of dicks.
sounds about right.
i understand when ur 13 and u just realized u have a mental illness and ur so relieved to know there are other ppl going thru the same thing as u, its easy to slip into the idea that your newly labeled thoughts and behaviors are normal and okay.
they are not. suicidal thoughts arent normal. violent impulses arent normal. delusions and hallucinations arent normal.
now that you have a name for this behavior you need to seek help. dont let tumblr trick you into thinking unhealthy coping mechanisms are the only ways to deal with your mental illness. dont let it fester, dont let it worsen. seek as much help as you can. actively try to better yourself.
real fucking talk for a moment, i’m am fucking terrified of hospitals, like being a fucking patient anyway. i’ll visit people no fucking problem but other than that, no.
i’m terrified of needles, and that is a fucking given in a hopital setting. And a resistance to pain meds, notably Morphine, runs in my family. And i know with certainty I have it, when i had leg surgery I wanted to fucking die after. A fucking stranger or figment of my imagination, im not sure, had to try to calm me down after surgery.
Which i assumed i could explain the next time i need some sort of surgery, but I’ve seen what happens when you do that. My grandmother needed multiple surgeries and she was suffering in the weeks she was there. the morphine would not work and they didn’t take her seriously and they didn’t take my father seriously when he told them. She’s such a strong woman and i’d never seen her cry in my entire life before that hospital stay.
I just know i am never taken seriously and i’m sure the trend will continue, even if i’m no longer “to young for_____” doctors always assume the worst of me tbh. obviously i’m a fucking drug addict, that’s why morphine doesn’t work, they don’t fucking ask me if i drink or smoke, they ask how much i do. fuck that bullshit.
new media trend!!!!!!
encouraging mentally ill kids to get help instead of making them think it’s cool to not get any
these puppies believe in you, and you should too
these puppers really want to see how far my emotions go ‘cause rn I’m dying from happiness
Emergency cleaning: Unfuck your whole house in the shortest time possible
So, your landlord/parents/home inspector/favorite movie star is dropping by, and your place is a disaster. You don’t have much time to clean it up. You’re in emergency mode. Let’s get started.
Don’t panic. Panic leads to fear, fear leads to procrastination, procrastination leads to the dark side. You can do this, but you have to stay calm.
Unlike maintenance cleaning, we’re not looking to completely unfuck one space at a time. Instead, we want to decrease the overall mess in stages, spread evenly across the whole area that we’re concerned about. If you think your home is at Level 10 filth, we want to bring the whole thing down to a Level 9, and then down from there. One really clean spot in an otherwise messy home is not going to be helpful here.
Get prepared. You’ll want to shut the computer down (or turn the modem off if you need your computer to play music). Trust me. Get your music going. Gather up trash bags, your vacuum and mop, some rags or paper towel, sponges, and other cleaning supplies. Use what you have on hand. Don’t get distracted running to the store and spending an hour browsing cleaning supplies. A multi-purpose cleaning concentrate or a jug of vinegar will be just fine.
Breaks are very important. Depending on your time constraints, work in 20/10s (20 minutes working, 10-minute break) or 45/15s. But take breaks because otherwise you’re marathoning, and marathon cleaning is no one’s friend. Keep hydrated, don’t forget to eat, and check in with yourself frequently to make sure you’re physically doing OK.
Make your bed. This will be your home base if you get overwhelmed or need somewhere clear to take a break.
Start with the garbage. Going from room to room, throw out anything that is obvious trash. Once you fill a bag, take it out. Repeat as many times as necessary.
Move on to dishes. Gather the dishes from all over your house and bring them to the kitchen. If you can, start them soaking in a sink of hot, soapy water or start loading the dishwasher. After the dishes are all in one place, spend one 20/10 getting started getting them under control.
Now it’s time for your flat surfaces. Countertops, tables, dresser tops, etc. Clear them off and wipe them down. Don’t get distracted in too much sorting and organizing. We’re in crisis mode here. There will be time to get in-depth once this is all done. The same applies to cabinets and closets. Unless you have reason to believe people will be opening closed doors, leave these alone for now.
Attack the floordrobe and shoe pile. Get your clothes either put away or in the hamper. Start a load of laundry if you need to, but keep in mind that laundry and dishes have three steps: wash, dry, and put it away, goddammit!
Get random stuff up off the floors. If something is trash-worthy, throw it away now rather than just move it around a bunch of times. Otherwise, put stuff where it belongs.
Take another 20/10 or 45/15 to catch up on more dishes, if needed.
