I did something today and truthfully I am actually a little scared to type it out on here. We all make mistakes but it can be hard when the mistake is something you want. There are a lot of words to express how I feel yet I find myself speechless right now because I know what I have done. Today I did something that I never thought I would do, something I never thought would even be a thought in my mind. How do I pick myself back up from here? How do I fix this mistake when everyday the suspense of the mistake grows? I admit that I self harm, and it is not something I am ashamed of. Its frustrating and hard to explain and talk about sometimes, yes, but I am not ashamed of it. What I have done today, I am ashamed of and I deserve to be. I messed up and now I am stuck having to figure out how to pick up the pieces. Today I was 18 days with no self harm.

Today I disappointed myself in ways I can’t even explain. Today I self harmed however, that’s not what I am upset about. I am upset because I self harmed at someone else’s house, I let others down instead of just myself. I thought about making a different choice but in the end I made the decision not to stay safe. How do I come back from something like this? I really messed up. Damn.

5/15/18 (from February 17th)

I’ve never understood why I am more scared to be called a disappointment than worthless. Maybe because being worthless only impacts me, whereas being a disappointment can hurt others. After all, I care a lot more about others than I do myself, which is something I am still trying to balance out.

I have gone two months and two weeks without self harm. Being able to say that I have gone this far with no self harm makes me beyond proud of myself. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to though. The urge to self harm gets stronger and stronger each night and every night I have a anxiety attack because I’m scared one night I will cut and it will be the worst I have ever done. I’m not scared that I will do it to the point something bad could happen, but I do worry that someday I will cut and I will actually need stitches. I think i’m even more scared of feeling like a disappointment in my own eyes than cutting too deep on accident. I don’t want to disappoint myself and have to said that I didn’t make it three months. I just want to continue feeling proud.

I have felt like a disappointment my entire life, so I guess that’s probably why I am so scared to be seen as a disappointment now. I want to go as long as I possibly can without feeling like a disappointment, because it feels pretty dang good being proud of myself.

On a completely different topic, this memory keeps coming up and I don’t really know why. I don’t think it would bother me as much, except that it is the memory of the first time I attempted suicide. I’ve never really forgotten it but it usually doesn’t keep coming up. The memory sucks, but what its also making me remember is some of the things that happened when I was with my grandma. Both good and bad. I remember when I was younger and my grandma would get home from delivering news papers and she would sit on the front porch waiting for me to get there. We would usually sit outside for a few hours, and I actually enjoyed that most of the time. I had a iPod when I was in junior high and I remember getting to grandmas house and sitting on the front porch with her, and we were both listening to all of the birds that were in the tree in the front yard. Grandma got the idea that maybe if we played Lady Gaga as loud as we could, maybe the birds would chirp to it. It still makes me laugh remembering that, it was one of those times that I forgot everything that was bothering me and could just laugh. I wish it was always like that, but most of the time it wasn’t. Most of the time, there was screaming and fear. I wish I could go back and change it, because when she was nice, I loved spending time with her. I have moments where it still seems like it isn’t real that grandma passed three years ago. There are times when it feel like what happened when I was younger wasn’t real either. It feels like it wasn’t real and wasn’t that bad the majority of the time to be honest. I wish I could understand how bad things really were when I was younger, so the times when I feel like I can actually understand what happened clearly are somewhat nice to have.

5/15/18 (from March 15th)

This week has been, well…. interesting. It wasn’t necessarily bad, I guess I just struggled a lot this week. I don’t know quite what is going on though. This week I haven’t been very numb (at least I don’t think), but I still have been really suicidal. I’m not sure why that is, and it’s not like my week was bad either, actually, it was pretty good for the most part, so I don’t know what could have triggered this to happen. It’s frustrating though, because right when you think that things are going good, they get bad again. Is this gonna always be what it’s like? I have never wanted to live, heck, I wished that I was never born, so why would I want to live like this? I don’t. I don’t know who to say my feelings right now other than being completely honest, I don’t want to live. I want to attempt suicide. That’s never something that someone wants to admit, but it’s something that I have to be completely honest about. On Monday night me and Rebecca watched the movie Irreplaceable You. It was an amazing story, but very sad. It was filled with cancer and death, and showed you everything that happened along the way. After watching it I was in tears, and this is what I sent to a close friend of mine:

“I don’t want to die. I really don’t want to die because I don’t want to hurt the people who have supported me and loved me. I don’t want to be gone I don’t want to fucking die. Yet I’m scared I will because I’m scared that I will end up doing something or fucking up and dying because of suicide or a car accident or anything. I don’t fuckin want depression to win and I’m scared it will. I really don’t want to die 😭”

