Inspired

Yesterday morning my little 11 year old 5lb Pomeranian died suddenly with no warning… I have been devastated. Especially being so unbalanced lately with meds and starting my senior semester as a psych research student. Out of all of this, all my friends were nowhere to be found. For months I lost my spark. The one that drives creativity but yesterday I found it in the strength and grief and love for my old companion.

This is what came of it… the last picture is basically finished just need a few finishing touches but in pain is art and in art is pain and in that is solace. Remember that.

This took a turn

Don’t you hate that? How the night before, you feel motivated, have a plan for the next day, even feel a little motivated the second you wake up. But then, it starts slowly. Something feels a little off. You make up excuses for it. It hits you, you feel a little off.

That realization, that moment. The moment you realize it’s you, you’re the one who feels off. That’s when it happens. You start slowly spiraling. Not too bad at first, though. Not very noticeable because you’ve put it in the back of your mind. Well, at least you think you did. But it’s growing. It gets bigger and bigger. You start actively thinking about your anxieties, fears, mistakes, things that make you wrong as a person. Things you’ve decided are true, that must be true because why else would you feel this way. Why else would it be so damn hard, so damn exhausting to get yourself to make at least one phone call, check off one thing on your list.

You make up these things, these facts about yourself, convinced they are true but in fact are the complete opposite. Yes, maybe it’s exhausting to fight yourself to even get one thing done on the list but you did it. You, on your bad day, got something done. Even if you didn’t manage to get something on your list done, you managed and you know fucking what? That in itself is strength.

People don’t see mental illness, not all the time. They don’t see what we are fighting. How fucking exhausting it is. How the simplest thing makes you tired and ashamed because you can’t do it like the “normies” can but fuck them. You are, I am, so much stronger for it. We have to fight everyday. It’s not easy. Life’s not easy, but we do it.

So, this started as a rant but turned into a pep talk. I think mostly I needed to hear it. I needed to know it was okay. But if anyone else needed to know, know it’s okay to survive, it’s okay to just breathe. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.

-B.

1-30-18

2017

2017, pretty much a big fuck you but with a cherry on top. A very big sweet red cherry on top.

The highlights; I failed nursing school, I got back in, passed my third semester and made it to my final semester but not before the worst and best summer of my life.

The summer of 2017, started out amazing. I was ready to study for school, I had friends, new friends, I had purpose. Then I was all alone. Everyone fell off the face of the earth. I couldn’t study. I was all alone, all the time.

I learned a lot in my loneliness. I learned to take care of my myself. Become healthy. Even lost 20 lbs.

I got back into my art, in any creative outlet I could. Writing, photography, drawing, making jewelry.

I learned how to cope. Cope in a healthy way. Listening to music again, art, going to the river. I learned to be alone and be okay with it. I started to enjoy myself, my company. I have never done that.

I decided it was time to meet people, specifically start a relationship, and maybe make some friends. I set out on a few dating websites. I went out on a few meets.

But, the second to last one… July 30th… I’ll never forget. I made 17 cigarettes for that night. It’s funny the things you remember. That night, I was raped.

I didn’t think of it walking back to the car. Not until I started the car and an overwhelming urge to vomit came over me. The next weeks were hell. I was late. My period was late.

But for some reason, I kept talking to another guy I had given my number to. I remember the day after it happened, he texted me for the first time. I was skittish and I was not really into it but over the next few weeks he was persistent.

I eventually told him what happened. I hadn’t told anyone. Not even my mom. I trusted him. There was something about him. He had been touched by the darkness too. I just knew.

I finally got my period, day 40 of my cycle. A week before I had told my mom. She urged me to go to the police but in the past when I went to them about my past, they never believed me, there was no justice. So, you understand why I didn’t trust them.

Time went on, I was numb, depressed, drinking. I barely left my room, the chair in the corner by the window. Where I sat and smoked. But he was there to talk. He was the only person I spoke to.

I didn’t withdraw from school, I thought going would help. I tried to study before the semester but I couldn’t and my mother was not helpful. Always on me about studying.

In August, that guy and I got closer. He asked me to be his on the 15th. He knew I was fucked up, he knew I was not interested in anything sexual but he wanted me. All of me. So I said yes.

I was in a downward spiral. Looking for anything to help. I met him, he made me feel safe. In control.

School started but we made it work. He lived over an hour up north. He would come once a week and get a hotel room. School got bad, my home life got worse. I was drowning. It was worse than the summer.

I decided to leave my last semester at school. I just couldn’t. The PTSD had set in. My moms abuse was too much.

I had finally had enough. I left. At 28, I left. I stood up for myself and left. He saved me. I packed all my stuff up in my car and his. He took me home.

Then I went back. I thought it would be different but it wasn’t.

Days later, he saved me again and I never went back.

I don’t know what I would have done if I had never met him.

It’s 2018, now. Life is hard. I’m just learning to be an adult and I still take baby steps. I still ask for help with everything. Being under my mothers thumb, feeling feeble for so long, has damaged me good but I got this.

I guess what I’m saying is, it’s never too late. Follow your heart. Follow your dreams.

-B.

1-12-17

Coping 

They told me I’ve been coping wrong All these years, they have been telling me

Showing me how I should be coping 

“Healthy” coping 

“Normal” coping 

Telling me it would help me 

I would feel better 

Get better 

Everything will fall into place 
My coping

They told me it wasn’t “healthy” 

It wasn’t “normal” 

It was just a “quick fix” 

“It will only make you feel worse”

But it was my coping for a reason 
After years of pushing against them 

I tried their methods 

I’m still trying 

I keep trying because it doesn’t work 

I still feel like shit 

It hasn’t brought me peace 

Happiness 

Sense of worth 

None of those promises 

It’s all bullshit 

All of it 
My methods 

Although unconventional, work 

How do I know? 

Because they are my coping skills for a reason 

I learned to cope that way 

For a reason 
Now 

Now, I’m struggling 

Where are all of these things you promised? 

Because I’m barely coping… 
-B. 

8-26-17