#but literally. suicidal thoughts out of nowhere. urge to drink out of nowhere

[identitty-dickruption]

one of the worst things in the world is that feeling unloveable can (and will) make you act in ways that reinforces itself. I feel unloveable so I don’t respond to messages so people reach out less so I feel unloveable. one of the hardest things in the world is fighting back the brain demons long enough to break the cycle

[jawritter]

Broken Me...

Ch. 3

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatly have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Online bulling, language, insecurities, mean girls. I think that’s about it..

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1779

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen's POV:

"I can't believe I lost it like that man! What the hell!!" Jensen yelled, throwing his hat across the room, watching as it hit the wall with a limp thump before falling to the floor.

He’d never been so pissed off at himself in his life, the way he ran off stage like that, Y/n probably thinks she did something wrong. 

He knew she saw him upset…

He knew she saw him try to hide the fact that I was up there crying like a little bitch... 

Maybe that many shots before he got on stage wasn't such a great idea after all... 

He was just trying to get numb enough to get through this damn concert without feeling anything. That turned out well didn’t it...

"Dude stop!! You're doing a hell of a lot better than I would be doing. I would have left the convention by now, and would be a blubbering mess somewhere. As far as y/n goes. I think she's fine. I saw her taking selfies with some other fans after the concert was over. Now Richard on the other hand, he saw, he's asking questions. I know you're not ready to talk about all this to everyone, but if you're going to stay at the convention. You're going to have to tell the rest of the cast and crew what the hell is going on with you." 

Jensen knew Jared was right, but he couldn’t help the stone face that he gave him as he watched the overly tall man take a swig of his beer. 

Even though Jared has the mental maturity of a ten year old, when stuff is going down he usually is right. 

As far as Jensen was concerned he was nowhere near ready to talk about what happened between Danneel and himself, everything was still so fresh, so raw, hell it had just happened today! 

He knew he couldn’t get into telling people without breaking down, and that was NOT something he was going to do in front of everyone. 

It just isn't going to happen... 

"I know you're right, but I’m not ready to talk about this with everyone, man it all this just happened less than 12 hours ago! I haven't even had time to process it yet. I'll try, and talk to everyone in the morning if people are asking too many questions. I just can't do it tonight. I'm still a little drunk, I'm exhausted. Probably too damn exhausted to sleep, which means I’ll probably drink myself to sleep…. Don’t look at me like that Jared, I just ….need tonight okay......Put Richard and everyone else off till in the morning if they ask you any questions."

Jared fought the urge to shake his head and roll his eyes, but this was Jensen’s battle, not his, and he had to deal with all of this how he saw best. No matter how much Jared didn’t agree with it..

"Okay I can do that. I told Richard tonight that you would probably tell everyone in the morning what was going on anyway, It was the only way he would let it go. They're worried about you man."

Jensen pushed his hands through his already completely messed up hair, and stood there with his eyes closed, trying his damndest to get a hold of himself. He was tired of crying about this already, and had just happened today, hell it’s not like they were together every day of their marriage, he was practically single anyway… They never even fucking saw each other.. Why did this bother him so much?  

"Ugh Jen?" Jared said, sounding almost like a little kid afraid to tell their parents something bad.... 

"What?" 

White hot fear licked at Jensen right up his backbone, it was never good in this industry for someone to use that tone while looking at social media... 

"Uh, looks like the video of you and y/n tonight has gone almost viral." 

Video of him singing at cons did that all the time so it was no surprise to him that one of him signing with a fan had gotten a lot of attention. So Jensen knew that was just the warm up for the let down, and braced himself…

"Okay, So." 

"Well Danneel saw it and, well......" 

Jared handed Jensen the phone, and what he saw there made him nauseous, and like he’d been shot in the chest with a 12 gage full of buckshot all at once….

“That bitch..”

............................................................

Your POV:

Walking back through the door of your hotel room you fall face first on the bed. 

Exhaustion was a very real thing, but you still had a lot of adrenaline pumping through you, way too much to sleep right now. Your mind racing a thousand miles a second. Analyzing everything that had happened tonight almost to a fault. 

Did I dream that or did it really happen? 

What's going on with Jensen? 

Why was he so upset? 

Were Richard and I the only ones that noticed? 

Jared obviously saw? 

Every time you think about it  your skin would tingle where Jensen had touched you. Hell by the time the two of you hand ended the song he was seriously so close for just a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. 

Thank God he didn't... 

Cause you probably would have passed out in his arms... 

Which probably wouldn't have been a bad thing, if you were alone, and not on a stage in front of hundreds of people with cameras and smartphones. 

Not cool...

With that thought you picked up your phone, and saw literally hundreds of twitter, facebook, and Instagram notifications on your phone. 

Your eyes bulging out of your head as you scrolled through twitter, the video of Jensen and yourself had gone almost viral. 

Your head started spinning and you honestly felt like you were going to throw up. Everyone seemed to like it, that wasn't the thing. The SPN fandom was seriously awesome that way, and for the most part everyone supported each other in one way or another... 

It was the post from Danneel that shook you from your head to your toes... 

"Y/f/n!! Get your ass over here!!" You yelled toward the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth. The room was spinning slightly as you read the tweet over and over again, as if you could make it disappear from the world wide web by sheer willpower...

"What?" She yelled back, running toward the bed, a look of concern on her face. 

She knew your tone had changed from joking in the elevator to almost sheer panic. 

"What is it?" She asked, taking the phone out of your hand. 

"Dang...Poor Jensen!!" She said, staring stocked at the phone. She was staring at the phone in slack jaw shock probably like the rest of the fandom at the moment.. You knew this was just the calm before the storm though, and you were about to be under fire form some of the more hardcore fans in the fandom...

"Well he was having a harder time than what it looks like on the video." You said, she looked at you completely lost. Apparently the audience didn't catch it. A moment ago you would have been relieved, now though you wished they would have just seen him.. 

Then man was a damn good actor...   

"That part in the video that looks like he's kissing my neck….. He wasn't. He had started to cry, and was wiping his face." You mummer, guilt rocking you to your core for agreeing to sing that song with him now that you knew what was going on with him... 

"Bullshit!" She yelled. "Why didn't you tell me he was that upset!" 

“I thought it wasn't any of our business! What was going on with him was obviously not intended to be a public thing. So I kept my mouth shut out of respect." You shot back. 

Looking down at the tweet you still couldn’t believe what you were seeing was really happening..

The tweet was a repost of the video of Jensen and yourself singing. That wasn’t the problem. It was the comment above that  made you nauseous. 

Well since Jensen seems to have ALREADY moved on to basically screwing fans on a live stage!! Looks like I OWE my fans the explanation! Jensen and I are getting a DIVORCE!!! WE ARE NO LONGER TOGETHER!!  I don't know who this girl is, but baby girl RUN!! I PROMISE YOU DON'T WANT THAT!!!

---------------------------------------

A few hours later you found yourself still awake and staring at the ceiling. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight no matter how you sliced it.. 

You couldn’t believe she did that.. 

She doesn't even know you!!! 

Some fans jumped to your immediate defense, telling her to go screw herself, and that didn’t happen the way the video was making it look, that it was a lot more innocent in person. 

Then there were some ‘Jensen always deserved better than you anyways’. 

That It was just a performance... Meaning nothing and she needed to get over her high and mighty act... 

Jensen was a sweetheart. He was probably totally heartbroken, and she was a bitch... 

Then there were some that were attacking you... 

"She's just a whore. He'll come crawling back." 

"He's a jackass you deserve better." 

"She wont even last with him a week." 

"She's just a side bitch."

 "She's ugly, he downgraded." 

"OMG I didn't know Jensen was into fat girls!"

They cut deeper than a stranger's opinion of you probably should have. Especially that last one. You weren't fat by any means, but you also weren't hide stretched over the bones. 

You had curves. 

Your stomach wasn't perfectly fat. 

Your thighs touched together when you walked. 

You didn't have a model body, but hell Marline Monroe was fatter than you are!! 

You and Jensen we're NOT together in any sense of the word, and by no means was he practically “Screwing you” on stage tonight..

A slight knock on the door disturbed your thoughts, and you looked over to y/f/n. 

She was still knocked out. 

So you quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen down your face, dragging yourself out of bed. You got up and looked through the peephole in the door, but all you could see was a white t-shirt. 

You unlock the door, and peck through the crack to see who was standing there at this hour in the night, and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass for the second time tonight..

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Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ 

Binge Tag: @sarahbaker2010​

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 5: One’s desires (Part 3)

Warnings: insecurities, mention of drugs, minors drinking

Author notes: a lot of insecurities in chapter 5, I hope you won’t find it too annoying... But I felt it was necessary, somehow. Do tell me, though, I would stop the scheduling to rework on it!

"Bleach cocktail, bartender...!" Dazai-san cheerfully ordered, dropping his coat onto a stool and sitting right after.

Bar Lupin was quiet, and there was no customer except us, just as usual. The underground bar seemed the only place one could call peaceful for people like us, living in the shadows of the world. I sat next to my superior, without a word. I had been there several times, already, escorting him to his meetings with his friends, Oda-san and Sakaguchi-san, but rarely alone with him. I did not know how to behave in such a situation...

His drink was gently put in front of him, and I glanced at its clear colour — so different from the usual whisky we both drank.

"Mmh~ This smell of cleaning products~" He chuckled, bringing the glass to his lips.

The reasonable part of my brain probably was aware there was no bleach nor other toxic ingredients in the cocktail, for the bartender was someone trustworthy, but I could not stop my hand from jerking toward him to stop his moves.

"Heh~? Is there a problem, Ogawa-kun~?"

My senses came back to me, and I immediately backed away from him, absolutely awkward.

"I... Thought... Nonsense..." I mumbled, embarrassingly playing with my hands "I acted without thinking..."

"I know~" He chuckled "I expected as much from teasing you~"

"Y-You predicted I would try to stop you...?"

"That's the point of teasing." He smiled "But somehow, I'm glad you acted expectedly."