Her response was immediate concern, followed by her asking if she could drive me to the hospital. As you can guess, my answer was no. I am not going to the hospital because I am strong and I need to deal with this. Why could I deal with this for 18 years of my life and get through but now that I’m feeling it again after feeling somewhat okay for a while, is it that I am struggling so badly. What is wrong with me? Everyone gives me the normal answer of “there is nothing wrong with you hun” however, I see much different. I sit in bed every night trying to fight the fact that I just want to attempt suicide, or self harm at a minimum. I sit in bed at night and try to understand my own brain which is somewhat impossible to understand. Does everyone see the world like this? Does everyone feel like their own self is being covered by the screams of their mental illnesses? Does anyone understand any of this? I feel like I’m speaking


I came out as bisexual in December of 2016. When I came out it was one of the most difficult things to process and accept, and I tried to deny it every chance I got. I have slowly come to terms with it and now I am proud of it because it is part of who I am. It is no different than being straight, its just who I love, it doesn’t make me any different than anyone else. Unfortunately, many people don’t share those same views and believe that anyone in the LGBTQ+ community should be deported or shamed. People can be beyond rude to anyone in our community and it is hurtful beyond belief. What is even more hurtful is when people use “Gay” as an insult, or as a joke. Saying “thats so gay” is somewhat offensive, saying “stop being so gay” is hurtful, saying “I have a gay friend so” or “I look so gay” is hurtful. Saying “Faggot” is the most offensive thing to me and I do not want anyone in my life who says that. Saying Gay isn’t a bad thing when you don’t mean it as an insult or joke or use it to shame us. There is no reason that the LGBTQ+ community should be targeted for being ourselves. If you use any LGBTQ+ term as an insult or joke, please stop. Please think before you speak because what you say can hurt.

Educate yourself.


Trying to figure out how to live. It sounds easier than being done, much easier. I’ve always struggled with depression and some would think I am so used to it that it wouldn’t affect me now, but it does. I have self harmed since my freshman year of high school and I haven’t fully figured out how to stop since. There has been times that I have been able to go months without it and other times I could only go a day. I’m very good at being strong, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times I am weak.

This past week my depression was hitting me much harder than usual, most likely from all of the stress easter put on me. I wasn’t prepared to feel this down for this long of a time. There are usually random days I feel depression like it is a piece of concrete falling on top of me, but this time the concrete laid on me for over a week while I was barely able to hold it up so it wouldn’t crush me. Every day I went without self harm was a wonderful day and I was proud of accomplishing no self harm even while being so depressed. Then Saturday came, and I couldn’t hold the concrete up anymore. I slept a total of 14 hours Friday night and Saturday I woke up and didn’t move, I just laid there in bed the entire day and wasn’t sure I would ever actually leave my bed that day. Around 4pm I finally got out of bed and went into the living room and laid with my dog until 10pm. My dog is my little lifeline and just petting him or even being next to him makes me feel okay and safe. At 10pm I went back into my room, and that was my biggest mistake.

By 10:20pm I was sitting on the floor looking at 1200mg of Gabapentin, 4mg Xanax, and 30mg Temazepam. This might not sound like much, but I’m only prescribed 400mg Gabapentin twice a day, 0.5mg of Xanax as needed, and 15mg of Temazepam. I sat on the floor and looked at what I had in my hand trying to think about what this could possibly do to me. My goal wasn’t to overdose or attempt suicide, but I wanted the pain in my head to be replaced my physical pain. I took them and them got into my bed and realized what I did, and realized I might have actually screwed up big this time. I was texting a friend and the last thing I wanted to do was tell anyone who had the authority to make me go to the hospital, but my friend wasn’t giving me a option at that point. I sent the text to my therapist at 12:26am and was praying that she was asleep and luckily she was. Even sitting on my bed knowing I took a fair amount of pills, I still considered taking more, or saying fuck it all together and taking as much as I could. For a while I considered truly ending my life, but I didn’t. I sat there in bed texting friends who knew me and knew what could happen based on how much I took and stayed up to keep me calm as I grew more and more nauseous and very dizzy. I don’t know what time I fell asleep, I am guessing it was sometime around 1:30am.

