Things completely falling apart rn:

– Fibromyalgia (worse because of stress)
– Tooth infection, maybe need a root canal
– Possible intestinal disease; getting biopsy next month
– Two menstrual cycles in a 3 week span
– Re-pinched sciatic nerve
– Can’t stop losing weight, starting to worry

– Work h8s me since I had a psych ward stint and missed time
– … psych ward stint
– Idk where tf I’m gonna live
– I need ~$5k to move anyway
– Pretty deep in debt as it is
– How tf am I gonna pay medical expenses?
– Car has trouble starting pretty often

– Got dumped (RE: psych ward stint)
– High school crush came back in to my life, buuuuuut lives far enough to where I can’t see them much
–  “Best” friend of 15 yrs is a dickwad and out of my life now
– Not many friends anymore in general
– Family says they’re supportive but they don’t get it so they suck at support


(Borderline Personality Disorder, Bipolar II, Generalized Anxiety Disorder together all feel liiiiike…)

*This is not a set explanation of how ALL people with these illnesses feel; just my own personal experience! Also, if you dislike the use of the word “crazy”, here’s your trigger warning.*

All of this behavior is stuff I thought was just me personally and not due to a mental illness until I found a friend with the same diagnosis. Now I know this is perfectly normal and I want those of you suffering from the isolating feeling of being crazy to know that this is okay.

  • First things first, this one is the most awkward symptom that fills me with the most self-loathing: BPD and bipolar make you extremely impulsive and flighty. I constantly want to cheat. No, I don’t want to hurt my SO. Yes, I love my SO very much. No, I don’t like the people I have these thoughts about. The shitty thing is that if I’m feeling manic, like I do every other week or two, I become obsessed with an infatuation, usually with a person I have zero interest in normally. I try my best to stifle it, but it’s still there. It’s horrible to be enjoying time with your love and only being able to think about fucking some stranger that isn’t even your type. After expressing this to my therapist, I was informed this is 100% normal for someone with my diagnosis and that it’s fine to have these thoughts; just not to act on them. I have never, ever told one of the “other” people that I’ve wondered how they taste and I plan to keep it that way. Don’t tell you SO about this side effect unless you’re 110% sure they’ll be understanding. This can easily trash a relationship, hence the massive unstable relationships us BABs sufferers have. Just.. tread lightly sharing your thoughts on this. TBH I’m a giant nerd and have channeled this urge purely in to Fallout 4 companions (like MacCready).
  • My whole life I’ve been made to feel horrible about my temper and emotional outbursts. I’ve learned to deal with them a little better over the years, but sometimes I still explode without knowing why. Sometimes I’m already yelling before I feel anger. Sometimes I’m crying over tomatoes. It really is frustrating to have such little self-control no matter how much you work at it and try your best to be “stable.” While it’s important to work on these issues actively, it’s not good to beat yourself up over it. Let your loved ones know how you feel and maybe send them this link (for BPD) or this one (for bipolar). Perhaps with these links and conversations stemming from them, your friends/family can finally understand you and your feelings.
  • Sometimes I have no idea who in the hell I am. Distorted self-image and self-perception are also common. Some days I think I am the hottest woman to have ever lived, other days I think I’m a disgusting pig who should hide her fat forever. Sometimes I know exactly what my interests are and what I like, sometimes I feel boring like I’m a lump with no personality. This all may be normal to people without mental disorders, but this is intensified a lot when you have BPD and/or bipolar disorder. I don’t have any cool or profound way to cope with this or deal with it, so please share if you do.
  • Obsessions. Dude. So many obsessions. Everyone has interests and some are stronger than others, which is awesome. With personality disorders, it’s really easy to get completely immersed in a fictional universe and allow yourself to be consumed by it. (Fallout 4… cough… cough…) I always felt really weird about being the only one of my friends who would get so intensely obsessed with things, but it turns out it’s normal for me. It’s just how my brain works, I guess. This, however, is not something I want to erase or “fix” ;P
  • Dissociating is the weeeeeeirdest feeling but I kinda like it. Imagine that inside your head is like a stadium theater and the backs of your eyes are the screen. Usually, I’m front row and taking everything in because I’m there. When I dissociate, I move to the back row and do my own thing in there. The embodiment of me goes on autopilot so I’ll have conversations, do my job (correctly, even!), go to class, do homework, etc. but I won’t feel like I’m participating. It’s more like watching a really entrancing TV show and watching things from the main character’s POV. It makes you feel like you’ve missed out on a few events of your life, but it’s also kind of necessary if you need your space and aren’t allowed to have it at that time. I like it because I essentially “ignore” my entire day and don’t have to deal with reality. Obviously, that isn’t healthy, though.