"I wouldn't want you to die... The Port Mafia needs you..." I justified, looking away.

"The Port Mafia... Eh?"

He looked disappointed by my answer. Now, I wondered what he wanted me to say, but I could not go and admit I needed him too, could I...? It would be completely unprofessional, and our relationship was not meant to go any further. I was already plenty grateful for him allowing me to live, what more could my greedy mind ask for...?

"Whisky on the rocks, please..." I ordered, eyes lost in the imperfections on the wooden counter.

Jazz music played quietly in the background, filling in the comfortable silence that had set up around us. In there, the cold from outside would not reach us, and we were given a timeless moment, far from the crimes and horror we committed out of duties. The atmosphere was warm, almost unreal, but it felt good, serene. When Oda-san and Sakaguchi-san were not there, Dazai-san was not as talkative, but his moves, his look and his being, in general, seemed to send wordless messages in the air. I tried to see and guess what he could be thinking. Was he disappointed his friends could not come? It was not disappointment I read in his eyes. Rather, melancholy...? Or perhaps was he just lost in his thoughts and his eyes scrutinised his drink without actually seeing it. His fingers traced the edge of the glass, slowly, creating the most calming tinting sound, and the ice melted, shaking the thin walls of glass around it and disrupting the silence.

He was wondering why he was still alive... Again. Silently, he was looking for a way to end his tired life, but his numerous suicide attempts had never once succeeded. I took a sip of my whisky, enjoying the rich taste of the alcohol before the ice could melt and ruin it. I was sitting right next to him, yet Dazai-san seemed so far away, mind gone to a place I had no access to. He was still unattainable, after all...

"Why the long face, Ogawa-kun?" He turned toward me.

"I-I don't... I mean... I'm not making a face..." I defended, taken aback.

"You don't seem happy to be there..."

"Not at all...! I am very glad to accompany you, Dazai-san... Only... You... You always seem elsewhere... So far... I feel I can never truly be by your side..." I muttered, fidgeting on the stool.

"But you are by my side..." He tilted his head slightly, as though not understanding "Right now, you are literally sitting next to me."

"I didn't mean it physically... I know I am there, with you, but you... You always look as though your mind is travelling around another world, another dimension that I have no access to... You always seem lost in thoughts and I... I can't read them..." I looked down "I can't understand what you think, I can't understand what you feel, and the more I am aware of it, the more it frustrates me and the more I feel estranged from you, Dazai-san... It is strange, too, because, whereas I do deeply want to know, I am always afraid to discover how you truly feel about me... Isn't that contradictory...?"

"You wouldn't want to read my mind, so that's better this way..." He hummed, bringing his glass to his lips "There is nothing in there that would relieve your concerns..."

"... Is that so...?" I glanced away, feeling bitter "Is that so... Does that mean you've... Lied to me...? Again...?"

"It is not that I lie to you, Ogawa-kun..." He sighed "It is simply that I... How to put that...? It is not quite natural to me... Behaving around you normally..."

"Normally as in... Not beating me...? Nor yelling at me...?" I frowned, pained.

It hurt. It hurt so much. None of his "care" was sincere... I should have known so, yet a part of me still hoped he somehow had genuine concerns about me. I had been pitifully played with, made into a loyal dog he could easily tame thanks to a few concerned words here and there... He was a master at manipulating people... I should have remembered this fact.

"That's not it, Ogawa-kun..." He rubbed his temples.

"Then, what is it, Dazai-san...?" I resisted my urge to cry.

Seeing as he did not answer, I stood up and headed toward the restroom, not without taking a syringe of morphine from the pocket of my coat. I had not used my ability, but I needed, oddly enough, the relief provided by drugs. I needed to feel the morphine coursing through my blood vessels, annihilating any kind of pain, even if, obviously, my inner sufferings would never be calmed down by anaesthetics. If there was medicine which made people happy, I would gladly throw my entire savings away just to have a taste, but it did not exist, and would never exist. Or it did. It was called naivety.

When I came back to the counter, something was wrong; Dazai-san was nowhere to be seen. A rather burdening buzzing sound echoed in my ears, and my hands almost instantly felt moist as I walked toward the bartender, something heavy threatening to pour from my eyes.

"He... Left...?" I was barely able to ask "He left...?"

"He requested me to tell you not to worry about him. And that he regretted his previous words." He answered, drying a glass.

"It would not be bold to assume he paid, would it...?" I stayed stunned, staring at the man's swift moves.

"He did."

I slammed my fist on the counter, anger rushing to my brain.

"He's an idiot!!" I cursed, jaw trembling and tears threatening to come "My superior, the most capable person of the Mafia, is an actual idiot... Do you believe it...?"

"Sometimes, humans would rather run away than facing the people they hurt. It is a pretty much normal reaction, to me." He hummed, gently smiling at me "Does it not reassure you, to know that sometimes Dazai Osamu can be human?"

"It does..." I conceded "But as a fellow human, I am hurt. It hurts so much, inside... It burns my lungs..."

"Then, what are you still doing here, talking with this old man...? I am not the one you should say these words to." He chuckled.

"I am afraid, too... I start to understand now... Running away..."

"You are not allowed to stay here." He said, more firmly "Because you know how to use words to voice your feelings, and it would be a shame not to say them out loud, would it not?"

I understood. I understood immediately what I had to do. I grabbed my coat and rushed outside, thanking the bartender before closing the door. It was so cold... Above my head and the dark alley, the sky was darkened by both the night and the clouds, from which small flakes of snow fell, to land delicately on Yokohama, soundlessly, quietly. It would have been with much joy I would have taken the time to enjoy the snow, but I had a task to complete, as a subordinate, and as a person who cared about another. I merely took time to carelessly put my trench coat onto my shoulders, and followed the way toward the headquarters, where I knew he had gone back. There was nowhere else he would go to, except perhaps his own apartment, but without being aware of its location, the Port Mafia was the only place I could search.

Besides, he knew me well. He had surely foreseen my reaction. He had surely predicted I would run after him, and maybe had purposely left traces, hints, to indicate his route. If he was simply trying to tease me again, oh, he would hear my complaints days and nights for an undetermined amount of time. I was not very familiar with him; I could not afford to behave as more than a subordinate around him. Nevertheless, I did allow myself to correct him when he was wrong. He was definitely wrong, this time.

"Dazai-san..." I recognised his tall silhouette "Dazai-san...!"

The snow covering the alley hid its pavement; my foot got caught in one of them, and the world went upside down, so suddenly.

Yet, my body never hit the ground and, instead, I felt caught and secured by a pair of bandaged arms, which immediately retracted once I was back on my two feet. It would be troublesome if he were to cancel my ability just now... For he would have to carry me all the way back to the headquarters or my room.

"Ogawa-kun...?" He frowned.

"Dazai-san, I... I do not —"

"I thought you would not come..." He confessed "I thought you would stay at the bar and hate me..."

Why would he consider such extremities...?

"I would never hate you, Dazai-san... I've told you, I will never hate you... I want to apologise; I should not have —"

"It is normal that you must take your morphine income... You are an addict, if you don't, you will feel bad." He looked away "And I... Ran away... Cowardly..."

"I do not mind..."

"How could you not?"

"I mean... It hurts a lot... It pains me to know you are trying so hard to act nice toward me... It did pain me too, noticing you had gone, leaving me behind... But my sufferings... My sufferings are meaningless compared to my loyalty. No matter what you do, how you act and what you say to me, I will never hate you and will never wish to leave your side... I am your lieutenant, after all..." I cracked a small smile, looking down "But I do not want you to force yourself around me... Please, do not feel the pressure to be 'nice' toward me, Dazai-san... I would rather leave, if I am a —"

"You are going to say 'burden', aren't you...?" He answered my smile "It is not that I strive to be caring... Deeply, I want you to be fine, yet I am not sure how to behave... Sometimes, I will become violent, and I will not realise it... When I am with Odasaku and Ango, I know they understand, but you... I've hurt you too much to request your understanding..."

"I understand." I assured "I understand, so... Please be yourself, Dazai-san. So you never need to run away from me anymore..."

"I will strive to trust you, then..."

"I will wait..." I said, putting my coat on.

All the adrenaline had gone down and my body felt the striking cold accurately. My fingertips were reddened and my insides were shaking badly. I sniffed.

"For now..." I looked at my superior "Can we... Can we go back, please...?"

"Let's go, Ogawa-kun." He nodded.

His coat fell onto my shoulders, making me stare at him.

"You will catch a cold..." I started removing it.

"You keep it. My bandages are made to increase my body heat~"

"There is no way..." I raised an eyebrow.

"The alcohol —"

"Doesn't keep you warm." I finished "Dazai-san, I would feel terrible if you were to have the flu because of me...!"

"If I have the flu, then it is my fault." He shrugged it off "Because I am the one who insisted on giving you the coat."

I pouted, and picked up the pace so we could arrive more quickly to the headquarters.

His office was so warm after fighting against the cold, I immediately let myself fall onto a couch, appreciating the comfort of the soft cushions. Dazai-san, who had been more cheerful on the way back, suddenly changed his smile into a frown, and took large and hurried steps toward his desk. There, on the surface deprived of any document, laid an envelope. And I did not know why it annoyed him so much. I reached his side.

"That's for me...?" I frowned upon seeing my name written on the white paper.

"I hope it is not a trapped letter..." He narrowed his eyes "Although, knowing this handwriting, it might as well be..."

"Is it...?" I took the enveloppe between my fingers and flipped it to read the identity of the sender "The Boss...?!"

"Mmh..." He took it back.

I was worried. I had met Mori-san once, when I was fourteen, and he had appeared intimidating enough for me not to ever want to interact with him again. I did not want to get involved with that man. I felt he could break me with a single snap of his fingers, which frightened me. He had a kind of threatening aura, inducing fear instead of respect. Despite that, many subordinates were loyal to him, Nakahara-san being the first of them. I often saw him looking up to the Boss, the rare time I accompanied my superior and his partner in a mission.

"Let me open it." He said, and I nodded.

