fml

Things completely falling apart rn:

Phsyically:
– 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

Mentally/Financially:
– 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

Emotionally:
– 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
– FML

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.

bad memories, pt. 2

Sometimes our memories fill us with longing nostalgia; a brief flash to a simpler time. Sometimes, we don’t get so lucky.

I have many memories of unpleasantries, but there are a few I need to write about to ease my mind. I’m tired of these sick older men haunting my thoughts.

Many men are unaware of the struggles women face from birth to death. Even the women who are not conventionally “sexy” have problems with being sexually assaulted. If this bothers/triggers you, stop reading now.

Continue reading bad memories, pt. 2

I would have said “yes”

There are so many areas that appear to be grey to us when faced with sexual consent. It should be simple for everyone: “yes” means “yes” and everything else means “no.” Sadly, our culture sets us up for failure. Men are expected to be sexually aggressive and able to interpret women’s messages of playing hard-to-get. Women are expected to put up a small fight even when they’re interested. Not only that, but women are expected to look sexually available even when they have no interest at all in having sex that particular day/night. There are hundreds of factors I’m leaving out, here, because there are just simply too many contributors to rape culture.

When you’re at a party with close-knit friends you should feel safe to stifle your inhibitions and let loose. Even if one of those opposite-sex friends has a really cool snap-button shirt that’s fun to rip open when you get really tipsy.

That’s the last thing I coherently remember. His awesome blue and purple flannel shirt with the snap buttons. Then I passed out on the couch in the living room. I woke up naked next to him in a bed. No, I do not remember leaving the couch. No, I do not remember him being all over me all night. No, I certainly do not remember having sex; but I do remember a single flash of a moment of having my legs hastily thrown to the side so he could enter me. In that half second of clarity I tried to say “stop.” I don’t know if I did or not; I don’t remember anything.

The part that makes me the angriest about this is that I would have consented if he just fucking asked. Instead, he took it without my permission and left me scarred.

Moral of the story: Don’t rape.
Sub-moral of the story: ASK and you might receive.

tearful hope

Last night was devastating for many Americans. Today the hallways are filled with whispers…

“I can’t believe it.”
“What was everyone thinking?”
“How could this happen?”
“What are we going to do?”

What we’re going to do is stay strong and stick together like we always have. There is a misogynistic, racist, homophobic piece of garbage that will be taking over our country’s leadership. Will it be the first time? No. Will it be the last time? Hopefully, but probably not. What matters is that we understand that even though he is in charge, we have the power.

We have the power to better our world and ourselves. Simply having the water-cooler morning talk today brought together everyone in my office, Democrats, Republicans, and all other voters were discussing the election peacefully and respectfully. We don’t talk much normally and the fact that we came together to grieve over a loss showed me something important: We came together.

People are capable of the utmost compassion and it’s crucial right now to embrace that quality in mankind. I may be poor, unknown, and full of mental issues, but I won’t let that stop me from doing everything I can to help those in need; those in fear. Here are some ways you can help, too:

Donate:
Planned Parenthood
The Future Project
NCADV
RAINN
ACLU
Friends of the Earth
Border Angels
NextGen Climate

Volunteer:
Combat Racism
Help Your Community
End Police Violence
Support Muslim Friends
Help in the Next Election
Support LGBTQ
Help Immigration and New Americans

If you don’t have time or money, try these simple things:
25 Ways to Help a Fellow Human Being Today

Most importantly, NEVER forget to help yourself, too!:
Suicide Prevention
Trans Lifeline
The Trevor Project

 

(Source; I got the helpful links from this article: Huffington Post article)

college culture

img_5035

This is not an image that should strike fear into your heart.

This is what I see when I leave my classes at night and begin the trek to the parking lot. Most of you who look at this will think “well-lit pathway, what could be so scary?” What scares me isn’t the pathway. It’s the current culture of college in America that scares me.

Females are regularly scared to walk alone to their cars at night and this is one long walk, even with well lit paths.

I’m tired of carrying a knife at all times.
I’m tired of putting my keys between my knuckles every time I walk to my car.
I’m tired of wondering if the cat calls are going to escalate.
I’m tired of my hands shaking while I hurry to unlock my car door.
I’m tired of looking over my shoulder at every tiny noise around me.
Most of all?
I’m fucking tired of living in a world where rape is extremely common and rarely punished.

no one cares

I can’t talk to anyone that I know personally. Strangers don’t have the right insight because, well, they don’t know me. I don’t know who to tell (yet again) that I am so depressed I can hardly keep my handle on life. Who hasn’t heard it 700 times before? Is there anyone left in my life who will take me seriously rather than say “sorry you feel that way” and nothing more? I have spent the past few years screaming for help and telling everyone around me that I can’t hold on for too much longer; not if I’m in this alone. Those who claim to care about me most never know what to say; they say they’ll do anything they can to help me but neither of us knows what will help.

All I know is that I have been teetering on the edge for too long and all it will take is one small fumble at the wrong time to send me over the edge into the abyss.

 

Sometimes I wish my mind would just break so I could live in delusions instead of this pathetic reality.

accepting help

accepting help is the hardest thing to do

especially when you resist all forms of getting better

why? why can’t I accept help?

because your sick brain doesn’t want any goddamn help

it wants to sit alone in the darkness and fade away

nothingness sounds so nice

no more sadness

no more trauma

no more talking

no more stress

just emptiness
gone

bad memories

Sometimes our memories fill us with longing nostalgia; a brief flash to a simpler time. Sometimes, we don’t get so lucky.

I have many memories of unpleasantries, but there are a few I need to write about to ease my mind. I’m tired of these sick older men haunting my thoughts.

Many men are unaware of the struggles women face from birth to death. Even the women who are not conventionally “sexy” have problems with being sexually assaulted. If this bothers/triggers you, stop reading now.

Continue reading bad memories