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.

All Settled In.

Begin of blog song: Cherry Wine; Hozier

So, I'm officially settled into my new apartment. There were, of course, a few hiccups along the way. The place is pet-friendly, but that doesn't mean that the carpet is. So, this morning, at around six when I could no longer handle the smell of piss under my nose, I googled homemade carpet cleaners and got on hands and knees to scrub down. It's only a temporary fix until I can make it to the shop to buy real carpet cleaner (I can't afford to have it professionally done) but so far so good. I can't smell the piss over the vinegar and soap, so I'm not complaining.

- Peace out girl scouts!

End of blog song: Fall in Love; Popcaan.

Some of Us Have to Grow Up Sometimes.

Begin of blog song: Holland; Ghost Face

So, I move out in a week. That means I need to start making adult preparations. My mum doesn't want me working during school, but I'm not a fan of pinching pennies and I'm only going to be getting the bare minimum to pay rent and buy groceries and have a bit of spending money left over. I'm a homebody but that doesn't mean that I don't end up spending a fuck-load of money on useless shit by the end of the month. So, having a part-time job and a little extra money would stop me from going stir-crazy and leave me with a little more breathing room and a hell of a lot less anxiety at the end of the month. That being said, if nowhere hires me (which probably will be the result as being black in Canada is similar to being black in America and nobody wants you unless you're the whitest black possible) it won't be the end of the world and I'll still get by just fine.
I guess the thing is, I rather have a job that I can eventually quit if things get to be too much than not even be presented with the option. So, wish me luck on my job hunt, I figure that if I start applying now by the time I make it back to Sudbury I'd at least have some interviews lined up, or something. Worst case scenario I go to my university's employment centre and get a job in the great hall or some shit.

- Peace out Girl Scouts!

End of blog song: Cut the Rope; Charlotte OC.

What do I do?

Begin of blog song: Please don't go; Barcelona

What do you do when your ex is manipulative and emotionally abusive? What do you do when you know that you should go, but you feel like you can't? What do you do when you start making excuses for them and brushing off their behaviour? What do yu do when every time that you try to leave they find ways to pull you back in. What do you do, when someone comes to you asking for advice on an identical situation to your own, but you're too proud to admit that you won't be any help because you're in the exact same sinking ship that they are?

End of blog song: You; Keaton Henson.

uhm uh... hmm

Begin of blog song: Wonderland; Taylor Swift

So, tomorrow I have a meeting with one of my friends to plan my going away/home away from home, house-warming party, and today I have to clean my room. Like, I don't have to clean my room, but I totally do, I keep using the move as an as excuse as to why I don't have to/can't (all of my packed stuff are just laying around with nowhere really to go). Honestly, though, I just want to sleep, the only motivation that I have to actually clean is that I hate leaving things for last minute. Hopefully, my random bout of nausea passes in time for me to actually do something with my day, though.

In other news, I've somehow managed to get one of my friends upset with me, I'm not too concerned though because I technically didn't do anything. Like I asked this friend to stop sending me pictures every time they get a cut/scrape because it's something that I'm just not good dealing with (that's not to say that they can't talk to me when they're feeling hurt or when they've gotten hurt, just don't send me photographic evidence). Anyways, she sent me a snapchat today, of her going bowling and then another of an injury that she's gotten that needed stitches so I sent her back a snap saying "congrats on the game", and a text saying (yet again,) "please stop sending me pictures of your cuts" and somehow that got under her skin but like whatever. I'm not her parent, I don't have to kiss her wounds better.

End of blog song: Bad (rendition); SoMo.