It did not explode nor did it spread a toxic gas, which relieved me at first. At the very least, he did not want us dead. Instead, I was agreeably surprised by the content of the letter.

"An invitation... To the party...?" My voice got caught in my throat.

"What is he planning...?" Dazai-san gritted his teeth.

"I am only a lieutenant, I can't possibly —"

"If he sent it and you don't show up, he will kill you. Or worse." He clicked his tongue "That's too late now, even I can't do anything about it..."

"You..." I glanced at his face "Did not want me to get involved with him, did you...? That's why you... Earlier..."

"That's why I asked Odasaku to come with me instead of you, indeed. He has seen through my intentions..."

"Why would the Boss want to see me...? When we met, you told me he had had his eyes on me, but I thought it was as an ability user..."

"As an ability user... I'm afraid I understand what he wants to do." He sighed heavily "Since you've set foot in the organisation, he's been wanting to introduce you to a subordinate of his. I've always tried to postpone that event, yet he has found the perfect opportunity... For now, let's just wait and see. Perhaps I am overthinking it..."

"Understood, Dazai-san." I received his orders.

But deep inside, I was quite glad I could go to the party with him.

[never-not-ever]

Can you share your story with us? You can do it ❤️

Thank you! It wasn’t that bad… The 8th graders this morning were paying attention which was nice but no one asked questions in the end so it was like a little awkward lol. But after that at the high school I was a part of 5 periods where the kids would shuffle in and me and my co peer mentors would sit at the front like a panel. Since there was a bunch of us we didn’t all have to present each time but I ended up doing mine twice!

Also just to preface this, my story is not the full story. The first draft I sent to the coordinator was like 10x long and over time we shortened it and tried to not make it as descriptive/triggering… but here ya go!

“Freshmen year of high school, I was sitting in class joking with my best friend about how it was going to be my last day in school. I had an annual physical with my doctor later that afternoon. This was my first doctors appointment since I started self harming. Back then I thought that the second she saw my arm I was going to get taken away by two men in white coats. I didn’t go to a psych ward that day. Instead, she asked me if I was okay and I replied “I’m fine, it was a stupid thing I did, I promise I won’t do it again”. She handed me a little white card with the name and phone number of a therapist. I often wonder what would have happened if I actually called that therapist and got help back in high school. Would the self harm have stopped? Would the suicide attempts have been prevented? Would I have graduated from college by now? Who would I be if I got help back then?

I think I had a pretty normal childhood. I didn’t have a mom and a dad but I had my Nana and my Aunt. My Nana got custody of me when I was 2 and she and my Aunt raised me my whole life. My Aunt was like my mother and everywhere we went people thought I was her daughter. I have no memory of my father. He was an alcoholic and left before my mother lost custody of me. My mother has her own problems with mental health as well as a drug addiction. We tried to have a relationship but as I grew up I saw who she really was. By the time I turned 15 I wanted nothing to do with her and I haven’t spoken to her since.

Growing up I was really close with my Aunt, she was like a mother to me, a real one. My Aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in middle school and she was constantly in relapse and remission. For months it would disappear and then all of a sudden it would come back again. I went to a small middle school with probably about 15 kids in my class. I was the biggest person in my school. At the 8th grade dance all the other girls wore cute dresses and I wore pants and a nice shirt. That wasn’t my style but I was just way too self conscious to ever wear a dress. In high school I was once again the biggest person. I had a couple close friends but I hated being around people, always fearing that they were judging me for my size. I had a friend online who introduced me to self harm. He was always bullied so he starting hurting himself as a way to cope. You see I was never bullied. I was always overweight but no one ever called me names or made fun of me, at least to my face. I was the bully. To myself. I hated the way I looked, the things I said, the way I interacted with other people. I hated everything about myself. I always scolded myself for saying or doing the wrong thing. I started self harming in my freshmen year. Back then I didn’t see a future for myself. I was so depressed that I wasn’t thinking about the consequences I’d later face because of my self harm. My depression, along with my extreme self hatred, turned my self harm into a way to punish myself.

After high school my depression and self harm got worse and I started feeling suicidal. My Aunts cancer was back and had traveled throughout her body. She passed away in April of 2012. She died at home and I watched her take her last breath. Right after she passed I ran up to my room and tore apart the suicide notes and threw away all my self harm supplies all while telling myself “I have to be there for my Nana, I can’t leave her too”. My Aunt’s death made me feel selfish for feeling depressed and suicidal. It made me think of all the people who have it worse and here I was so depressed and wanting to end my life? It didn’t make sense. But I wasn’t choosing to feel this way and I had every right to feel the way I did. It took me a while to realize that but I know now after feeling such joy and happiness I wouldn’t chose sadness and depression, no one would. For a while after my Aunt passed away I thought maybe she was watching over me and so every time I had that urge to hurt myself it was easily pushed away. The day my Aunt died it was like I put this shield up and I automatically started comforting everyone around me so I wasn’t actually grasping the fact that she was gone. Later on that fall I tried to go back to school but my depression got worse and the reality of my Aunt’s death finally came to the surface and so I ended up dropping out. The self harm started up again and it was now a full blown addiction. 

Almost a year after my Aunts death I saw my first therapist and later that summer my first psychiatrist. I spent a year in therapy while working part time. I tried once again to go back to school but for the third time I dropped out. I was severely depressed, self harming and binge drinking alone in my room. I was soon admitted to a psych ward at McLean Hospital. I was there for a week and on the day I discharged I went home and attempted to end my life. The memories of that day will haunt me forever. Back then I didn’t think about how my death would effect the ones around me. When I hear suicide survivors talk about their lost loved ones it hurts to think I could have put my friends and family through that.  

For years after that I started this cycle where I would feel fine, happy even, for months at a time. But then out of nowhere I’d slowly start to feel depressed again and the self harm would start up. Depression looks different for everyone but for me it’s not wanting to get out of bed. It’s pushing away friends and family, always feeling like a burden. It’s staying up until 4 am and not waking up until the late afternoon. It’s binge eating and gaining weight and climbing up past 300lbs. It’s hating everything about yourself and the person you’ve become.

I’ve had to go back to the hospital a couple times since my suicide attempt. There were no scary men in white coats like I had thought. Going to the hospital is needed if you’re in danger of hurting yourself. It’s a place to go if you can’t keep yourself safe. A couple years ago I was feeling suicidal and I vaguely talked about it on Tumblr and thankfully someone called the police. Back then I was so angry at that person but looking back they probably saved my life. During one of my hospitalizations I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder which was something I had never heard of before. BPD is a mental illness that consists of intense mood swings, self harm, suicidal thinking, bad body image and impulsive behaviors. 

Finally I reached a point where I wasn’t constantly thinking about ending my life. I started Dialectical Behavior Therapy, the most successful therapy for helping people like me. This type of therapy can be done outside of the hospital so it allowed me to go back to work and school. It teaches you skills to help manage your emotions, maintain healthy relationships and handle stressful situations. I’ve done many different types of DBT therapy, residential, partial programs, groups and individual therapy. But I’ve finally gotten to a place in my recovery where all I need now is just therapy. It’s become a weekly place to check in and talk about any red flags before they become another spiral.

McLean hospital and DBT have literally saved my life. I mean, I saved my life but DBT taught me the skills to not destroy my relationships and myself. Today I’m in a healthy, stable relationship with my girlfriend and we’ve been together for 3 years. We just moved in together last summer and adopted two little black kittens. Last fall I passed my first classes since 2015 and I know now that I want to work in the mental health field some day. I’ve lost a lot of weight and I’m starting to feel more comfortable in this new body scars and all. I work full time as a florist manager and I’m now part of this amazing peer mentor organization. I might not be here today if someone didn’t call the police back then. I wasn’t able to reach out for help so I’m grateful that someone else was able to do it for me. It sounds cliche but it does get better and if you had told me that back then, I would have laughed in your face. After 12 years I still have urges to hurt myself and sometimes I hear a song that reminds me of the day I tried to end my life and all I want to do is sleep to escape those feelings. But it passes. The urges and the sadness and the hopelessness. It all passes. I think of my cats and how amazing it is to feel the sun on my arms. I think of things that help me chose recovery instead of resorting back to old behaviors and that’s how I know things are different now. Thank you.”

[sugasnae]

Friend Zone - 2

Summary:

You had had a crush on your best friend for as long as you could remember, there was definitely no doubt about that. He never saw you that way and it was best that you came to terms with that. It didn’t help when he got a girlfriend and you were forced to get rid of your feelings. It didn’t help at all.

1 2 3

Genre: Angst

Admin: Nova

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings:

Extremely triggering, mentions of suicide, suicide attempts, mentions of rape, small rape section. Please be aware I don’t want this to be extremely triggering but I will have a part of that and I hope it is still readable to others. I want my stories to be real without sugar coating anything but I will try my best to minimize it if possible.

After hanging out with everyone you sat at the dining table in your apartment. Alone. Jungkook had dropped off Yuna and was going to come back after. For at least an hour you sat by yourself drinking tea.

You were honestly thankful for the time you got to spend alone, it allowed you to think about everything. You realized after some time in your thoughts that being jealous and mad wasn’t going to get you anywhere. You knew Jungkook didn’t feel the same way so why were you going to act childish over something you couldn’t get?

You decided that the best and most adult thing to do would to get over your feelings and support Jungkook the best you could.

Interrupting your thoughts the door opened and in walked Jungkook. You gave him a warm smile and brought your warm cup of tea closer to you.

“Welcome home.”

“Hey Y/n.” Jungkook greeted and took a seat at the dining table across from you. “Can we talk?”

You started to get anxious. You weren’t necessarily nervous about anything but you hated when people made you wait in anticipation for what was to come next. You nodded your head and urged him to continue speaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Yuna.” He sighed, a hint of guilt in his voice.

“Kookie don’t be sorry it’s fine, you could have told me whenever you were ready.” You waved off.

“Yeah but I’m more sorry about not telling her about you. You are my best friend after all.”

