imperfect-and-trying

[imperfect-and-trying]

My body is falling apart because of my anxiety, but I don’t want to eat. I can literally see blood and intestinal lining each time I go to the bathroom, but I’m not hungry enough to eat. I want to be hungry enough to eat, I just can’t. Maybe I deserve this.

I should go off my adhd medication, it’s been making me more anxious and depressed lately. If I’m off it, I can focus on being better again.

[imperfect-and-trying]

I hate it here. I feel like it’s my fault for being delusional enough to believe I was treating everyone the same- like a friend. I just want to be friends, why can’t anyone believe that?

[imperfect-and-trying]

I think I’m gonna finally let myself feel instead of bottling everything up

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I’m a terrible sister, I’m literally becoming my parents and watching myself ignore my baby sister. Why am I doing this? I love her so much why can’t I just listen to her for one moment?

…

I bought her Tears of the Kingdom, a physical copy since she’s been wanting to play it. I used some of my birthday to get it bc I felt guilty. I hope she likes it, though I know listening to her when she wants to talk to me would be better.

I hate myself for treating her the same way my parents treat her, she doesn’t deserve that treatment

[imperfect-and-trying]

I feel like I’m slowly decaying in my own body

[imperfect-and-trying]

AND I LEFT MY PIZZA FOR THIS FIGHT

Some points for therapy

- Just bc you felt anxious doesn’t mean that’s how it came across

- The main emotion I get from our family is anger, not matter what we’re angry

- We take our anger out on everyone, so might as well assign blame to me so I at least feel like I have control of the situation

- My entire life has been putting aside what I want in favor of what you want bc I thought that’s what gave me value

- I feel resentful when small things like taking the hot water bc it reminds me of all the times something big happened in my life (ie self harm when little) and you didn’t notice it

- I don’t feel seen, I feel like I send these big messages like the constant sleeping and irritability and not wanting to spend time with you and you go about your day like it’s normal while I’m struggling to breathe

- I don’t feel safe/ comfortable with you, you seem disregard boundaries when they don’t suit you. Very much my way or the highway vibes

[imperfect-and-trying]

I think at this point, my dog’s the only reason I’m continuing to fight to stay alive

[imperfect-and-trying]

Some symptoms of ptsd I’ve experienced

Anger without a solid reason

Getting annoyed easily

Sleeping all the time

Hypersensitivity to touch and emotionally

Sensory overload

Hyper sexual

Hypo sexual

Wanting to hurt people that I don’t actually want hurt, they’ve just hurt me so bad I feel like I need to get even

Apathy

Back pain

Stomach pain

The need to force myself to throw up

Starving

Little appetite

Little to no impulse control

Panic attacks

Full breakdowns

Occasionally auditory and visual hallucinations

Sobbing fits

…

I just want to sleep

[imperfect-and-trying]

Breakdown after breakdown, I’m slowly turning into my mom

I can hardly breathe anymore from my own anger

[imperfect-and-trying]

All my sins are carved into my flesh by my own hand, for the world to judge. The towel I used to wipe my blood is still there next to the mirror, covered in blood and paint. I hate myself. The meds aren’t working as well as they should and it’s my fault. 

Why am I so sick?

[imperfect-and-trying]

What was Finn gonna think.

I knew I was sick, and I knew before I’d attempted everyone thought I was managing. Mechanical beeping and the toxic white that creeped into everywhere you’d look, a reminder that all of us were wrong. Sylvia Plath was right about hospital rooms at least.

I can’t say I was disappointed or even angry that the attempt failed, and I think that was the most terrifying part; I was just tired. Wiggling my fingers and toes feeling the horrid texture of bandages and cotton sheets rubbing against each other. At least I wasn’t throwing up anymore.

[imperfect-and-trying]

Meat Strawberry

[imperfect-and-trying]

I hate it. It eats me up inside trying to figure out what I am, why I want to die. Usually it’s from depression or anxiety, just a couple minutes ago I thought how boring it is to be alive and have a body. Being human is so limiting sometimes, why can’t I move and soar like the wind, or paint the earth with my matter as I return to the dust I came from. All I do as a person is worry and think and feel. Having to do that is so tiring, it’d be so much easier to blindly act without conscious thought. A pile of former living chemicals now free from their mortal confines.