Head into the bathroom. Pour some cleaner in the toilet bowl, fill the sink with hot water and cleaner, and either spray the tub and shower with cleaner, or fill the tub up with some hot water and add cleaner and let it soak. Put everything away that’s out and shouldn’t be, clean the mirror, counters, and toilet seat. Sweep or dry mop the floor. Wipe down the sink and tub/shower, and give the toilet bowl a scrub. Mop the floor.
Sweep and mop the kitchen floor.
Vacuum everything you can, and sweep everything you can’t.
Walk outside of your house (don’t lock yourself out, please). Walk back in and see what catches your eye first. Go and deal with that.
If you’re being inspected or your landlord is coming in for repairs, spend time on whatever area they’ll be focusing on.
Give the whole place one more once-over and pay attention to anything you’ve missed so far.
It’s an old trick, but if your place is a little funky-smelling, put a pan of water on the stove on low heat and add some citrus or cinnamon or vanilla. Don’t leave it unattended or forget about it.
Take a shower, put on something clean, and eat something.
You can do this. It’s overwhelming, yes, but it is not impossible. You just need to do it. You have a list. You have directions. You have a whole bunch of Internet strangers who have been there before and who are cheering you on. You can do this, but you need to get started.
Why are you still here? GO. START. NOW.
the number of times in my past that I desperately wanted/needed someone to sit me down and tell me this stuff. I will never get back the hours and hours lost to headless-chicken mode, but it’s nice to know that in the last year I’ve learned so many coping mechanisms :D
I don’t think people realize how much strength it takes to pull your own self out of an anxiety attack or a panic attack. So if you’ve done that today or any day, I’m proud of you.
tag yaself‼️
Note to self and anyone else who needs this reminder:
being triggered, including visibly triggered, does not make you a bad or weak person
it’s a serious issue, not a joke or something you decided to do
it doesn’t mean you’re too dramatic
it’s natural to be upset about something that is painful for you
okay, i’d just like to say it at least once on here, since i really don’t think i’ve said it before but who really knows i have terrible memory problems.
But really I hate when mental illness is glorified, as i’m sure many of us do on here.
This isn’t some sort of special experience that was worth it in the end, whatever that end may be, maybe it’ll still end in death, i’m not sure yet. And that’s just it, it isn’t over and I, quite frankly, don’t know if it will ever be.
I hate that i know so many people both online and in real life who just play the victim all the time and try to one-up each other on who has it worse. I hate that people see the long since healed scars running up my wrist and don’t stare in disgust but tell me that oh everything will be okay in the end, they made it through it too, and they just know I can too. news flash, i haven’t hurt myself in three years but shit you’re fucking reminding me that i fucking want to. butt out of shit that doesn’t involve you. I am not some child that needs reassuring that life is a good thing. in fact i’m older than most the people that choose to talk to me about that shit.
I just don’t understand the appeal to those who want to play the victim, If i could choose to not have these illnesses, i’d have gotten rid of them long ago. I wouldn’t be suffering through panic attack after panic attack day after day while my doctors refuse to take my anxiety seriously and refuse to prescribe anything for it even though it’s fucked over my chances for getting a new job time and time again. I wouldn’t be stuck in my house, shaking, unable to breathe under my covers on a sunny day when i’d much rather be outside being social. I wouldn’t be suffering from migraines due to the game of fucking antidepressant roulette my doctors are playing with me. My heart wouldn’t leap out of my fucking chest at every loud noise. the sound of a baby crying wouldn’t fling me back 7 years ago, groups of teenage boys wouldn’t put me back 14 years. i wouldn’t be so terrified of women my mother’s age. I wouldn’t freeze up every time someone tries to speak to me. I would not panic and throw up when cars drive to close to me, or god forbid drive over a water bottle or other noisy trash. My hands would not be shaking right now. I’d be able to live life with dissociating every fucking day. If i could choose to be okay I’d be able to hold eye contact with people without fucking crying.
And not only that, if it wasn’t enough that my life and behavior is fucked, I easily owe more than a thousand in medical bills right now. mostly for therapy. I cannot get a good job due to this shit which is making it near impossible to pay. and i can only hope my body will not give up on me, my fucking leg was hurt in an accident years ago and turns out the damage was far more extensive than anyone really expected. it led to a shorter leg, which has caused back problems and pain on a day to day basis. not only that, but i do believe it can lead to scoliosis and i would need multiple surgeries to fix shit probably. I’m currently doing y best to avoid this by placing extra support in the shoe of my shorter leg,which has led to less back spasms. i’ll only have maybe one or two a year now, as opposed to the once a month or two before that.
