"Criminal"

There's a million ways in the world to make yourself feel worthless. I pick a new one each day to hate myself for. it's not that I want to. Believe me, this is the exact opposite of how I want to live my life. There is not a day that passes where I don't wish that I could just be okay for one single day. Just once I want to feel like I'm worthy of something good.

My constant wish for that has never worked. 

Today's self-hatred lesson is that I give people the power to hurt me. I think I've always know this but today...today is different. It took me long enough to figure it out but I genuinely think my boyfriend is ashamed of me. I don't know why though, is it my personality, my looks (I'm not the super skinny, beautiful girls that make up his past), or is he just realizing that he doesn't want to be with me? 

it started off with his compliments towards me slowly start dwindling away. This didn't bother me much, I can't realistically think he will tell me how beautiful he thinks I am every single day, even if he said he would. I don't expect that. but when the compliments stopped all together is when I planted the first red flag. 

The second, as stupid as it is, I'm virtually nonexistent in the social world of him. I say that because I have never been mentioned in any of his Instgram posts (and obviously he hasn't ever posted a picture of us). On top of that, my presence of his Facebook page has stopped. he used to post status updates and photos and then he just stopped. He changed his profile picture to an old picture of himself. which is totally fine but the timing of it seems strange in consideration with everything else I've recently felt. Red flag No. 2.  and 3? I'm losing count here.

So I can't stand it any longer, my depression was at a low and I decided to bring it up to him. And even now, a day later, I'm still SO pissed at myself for not just keeping my mouth shut. why oh why can't I just shut the fuck up. I exploded mentally. I told him every single thing that was making me feel insecure. I told him how I'm tired of hearing about his partying days from when he was younger and drunk. I told him his social media was bullshit. Oops, I failed to mention I had brought up his Instagram a few weeks ago one night, but we were on ambien so I felt like it was fair game for me to bring up again while sober. I told him his lack of literally anything about me concerning his Facebook page was worrisome. I told him he has pictures on his page that were repulsive. Example: him at hooters with a girls face between his crotch taking a shot while he has his hand on her head. it's not something I want to see. I feel like it's common courtesy not to leave pictures like up when 1). You're in a serious relations or 2). You're nearly 30 years old and you're sending resumes out like crazy trying to find a new job. He disagreed with me and I still don't know how that conversation ended. I was too frustrated to listen and had too many other things flowing through my mind. I guess we'll agree to disagree. I told him it annoyed the shit out of me that he failed to introduce me to a girl who came to our table at a restaurant. He got up, hugged this girl, talked to her for several minutes and she kept calling him "love" - and he couldn't even introduce me. When she asked what's new in life he failed to mention that THE GIRL WHO WAS SITTING ACROSS THE TABLE FROM YOU was his girlfriend. He defended himself before finally saying that was poor judgment on his part. I don't think he meant it. I literally can't shrug my shoulders any harder than I am right now. I am too tired to care. I am too angry with myself for opening myself back up to so much pain again. 

Nothing was resolved by that talk. 

He talks about wanting to spend his life with me, marry me, and have children with me. 

I want that with him. So badly. 

But not if this is how I will continue to feel. I don't think anyone deserves to feel this worthless. 

 

"Let Go"

sometimes it's easier to use other people's words to express how i feel. it's exhausting when your mind is constantly racing trying to figure out what is going on so it's comforting when somone else can help explain it.