“Well why didn’t you?” You asked curiously staring down at the dark liquid remaining in your cup.

“I thought she would be jealous or something, or get the wrong idea.” He explained fiddling with his fingers. Your heart ached but you tried pushing the feeling away. You stood up and wrapped your arms around Jungkook’s shoulders resting your head atop of his.

“It’s all fine don’t worry about it. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You don’t forget about me and tell me ahead of time if she comes over, I’m not into third wheeling.”

Jungkook chuckled, turning around and wrapping his arms around you. “I promise, and I could never forget you Y/n, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You sighed.

The next week carried on as usual. You went to your classes and either came home to study or hung out with Tae and Jimin who had a similar schedule to yours and offered to hang out often. Jungkook usually hung out with you as well but he was spending most of his time with Yuna and you didn’t mind.

That was all until Friday rolled around and the entire group was invited to a party and to your dismay, you had to tag along.

You didn’t mind parties but the effort you had to put in into going was always tiring.

You sat on your living room couch waiting impatiently for Jungkook. To many theories or assumptions that women took longer to get ready it was all a lie when it came to Jungkook. What usually took you 30 minutes to get ready took him and hour and a half.

“Kookie I’m waiting!” You yelled out.

“I’m almost ready!”

You knew he was probably struggling to find a shirt to wear for the important occasion. You felt your clothes were casual yet appropriate. You dressed and a black skirt, a black and white striped tee and a plain black bomber jacket paired with black booties. You felt your outfit also showed your mood.

“Okay okay Y/n, I chose this but i’m not sure if I should just wear a white shirt instead and keep it simple.” You groaned in response looking at him. He wore his timberlands, jeans, a flannel wrapped around his waist with a black shirt and a jacket. It was cute and casual so you didn’t see the problem.

“No that looks fine keep it. Why are you making a big deal on what you wear?” You asked standing up and walking towards him.

“I want to impress Yuna, she’s coming too.” You nodded.

“Cool, is she meeting us or..?”

“We’re gonna pick her up is that alright?” He asked walking towards the front door and grabbing his keys. You and Jungkook usually rode to parties together but you didn’t mind Yuna tagging along, as long as you weren’t the one that had to stay sober.

“That’s fine, are you gonna drink?”

“Nah, not tonight.”

You clapped your hands “Yes, let’s go.”

You two arrived at Yuna’s apartment. You got into the back seat and Jungkook went to bring back Yuna. You waited patiently texting Taehyung back and forth notifying him that you all were on your way and he only responded with impatient replies.

The car door opened and Yuna sat in the passenger seat while Jungkook got into the driver’s seat.

“Hello.” You greeted towards Yuna. Either she didn’t hear you or chose to ignore you because she immediately asked Jungkook, “So who’s party is this?”

You and Jungkook made eye contact in the mirror, you raised a knowingly brow and he only shrugged.

“One of Namjoon’s friends I think, we never really know we just go.” Jungkook replied beginning to drive off. Jungkook and Yuna continued to talk while you zoned out looking at the buildings that passed by on your way. You hadn’t noticed you arrived until the car turned off and Jungkook opened your door because it was the closest. You mumbled a thanks and saw the yuna was still seated and waited for Jungkook to go around and open hers as well. You rolled your eyes, not liking Jungkook was seeming easier than liking her.

“Yuna, this is Y/n you met last week.” Jungkook introduced once you walked around the car towards the couple.

Yuna smiled and you smiled right back before setting off into the house.

The music could be heard from down the street but this was a party neighborhood so you doubted anyone would mind.

You walked into the crowded house, your body clashing with others as you desperately tried to make your way through. Jungkook held Yuna close to him and tried his best to stay close to you as you all tried to maneuver your way through the crowd and towards an empty spot where you could search for the other boys.

Almost out of nowhere your shoulder was roughly grabbed. Your fists were balled ready to strike before you saw Hoseok smiling back at you with a heart shaped smile. You relaxed and let out a sigh of relief.

“You scared the crap out of me!” You yelled out, partly out of exasperation to get your point across, another part because the music was practically shaking the whole house making it hard to hear anyone even if they talked directly in your ear.

“I’m sorry!” Hoseok laughed wiping a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye. “Come on, everyone is outside.” He motioned his hand towards Jungkook and Yuna to follow him before grabbing your hand interlocking it with his and directing you outside where your group of friends were. Once you all walked outside the music began to feel distant and everyone stood up to meet you all halfway.

“Glad you could make it Y/n it’s been awhile.” Jin hugged you.

“I literally saw you on campus this morning.” You laughed.

“Felt like ages ago.”

“You dork, if you want to see me more then I don’t know why you don’t come over.” You teased.

“Well maybe I will come over more!” Jin mocked and you only laughed playfully pushing him away.

“I want to see Y/n more too!” Namjoon yelled out looking at you in disbelief as if he was shocked he didn’t get an invitation.

“Me too, i’m hurt Y/n.” Yoongi intervened with a pained expression.

“Same here.” Hobi said with a pout.

“I would say ‘me too’ but I see Y/n everyday.” Jimin said smugly.

“Goodness I know i’m a blessing but no need to fight.” You put your hands up. You expected some sort of expression from everyone but they all looked at you blankly making you look stupid. You cleared your throat and rolled your eyes.

“You guys can sleep over tonight if you want.” Everyone erupted in cheers thanking you.

“Ah a group sleepover? Can’t wait we haven’t had on in awhile.” Jungkook jumped in. He caught you by surprise since he hadn’t spoken since you guys arrived.

“I call sleeping with Y/n! She gives the best cuddles.” Tae yelled grabbing you by the shoulders and bringing you into a tight hug as if to prove how cuddly you were.

“Junkookie-ah I have an exam tomorrow I can’t stay over.” Yuna whispered to jungkook but you were close enough to hear over the boys who started fighting over who was sleeping where. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggled at the fact that she thought she was invited. You then mentally scolded yourself for being mean, even if it was in your head.   

“Oh, well you can always come over another day.” Jungkook offered awkwardly.

“Well I want to hang out with your friends too.” You could hear her pout and you desperately tried to not get annoyed.

“This is what the party is for, c’mon let’s all go sit down and get a drink.” You thanked Jungkook in your head and followed them along with the rest of the guys to a fire pit that was in the farthest of the backyard and seemed almost closed off by bushes. Everyone took a seat and sat around the slowly growing fire grabbing bottles filled with alcohol.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter from all eight of you. Yuna however, seemed to be upset the whole night glaring at the fire and not talking to anyone. You dismissed this however and joked with the rest of the boys about meaningless things. You drank along with them and started to feel yourself getting a little more than tipsy. This was until Hoseok decided to have a chugging contest and you were determined to win just to see their shocked expressions when you were able to deal with your alcohol better than all of them combined.

“You’re in for a treat Min Yoongi.” You teased Yoongi, your last component. You had beat all five other boys who sulked in their chairs staring at you two. This excluded Jungkook who was going to drive everyone home later anyways.

“You think you can beat me?” He challenged with a smirk.

“I know I can beat you.” You smirked. You started to lose your sanity that would most likely tell you that you were done drinking for the night. Yoongi became two then back to one and you knew for sure you were drunk.

“Go!” Namjoon laughed and you both opened your beer bottles chugging as fast as you could. Was this dangerous to you? Yes. Everyone was too drunk to care and having too much fun to say anything. For a split second you felt everything shut down and turn back on causing you to choke on the alcohol. You spit it out in front of you violently coughing hearing Yoongi yelling in victory.

“Oh shit.” Jungkook whispered and ran up to you rubbing you back almost in reassurance.

“Fuck.” You croaked out, your throat hurting you. Jin walked up and handed you a water bottle with a light smile on his face. You quickly took the water and chugged it down feeling the cold substance sooth your dry throat.

“Hey do you not know by now you should probably stop chugging?” Jungkook scolded. You waved him off and sighed in relief when you could breathe again.

“I’m fine, yah.” Everyone started to burst out in laughter soon after you were okay.

“Not so tough are you, Y/n?” Taehyung raised a brow and laughed.

“Oh shut up.”

“Aish, let’s head out, I want to go to Y/n’s”

You didn't even remember how you got home. Suddenly you were extremely drowsy and leaning against Hoseok as everyone was too concerned with their own conversations.

“Oh we’re home?” You spoke up and looked at everyone who either sat on the floor or on the couch. You sat in between Hoseok and Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook sat on the floor in front of you. Jimin Taehyung and Jin walked in with food looking like they were getting ready for a buffet. You felt queasy and looked away.

“Yeah you were passed out for awhile. You should really stop trying to beat everyone at that chugging game.” Jungkook laughed.

“I wanted to win.” You slurred.

“Let’s head to bed, I’m going to pass out soon.” Jimin sighed, standing up and stretching.

“What about the food?” Tae asked shocked. You giggled and threw your head back against the couch.

“Oh,” Jimin looked down and waved off everyone. “But i’m tired.”

“C’mon chim.” You stood up and motioned him over to you. He walked over and slung his arm over your shoulder. “The rest of you guys can figure out who’s sleeping in the guest bedroom.” The boys broke out into an argument, fighting over who was going to bunk in the only extra comfortable bed we had. Jimin led you into your own room and closed the door behind you both. You jumped into you large bed and snuggled into the pillows letting out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s get your jacket off and under the covers.” Jimin pulled at the jacket that hugged your body and was beginning to make you feel slightly uncomfortable. Once the jacket was off you slipped under the covers and sighed once more.

“Do you want to get into some pajamas?” He asked sitting on the bed beside you.

“No, I’m too tired.”

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t seem that uncomfortable with Yuna and Jungkook today, is everything alright?”

“Well it was mostly because I was drunk, but I think I’m finally getting over him.” You sighed. “Now come here I’m cold.”

Jimin chuckled and got under the covers with you. He brought your body closer to his and rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too.” You drifted off to sleep with Jungkook on your mind.

A/n: Okay so I know this chapter was kind of boring but bear with me! I wanted to get the story going before I added all the glory angst. The next chapter will contain angst and will be up soon!

