and in the photo album, it all looks so perfect. doesn’t it? hallmark smiles, and christmas card messages, and maybe if we keep going at this we can just pretend there’s nothing off about it.
in the photo album, i do not have mental illness. i am just a smiling little girl, with freckles on her cheeks, and the wind in her hair, and in the end, i am nothing more than a pretty face. sitting there.
in the photo album, maybe i am just being stupid. and dramatic. but i still can’t help but feel the fault lines wracking through me, except… maybe this isn’t really me. maybe this brain was never mine, and maybe i am out of place inside this body.
maybe i made it all up. maybe i don’t remember it correctly, because if i was so miserable how can i look so happy?
I went through all my old childhood pictures and videos and stuff on my laptop a couple days ago, and kind of broke down a little afterward. Not in a loud way. It just triggered this chain of denial inside me–like, I’m just lying, I don’t really have anxiety. I guess this was what I wrote to at least attempt to deal with those feelings.
trigger warning: suicidal thoughts mention. need to talk to anyone? crisis lines are here.
numb hands, and a heavy head. and i know it’s a mental illness, but it’s still in my control and i still should have fixed it.
i should have been better. should have been perfect. not frozen numb on the inside, hands in my pockets as i realize that loneliness does not discriminate based on circumstance. and that even when i’m surrounded by the people who love me most, i will still fall asleep, and my mind will still feel like stone.
and sometimes when i cry, i feel like i’m six years old. and my mom tells me to stop. my mom tells me it’s not your time to go and how can thoughts of suicide at such a young age have somehow felt so normal?
so for all of the times when the lonely felt like permafrost seeping through me. when i was defined by these aching concrete bones. i am not alone.
there is love out there. there is something like a small beam of hope, and i won’t say it’ll go away forever. but there’s more to life than feeling this cold.
and you know you brought yourself back to life from the brink of oblivion, right? you rubbed your hands together. you smashed sunlight into sparks and somehow lit a fire. you wrote yourself a home.
Hey guys! I don’t normally post about holidays, just because I’m not a huge celebration person, but I just wanted to say, to whoever likes my blog enough to bother with reading this: thank you. Thank you for nice comments, and likes, and for supporting me at the start of what I hope is a long journey.
This is the first year out of many for this blog, hopefully, and I can’t wait to see what I’ll accomplish this year. What the world will do this year.
And honestly, 2019 was rough. I think 2020 is probably gonna be pretty rough too. But I know… that we’re gonna make it through. And it’s ok to be scared. It’s ok to be excited. It’s ok if you aren’t all that emotional about new year at all. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s ok.
2019 was rough, but… it’s also been a year of growth. The year I started this blog, the year I got help and started medication–the year things started to get better. And even though I’m scared, I’m also excited. Because I think things are getting better. I think I’m going to fight.
So… I hope the next year is a good one for you. I hope so much, for all of you. Thank you again, so much, for everything. We’re in this together.