"For nearly all of my life, I have struggled with severe depression. Sometimes it's been a lingering feeling in the back of my head that something isn't right, and that something is me. Other times it has been a full-blown physically incapacitating despair. It's hard for me to even describe it, let alone imagine going through it again, although I imagine I will, as I have dozens of times before.
The times when my depression was really bad are difficult to put into words. People who haven't been depressed asked me if it was like being in a really bad mood, or feeling really, really sad. It's not like that at all. It's not a mood or an emotion. Depression is like being exposed to a truth about reality that is so full of sorrow and misery that it shuts down the very part of you that exists as a human being. It's like being told that everything good about life was a lie and that the biggest lie of all is you. But you're not just thinking about these awful truths, you are the awful truth — and you become that feeling.
People have also asked me, "Why can't you just snap out of it?" Trying to "snap out" of depression is like trying to eat food when you're nauseated. It's like trying to stay awake when you've taken a dozen sleeping pills. It's like trying to run a race where you're underwater and everyone else is on dry land. It takes an extraordinary amount of strength just to exist in the midst of a depression. Just breathing with your lungs takes a full-blown conscious effort. You feel like you don't want to do anything ever again. You feel like you don't want to be. And then you feel bad for feeling that. And so on.
The fact that it's so hard for other people to understand what it's like to feel severely depressed can add to the feelings of frustration and alienation. Depression distorts and stains every aspect of yourself and the world around you and rips away at everything that is happy and beautiful, as though the façade of joy has been removed from everything you once held dear. It's like having a fever in your soul. It's like what the end of the world tastes like.
In addition to these overwhelming physical feelings of terrifyingly bleak depression, I've also continuously wrestled with a long list of other low emotions: frustration, jealousy, resentment, anger, rage, hatred, violent impulses, paranoia, and feelings of hopelessness, exhaustion, despair, selfishness, self-pity, and low self-esteem. Mixed in with these feelings have also been extreme shyness, anxiety, fear and dread, and a general feeling of guilt about having all these feelings in the first place. I've never had a justifiable reason to feel this bad, and that made me feel even worse. I have a good life and good people around me, so why can't I just be happy all the time? I'm still trying to find that answer.
And maybe I never will get an answer, but in the meantime, I think the best answer I have is: because I'm human. I can also tell you that these bad feelings have motivated me and pushed me and challenged me in ways that I would never have been otherwise. Maybe I was meant to feel this way for a reason. And even if I wasn't, I'm going to try to put them to good use while I'm dealing with them.
I'm not proud of these feelings, but I'm not ashamed of them, either. I don't identify myself as someone who "has" these feelings — they're not me. They are just something that the "me" is experiencing, and all I can do is not let them beat me. They may take me down for a few minutes, or an hour, or a day, or even a week, or maybe even longer.
But the one thing I have learned throughout this odyssey is that those bad feelings are not who I really am. They are not the truth. And they will pass. And I will get back up. The real me is somewhere in there all the time, and the test is to see if I can hold on tight enough to make it through the storm. We must hold tight, and then try to rise back up. Maybe not instantly, but at some point, as soon as you can feel it start to lift a little. It takes an extraordinary amount of effort to push through it. Pulling out of a depression by sheer willpower is among the hardest physical and emotional challenges I have ever engaged in. But I have done it, and you can, too.
Sometimes I think depressions are just growing pains — like exercise for your soul. When you exercise your body, it gets sore as it rebuilds and gets stronger. And maybe sometimes life experiences make your soul get sore, and then it has to grow and expand to recover. Growing is painful. Growing is life. Life is painful. It's learning how to master and direct that pain and use it for something beautiful.
I never would be writing to you about this now had it not been for these experiences. All these bad feelings have led to something. They have been the core motivation for me wanting to learn how to feel better — how to become a better person, and be someone who is truly worthy of being a human. I decided to devote my life to overcoming these feelings and turn that into my entire work.
That's what first motivated me to start my party mission, and to become a musician and entertainer — to get cheered up and hopefully cheer other people up, too. I wanted to have something I could devote myself to that was all about "feeling good," a feeling that was bigger than me and, most importantly, bigger than my bad feelings. This became something that would force me to find a way to rise up when I otherwise wouldn't have reason to. We can pull the best out of ourselves if we have a life-or-death reason, and this became that for me. I believe that through these sorts of efforts, we really can become more than we are. Life is something that we have to figure out and do whatever we can do to keep going while we can. Turn the negatives into positives. It's all energy — good or bad — and we can use it to fuel our highest and most worthwhile efforts on this earth.
Never feel afraid or ashamed to seek help from others, including doctors or other professionals. Never stop trying to figure out new things you can do to change the way you feel. Stay close and hold tight to the things that you know bring you real joy. And remember, at the heart of it all, there is a truth and it's telling you that life is beautiful and that you are a good person who deserves to be part of it. Even when that truth is lost in the darkest storms of your hardest moments, please remember that it is there, and that even though it may seem far away or very small, it is more powerful and larger than our pain and struggle. That will pass, but the truth will remain. Have faith in that.
We can keep getting closer to that truth, and we can let our devotion to it become the centerpiece of our lives. It's a truth that tells us everything is OK even when it seems like it's not. It's a truth that tells us that it's OK to feel however we feel, even when it hurts. It's a truth that tells us that life is more beautiful and awe-inspiring than we can even contemplate — and, most amazing of all, that we are a very real part of it. It tells us that it's all going to be OK. That you will be OK. That you already are. Never forget this. I love you. Stay strong.
Your friend,
Andrew W.K."

i just want to stop feeling this way. my mind is so tired.