The next morning I woke up and thought it was a dream, until I looked at my phone and saw the messages that mostly involved the words “Are you ok?” from the three people who knew what I had done the night before. I wasn’t sure how to answer to be honest, because I didn’t know if I was okay. I don’t think you can be okay after doing that for the first time. I called my therapist, only because she asked me to, otherwise I probably would have just said I was okay and acted as if nothing happened. She wanted me to go to the hospital, and she wasn’t that only one who wanted me to either. However, I am stubborn and there was no way I was going to the hospital. I still felt nauseous and dizzy, so I spent the entire day in bed and tried to respond to the texts from everyone the best I could, but I know there were many texts that made no sense because I couldn’t read what my phone said at all. The only texts I truly tried to make sure I said the right things for were the texts to my therapist and to my psychiatrist. My psychiatrist kept asking me questions til 11pm, and I think by then I was back to normal and could actually think about exactly what I wanted to say back.

My parents had no clue any of this was going on, and I wasn’t going to tell them. Sunday night I considered doing many things, but I stayed safe. I think the moment I took the pills was the moment I realized I wanted to live because I was scared of what could happen simply by taking that amount of meds all at once. If you ask me right now if I think I am okay, I’m still not sure what I would say. Physically, other than a lot of stomach pain which I think is due to not eating, I am okay. Emotionally, no. Its a learning process, how do I take care of myself and keep myself safe. I can’t say that it has been easy, but I’m trying and thats what matters. As much as sometimes I don’t want to type, it helps. I am scared to say most of this stuff out loud so this is my outlet, what keeps me safe. Well, my dog too, obviously. It’s okay to not always be okay, and I’m learning that.

As a side note, I always want to make this clear, I am not planning to go home and take my life, and definitely won’t self harm. I am safe. I love you guys.


I’m constantly scared, obviously sometimes more than others, but it never fully goes away. Today I got scared because when a coworker came walking behind me and I didn’t see them so when I did I flinched a little, but within a few minutes that anxiety went right back down. Today is a normal day, getting startled somewhat easily and being worried that something bad is gonna happen to me when i’m not in a “safe zone” such as my work, but not beyond terrified I am going to suddenly go through the same things I did as child but with someone else. Yesterday was the complete opposite. Yesterday I woke up with anxiety and went through most of the day in panic mode. I wanted to understand so badly what was triggering this in me and I simply could not make sense of it, because there was no trigger to make sense of. I did what I do often, sit where my back is against something so I don’t have to worry about someone coming up from behind me, which limits the anxiety quite a bit. However what that doesn’t help is my fear of every single person that walks past me. The fear that they are going to hurt me, the thoughts that take over my brain, making it feel as if I am suffocating. It doesn’t shut off, and I feel as if I have no control of my own brain, which is even more terrifying than the actual thoughts. That was all I felt most of the day yesterday.

I know that realistically none of those things are going to happen to me again, yet the emotional side of my brain is convinced I am just a weak target and I have no chance against what is coming. I know realistically that mistakes are going to happen and my notes don’t have to be perfect, but the emotional side knows it needs to be perfect because its my best way to cope. I can’t be perfect at life so at least my notes can be perfect. I think I want to be perfect so badly because that’s what was always expected of me growing up, but also because I am so scared of disappointing those around me and the judgement that can come from messing up. I am scared of the voice in my head, my conscience, because it is her and that’s the voice that had complete control of me for so much of my life so far. Its the same voice I have been scared of for so much of my life and beats me up when I make a mistake. Its the same voice I hear when she screamed at me, hit me, and the same voice that molested me.

I was never allowed to use my voice growing up and at some point I think I had fear to use it when I could. I knew what would happen when I used it so it was easier to just stay quiet and try to protect myself. I felt as if there was no voice to even use after a while, and that’s why I never spoke up when the guy grabbed me in high school and I was frozen, terrified, as he touched me. I made the connection that speaking was going to lead to me being hurt. My only voice has been through typing, because nobody can hurt me, and I don’t see their reaction as they read it so I can’t see the judgment or disappointment. I only see my words on a page filled with pure emotion. I can pour my entire life and everything I feel onto a page and I feel as if I have a voice and that I am safe, and I am heard. I AM HEARD.

When I am typing I have a backspace. If I realize I am not ready to talk about what happened then I can take it back, and wait for the time when I think I am ready, and try again. When talking out loud, I loose that backspace. I can’t take it back, I have to accept what I said, and be okay with it. I have to find the words and put them all into the correct order to make sense and speak them the way I want spoken. Here I can think, feel, express everything I feel without worrying I will say it wrong or be judged because of saying it. I can be me here and I don’t feel like I can do that when trying to say it out loud. Here my words are felt by those who want to read this, and care, and understand. They choose to listen to the words I pour myself into. I don’t have that opportunity when I say this out loud, because truthfully, I don’t think many people genuinely choose or want to hear this. They won’t take anything away from the words I speak. Here I have a voice and I am not scared to use it. Here I have a place and I am heard.

