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January 23rd. I feel alive. I don’t have all the answers. A proper job. A poly relationship. I actually. Adore someone. Someone else. Someone I know you’d approve of. Cuz damn he fine. And chasing dreams that ... may happen... and you’d be so proud. I even have a best friend to tell me how proud they are of me. So I hear it just like you always told me. I love you Nate. I’ll never stop crying though. I thought one day. Not gonna happen. But look at this cute picture of Andy and I!

I also remembered that night we started over. After the major end fight. After me being in my spiral, trying to break out desperately but not having the tools or people to help do it. I’m so sorry. We started over and then you still died. I know it was on your good days. Where you thought maybe you wouldn’t die. I’m sad that only kept you going for 3 more years. I wish I could have given you more.

#dystopiarising

aroseforno-one-deactivated20221

sorry i forgot to reply i dont feel fucking alive

yourplayersaidwhat

“Other than the looming threat of death it’s been fun.”

—

11 months.

I’ve been documenting my journey this year without Nate. I can confidently say with therapy once/twice a week for the past 8 months I’ve grown and become stronger in my mental fortitude. I’ve gone days/weeks without a single panic or ptsd episode before. However; 11 months in and I still get PTSD attacks, flashbacks, I still miss him like it was yesterday. The bad nights can also bring up old traumas that he helped me work through. In the moment it’s all back to square one. Helping me see my own self worth, know what love really felt like, calming my brain with just a touch. It’s different now, missing him. I feel like it will always change. He will grow and evolve with me and my grief for the rest of my life.

So what do you do, when it’s 5am, your brain feels like the speed force is running around inside of it. I jumped to the shower. I lit every candle I could find, incense, essential oils in the tub, in the burners. Background music and in the shower you go. You take your time, stop, breath, cry, shave? Yeah I guess. You bring a bottle of cold water with you because staying hydrated is important. You remember that, even if you don’t want to do it. Routine.

I wanted to take a bath.

Just lay down, soak my back in hot water, it would feel good. So I do. I have a million bath bombs I haven’t used in months. It goes well until the soft voices start to whisper “god it could not have been comfortable sitting like that...”

Well there goes the bath idea. Splash water on your face, breath deep, cry, get up. Dear PTSD, I miss baths, please can I just take one in peace.

Eventually you get your comfiest clothes or lack there of on. Lay in bed, smelling amazing. Mind a little calmer now and write it all out. You’ve already faced the reality that sleep isn’t happening tonight.

Some days are just like this... I hope some day I have someone that I can go through this with. Helps me deal with the trauma in my head but still loves me anyway. My light is too bright, one day I want to blind the sun. I won’t let trying nights like this change my goal. For him, because he wanted me to go on. Also for me, because I don’t want to stop living yet.

But god I miss you.

#love #personal #starfire #ptsd #mental health #mental illness #positive mental attitude #fight #stay

I miss you..:

depression | self harm /-hate | suicide | advice blog

sounddog

I hate myself for not seeing it.

sonic-the-sketchhog-blog

“His method of suicide prevention: her.”

— 6-Word Story #97 (via writingsforwinter)

sounddog

So what happens when I find posts like this that you reblogged. I’m still supposed to think I couldn’t have stopped you?

The war of 2018...

I keep seeing this meme of people saying 2018 is almost over, and all I have to say is what the fuck was that. To that... all I can think to say is it was a war.

Like the revolutionary war we decided it was time to be ourselves. To branch out, give some TLC and see doctors. I went to therapy, well tried to find multiple doctors. I was in the process of fixing my medical things that were needed. You said you were doing the same. The war started when you decided to let me take America, and you would be France. Inner conflict started pushing me away, the lies kept me from you and then you died. First cannon.

The months to come in the war we would lose more people. Some by suicide, natural causes, accidents... every number dimming out light more and more. The loses have taken such a toll on our army that we’ve had to rest. We brought in the troops to spend some time with their loved ones. Some became cold, numb to the feeling now. Death just follows us sometimes.

There was a truce I will call LARP, because it’s the only thing that helped when we realized there was no winning this year. This grew our army, support groups, friendships... It made us stronger when we were at our weakest. It may be what helped us survive the sure failure of the war.