It's all happening

My life is so different, I hardly even recognize it. My happiness has taken over. It's something I never thought could happen to me. I had given up. I was content with just getting by in life. And then he walked in. 

I had known MK for a few years. We had been friends and even talked about becoming roommates when our individual leases were up. he came over one night to tell me that he liked me. a lot. And that he couldn't just be my roommate. It took me no time at all to realize this was the man I have been waiting on. I was always attracted to him. Always thought he had amazing personality and loved how he was always so positive, even when life wasn't treating him fairly. I adored that about him but I had to push my feelings aside. When I met him, he was not single. I watched him struggle and often talked to him about his relationship problems. It was innocent. I just wanted him to be happy. 

I loved being his friend. He blindsided me when he admitted his feelings for me after he was single and many, many months had passed. I didn't hesitate at all. I knew. I had never felt this way before. 

I've been with him for months now. we live together in a beautifully old, quirky house and I love every single second of it. He is what has been missing in my life. I am so lucky to have finally found the love of my life. I look forward to our future every single day. The day I marry this man will be the best day of my life. 

"The difference between medicine and poison is the dose"

The last 3 years of my life are a blur. I was put on a medication that nearly killed me, ruined friendships and relationships, and turned me into someone I didn’t even recognize. 7 months ago, after not leaving my house for an embarrassingly extended amount of time because of my panic and depression, I made the decision to stop this medicine. 7 months I have been tapering off this devil drug. If anyone had ever told me just how difficult it was to stop taking Effexor, I never would have agreed to try it in the first place.  Doctors tell me that the only explanation for my situation of that it’s a chemical imbalance. I want to be a functioning human being again. I want to wake up and not feel like this, like life is a war and that I’m battling each day and losing. 

I’m frustrated because I’m not being over dramatic and I can’t talk to anyone about it because that’s the reaction that I get. I’m having physical withdraw symptoms that make me feel like I need to go to the hospital. I feel like I am having a heart attack. I toss and I turn each night, every single bone in my body aches and even when I’m being as still as I can, I feel like my legs are resting on sharp objects that are about to pierce through my skin at any moment. My apartment, my body, my hair, my face, my clothes, everything is a mess and I don’t have the energy nor the motivation to do anything about it. I get what I call these “brain zaps” – I genuinely have no idea what they are but I’ve read about others experiencing similar sensations as well. I think the only way I can describe them is if you imagine a firecracker going off in your brain, it then moves throughout my body at frightening speeds. These happen without any warning and are so forceful that that are able to make me fall down, or pass out even. I do not feel like I am in control of my body anymore and the only thing I can do to save myself is take a different pill, tuck myself into bed, and cry. 

And these are just the worst of the physical symptoms, I didn’t even touch on the emotional rollercoaster I am being dragged on through all of this. 

 

If you have clinical depression and your doctor says “hey let’s try Effexor” – turn around and run out of that damn office faster than you have ever ran before. And never look back. I’m 36 hours without it as of right now.  I wish I could go to sleep until this is all over.

Arkansas Dreamin'

Arkansas Dreamin' (A poem I wrote)

 

Thank you Arkansas so natural and rad!

that special heart place I've always had

rollin' away still makes me sad


cuz i love how Arkansas is natural and rad...

so many years we sailed down the creek

of watery camp songs sung for the weak
kisses on hilltops that make you feel glad
that we are in Arkansas, natural and rad.

the northern mockingbirds and white river shad 

even the bark on the trees of the hills iron-clad

are totally Arkansas natural and rad.

now don't go lose hope or rock just a little
whether you grab for your rifle, or grab for your fiddle
all y'all should print up a newspaper ad
saying: "Thank you Arkansas, you're natural and rad!"

The kids that I've known almost all of my days

will stick there inside me in so many ways
we hang out in dreams both happy and sad
even Arkansas dreaming is natural and rad

you gave us some good ones from Clinton to Cash
but the thing i love most about your whole stash

is even the ones you popped out that turned bad

are totally Arkansas, natural and rad.

- Ben Kweller, written after playing the Roots Festival in Fayetteville, AR August 30, 2014 

"was it worth what you did to your wrists"

it's been  what, 6 weeks? Well I'm too exhausted to keep dodging questions so here it goes, my thoughts on Robin Williams' passing and a little about my own battle...

