So, I've Made it to Twenty.

Begin of blog song: I'm A Mess; Ed Sheeran.

The last post that I made was a tough one. It was one of those, "light at the end of the tunnel" posts made during a spectacularly dark period in my life, and I'd like to make one very crucial correction before I continue with today's post. I am not an addict. I know what you're thinking, "but that's exactly what an addict would say" or maybe you're thinking, "then why the fuck would you say that you were?" and the reason for that is a simple one, I didn't know what else to call myself. I mean, come on! What else do you call someone who has a history of substance abuse? I don't know, maybe it doesn't matter what I am, all I know is that when the going gets tough I get going, may that be down a pill bottle or an alcoholic one. I have shit poor coping skills, I'm not proud, but I don't really care all that much either.

To say that I haven't touched any substances since that day would be a bold faced lie, I've swallowed handfuls of pills and drank the contents of my liquor cabinets, hell sometime's I even did both at once, but I don't think that makes me an addict, it just makes me stupid with a possible death wish, but what else is new?

I don't know what the point of this post is, I guess I wanted to say that, and that I haven't acted on any of my bad coping mechanisms since my birthday, on January 26, so maybe that's improvement. Or maybe not, I don't know, I've been sober for too long. Isn't that funny? I don't want to call myself an addict but I've been sober for too long.

The other day I woke up from a really bad night terror and it sort of all went downhill from there. I'm back home with my mum now, so I've had to get a bit more creative with my hiding places, and don't feel as comfortable with solo (day) drinking anymore. Anyways, I think I got a bit too creative with my hiding places because when I went to look for a little helper to take the edge off I couldn't find the bastard and man, that was tough. I really hate having to be faced with my own emotions, especially since half the time they don't make any fucking sense.

I won't say where I get my pills from, (god I don't even want to say the word pills, I want to sensor it out, isn't that funny?) but anyways, where ever I do get them from, well, there are more now. If I want them, I mean, there are more. Uni stress is piling up, and sleep is harder to get than ever before, and it's not so much that I'm always on but I'm never completely off either.

What is the point of this post? I don't fucking know, I feel antsy and empty, and full, and not enough, but too much, and so completely calm all at the same time and I don't know what any of this means. I've stopped writing, but maybe I'll start back tonight, Lord knows I've about a thousand other things that I should be doing.

So, I've made it to 20. Not much has changed, and somehow, telling the world my dirty little secrets has made it easier for me to hide them.

End of blog song: Psychotic Girl; The Black Keys.

(isn't that funny?)

Relapse.

Begin of blog song: Dream; Imagine Dragons.

I've been on a bender these last few days and picked up on an old habit. A habit that no one even knew that I had to begin with. So, when I slipped back into ways, (sleeping longer, stumbling over words and sentences, sitting quietly with a slightly not there smile, tripping over my own feet), nobody noticed. Not, in the ways that I needed them to. They asked me if I weren't feeling well, and accepted, "I'm just tired" as an answer.
It all started when my brother died, the nights have always been the worst for me, because of the night terrors I get when I am able to get some sleep. But I quickly realized, that the images and thoughts and voices don't disappear in the mornings either.
University is stressful, my stepdad is facing deportation, my grandmother needs surgery and it started, how it always starts. I just wanted to get some fucking sleep. I was so tired of not being able to stop the dreams, of never feelings rested, of always being on. 
So, I took two. Only two... at first. But then, the morning came, and the voices and images, well, they were still there, so I took one more, and the day went on, and I took another, and another, and as many as I could to just stop it all and not feel any of it. Not the loneliness, not the anger, the helplessness, the fear.
I was so scared, and last night, somebody finally noticed that something was wrong, that I was more than just tired. Somebody finally took the time to listen to my story, finally cared in ways that I crave to be cared for.
No, the itch isn't gone, and the pills taunt me from their new hiding place buried beneath the crap in my nightside table.
I don't think anyone ever stops being an addict, but I do think that it's possible to gain control over your addiction. A few years ago I wouldn't have been the one to admitting that I need help, I would have ignored anyone who told me that I deserved better, that I am better.
I'm going to be twenty next month, I want to believe.
I want to believe, and I am so thankful that I have someone like her to let me know that remind me, that it is okay to believe.

End of blog song: My Hero; Paramore (cover).

* On the road to recovery, in the presence of relapse and the quest for control, please remember to never use others as a substance replacement. Don't make another person your new poison, it's not fair to them, and it's not fair to you. Sometimes life happens and people have to go away, don't make their absence be the reason for another relapse. You deserve better. We all do.

update & changes.

begin of blog song: I'm on Fire; AWOLNATION

Hello, friends, and how are you today?