[supernatural-squadd]

Dancing With Time

Winchester Sister Imagine

Song I think goes semi with this fic: Long Time Traveller (click to listen to it)

Warnings: Depressed reader, suicidal thoughts, language.

Triggers: Suicidal thoughts

A/n: I know it’s been so longgggggggg but here’s a shit fic for my blog and all of you. I got some small things from quotes or poems here and there.

Sister tags: @skeletoresinthebasement

Forever Tags: @Freaksforthewin , @thewinhunter, @cambriacaneatnoodles, @brokennoone , @@youtubehelpsmesurvive , @chrisevansthedoritobastard , @@winchesters-favorite-girl , @@we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @godh8salyssa @dean-baby-Winchester @@straightasdeanwinchester @@animexchocolate @@fabulouslycassie @@lizbeth-loves-bobear @nicolesyneah25 @@lemonadegazeelle @@i-am-an-outcast @@evyiione @27bmm @percussiongirl2017

“She’s getting bad again,” Dean spoke openly to Sam in what he thought was a confined area.

“She won’t say it but I can tell. The way she always dances around questions. Spending time in her own company constantly like she did before when she was slipping up. I think that’s why she’s popping up randomly. Bunking with us…” Your oldest brother took a sip of his beer before exhaling softly.

“I think you’re right. Y/n hasn’t been herself again lately. You know what that means right?” Sam too exhaled softly. Your problems with depression always was a hard subject for the two of them to discuss.

“It means that you guys need a better security system. If I could just walk in here, it means you’re slacking.” Coming out from around the corner you revealed your not so hidden presence.

“And yes, it is bad again. Thank you for noticing.” You added on, bowing sarcastically at your brothers towards the last part of the sentence.

“How much have you had to drink exactly? I can smell it fuming off of you from here.” Dean practically barfed at the stench. Adding a dramatic gag to his words.

“Two words Winchester: No. Regrets.” You spoke with the words slurring awfully off of your lips. “I’m taking off my pants, stealing one of somebody’s flannels, and passing out in my old bedroom.” You not so carefully stumbled backwards towards the wall.

Sam and Dean simply exchanged the ‘I told ya so’ brotherly look to one another. This had to have been your fifth day on a straight drunken long lasting and constant binge. There wasn’t a waking moment you lasted without being hammered. It’s how you ended up coping with the whole “my minds a piece of shit” thing. Which started as a teenager when John began to treat you and your brothers like more and more shit.

“I’ll deal with it in the morning. She needs to be semi sober before I try and give her the big talk.” Dean tapped the table twice before rising to his feet and dragging his own body off to bed.

Of course you heard not a word of this conversation, but apart of you knew it would be coming sooner or later. Seeing as it was wide out in the open that depression has come knocking on your door once again.

It couldn’t have been more than 4am when Dean came waltzing into your room like it was happy hour at an all you can eat buffet.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” He beamed with lovable and over excited joy.

With squinted eyes, you rolled over to look at the bright screen on your phone. Once you read the literal time, you scoffed and threw the blankets back over your head. Clearly Dean wasn’t going to allow this, because he grabbed onto the top and threw his body over the covers so you were unable to pull them back up.

“What. In the fuck. Are you doing?” The words came out slow and in a very pissed off manner.

“Uhhhh what’s it look like I’m doing? Eating pie in your bed.” He scoffed. “Obviously” with a simple word he added so much sarcastic sass do his sentence.

“Fuck you man, it’s the ass crack of dawn and I’m too sober for this.” You did your best to roll over but Dean simply moved over at your motion. Sending on on the verge of falling off of the bed.

“You can’t banish me from my own bed you dick weed.” With all the little strength you had, you pushed him with your back.

“We need to talk. And I think you know what it’s about.” His tone changed completely. Going from funny and childish to a serious tone.

“Oh yeah,” you say up and quickly brushed your hair out of your face. “I am so too sober enough for this.”

Leaning over you tried to grab a bottle from under your bed. Bur realized it was nowhere to be found. Turning to Dean, you saw a smug “gotcha” look on his lips and the bottle in his hand. Pie still sitting in his lap.

“Nope. We’re not drinking vodka at 4am.” He held it as far away from your grasp as he could.

“Well. Isn’t this just tragic.” Dramatically you swung your feet under the blanket and laid flat on your back. “Get to it if you want to talk, because I want to sleep all day considering I haven’t slept for over a week.”

Dean sighed oh so slightly while shoving a bite of pie in his face. More like a shark sized bite judging by the size of it.

“Look okay, I’m now gonna get all mushy gushy fairy love on you. Sam and I are just worried.” He shrugged while inhaling another bite. All the while he spoke with a mouth full of food.

“You should be worried about yourself seeing as you woke me up from my much needed beauty sleep. I might just have to cover your face in makeup…..again.” The words half laughed out and half yawned out. Showing just how tired you were.

“Good thing your sense of humor didn’t get enveloped in the dark rain clouds storming over your head.” Dean sarcastically joked. Halfway being serious all the same.

“Look, I know you guys worry. I do. And I want to get better. It’s not going to be like last time when you found me half dead. That’s why I keep showing up randomly. Being around people helps me, but so does drinking.” This was the most upfront about anything like this you’d ever been. Maybe it was showing how much you wanted to live. Hopefully.

“I’ll make you a deal: I’ll stop drinking my pain away, if you let me sleep right now and make me some of your heart attack inducing food on a daily basis. Deal?” In a swift motion you held out your hand and smiled. Something that barley even happened a lot anymore.

With a shake of his head and a low laugh, Dean held out his hand.

“Deal. Now scootch over. I’m sleeping in here.” His hip bumped your side in an attempt to urge you to move.

“Uhhhh Hell mother fuckin' no you’re not. You got crumbs all over my bed and ate half of MY pie that was made for me!” Standing up you somehow managed to get him to stand up too, and began to shove him towards the door.

“What? Are you serious?” He seemed almost honestly shocked you didn’t want to cuddle.

“Dead serious. Now out brat brother. And make me my breakfast for when I arise from this deeply needed slumber.” With a light chuckle you shut the door.

A deep prolonged sigh came from your lips as your back hit the door along with your head. It took a few moments for you to recollect yourself. All your thoughts.

Walking calmly over to the nightstand you pulled open the drawer. Taking the already perfect written note into your hands. Reading it one final time.

“I think I hit the point in my life where I’m just utterly and completely done. I cried. I fought. I tried. Please, God know how I tried. Not for myself but for you two- Sam and Dean. Beemus and Butthead. Everything seems to be crashing down. My inner demons and monstrous thoughts are screaming louder and louder. More violent each time than the last. This time, I couldn’t fight it back. I’m sorry. ~signed: Your asshole sister.”

One single tear fell onto the once white clean paper. And just like that it was gone. Crumbled up and burned in the trash can the next day.

“If only it was so easy to be released from this dark grasp death has on me...please don't hate me for my decision."

[pisati]

this isn’t completely unfamiliar.

it’s not any worse than it has been. maybe on my end; just a little embarrassed. I’m really not usually like that. taking a few steps back, I’m honestly pretty annoyed with myself. 

I have my reasons, but they’re not all that good. I’m incredibly insecure. don’t know how to feel secure. I feel out of place in this world, but that’s not anyone’s problem but my own. why should I ever have the audacity to believe I matter? to believe I could be significant to another person? an exaggeration, I’m sure. but I’ve been mostly right so far.

I fell asleep again this afternoon, pulling my hat down over my eyes and my blanket up over my shoulders, feeling like I could just disappear. for all anyone knows, I have. nowhere to go, nowhere to be. nothing to say. I’m not in school, I’m not at work. after I pay my taxes this year I’ve got nothing else that says I’m even here, really. I don’t own my car or this house. I’m not on anyone’s radar. I’m off the fucking map. I’m just existing here, and barely.

I really don’t have much memory of the last few months. I was just scrolling back through pictures on my phone, deleting some, and there’s some I don’t even remember saving. just a few weeks ago tops. some I remember taking, but it seems like a whole hell of a lot longer ago than just a few weeks. maybe that’s not unusual, but it is for me. especially given that I have literally nothing else going on. not a lot to think about. time shouldn’t feel this... messed up.

I put Do Not Disturb mode on my phone last night for the first time in.. probably a good few weeks to months now. maybe it’s about time to move my charging cable back to my purse. go back to just looking at my alarm clock dock for the time, rolling over. nothing to check, nothing to answer. 

maybe this is why I haven’t tried much. I’ve been feeling really out-of-sorts for what feels like a long time. I told the lady screening me at my psych appointment last week about how my last job had me so miserable I actually noticed myself starting to feel reckless. I wouldn’t do anything stupid intentionally; consciously I know it’d be more of a mess that I didn’t want to deal with. but I’d often have the thought while driving to the office that.. what if a car swerved over from the other side of the road? what if I just drifted over? what if I got on the highway and kept going; ignored all the emails and hangouts messages and calls and just never showed up again? I got pulled over for speeding and it hardly fazed me; the last time that happened I had a panic attack the entire rest of the way home. I’d start crying on the drive in. have the thought almost every day that one of these days it’ll be the last time I have to walk through these doors. come home too exhausted to speak, pull my pajamas back on, and curl up in bed until it was time to make dinner. I’m sure a few times I didn’t even make it to bed; just curled up on the floor and cried. I’d sit on the stairs, crying, telling my mom I couldn’t do it. I wanted to quit. I still have dreams (nightmares?) about being back there; for some reason they re-hired me. in the last dream I got fired again; bringing me back was a mistake. I didn’t want to have to see our dickhead president ever again, and yet there he is, in my dreams. still a dickhead.