No, suicide is not the answer. but when you're in that mindset, you see no other options. He's been battling it for so long. Nothing else has worked. I can't justify it but it's a serious illness and it wasn't a selfish act. He didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be there. But you feel like you've exerted all of you options and you feel so alone. You feel like you're burdening everyone and it might be painful at first on your loved ones, or fans in his death, because you know they are stronger than you are. You know they will be okay. I woke up in the emergency department nearly 3 years ago because I was to that point. People can tell you they care but actions speak louder then words. My only wish in life is that people finally start being nice to one another. Suicide is never the right answer but if you get to the point of contemplating it, it's very hard to come back from because all you want is to finally be at peace. You're not asking to be happy, just not to feel so alone and in pain.

Yes, we live in a very cruel and selfish world and there's nothing we can do except take care of ourselves because if we don't, everyone else will literally eat us alive. the world, as a whole, is the biggest pile of shit in my opinion, but you can have a wonderful life if you surround yourself with the right people. There's a devastating stigma on mental health issues in our society. It's sad that it has to take a beloved entertainer, like Robin Williams, killing himself to make the rest of the world open their eyes and see how many people are struggling with this same disease every single day. as time goes by, people will forget the suicide part of his death. They'll continue on with their life and be oblivious to how many people are dying from this disease every single day. Which is why I'll never shut my mouth in speaking out as a voice of for mental health awareness. I am lucky to be alive and I thank God every single day that I am alive. The way I live my life is very simple, try to make today just a little better than the day before. if you're in need of someone to talk to, PLEASE send me a message, text, call me, send a carrier pigeon, sky write, I don't care! just reach out to someone first.

I love each and every one of you guys who have been there for me, whether it's crying with me, sending me a message, calling, visits, anything. The way you treat people matters more than you could ever imagine. 

medicate with music

Henry Rollins: More Thoughts on Suicide

Mon, Aug 25, 2014 at 4:14 AM

       

"As you might imagine, I got a few letters about my recent column about suicide. Actually, it was a lot of letters. For days. I read them. No matter how angry or instructive, I appreciate them all because they were written with complete sincerity, even if some had only two words, the second being “you.”

After reading carefully and responding as best I could, it was obvious that I had some work to do in order to educate myself further on this very complex and painful issue. I am quite thick-headed, but not so much that things don’t occasionally permeate.

In the piece, I said there are some things I obviously don’t get. So I would like to thank you for taking the time to let me know where you’re coming from. None of it was lost upon me.

I cannot defend the views I expressed. I think that would be taking an easy out. I put them out there plainly and must suffer the slings and arrows — fair enough. I won’t attempt to dodge them. However, that doesn’t mean that I can’t be taught a thing or two. I have no love for a fixed position on most things. I am always eager to learn something. I promise that I will dig in and educate myself on this and do my best to evolve. Again, thank you.

In the short amount of space afforded here, hear me out. Like a lot of people, I have battled depression all my life. It’s nothing special, in that it’s too common to be considered unique. This state has made me have to do things in a certain way to remain operational. There have been some truly awful stretches, as I am sure there have been for anyone who deals with depression, that have at times rendered me almost paralytic. Hours pass and I slow-cook on a cold spit. I have likened it to being a peach in a can of syrup yet fully conscious. In an attempt to keep moving along, I must stay in the immediate present tense, acutely aware of everything happening, like driving a car on a highway. If I conclude that I am not citizen grade, I do my best to avoid people so I do not act unpleasantly. No one deserves it. This has kept me in hotel rooms, my kitchen and the corners of gyms. When I have a show that night, it’s minute-to-minute.

One of the only things that gives me a breather is music. I medicate with it.

What has perhaps kept me from seeing things differently about severe depression is that I am sure I don’t have it.

But the power of severe depression was brought up quite a bit in the letters I received. Your anger toward me on this, believe me, I got it.

I serve. That is what I do. It is, to me, the most fortunate position to be in. I have an audience. It is because of them that I get to eat, move — everything. Each member of this audience is better than I am. Braver and more real than I see myself. The only thing I fear besides being misunderstood, which would be my fault anyway, is failing these people.

For decades I have talked to and gotten letters from people who tell me that something I did helped them, or saved them from killing themselves, helped them get clean, stay clean or come out. Never once do I really think that I had anything to do with anyone staying alive, but I get where they’re coming from. All of them are better than I am and it is them I serve.