Let's jump right into it, shall we? As you notice, I have deleted my previous blog post (Anne of Green Gables review), no that's not because I've given up already, but because I'm changing domains. I have a tumblr and another blog dedicated specifically towards my book reviews and future career. I figured this way I could continue to keep this blog personal, and keep my future well organized.

Onto more personal issues. I've been silent for awhile, more than awhile. I'd apologize, but I'm not sure if that'd be worth anything. I've been busy, very busy. I've been in the middle of transferring to a university closer to home (I know, don't say a word), and I am glad(?) to say that I've been accepted. So, come April, I can no longer call Sudbury Ontario home, it's back to Toronto, Scarborough for me.

I don't have many updates to make (I guess I haven't been that busy... unless depression and mental illness counts (I'm going to say that they do)), so I guess I'll be signing off here.

See you in a few months or whatever, I'll let you know how everything plays out.

- peace out girl scouts, goodnight cowboys, rest well inbetweeners and keep fighting non-conformers. 

end of blog song: Help I'm Alive; Metric

Daily Blues

begin of blog song: Black Flies: Ben Howard ft. Daughter

Mental illness sucks the most because it makes even the simplest of tasks seem like an unbeatable boss on a game that is constantly on hard even. Even a one hit KO isn't satisfactory because you'll feel like, "well, if it was so easy, how come it took me so hard to do?"

For once, I wish that I didn't have to carry my illnesses with me into every battle I fight.

It's taking me three hours to complete a task that shouldn't have even taken me one. I feel less than inadequate.

Stream of Consciousness, Get to Know Your (Not so) Local Crazy Person.

Begin of blog song: Renegade; Paramore.

Hi, you already know me, so I'm not going to bother with an introduction. If you've been with me from the very beginning, you'd know that although I have my clear days, I am far from being mentally stable.

I'm trying my best to live with my mental ailments and to make it out in as many pieces that I can scrape together (because I doubt that making it out whole is an option for me).

I am not always succeeding.

I don't want to die, but I don't want to continue living the life that I am. A big thing for me while "dealing" (and that word is in quotations because I am using it in the loosest of sense) with my mental illnesses (because there's never just one), is being able to be in control (of anything really, I don't care what).

You see, I have generalized anxiety, clinical depression, depersonalization/derealization disorder (DDPD), paranoia, and mania that often stems into impulsive decision-making or a mild form of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). So, as you can see, whenever I'm having an "episode", control is something that I don't have, not in the slightest.

I don't trust, nor do I like doctors so after my first couple of visits to a psych clinic (where I went after being diagnosed and considered 'at risk' and then was nearly committed) where I was "scared straight" and spoke with a small woman with a very thick undecipherable (for me at least) accent and then handed prescription medication (which I slightly abused, sorry mum), I haven't been back, and I'm obviously now off my meds (and have been for quite some time-- about three years to be approximate). Was coming off of my meds the smartest decision to make? Probably not, but like I said, control, it's a big thing for me and I'll get it any way that I can even if that means mixing meds that shouldn't be mixed and showing up to class high... or simply not showing up to class at all. I can't deal with "professionals" and sterile offices (or cluttered ones), I can't deal with talking to a stranger about all of my deepest darkest thoughts, I can't deal with prescription drugs.

I also can't deal with having to 'use my brain', now hold on a second and let me explain. I'm in university now, about a fourth of the way through my second year. Multitasking is my bitch, simply because most of the time I can't focus on just one thing (after awhile it'll get too noisy in my head and usually ends up with me having an "episode"). If I'm reading a book (I love to read), I'm also listening to music and (usually) having a side conversation (either with a friend or myself). If I'm watching a movie/tv show, I'm also reading a book or playing a game. Multitasking, I can do it, I actually have to do it, to help me stay "sane". So yeah, I use my brain a lot, all of the time, I'm not an idiot (well I sort of am but that's not the point this time). What I mean is, although I can crank out a B+ essay the night before it's due (though there is usually a lot of screaming, throwing things, and crying involved... it's part of the creative process, trust me), I cannot force myself to read a 500+ paged novel. I can't do it.

You see, currently I have a problem that has me bursting into tears and doing everything in my power to not deal with. I have to read Wacousta (the 500+ paged book referenced above), and usually reading isn't a big deal (as stated above, I love reading), however, when I'm eight and a half pages into a book and have no idea what the fuck I've just read, there's a problem, when I have to write both a response and a quiz on a book that I physically cannot read, that is a huge fucking problem.

I've read Twilight, okay? So, there's no way in fuck that I can't deal with reading bad literature, I've been a teenaged girl for most of my life now, I can do it, I have done it. But this book isn't just bad, it's boring, it's terrible, and currently it is my biggest road block and hugest trigger.

I can't allow myself to do anything while I "read" it because then I'd stop reading it entirely, and I can't just suck it up and focus on the book because then I end up reciting the words in my skull but getting lost in my head and not paying attention at all. The pressure placed on myself to read this book (even though I have more than a week to do it and that's all that I have to do at the moment) is making things (to put it lightly,) difficult for me.