I also mentioned my tattoo, my cartilage piercing, and cutting my hair off, since all of those were kind of impulsive. she asked me if I regretted them and I said no, but I also didn’t really care, you know? I DID want the cartilage piercing; I have since I was 17, and I even remember being like 5 or 6 and doodling my future self with a whole bunch of piercings. I wanted the tattoo; I still kind of want more to make a half-sleeve. and I was so sick of my hair being sickly thin-looking when it was long; it started falling out when I was 17 and never grew back in, and I spent 5 or 6 years wanting to chop it all off. but... I had my reasons why I didn’t do those things before. I did them all last year because I wanted to, but also because I just stopped caring about the potential consequences. I’m sure festivus was part of that impulsivity as well. I do remember having the split-second thought that well, I haven’t done anything real stupid in a while, fuck it. consciously I know that was something I really, really shouldn’t have done. I would have slapped myself straight across the face for even thinking about it if that were me 6 months ago. I’m really unhappy with myself. but in the moment, I just didn’t care about the consequences. I think I even numbed out a little bit. just, whatever. I’ve never been the “fuck it, sure” type of person before, but over the last year and a half or so I’ve had this “whatever” attitude towards way too many things. this is a completely new monster to me. I don’t like it. I don’t like flipping so hard between thoughts and feelings and going with my impulses because who the fuck cares? I should care more about what happens to me. some of the time, it works in my favor. but obviously not all of it is as harmless. 

the suicidal urge people get usually only lasts about 15-20 minutes. once it passes, people often realize they don’t want to die, or they seem a little surprised; they would never. what do you do when you get hit with those 15-20 minutes? what stops you?

I had to think about it for a second. I said my mom. she lost it entirely when my brother got all fucked on acid; I don’t want to imagine any worse. my rats too; they need me. other than that... what really does stop me? at least I have enough sense to know that it’ll pass if I wait it out. 

sometimes I wish there were a pill that could shut your brain off.

I didn’t have bad dreams last night, but I did have dreams, and I woke up exhausted. I was trying to get to a show, I had floor tickets, I was already an hour late and I’d never get a barrier spot if I didn’t get to the venue, but it took me 20 minutes to walk to my apartment, so I started running; like, those kinds of dreams. I just want to turn it off. I’m tired of thinking all the goddamn time. even when I’m not awake, I’m still going. the sedatives don’t make it stop. they just make my body stop.

I’ve noted how different I felt a few times over the last few years. memory issues help too. I’m forgetting what it all felt like. I’ve had to dig it up again recently to describe what happened, but it’s all just words. what memories I do have, and they’re fuzzy. I am past it. it’s nice, in a way, to forget. for a while I held on to it. the few good memories I had. the proof that I’m not completely unlovable. it made me sad, too, though. I’d go visit and it’d still be fresh and it felt weird. it was weird to be back and trying to talk and act like nothing had happened. like I wasn’t still hurting. but T feels like a stranger to me now. a stranger I can still talk to, whom I still trust and respect very much, but a stranger, as far as I’m concerned. we barely knew each other then, even less now. A was my best friend for something like three years. he’s still one of the only people who knows me as well as he does. that’s what I keep close. the times we’d watch shows together and rest our heads on each other; when he didn’t shrug me off. when he played that dumb computer game and I’d watch; we’d both laugh til we cried because we had the same weird, morbid sense of humor about the whole thing. he’d take me to the pet store so I could see the animals. the book store too, because I liked it. poking fun at me a little bit for living where I do and being so mesmerized, because on clear nights in Johnstown all I wanted to do was stand in the dark and look at the stars. you could see an arm of the milky way from his backyard. he let me lay my head on his lap at farm jam my first year and just look at them all. made sure I ate when I’d get nervous. poked fun at me for being so picky but would still make me something I’d eat. he built two funeral pyres for Marty and Jay and let me bring them up to cremate them after they each passed; got some hair clippings for me because I was too upset to see them like that. that’s what I care about most. he still hurt me a whole hell of a lot. I won’t say I’m over the hurt. or, the aftermath of it, anyway. but over him as something more than a close friend? absolutely. even if he pulled a complete 180 and decided I was actually the love of his life... I don’t know how I could go back. I don’t think I could ever feel again the way I felt about him before.

Fitzie’s really not doing well. he’s eating and drinking alright, but his poops are smaller and he really struggles to get his footing. when he walks on the floor his back half leans to one side; it’s like he’s walking diagonally. his back left leg is worse. he struggles to get his back feet under him. he can’t lift them very well so he thumps his feet on the ground when he scratches. I’m not ready for this again. thankfully my last loss was Scottie, almost a year ago. so I’m at least a little more braced this time. I’ve had time; it’s not a surprise. but I can’t believe I’ve had him since he was a tiny 3-week-old little mouse. it was only just over two years ago. now he’s a little old man, and I don’t know how many more months he has left. I want to enjoy what time I have. holding him to my chest, giving him little kisses while he gently licks my hand. that’s been weaker too. I just hope he knows I love him. I hope Frankie and Scottie knew too. 

I don’t know why I have this impulse to share my thoughts. got almost 90k tweets, and nothing really good to say, ever. on timehop most of it is just me talking to myself about school, since literally nobody else cares. thoughts and feelings. musings. any dumb thought that popped into my head. I used to journal on my blogs too. write and write and write. not unlike this. nobody would read it, but that was okay. in some cases I didn’t want anyone to read it anyway. I think in some ways I see it as a substitute for human interaction. if I can’t have that, I’ll just write out what’s in my head. tweet it out if I can’t tell it to anyone. it can be good and even cathartic to let it out, but on the other side of that coin... nobody’s really hurting if I don’t say anything either.  I got comfortable with talking. some things, people needed to see normalized. I’ve talked about my depression and anxiety on facebook. I’m not ashamed of it; they’re illnesses I have that are very common and have unfortunate amounts of stigma surrounding them. people have felt safe talking to me and asking for advice. other things... I don’t really care, honestly. I don’t know why I’m such an open book, often to total strangers. do I think it makes me seem more relatable? more friendly? trustworthy? that I’m willing to just talk and talk about anything? if that is the case, it’s not conscious. I read that that’s another sign of an anxious attachment style, but I don’t see it as an anxiety thing necessarily. part of me thinks that’s just how I am. and yet, still, if someone were willing to talk, I’d talk. and talk, and talk. it’s not that I don’t have a filter, I just.. don’t always know how much is too much. it bothers me. I wish I’d just shut up sometimes. I don’t have to vocalize every stupid thought that pops into my head. every tangent, every related thing. maybe I just got used to letting it all out. having to explain myself. that feels impulsive in a way too, but I also know my mom does something similar. maybe I learned from her.

like, do I really want people to know me? every little thing? do I really think I’m that interesting? that anything I have to say holds any kind of weight? does everyone need to know what’s going on in my life? why do I feel like that? I mean... social media prompts you to share, share, share. everything. all the time. I don’t recall having that urge when I was younger, before everything was online. I liked journaling, I always have. maybe social media hasn’t been the best influence on me. someone that feels like she needs approval. that constant feedback loop. it’s not healthy. yet I still can’t get away from it. I tried to take a break; I failed. I’m sure I could try again. but I also don’t like the isolation that comes with avoiding it. it’s already quiet when people don’t talk to you and you don’t talk to anyone, but it still feels a little like company when you can see what other people are doing and saying. I remember the summer I got really sick and I was drowning in anxiety; I’m pretty sure I cried over my spotify friend activity bar disappearing for a few weeks. it even felt like company to be able to see what music my friends were listening to.

the lady doing my screening asked me what my depression looks like. I mentioned the recklessness, the impulsivity. of course the hopeless feelings, the deep discontent, the sadness. I’ve always had a melancholic temperament; always felt deeply. I’m sure, with a history of mental illness on both sides of the family, I was bound to end up like this. I remembered later that I also get restless. I never used to have that before. sometimes I just feel... antsy. like I just want to go. or do something. but I can’t. that causes me a lot of distress. I didn’t mention my itch to travel, but that’s part of it too, I think. I got the urge to travel the first time after that one new years. I came home from indiana and I was so out of it. I wanted to be as far away from pennsylvania as possible; mom found me looking up flights to LA and she offered to go with me. she didn’t know why I wanted to run and didn’t ask. it did help to be across the country, and it certainly helped to be in a warmer climate, but my feelings didn’t slough off and stick to the runway like I hoped they would. I still felt bad, but now I was feeling bad in LA.  it didn’t really occur to me that I got the urge to run like that again after my dad passed. I guess I just want to run when I’m hurt. get away. be somewhere where no one knows me. I actually get traveling anxiety pretty bad, but for some reason I can override it when things like this happen. I want to overwhelm myself with how different everything is so I don’t have to think about the pain. of course I still think about it.

another thing I didn’t think about, that I’m sure is related... I’ve noticed that my emotions flip around a lot. the lady screening me asked if I ever felt on top of the world; I said no. I know I’m not bipolar. I don’t flip that drastically. when she asked on a scale of 1-10, 1 being the lowest, worst I’ve ever felt, and 10 being on top of the world, where do I normally sit, I said usually I hover around a 4-5. pretty neutral, but there’s always the Bad Feelings(tm) lingering. but I get flashes of strong, uncharacteristic anger sometimes, over little things. I get annoyed way too easily over little things. I’ve been way more impatient than I used to be. the impatience leads to the antsy feelings sometimes. sometimes I can reason with myself, and reason my way out of certain mood switches, but other times I can’t. it’s all very confusing. but these are all signs of depression too. 

I didn’t think it was this bad, to be honest. 

I know when the depression kicks every so often because I’ll feel really deeply sad, and nothing helps. I’ve had the suicidal thoughts. I’ve cried so hard I’ve almost puked over nothing and everything; I just feel bad. I know on a conscious level that depression can also manifest as exhaustion, insomnia, restlessness, impulsivity, mood swings, apathy towards yourself and your wellbeing. but I may not have connected the dots with myself until very recently. maybe I thought these things were unrelated. I was watching for the wrong things. I thought I’d know if my depression got worse because I’d be unable to get out of bed, or shower, or eat, because I’ve been there before. I’m there now, but it’s more no energy and less can’t do it because I'm too sad. I thought the suicidal thoughts would get worse, or I’d be in that dark pit I sometimes get into for longer. it didn’t occur to me that I could be feeling relatively stable for the most part, even have good days, be as functional as my energy levels will allow me to be, have my usual occasional dips, but be so apathetic towards myself that it borders on reckless. I could be impulsive-- more than I’ve ever been. I could be moody but not just sad or self-destructive; irritable, impatient, angry. it really has been getting worse, and it literally never registered. 