In my mind, all of this is mine to screw up. While I don’t take myself seriously, I take them with a frightening degree of seriousness. They can take or leave me at any time; they have options. They are all I have and, beyond that, I feel I have a duty to serve them because they have made me better.

I guess this is what makes me wrestle with the issue of suicide, when it pertains to those who have an audience, or kids, or both. I feel nothing but debt to my audience. I will try my hardest, but I will never be able to even the books. If I checked out, I would be running out on the bill.

Like I said, I am trying to evolve on this. I have a picture in my mind. There is a person — one with a family and a huge audience — who is on one side of a seesaw. The family and the audience are on the other side. This person’s condition makes him heavy enough to tilt all of them up in the air and send him to the ground. He didn’t want to go, but the condition outweighed all of them and even he couldn’t stop it. Is that, albeit crudely drawn, basically it?

I understand it is my task to learn about this. It might take a while, but I will get on it. It is my belief about an ingrained sense of duty that will make this challenging, but I am always up for improvement.

I got several letters thanking me for what I said. However, it was the ones that took me to task that made me think the most.

To those I offended, I believe you and I apologize. If what I wrote causes you to toss me out of your boat, it is to my great regret, but I understand and thank you for your thoughts."


****


It has taken me quite a while to figure out a response to all of this. My initial reaction was shock, how could such an intelligent man say such horribly ignorant things? 3 weeks later and I can finally understand it...he doesn't know what severe depression is. As he said in this follow up article, depression isn't unique - it affects too many people to be considered "unique." Severe depression though? depression to the point of even considering taking your own life? that is unique. Most people do not have the conscious thought that putting a rope around your neck, or some equally tragic action, will bring you peace.

There is nothing more in the world that I, someone who has suffered from depression for the better part of her life, wants more than compassion. Compassion, empathy, understanding for people like me, people who have wanted or who have succeeded in killing themselves. I beg, plead, and pray every single day that someone will finally understand how I feel. I have to accept that I am in this on my own. I am fighting a battle that no one else can see. It's me, my medicine, and my therapy vs. the world. and the odds are against me. I have been in the hospital twice, my body is covered in scars, and I have experienced more pain that anyone should in their entire life, and I’m only 27. But despite all of those things, I remain optimistic that life will turn around. I’m doing everything I can to give myself a better life. Suicide is just a lingering thought in the back of my head anymore. If anything, I think about suicide as a fantasy. I don’t have the strength to kill myself and I hope I never do, but the comfort that washes over me when I think about it is unreal. It’s both terrifying and the most incredible sense of relief I’ve ever experienced.  

I don't get mad that people do not understand what we are going through. The truth is, even I don't understand it. So for me to expect anyone else to get it isn't fair. I can't justify someone’s decision to end their own life. It's obscene for me to even suggest suicide as an answer to any of life’s problems but who am I to criticize someone for their decision? Something as personal, as deep-rooted as chronic depression is – no one will ever understand those struggles. You will forever be alone in knowing exactly what’s going on in your own mind but you can reach out for help. My life 6 months ago is barely recognizable to me now. I made the decision to reach out – again – and I’m alive still so it’s working. It may or may not be a permanent solution – only time will tell – but for now,  I’m living my life one minute at a time and it’s working.

So, I’m not mad at Henry Rollins nor am I mad at anyone else, I get the frustration in not being able to understand how someone could make the decision to take their own life. It’s not meant to be understood. If it was as simple as people wish it was, then there would be a way to stop us from thinking suicide is the right choice. It’s always shocking and disheartening when someone makes that decision and it’s okay to be upset, sad, or confused when it happens – that is normal. Please, I beg of you, anyone who is reading this, to not believe that suicide is “giving up” or taking the “easy way out” – no one wants to end their life, they only want to end the battle against their illness.

*Do not get mad at someone for giving up – they fought as hard as they could.

*Do not think suicide was an impulsive decision – this was the hardest decision of their life.

*Do not take it personal – depression is not about anyone except for the person who is suffering from it. Of course they thought about the repercussions of their actions. They do not want you to hurt. In a warped mind that has been overtaken by this illness, you believe suicide to be the right answer. You think you’re doing the world a favor and when time has passed, people’s lives will be easier now that they don’t have to deal with you and your disease.

 

Yes, it’s incredibly fucked up, which is exactly why I don’t expect anyone to ever understand my depression.