This year has brought me several deaths, destroyed relationships that were cemented in the ground, PTSD, and an endless supply of grief. But every failed war has some upsides.

We go into 2019 with the most amazing support group I could have asked for. I wouldn’t have actually survived the war if it wasn’t for them being there every step of the way. After war, you live in a new reality, you make it home as much as possible; however, you never forget your true home and who was in it. I will keep your memory alive in every new reality I go into. But there’s the key thing, I will go into. I will keep going, surviving, trying. If only to help others do the same thing, because we aren’t going to lose the next war. I refuse.

I haven’t done this in a while... I’ve been okay. I mean I have the best friends in the entire world watching my back. I have a support system that some people dream about when dealing with grief. I really don’t know if I would have survived the last 8 months without them. In fact, I can 100% say I’d probably be in a psych ward to this day if I didn’t have them. Because I guarantee my suicide attempt wouldn’t work, Nate said it was too hard for me to do. I believe him... he is the strongest person I know and he did it the worst way possible. With that said... I have bad insomnia a lot of the time. I lay in bed for hours scouring the internet for something to get my mind as far away as possible. Every time I look at the clock and see it’s 4 in the morning I think.. “Just 10 more hours until I can go to work.” Right now work is the only thing keeping my mind grounded. It’s the only thing that is tangible, set schedule, can’t back out now because I want to be reliable. It’s not that I truly care about a pizza chain, anyone could do what I do. I have PTSD. Going means that I’m not breaking my promise of showing up to work. Covering for people means that I help them not break their promise to the store by no one being there. Being at work means I don’t have to be in my actual reality for long periods of time. When I finally sleep... I never want to wake up. It’s always a few hours, never a long sleep. But I’ll stay in bed for 14 hours straight looking at nothing and call myself “well rested”. I have depression. That means if my mind doesn’t want me to live today, I pretend the day doesn’t exist. I hate my depression more than my PTSD. I know my depression, I’ve had it for a lot longer. I know when I need to call my best friend and tell her to get me out of bed. I know when I need someone to help me. Lately, it’s been a lot. I’ve exhausted my friends, haven’t given back enough energy to them. Honestly, I don’t know how. My therapist said I need to write a list of things I feel like I’m fucking up. Start low priority and work my way up to the things that are the hardest. So I did that, well started it. Eight months since you left, and my life still feels like it’s in chaos. So I ramble, at 4 in the morning, because smoking weed doesn’t help much anymore. At least not this back ally shit I’ve been getting recently. I’ve contemplated taking the drugs the psychiatrist wanted to give me. Every time it ends the same way. I can’t take them, not even the sleeping ones. I’d be asleep for weeks with one pill, even a fraction of it and I’m down for days. My therapist said “It feels like you’re starting back at square one... but you’re not... are you?... Are you screaming out to him wanting to know why? Are you still thinking 24/7 about the reasons he gave you?”.... No.... I’m not doing that anymore... I have accepted his answers in the notes he left me. I understand it back and forth, because I’ve picked it apart more times then I can truly even remember. But some nights, at 4 in the morning, I grip my chest because my heart hurts so bad. My eyes will be swollen shut from the tears that won’t stop. I start looking into alternative tissues because I am probably killing the environment with how many I am using. But I take a selfie, put on some war paint, looks that hot mess kinda cute. Something I would have sent you. Like the ones you would send me. Sometimes the crying stops for 5-10 minutes at a time when I do that. My heart doesn’t feel like it’s twisting in itself. It’s like the eye of the storm. You grab some more supplies (tissues, water, snacks, my cat) bunker down and get ready for the next wave. “It’s better this way, it’s better to suffer these nights then die.” You say that over, and over, and over, and over again. Hoping one day you might lie to yourself so much you think it’s true. The reality is... I can push people away... I can lie to them and they would think nothing was wrong... I can do exactly what you did. Scary part is I’d pull it off too. Something inside of me doesn’t want to stop fighting though... And I think that makes me stronger than you. I never saw myself as the stronger one... I was always so emotionally weak, flimsy on decisions and scared of the future. You knew, you knew your future, who you are, what you wanted. So when you wanted death... you set the date and got it. The only selfish act you’ve ever done was the most permanent. I am selfish, I always have been more than you. So I want to keep life, to see what happens in it like a movie. I am not selfish enough to make Amanda go through what I am going through. It wouldn’t be peace for me, if I killed myself. No one would be able to say “she’s not in pain anymore, she’s in a better place.” Because even though yes, I’d be with you, that is so much better. My soul would still ache for what I did to them. I feel you, because I know yours does too. I just always had more compassion and empathy then you... empaths... sigh... I am actively living with the thought of wanting to die. Your body starts to exhaust itself around 6-7 in the morning. I’ll finally sleep, not because I am choosing to, but because I had to. I don’t see a future where this doesn’t repeat. Even when I am living with my best friend, in the house we built that is the safest place in the world for me. I will still, be here, at 5 in the morning writing. No matter where I was, how far I have come, or will go, these nights negate it all if I don’t survive them. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to not have to fight a few times a week to keep living. I wonder what those people have in their life that causes them emotional harm. I wonder if I could help them so they get a peace they didn’t know was right outside their window. I know not everything would be solved if you were here. But I miss you like hell. Your best friend misses you, our cats, your mother.... we won’t ever stop missing you. I guess I’ll end this one here, I am sure I have rambled enough for one post. Now to try very hard not to look at photos, song playlists, old posts and writings... I doubt I’ll succeed at that. But I’m trying.