Here I feel safe.



My chest feels as if someone punched me. It hurts to breathe. I know this feeling. I’ve been here before – in a safe place – feeling as if the entire world is out to get me. I’m sitting on the couch, feeling as if I am about to die, and i’m the only one that knows. I know I have no control over what is happening and the only thing that is going to stop this is…. well…. no longer breathing.

I hate this. More than any feeling that exists. I despise this feeling of choking on air without even opening my mouth. I want to scream, but the words get stuck in my throat, making it even harder to breathe. The world is spinning, and i’m not even moving. Nothing feels reals, as if the world is just a game, with everyone just being the pieces.

I stand up, the spinning gets worse, i’m shaking, not able to even feel every step I take towards my room. I’m frozen against my door, not able to comprehend anything happening now, only able to see the past. Every light is too bright, every sound means danger, and my heart is beating too loudly. My heart is going to stop soon, isn’t it? Isn’t this how someone dies? Isn’t this how my family finds me: curled up in a ball on the floor of my bedroom?

Should I text someone? No, nobody will be able to help me. I’m alone. I will bother anyone I tell, they all have better things to do than deal with me. I don’t deserve help. They deserve better than my tears and failures.

I am going to throw up or pass out. Or both. My body reacts to the world in the way I know it is not supposed to. But I have no control over what is happening to me. My muscles control themselves, not obeying the signals my brain is sending to them. They bring me to my knees, feeling of my entire body being crushed. I cry and say “Please don’t let them do this to me again”, my brain thinking immediately to being screamed at and beat. I’m drowning in my own tears as I suffocate, my brain not listening to my cries for this to stop. I have no control so I ride the crashing waves, allowing myself to come closer and closer to drowning simply because I can’t remember how to swim.

I can’t remember how to open my eyes. They are squeezed so tightly shut that my head starts to hurt. Headaches are a sign of a brain disease, right? I am going to die. The world is black and that all I can notice. Is it night or am I dead? No, my eyes are still closed, still somehow managing to shed tears to the point it looks like a water bottle spilled.

I start to regain control of my limbs, still shaking too much to do anything. The short breaths that are choking me slow down enough for me to feel as if I might not die in this second. I know this feeling. There was a trigger somewhere that caused this. I am safe. I am not going to die, not majorly injured, even though I am beyond exhausted from attempting to fight something I had not chance to against. I breathe a sigh of relief, reminding myself I am safe.

I can think clearly, even though I know that the thoughts following this are always suicidal. Disappointment. My biggest fear and the cause of what just happened. Why am I scared of disappointing people so badly? Is it the connection between this and the emotional and physical pain? Does it let me see my own failures?

The hug. That’s what started this feeling in the first place. He hugged me, tight, the kind of hug where you are held so tight your entire body is touching whether you like it or not. One hand on my lower back, the other grabbing tightly on my hip, right where the pain from the world is written on my skin. I try to lean back, letting him know he needs to let go. Now. He didn’t let go, that’s when the fight or flight clicked in. I push hard to get him off, not fast enough to get away before he kissed my neck. He doesn’t know what hes doing, he doesn’t understand anything anymore.


Is this thing the reason my brain sees these things this way? Pain and pleasure together, yet a overwhelming fear of it? This thought always stuck in the back of my head, scared it might happen to me all over again. Why couldn’t I figure out what happened sooner. Why did I have to wait until a guy said those same words to me as she said for me to remember all of the pain that went on. Why doesn’t it all make sense? There was a man always at her house and I was terrified he would do this thing to me, again. Again. I remember saying the word out loud, this memory that has never gone away no matter how hard I have tried. What happened the first time, was it was she did? Or was it something he did that my brain refuses to let me remember? I want to remember, I need to remember.

If the domino’s are lined up correctly, once one falls, they all fall. I guess most of mine happen to be lined up, because once I let the first one fall, I felt the rest crashing in the background. I keep trying to set them all back up yet something keeps crashing them all right back down. Is it all of my failures and mistakes? Am I essentially sabotaging myself? What is happening that everything I think I understand gets proved wrong.

I have so many questions yet I can’t figure out any of the answers, but is there any exact answers? Is there ever with this though.