I’ll make another post if anyone’s interested. I lost focus and my will to write right now. Yay mood swings! I’m in the middle of weaning off of depression meds to go on to bipolar meds so this happens a lot currently.


Share your thoughts/comments/questions 🙂

I could always use more coping methods and stress relief! Feel free to send.


I’m not depressed, I’m bipolar (II) and have borderline personality disorder. And asthma and allergies to literally everything that makes me happy (cats, beer, nature in fucking general).

Another surpruiiiiiiiisiieieieie: love of my life says they might not be able to cope with my mental illnesses ~~

Also: fuck everything and kill me please 🙂

Letters Never Sent, 7.

I’m working on a new sporadic segment that will be a series of letters that I never plan to send. Writing is therapy for me. Names will be either omitted or changed for the sake of legal issues that could potentially arise. These will be personal, they will be honest, and they will be heartfelt. My life is an open book.

Letter #7

Dear Cluck,

I get it. In our teen years I was not nice or cool to anyone, even you. We became best friends again after I stopped being a piece of shit. I thought we were fine and had something good going again. A fifteen year friendship shouldn’t be broken that easily, right?

I’ve spent the past 5 years doing everything I possibly can to love and support you. Every time you came to town, I’d clear my schedule entirely and wait for you to tell me what my plans were for that week. Every time, I’d be one of the first you’d come see (awesome!) and you’d try to make sure we saw each other a 2nd time (or that’s what you’d say, anyway). And yet, when I’d say I’d be down to tag along for anything at all, you still neglected to invite me to things. Then you’d tell me all these crazy fun times you had with your other friends. (You know, the other friends that you’ve always acted like I’m not cool enough to even meet.) And you’d have the nerve to say “You would’ve had so much fun! I wish you could’ve gone!” I could have. If you’d asked. But I’d smile, laugh, talk with you about it anyway because we’re BFFs.

Throughout your trip to another continent (2.5 years of strained contact) I missed you so much more than I knew I could miss someone. I sent you support at every possible minute and flooded you with love to the point where I worried about annoying you. But, you said you loved it and to keep it coming. So I did.

Then you finally move back to the US and I think I’ll finally get to see you again. Nope. Here for a short time then off to another state. During that time you were constantly too busy with your other friends (as usual). Across the world, I thought you sucked at texting because you can’t get internet in the middle of a tribal village and mud hut. Turns out, you just don’t think as highly of me as I do of you. You actually texted me more in Africa than you do in America.

Since you’ve moved you’ve been a complete shit friend. Completely shit. I handled it for a year now, trying my best to be understanding and to give you space. Then I had a horrid night where I tried to kill myself (yay mental illness). You were the only person I thought could help me come out of it. I reached out to you. You initially gave some concern and wanted to make sure I’m alive (which is obviously great). Then, you quickly continued to say you’re too busy with your other friend’s depression to even bother trying to help me out. Essentially, I got a big “well, that sucks, but you’re not that important to me and I don’t want to make time for you.” I was crushed.

I gave you three chances to make it up to me. Twice, I scheduled phone calls so we can talk about why I wanted to kill myself. Since you’re my best friend, I thought that would be normal. But no, you blew off each plan we had for a phone call and continued to go anywhere from days to weeks to reply to me. Then you started to only want to talk if I was being positive. So I faked it for a bit. Then, on the very last chance, I decided to not answer you and see what you’d do. You blew that, too. We haven’t talked for a month.

I spent every day thinking of you and how much it hurt to care more about you than you do about me. Every day. EVERY FUCKING DAY.

And today.. today I got the last straw. After days and days of being hurt about you blowing me off multiple times and failing every communication test I’d given you, you tell me that you realized we hadn’t talked because you forgot to reply to me. Oh, fucking FINALLY you grace me with the fucking gift of your gracious concern. I reply to tell you (as nicely as possible in this situation) that you have left me feeling hurt and uncared about and that I’m still mad about it. Then worst of fucking all…


After all of this. After everything I’ve done to bend over backwards for your friendship with less and less reciprocation, you act like I’m the one at fault and like I deserve you being even worse to me.


You are dead to me.