#suicide #starfire #death #depression #ptsd #mental health #mental illness #personal #rambling #emotions #imtrying

I always think it’s crazy when a band I listen to comes out with a song that perfectly is me right now. Because... I dream of you quite often. And it hurts most times. Sometimes it doesn’t. It has been a while since I wrote down some things in my head. I’ve been going to therapy. Trying to deal with all this shit that has been going on lately. But I guess I am reverting back to my normal self of not feeling. I thought I feel too much. But now I remember the pain I was blocking out. I feel a glimpse of that tonight. I normally smoke to numb the pain, but I am out tonight. So no medication.. and I want to cut so bad. I want to just do something. I’ve had a panic attack all day, and everything I do is tearing down that wall I started to slather together out of mud and sticks. But it’s starting to rain again. And I don’t have my normal tarps to hold it all together still. I thought I was doing better. My suicidal idealizations weren’t happening as much as before. I thought I had a grip on it all. But I’ve thought of dying so much today, it just keeps pushing, it never leaves my first thoughts. Fuck I just want this to get easier not feel like I’m just fucking existing.

People really need to start understanding that someone just "reaching out to talk" doesn't stop them from wanting to die. Even if they reached out to you to talk, they would have still died.

#suicide #prevention #awareness #doesitevenhelp #starfire

3rd and 4th

It's exhausting hating a week of the month so much. You see it this week and your heart sinks. One month, Two months, Three... I'm told I'll stop counting eventually.

#starfire #dontgo #suicide

Good days bring the worst lows.

It’s been slowly occurring to me that I have good days. In fact, I’ve had a fantastic weekend with my best friend. We really had such a relaxing and just genuinely good time. We saw her little sister preform in a chorus today at an art fair. I stayed in the sun and let it burn me for a while, but it was good. I couldn’t feel my sadness for a few hours. And it happens some days... where I forget I have a lingering sadness and I actually feel apart of life. When the day is over, you sit and relax, maybe reflect on the day... but that’s where it gets me. It’s like a slow rolling fog. Like my brain started to catch up with itself screaming that I’m now going to be alone. You flood my mind like the dam was struck and my heart cascades against it’s cage. And you sit there. On the verge of tears, looking around trying to grab anything. “What do normal people do, what do I do alone, right now, how do I stop this again?” But you can’t. So you get on your computer and try to escape it again. But you don’t. You rationalize in your head that your friend needs space, they can’t always be with you. You are draining them of everything they happily try and provide. Get through this. So you sit on your bed, put on a movie, get a drink, a smoke, and you wait. The low creeps up around your blanket. All the while knowing it’s about to smother you. Half your brain saying to fight it, you don’t want to go back. Half your brain saying to give up, there is no escaping it, it will come later anyway. You fight while watching some meaningless thing on netflix you can never remember the name of. Until you get a call, or a text, saying “hey come out!” You hope your better half can fight for you to get back up. Sometimes you keep yourself down. However, it never fails, to always come at the end of the best days, because you’re not here to end the day with me.