I was thinking, too, about how I started saying last year that I was in such a fog, I felt mentally somewhere around 22. I felt like I’d stagnated. I still feel that way. I feel different than I did at 21, but I don’t feel like I’ve progressed much past that. I know what growth feels like, and I’ve literally been stuck. my last job had me in a rut. and, like, no wonder I’ve felt like I’m still somewhere around 22, almost 23. that was when it started. right after I graduated college. that’s why I don’t remember much of the last year and a half, almost 2 years. everything changed, not all for the better, and I just let myself sink into it. I’m 25 in another 6 months and I just. I don’t even know where I’m at at this point. I did feel better after I lost my job, but I also have very little recollection of what happened between then and now, besides the big things. I’m still in that fog and my sense of time is so fucked. I’m sure part of that is my physical health, but I’m just a mess of symptoms at this point. who even knows what’s what.

I’m really not a fan of the person I’ve been lately, though. overall. I’m trying. I know that a lot of it isn’t me. I’m not saying ideal me is who I am, but normal me is far from this. sick me has been avoiding getting help for too long. because it was never bad enough before. I wasn’t actively trying to hurt myself or anyone else, therefore I wasn’t in bad enough shape to need meds, according to my university health center. they were booked to capacity and didn’t have room for someone who just felt bad a lot. talking to some grad student in a family therapy program in the school of public health didn’t help. I dropped the idea entirely. figured I could deal. I kept going as-is and watched for the wrong signs of getting worse.

I feel like this isn’t me, but of course I’m responsible for my actions, hence why I’m really not thrilled with myself. mental illness isn’t an excuse, it’s an explanation. I have no excuse for the shitty things I’ve done because my depression has been making me feel reckless and impulsive. 

I love volunteering at the animal shelter. that’s what’s been keeping me sane for the last year. it’s a place to go, it’s something to do. and I help. I have a real, tangible impact somewhere, and staff really appreciates my help with the smalls. that’s the one good thing I’ve been able to do with myself lately. I think starting guitar lessons was a good thing for me too, but I’m not pulling my weight with it like I should. it’s holding me back a lot that I feel like I have no creativity. I’ve never had much creativity, to be honest, but somehow I feel like maybe part of my writer’s block, so to speak, is the fact that I’m not getting enough sleep and I’m depressed as hell. I certainly listen to enough music; I’m up to my ears in references and inspiration. yet I still can’t come up with anything myself. that’s so frustrating for me. I hate playing the same songs over and over and still messing them up; I hate getting so nervous around anything with a microphone or a camera that I forget the chords and words to songs I’ve been playing for years. I know all that comes with practice, but I feel like I’m keeping myself in a rut being like this. I want to do better. I want to explore. something’s missing and I just don’t know what.

so, that’s that on that I guess. I don’t like this. but I’m just glad that I’m starting to get help. that I recognize what’s wrong and that I can’t fix it on my own. maybe whatever antidepressant my doctor puts me on will quell the impulsivity and help my cognitive function a little bit. get me a little bit closer to normal again. that’s where I want to be. I don’t have a clear idea of my ideal self. maybe the best version of me possible is just... stable. still hovering around a 4-5, but maybe with some more 6. as with my physical health, the best I can hope for is improvement. functional. better. any little step forward is something. I’ll see where I end up when I get there.

[njawaidofficial]

Hearing Avicii's Music Was The First Time I Felt Seen

https://styleveryday.com/hearing-aviciis-music-was-the-first-time-i-felt-seen/

Hearing Avicii's Music Was The First Time I Felt Seen

Warning: This essay contains descriptions of self-harm and suicidal ideation.

Pedro Fequiere / BuzzFeed

“Remember when we saw Avicii?”

I was 19, the hottest I’ll probably ever be in my life, and stuck in Reno after being convinced to go on a college ski trip. I don’t ski — an attempt in eighth grade left me sore and wondering why anyone would pay to willingly hurl themselves down a hill — but my best friend and some sorority sisters wanted to escape LA for a weekend.

If you weren’t down for winter sports, there wasn’t much to do in Reno; there were budget hotel rooms filled with plastic bottles of vodka and bad energy drink mixers and slot machines I accessed with the help of an excellent fake ID. And then there was a performance: This random guy named Avicii was playing in town.

He was the one who did “Levels,” the song that played ad nauseam in the frat houses where I partied. I had no idea who Avicii (real name: Tim Bergling) was — I had no idea what “electronic dance music” was — but the show was something like $20, which seemed pretty low-risk, high-reward.

There were no seats, and as I would later learn, EDM events were more of a stand-and-sweat-on-each-other situation. It was dark, and the only thing you could see clearly was keyed-up frat dudes saying “bro” over and over again, forcing me to come to terms with the fact I was in my own personal brand of hell.

This tall, gangly Swede wearing a baseball cap and hoodie came onstage and I clapped and hollered just to feel like part of the crowd. I wasn’t sure if he was a DJ or a college kid who got lost. Then it started: one track, two tracks, three tracks. When “Levels” finally came on, the room erupted. I remember thinking, Is this how religious people feel at church? I stood there, surrounded by strangers, but somehow I’d never felt so understood. I was seen.

If you have depression, time is warped. You think about your past and agonize over everything you could have done differently. You think about the future, dreaming of a day when you can get out of bed without hating yourself enough you take a razor blade to your forearms. You think about any moment that’s not the present, because right now you’re sinking into lower depths of despair. Right now, you’re drowning.

Since I was 10 years old and told a camp counselor I wanted to hang myself with a jump rope, I have felt the pain of thinking — no matter how many people told me I’m wonderful, I’m smart, I’m important — that this world is not meant for me. I have smiled to my friends at dinner, cracked jokes while thinking, I’m going to kill myself tonight. I have felt things so low that I felt as if my body would physically crack from the weight of darkness that sits on my chest.

It was the first time I wasn’t just listening to music. I was feeling it.

But when I was in front of Avicii, I wasn’t concerned with whatever was outside those doors. I didn’t know the words to his songs, but I knew them. As I heard that epic buildup, those slow-building notes finally climaxed in a moment of ecstasy where there was a beat drop so forceful you couldn’t help but jump, your body reacting to an unsaid agreement between you and the music. It was the first time I wasn’t just listening to music. I was feeling it.

After that night, there would be more Avicii songs in my life. “Levels,” his first huge hit and still the most famous, was eclipsed in my mind by “Silhouettes,” “The Nights,” and “Broken Arrows.” He experimented with different genres — his dip into country was particularly masterful. And while other DJs produced songs about that one awesome party to end all parties, that one summer to end all summers, that one vacation to end all vacations, Avicii’s songs were a shade darker. His lyrics were filled with repressed pain that could maybe, hopefully, be soothed with one more beat drop.

The singers featured on his tracks sang about conversations with fathers and brothers, about literally crying out for your love, of being so lost and alone in the present, you want to be woken up in the future. The song names weren’t “Party All Night” and “Let’s Get Druuuuuunk”; they were “Divine Sorrow,” “For a Better Day,” and “Fade Into Darkness.” They were my depression manifested, music that could make you simultaneously cry and dance.

For years, my friend and I would remind each other how we got to see Avicii in the middle of nowhere. “Remember when we saw Avicii?” “Oh my god, I know, right?!” It was a badge of honor, a concrete mark that we knew first. We witnessed something we didn’t even know we were being blessed with. I don’t remember what the building looked like, I don’t remember what I was wearing or what my friends and I talked about that night. I just remember the feeling of pure euphoria engulfing me, letting me briefly forget that I thought I didn’t belong in the world. For a few tracks, nothing really mattered but my own two feet standing firmly on the ground.

Avicii stopped playing to college crowds and started selling out arenas and residencies at Vegas nightclubs. I always thought I would see him again, but he stopped touring in 2016, the result of heavy drinking and the eventual removal of his gallbladder and a ruptured appendix.

His presence, like his drops, reverberated throughout the fabric of music as we know it.

As EDM became more and more popular, I always thought of Avicii. He was a mainstream bona fide music superstar; and soon, if you turned on the radio, everything from Nicki Minaj songs to Katy Perry pop tunes seemed to feature a beat drop. Though he didn’t produce those tracks, his fingerprints were all over them. His presence, like his drops, reverberated throughout the fabric of music as we know it.

I got older. I graduated, got married, got a job. More importantly, I got a therapist and psychiatrist. I became ardent fans of other EDM artists. I still go to raves and concerts and festivals, and some people will look down and ask why I would subject myself to “trash” music. I try to explain but often fall short of anything poetic and convincing. All I can think about is how when I’m at an EDM show, I always take a moment to look around and watch the people surrounding me. They’re college kids, they’re married folks, they’re architects, smoothie makers, teachers, skateboarders, ice cream scoopers, babysitters, drifters, bankers, parents. They’re people still trying to figure out their lives, but in the meantime we’re all together in one place, united by a singular chase to just have a good fucking time.

My husband sent me a Facebook message with a link about Avicii’s death. I froze in shock and found myself crying, something I rarely, if ever, do.

In a statement provided to BuzzFeed News, Avicii’s family said:

Our beloved Tim was a seeker, a fragile artistic soul searching for answers to existential questions. An over-achieving perfectionist who travelled and worked hard at a pace that led to extreme stress. When he stopped touring, he wanted to find a balance in life to be happy and be able to do what he loved most — music. He really struggled with thoughts about Meaning, Life, Happiness. He could not go on any longer. He wanted to find peace. Tim was not made for the business machine he found himself in; he was a sensitive guy who loved his fans but shunned the spotlight. Tim, you will forever be loved and sadly missed. The person you were and your music will keep your memory alive. We love you, Your family.