The Greys

It’s finally happened. After all of this hard work and diligence, everything has finally paid off. My head has finally been invaded by The Greys.

I found my first few grey hairs today and I am fucking stoked. I may only be 26, but goddammit, I worked hard for these stripes. They aren’t very visible since my hair is platinum blonde (for now) or I’d upload a photo of my new favorite hairs.

Stress may be morphing my personality in to someone else’s but at least I have these cool badges of honor to show for it~

How Can I Make Myself Sad Today?

Every day is like a game show and all of my memories are contestants. The name of the game is “How Can I Make Myself Sad Today?” and there are no points. The purpose of the game is to see how close to suicide I can get every day without actually killing myself.


Example of one episode:
Day is fine, starts out great. The weather is my favorite (warm, but super cloudy) and I have no immediate stress-factors. No one acts negatively towards me and I feel okay with my appearance. Sounds great.

Round 1: You should feel really bad about drinking on Friday. Your resolution was to stop.

Round 2: Remember last time you tried to kill yourself?

Round 3: Last time, you reached out to your “BFF” of fourteen years. Her response was that she’s too busy with her other friend(s) to give you any sort of relief that you desperately are begging for.

Bonus Round: Your stomach is already upset from lunch. Deal with that now, too.

To see how today’s episode went, stay tuned for further posts. If there are no future posts; Team Memories won.


Sitting at the red light listening to Goodbye Graceful, my car suddenly reverted to my ’96 Acura Legend. My trademark platinum hair wears a headband with a bow, just like it did a decade ago. I looked down and was surprised to see today’s skinny jeans instead of my ’06 skull and crossbone leggings (yes, they also had neon hearts and lightning bolts) with a denim skirt. Still wearing the flats and a skull-covered sweater. Not a lot has changed, I guess. But for a moment, as I sat there, I was 16 again. I could smell the aroma of my old car: cigarettes, weed, and a faint hint of Vick’s Vapo Rub underneath it all. I was tempted to toss my bangs back in the typical old emo flip and blast my screamo music, not caring who it annoys. Then reality kicked in.

I may be almost 30, but sometimes I’m still 16.

fire walk with me

It’s so hard to have such a deep craving and not be able to articulate what you’re craving. I simply don’t know. All I know is that my chest aches and my body feels heavy. My mind is trying to break. My soul wants to be free.

How can you live so closely with others in society but feel so isolated?

Others are around me, always. In my mind I’m stuck in solitary confinement. Daydreams and fantasies are all I want in there with me. Reality is harsh and unwelcoming. Withdrawing is my go-to. Is it helping? I can’t say.

So many experiences in life that I want to have but they’re… dark. I can’t tell others what I want to feel, what I want to see. Enticing, seductive… the darkness tickles me. I need to know that these feelings are okay and that I shouldn’t cram them down in to my subconscious anymore.

It’s like being split in to two people.
One half of me is the Hermione-esque full time student with a 4.0 GPA. She has friends and is social. She has a great job and her coworkers love her. Her relationship is pure and stable. Her family is welcoming and loving.
The other half is completely different. She hates being around other humans. She tried to kill herself last month and only left ugly scars in a highly visible place. She craves pain and control. She’s sexually deviant and can’t indulge for fear of losing her romantic relationship. She’s completely alone.

How can the two be merged? How can the two cooperate? How can I resolve this cognitive dissonance?

All I know is that I can’t keep going forward as long as this turmoil is ripping my insides to pieces. I can’t keep fighting myself like this.

Who am I really and who do I want to be?

Letters Never Sent, 6.

I’m working on a new sporadic segment that will be a series of letters that I never plan to send. Writing is therapy for me. Names will be either omitted or changed for the sake of legal issues that could potentially arise. These will be personal, they will be honest, and they will be heartfelt. My life is an open book.

Letter #6

Dear Cactus Dick,

“If I had it my way I’d slit your throat with the knife that you left in my back.” – BMTH

Your unrelenting selfishness has gone unpunished for too long. Your abuse broke my mind in to thousands of tiny, scared pieces. Three and a half years later I’m still scrambling to find them all. Every red flag they warn you about, every bit of advice you’ve heard in your life is about people like you.

You showered me with affection at the start, convincing me we’re soulmates and should run away to Vegas to get married. The first two months were bliss. We were such a cute couple and everyone was envious of our “love.”