Not being able to do something, not being in control, well it's bad. I feel like a failure, I feel worthless, like I can never do anything right, and like I don't belong. I can't do this, and I cannot deal with not being able to do this. I know that this is just a basic part of life, there are always going to be things that I don't want to do but that I've just gotta suck it up and get it done anyways. Logically, I know this, but when trying to complete a task makes you want to kill yourself? It's better to just take control and not do it, it's easier and easy is just about all that I can deal with. I can't deal with stress, not in a healthy way at least. If I weren't at my mum's I'd probably just get buzzed and wander the neighbourhood at twelve in the morning blasting music in my headphones until things quiet down a bit and I don't feel as self-destructive anymore. But I am at my mum's house and anyways, I'm trying not to develop an alcohol dependency (I can see myself going down that road fast), so that's out of the question.

I don't know what to do, and I don't know how to cope with not knowing how to read this fucking book. I never wanted this, I never wanted to go to university in the first place. I mean sure, I have a "life plan" and I know what to tell people when they ask me what I want to do after post-secondary, but I never wanted any of this, and this is exactly why. I don't like feeling stupid or like I can't do something, or like my entire future is dependent on some stupid ass book that I give zero fucks about. I just wanted to work a minimum wage job (preferably at a bookstore or coffee shop) and eventually save up enough money to over time acquire a few small things like a quaint one bedroom apartment (with washing included/on sight preferably if not then one close enough to my mum's that I could just do my laundry there), a small pet to help cope with everything, and maybe even a car if I'm lucky. I seriously don't think that I'm asking for a lot, I feel like that's doable and yeah I'll need help from my mum to deal with some of the payments on shit but for the most part, I can deal with that. I want that, when I go to bed at night that is the life that I fantasize about (minus the help from mum, but you can't have it all). I don't want to be a rich/successful editor that owns some upscale apartment in downtown Toronto, I don't fucking want a university degree that cost a lot more than it's fucking worth and will end me up exactly where I want to be only with a fuck ton of debt and feeling like a failure because I couldn't manage to get a job in the career that I "chose", or worse ending up in that career and having to live that life that I never wanted to begin with.

Maybe I'd feel differently and less stressed/panicky/suicidal over the whole university thing if I could actually afford the whole university thing, but let's be real, I can't and I'd rather cut out the middle-man and impending failure/disappointment, I'd rather not spend my life working forever paying off debts that I can't afford as well as paying to live a life that I wanted but now cannot afford (even more than earlier assumed) due to the fact that I have to pay for something that I never even wanted in the first place, and that's the worst part isn't it? I don't want this, I never did, and I can't do anything about this, because I can't break my mum's heart and disappoint my entire family. So, I'm going to suck it up and try real hard not to kill myself and somehow manage to force myself through reading this fucking five hundred plus paged book (because I will) and then, in a few weeks I'm going to do it all over again, and each time I complete a task I'm going to be forced to do another, and I'm going to be back on a downward spiral (because I always am).

End of blog song: You Could Be Happy; Snow Patrol.

The Skeleton Twins.

Hardly ever does a movie resonate with me this strongly. I went into it expected a comedy and ended it with tears. No, not from laughing so hard, (though there were a few laughs) but from the sheer raw emotions found in the script and the actors portrayal. This movie definitely held no punches. 

As you all know, suicide has played and always will play a crucial role in my life, may that be through past successes or future attempts. A huge theme of the movie was revolved around suicide, which made it slightly difficult to sit through, but not once did I feel the urge to turn off my computer or find something else to watch. The movie didn't handle the subject with kid gloves, but it also wasn't used as a tool to turn it into a tear jerker. It somehow managed to take a serious subject and make it a little less crushing without taking away from it or being disrespectful.

A lot of movies/books that I have seen/read on the subject of suicide have all done so wonderfully, so no, this isn't an original concept, this isn't a new spin on an old tale, but never the less something about it was definitely refreshing in ways that only one other story has been for me (Far From You by Courtney Summers, a YA novel about a young girl dealing with her father's suicide).

The self-destructive paths that the two main characters were idly wandering down was, as morbid as it sounds, entertaining. Their desire to sweep their issues under the metaphorical and overused rug was something that I feel if not all, then many people could relate to. Yet, through a ten-year gap, through the carnage and destroyed lives, they have managed not to necessarily save each other, but to give each other a little more time on the clock to learn to save themselves, and really, isn't that all that any of us really want?

- Peace Out Girl Scouts, Goodnight Cowboys, and To All of You in Between, Rest Well.

Triggers.

Instead of finishing the bottle, I out ran my demons. They'll catch up with me eventualluy, just hopefully not tonight.