The depression club is one no one really wants to be a member of. You don’t get cool perks, people aren’t jealous of you, and, unlike other clubs, you can never really leave this one. Even now with therapy and medication and a better understanding of how my brain works, depression always lingers behind me, a half-step away from striking. But when you meet someone else who’s going through something even remotely similar, the levees holding back all the smothered hurt breaks. That first night I saw Avicii, I realized we could all be a little less lonely together.

I opened up Spotify and listened to song after song on the “This is: Avicii” playlist, reliving my life through the lens of a soundtrack. I saw myself at 21, dancing and screaming the lyrics to “Wake Me Up” on a party bus with my then-boyfriend and now-husband. When I heard “Hey Brother,” I thought about how the last time I heard that song, I was getting dressed for the funeral of my last-remaining grandparent. “Seek Bromance” brought me back to a Vegas hotel room, where a bunch of college kids were drinking too much, screwing around, and living like that weekend would be their last.

My best friend and I were no longer best friends. Time and life had separated us, and when we ran into each other around town we greeted one another like long-lost sisters, with talks about lunches and happy hour drinks that we both knew would never come into fruition.

After I heard the news, I got the overwhelming urge to text her. And I knew what five words could recapture the magic of what we felt at 19 on a cold night in January:

“Remember when we saw Avicii?”

Rich Polk / Getty Images

To learn more about depression check out the resources at the National Institute of Mental Health here.

If you are dealing with thoughts of suicide, you can speak to someone immediately here or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, which you can reach at 1-800-273-8255.

You can also access the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 741741. Suicide helplines outside the US can be found here.

[ubergravity]

I had a lot to write.

I struggled a lot during the last two to three years. And the struggle might continue well until I die. Which, might come sooner than later. Who knows.

Today some random dude post on some other social media got shared by one of my distant acquaintance.

It was about suicide prevention.

I had been advised to seek professional help, by a classmate that had similar problems with me.

I’m not necessarily the most suicidic person, but I seriously consider it as an option, at least during these struggling times.

So who knows.

I was able to cope up with pressure by clinging into a certain thought. A few months ago, it was gone. I literally had nothing to cling on. Nowhere to retreat back to.

I had a childhood friend. That I’m very comfortable with sharing problems.

But this time, I was really afraid to share what I had in mind. I feared that I relied on him too much. He bailed me out once during my freshmen year. He rushed to my side, that his motorcycle broke on his way to me. He bailed me out again earlier this year, talking me out during a night when I refused to come home. I don’t want him to take too much burden on me. He deserved a much better life than constantly checking on me.

I cried a lot. I cried on my workspace. Faking sleep on desk when I’m crying. Nobody really notice. I cried a lot on my room, after closing the door tight. Nobody really notice.

It’s taboo for men to cry. We’re supposed to take on damage and display toughness.

It’s taboo for people to fail after so much had been invested on them. They’re supposed to show up and repay those investment, and beyond.

I’m not really sure what do I wanted to become. I never had a dream that I really wanted.

I was an emotional kid while growing up. If I wanted something and I don’t get it, I throw a tantrum. I had to get it. It doesn’t matter how, it doesn’t matter what it takes.

I was trained to avoid public embarassment. I can’t throw a tantrum. I can’t always have things going my way.

I complied. Years. After years. After years.

So I became a person without a goal.

What do I want?

I can honestly answer, there’s nothing that I wanted.

I’m not even sure whether I wanted to continue on living, thus the suicide thoughts.

But it’s not like I wanted to die, either.

I simply do not, want.

People questioned me. People presume that ‘want’ is a basic human instinct.

Even my parents pressures me. They said, nobody can having nothing wanted.

But I do. I had gone two days without eating anything substantial. I can even skip drinking. I simply do not have that urge to.

People speaks that to become motivated, you must do want you wanted to do.

Some suggested me to become a coach. I enjoyed coaching, sure. But it’s not something that I wanted. And I genuinely hate when being pushed on into something.

I had something that I wanted. In the past.

I wanted to marry a certain girl.

No longer an option.

Now what?

I know people will come at me and say, ‘search another love.’

But that’s rational.

Love is not.

There’s nothing I wanted.

Now what?

Pressure looms. Left and right. People asking question on graduation. People asking question on grades. People asking question about relationship. People, asking.

I had a lot to vent. I had a lot to rant. I had a lot to write.

Maybe I’ll write again.

Note: This post is a personal mental condition post. To be monitored later when I am emotionally stable. Or at least more stable than I am right now. A out.

[brilliantshane]

I Apologise In Advance

If you follow me on twitter you might know that I have mental health issues. I have been diagnosed with Major Depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder(the Romeo and Juliet of mental health problems). I often tweet at length about it, especially when I feel anxious, this usually results in losing 20 followers approx and who can blame them, these people log on to twitter to escape their own dreary existence and laugh at a few memes, not to read about Shane going through his monthly mild breakdown and crying in the wardrobe again. Even though I completely understand these people, I hate them. I’m only joking I don’t really(I do). So I decided that I would write this thing, in an effort not to annoy the general public and so that i have something to do with my anxiety stricken hands. Also I am very self conscious that writing in this way can seem masturbatory and self indulgent but I am no stranger to either of those things. I must warn you though that I am no writer and what follows may well read like the incoherent ravings from the final entries in a lone assassins diary.

I was born mentally ill. I know it’s a chemical and hereditary thing with me because my whole family has problems. My parents were married in the 80s, aged 19  and I was born 5 months later(I’ll never forget the moment when I, aged  9 or 10, realised that the maths didn’t work out). It’s crazy to look back and think how young my parents were and how hard it must have been, how much resentment they must have felt towards each other and me. Imagine being spending your 20s, stuck in a marriage you didn’t want with 2 young children in the days before divorce, resentment would be natural and unavoidable.  I know they felt resentment because they hated each other. The tension in the house was oppressive. I often came home to uneaten dinners and holes in punched walls. My father had a hair trigger temper and any interaction with him had the opportunity(can’t think of the word) to go wrong. I learned to be quiet, in fact I learned it so well that I even when I wanted to speak my mouth couldn’t say the words. I had become conditioned to fear any interaction with anyone. People would look at me with pity and say ‘You’re so quiet you poor thing’ and then become distracted by my sisters jubilant tales involving her love of Ronan Keating. I stayed in my bedroom until I was 28.

I suppose my childhood was not atypical for someone growing up in a council estate in the last days of Catholic Ireland. But I think that my hereditary propensity towards depression and anxiety mixed with the intense fear of my youth left me with zero chance of being a fully functional adult. My teen years were horrific,  my parents divorce was a Pandora's Box of pain, hatred and anger. My mother turned to drink and screamed at me for looking like my father and my father told me that any recollections of emotional abuse I had were false memories (FAKE NEWS!). I haven’t spoken to my father since I was 16 but his angry face sometimes wakes me up in a cold sweat.

‘Yeah so, you had a tough childhood, who didn’t?, you say.  The only reason I bring it up is because it has had such a bearing on who I am now.  In my early 20s I hated myself. Truly hated myself. I was stupid, ugly and useless. I hated my own face and couldn’t look in the mirror. I cut myself on the arms and the stomach, made worn out, pathetic attempts at suicide and when I was alone and drunk I literally howled in pain. Years of isolation had left me pathologically lonely, every time I was with someone I wondered how long before they would discover that I am a fraud.

I wished I was dead.

The brain has ways of coping with pressure and some of these ways of coping are ridiculous and illogical, often when you are mentally ill you don’t realise how stupid and disordered your thinking is. In my late teens I wouldn’t shower because I lived in terror that people might discuss how I had finally showered. In my early 20s I showered 3 times a day and spent an hour getting my hair just right. I began walking on the side of the road facing the traffic because that way I could see when they were going to crash into me. I kept my hands firmly in my pockets in case the urge to push people out on the road became too strong. I went to get an STI check because I fully believed I had AIDs even though it was literally impossible. I incessantly apologised for slights real and imagined. I developed a small tremor in my right hand and panic attacks were a daily occurrence. In other words I was a fucking basket case.

It all came to a head when I was 28. I decided I’d had enough and I became serious about ending myself. It was September 2014 and I walked to the canal in Tralee. I sat there for hours crying before finally walking to the edge, I went into a sort of trance , took a breath and………..my body tensed up. My anxiety kicked in. I can’t swim. What if I changed my mind. I had heard of a man who hung himself in Tralee and when they found him his fingers were broken from trying to break the rope off, what if that happened to me. I took a step back from the edge. My anxiety had saved my life.

I went and got help. I did counselling and went on medication. I felt like a new man. My anger and pain left me,. My thoughts became ordered. The pressure was off. I was weightless. My sister told me that she had seen me laugh for the first time in 20 years. Awkward conversations were a problem no more, I didn’t care if it was awkward, I got on with my day.  I started to do comedy first with video and and then on stage. Standing in front of people trying to make them laugh was something I would never have dreamed of in a million centuries.  My life changed and I no longer hated myself.

In the last year though, things have changed. I seem to have taken a step back I’m nowhere near as bad as I was previously, for instance I am not at the stage where I am afraid to leave the house incase I commit a murder, but I have noticed the ‘coping’ mechanisms returning. I’ve started to needlessly apologise again for imagined slights. I find myself wondering if people hate me or don’t like me anymore. I wonder if I am annoying people and then find myself compelled into asking them if I am annoying them which results in me actually annoying them.

The fears that I am a fraud and I will be found out at any moment. The almost overwhelming compulsion to tweet and the intense loneliness of it all. The loneliness.

The boy sitting alone in his bedroom.

I don’t know why I am writing this really, maybe because it can be helpful to try and articulate vague feelings or maybe because I am a self indulgent prick. I know though that I need to stop the slide before it reaches breaking point and I can because I have done it before.

If you related to any of this and are clueless as to what to do then I would advise you to go to the doctor as soon as possible and tell them how you feel. It might change your life.

If you read this far then I would like to say thank you and also that I am sorry.

Shane