Then one night (seemingly out of nowhere) you broke your tooth from clenching your jaw in anger at me. What did I do to invoke such fury? Oh, right. We were with my friends and I was being the exact fucking same as always but suddenly around them it meant something else, right? “I never knew I was dating such a ‘bro.'” Yeah, definitely a justifiable excuse for dumping me on the spot.

Confused and disappointed, I let it go and went on with my life. One day of crying and I felt better. It had only been 3 months, after all. I got a cat and had a large support system of friends. If I knew then what I know now it all would’ve stopped right there and we’d be fine.


You begged for us to get back together because you felt stupid for dumping me over such a small issue (ya think?). This is when your true colors became apparent to everyone but me. You’d constantly brag about how many girls want to fuck you, then you’d text them all night in front of me. If I so much as talked to another male without your explicit and genuine permission I would be accused of cheating or not loving you. You’d go hours without answering your phone when I’d call (but you’d answer for other people) yet if I missed a call from you I was in deep shit. You constantly gaslighted me by accusing me of confusing your likes/interests with my exes (which was bullshit because I still know what they like and it’s not the same as you’ve ever mentioned liking). It got to a point where I legitimately thought you had split personalities. No worries, I support those with mental illnesses and wouldn’t leave you over it. No, I’d fix you. I’d make it all okay. You always told me you wanted me (an atheist) to go to church but when I’d offer you’d shut me down. You’d constantly barrage me with ideas of what I should be like and how imperfect I am.

Then there were the fights. You sneaky cunt. You’d spend the entire car ride to a friend’s house/family gathering/social event riling me up and picking at my insecurities. You’d tell me things about the people we were about to see… awful things (that I know now are most likely not even close to true). I’d get out of the car with no smile; no motivation to be kind to anyone in my company. Then you’d flirt with the first girl you could find to make me jealous. You’d do everything in your power to subtly antagonize me until I’d snap and yell at you in front of everyone. All they saw was me “being crazy” to you; the poor, charming, sweet young man that they love so much. Later, you’d tell them every bad thing you told me with one major difference: you’d tell them that I said it.

Those, among other things, were the red flags. Stupidly, I went on to buy a house with you. You had no interest in it and were content with living with your mom and her boyfriend. I, however, wanted more so I pushed for it. We found the perfect place and bought it. Within a week you had kicked me out of our bed to the guest room. You started hanging with notorious cheaters from work. You’d get texts the length of college essays late at night from girls you never talked about to me. (I never read them but I sure as fuck saw that they existed.)

Feeling dejected and alone, I reached out for help from my friends. I then realized that you had sneakily isolated me from them and I had no one to turn to. I cried myself to sleep every night, alone in the guest bedroom with my cat. I had no idea what I could possibly have done to have you hate me so much so suddenly. You forced me to become addicted to your love only so that it would hurt more when you ripped it away with no explanation. You told me to move out the day that I finally finished unpacking everything (since I’d spent forever painting and scrubbing every single room of the house). You started staying at your mom’s (yeah right). In this time you’d IM me at work and try to get me to chat with you like we were friends still. You told me that I’m so good in bed you may just go celibate

Then you told me to move out asap (because you made me so depressed I started cutting myself for the first time in my entire life at the age of 23). I had no one to help me. No one. I was homeless for a while so you offered to watch my cat until I found a couch to sleep on. You and your vicious hag of a mother abused my cat until the stress almost killed her. That cat fucking loved you, you piece of shit. Abusing my pet because you’re mad at me (for no goddamn reason, may I remind you) is utter bullshit and makes me angrier than anything you ever did to me personally. Still homeless, I had to go get my cat because of this. She wouldn’t even let me near her. How could I blame her? I left her in your “care” for 2 weeks where she starved and got smacked around. Now she’s fine again, thanks for asking (fucking prick).

Then I started hanging with Neb; your supposed bff who you always talked mad shit about and treated like garbage in his time of need. In time, he revealed to me that you had mentioned celibacy to me because you’d been “fuckin’ a 19-year-old who don’ know what she’s doin'”. Your boss’s daughter, even. And the real kicker? She moved in right when you kicked me out. So, essentially, you found a perfectly normal and awesome person, turned me against myself while you tried to force me into a “perfect wife” mold that doesn’t exist, then when my mind snapped and I became unrecognizable you threw me away and replaced me with your next victim. I now know that she wears my ring every single day since you two got married.

I fucked my current bf in your bed.
I hope you slept on the cum stain.


Toodles bitch,