But no, this is such a special life experience that has taught me so fucking much.
I’m so fucking tired.
I am not about glorifying this shit. This blog is basically a secondary journal that i can open anywhere i need to.
Friendly reminder that Vincent van Gogh willingly checked himself into an asylum so that he could get better, resulting in him creating some of the most iconic paintings of his entire career, done in the asylum, when he was being treated 24/7, because he finally didn’t have to struggle with his demons and could instead focus on his muse, WHICH WERE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS!
Remember this little insignificant painting?
How about this one?
Check this one out:
All of these and more were painted in the asylum when he was receiving treatment for his mental illnesses and I know I just said that but I said it again and I’m saying it a third time until you dramatic abled assholes understand!
VINCENT VAN GOGH
- KNEW THAT HE WAS MENTALLY ILL
- WANTED TO CHANGE THAT
- WENT TO AN ASYLUM
- GOT THE HELP HE NEEDED
- PAINTED SOME ICONIC MASTERPIECES AS A RESULT!
SO DON’T YOU DARE COME OUT HERE WITH THIS, “I WISH I WAS DEPRESSED SO I COULD BE AS CREATIVE AS VAN GOGH” BULLSHIT BECAUSE EVEN HE KNEW THAT HIS DEMONS WERE HARMING HIS WORK, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, HIS HEALTH, AND HE DID EVERYTHING WITHIN HIS POWER TO FIGHT THEM EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HIS LIFE, UNTIL THEY ENDED UP WINNING!
This is also incredibly important for any creative persons dealing with mental illness, and their parents.
Receiving mental help improves your craft, not hurt it. Before getting put on medication for the first time to treat my mental illnesses, my mom expressed to me how she’s worried about my getting treatment because of my art. Regardless, your mental health should be more important anyway, but, honestly, it’s a lot harder to produce good art when you struggle getting out of bed, let alone creating masterpieces. When you’re in more health, improving your craft comes much easier!
Personally I think the most beautifull painting of him was this one:
He made it when he heard about the birth of his nephew who was named after him. Still in the asylum but really happy for his brother! “How glad I was when the news came… I should have greatly preferred him to call the boy after Father, of whom I have been thinking so much these days, instead of after me; but seeing it has now been done, I started right away to make a picture for him, to hang in their bedroom, big branches of white almond blossom against a blue sky.”
Oh I have sucb rants about how “good” art comes while suffering.
No.
look at me.
The idea of the “suffering artist” comes from bunch of alcholic, drug abusing, womanizers trying to justify their bad life choices as some sort of artistic angst.
IT IS 100% BULLSHIT
Take your meds, get your therapy, be happy, and live life
The art will be there.
I finally fucking called her She's so fucking fake She wants to meet for lunch some time in mid december I can already feel the impending anxiety attacks Shes gonna pretend its all me that did wrong if shes being stupid Otherwise she'll pretend nothing happened I'm not going to confront her tho, im only going for my brother. If i can just talk vaguely about my life for the past 2 years, it should be fine
types of dissociation:
existing but a little to the left
am i crossing my eyes or is everything just blurry?
clipped right thru the floorboards
what the fuck is a “body”
i have too many bodies at once and they’re trying to start a fight club. how many arms are humans supposed to have again?
floam
sounds fake but ok
pick two: harsh noise, dial up tone, cantina theme [10 hour version]
360 no scope
the atmosphere is lighting me on fire very, very slowly.
someone: “wow! you handled that stressful situation so well! so cool and competent!” me, unaware that anything happened: “i what now”
*forgets to breathe for 5 hours*
feel free 2 add ur own
thats my friend arm i think but what if its actually my arm
*liifts leggy real high* what if my brain is actually in my leg
- “wait what did i just say i wasn’t listening” - didn’t i have emotions once - walking into objects because if you’re not real you can’t interact with objects on this plane of existence - the sudden realization that you’ve had a thought but it’s gone, too late
[kickflip] what do you mean by “consequences” haha
im pretty sure i was in my room but i blinked and now im not. was i ever in my room. did i teleport. unclear. ???
[staring at own hands] awhat are those
for some reaosn my knees feel large. whats up with tht
someone made a noise and it displeased me so now my soul has left my mortal body and projected itself down the hall
panic attack but slowed down to ¼ speed
Haha no one can say i don't fucking love my brother, i'm planning to meet up with my fucking abuser so i can see him. Just fuck me up
I just want to bash my fucking head into a wall until i fucking bleed and then keep going
mental illness in a nutshell
literally anyone: are you ok?
me: you mean like your standards ok or my standards ok