happiness isn’t for me

It would seem that happiness isn’t meant for everyone. Some, like myself, are here to serve others and never feel the joy of having their own family or their own intrinsic value.

I’m only valuable in what I can offer others.

Every time I’ve been given the chance to have a family I give it away or sabotage it. Everyone who has ever loved me has had their hearts crushed to a pulp for essentially no reason other than me being crazy. Not to mention how cursed my womb is. Every time I get a chance to have my own little ray of sunshine it goes away. Every time. Every job I get, every opportunity… burned to nothing.

I no longer have hope for a career or a family or friends. All I’m going to do is dedicate myself to finding a cure for the mental illnesses I have. I can’t live with others suffering like I’ve suffered. I have to try to fix it for them even if I can’t fix it for myself.

There is no more hope. No more trying for anything for myself. I’m done with that.

It’s time to simply focus on working for a cure for others. Soon I’ll be in a school that’ll help me get my PhD in psychology and maybe someday people will have a better form of help than what’s available right now. Right now therapy and medications don’t seem to fucking work so it’s time to change the entire system. If I can’t have the help I need, fine. But I need others in the future to have it.

Here’s to hoping I can make a difference.

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

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.

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.

Nope.

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,

xoxo

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