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laffinandlovin-blog · 4 years

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It’s a long post today folks!

I would like to begin this post with the assurance that I am safe and under the great care of amazing mental health professionals. I’m surrounded by the love of amazing friends and family. It is not lost on me that I am incredibly lucky to be employed and therefore have the opportunity to have great healthcare. Not everyone can afford professional care. Because of To Write Love On Her Arms, more people can. Because of To Write Love On Her Arms, I have a permanent community of support. I know I am about to share very personal information. I also know that when I’ve done so before, someone has always reached out in appreciation. I’m not writing for appreciation. I’m writing with hope that someone feels less alone. I am writing to combat the stigma that we cannot talk about mental health. If I have learned anything (and I’ve learned much), I have learned that it is okay to ask for help. It is ok not to be okay. I have learned that the bad feelings ALWAYS pass but some storms last longer than others. This pandemic has been incredibly difficult for many people. Some people experienced depression and anxiety for the first time and others felt their depression and anxiety amplify to new levels. I’m writing to say: I am here for you. I see you. I believe you. I’m also here to say thank you. Thank you to the friends and family members meet me in the sadness and love me because of it not in spite of it. Thank you for the hard conversations, the song recommendations, the cards, the IG messages, taking me to the doctor, holding me when I cry even though I’m not a hugger, for taking me to the ER junior year of college when I had a debilitating anxiety attack, and most of all for accepting the good days, the ugly cries, the loud and obnoxious laugh, and the understanding that I have a mental illness-I am not an illness.

Here’s the abridged version.

About 15 years ago I successfully convinced myself that I was stupid while studying for Chemistry as a sophomore. I just did not get it. I went to a private all-girl college prep school. Academics were intense. I worked my tail off, fell asleep with my books in my arms, and obsessed over school work. I was never very good at positive self-talk- I constantly put myself down. I was too fat, too dumb, didn’t have weekend plans therefore I had no friends. I was “too sensitive” and I became disgusted with myself. I would cry and cry and cry because I just did not know how to get past these hurdles-the doubt bullies. My dad would pick me up from school every day and the tears would come. At the time we didn’t know I was dealing with a major depressive disorder. I was told I had nothing to cry about at 16 and asked why I was so miserable. I believed that I was truly just a miserable and moody teenager-don’t we all go through that phase? Sometimes at night when I was studying I would bang my head against my bedroom wall questioning why I was so stupid, why I didn’t have any friends, and why I was so ugly. I look back now and know that was the depression talking. I never got lower than a B on a report card, I was student council president, and I had many friends. However, I didn’t know how to get the depression to just shut up already.

Those formative high school years and the negative mantras shaped my journey into adulthood. I successfully convinced myself that I was unattractive and undeserving of romantic love or any love for that matter. I would scratch my arms to feel some physical pain to make sense of the internal pain.

Amazing people were sprinkled into my life since the time I was in grade school (friends) and since birth (family). I had no idea how to explain my experiences with depression to my family. By the time I got to college I had become pretty set in my ways and my detrimental thinking. I remember calling my mom during what was most likely my first panic attack during college. She assured me that it was probably my nerves and stress (which were huge contributors) and to “try some tea and listen to Johnny”. John Mayer’s music was the first that I was able to identify with in terms of anxiety and depression. It wasn’t his most popular stuff but it was a lifeline for me. I also found in college a group of friends that became my chosen family. They didn’t understand my illness either but they were and are the most patient, supportive, and caring people I could have ever hoped to meet and still be close with 14 years later.

After year after graduating college, I moved to Boston. My relationship with Boston is a pretty great love story because of the people I met there. For the first time in my life I met people who struggled with self-worth, self-injury, and relied on medication to keep themselves safe. During a particularly difficult season of my depression, I began self-harming. My therapist and I decided it was best for me to begin an IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). For 3 hours a night, 3 nights each week, for 6 weeks I attended a program where was enveloped in acceptance. I have never had plans to take my life however, I have thought that the life I was living just wasn’t worth it. I thought for sure that the best part of my life was behind me and that I really didn’t have much worth living for. I was convinced that I was a lost cause. The effectiveness of the meds always wore off and there were weeks at a time when I questioned if this life was worth fighting for. I found friends in Boston that I still reach out to to this day when things are feeling very low. Those people, unfortunately, know what it’s like to question if this is all worth it. ��Those people, fortunately, remind me that the fog does lift even if it feels like it’s all I know.

Now at 32, I still struggle almost daily. Where I am at 32 is very different than what I envisioned. I have wanted to be a mom since as long as I can remember (I had 40 baby dolls as a child and they all had names. They were also my students in my pretend classroom in my basement.). I long for romantic love. Someone who I can love and be loved by. But the real love. That person who can call me out and be my biggest fan. And vice versa. Someone with a big heart and an accepting mind. This is getting gushy. I regress. And to be a mom. I long to be a person who is fortunate enough to create her family and love her job and her friends and dogs and stand up for others and speak out against injustice. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer every day.

When I look back on my experiences thus far with anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts, I think about just how lucky I am that I have a sister, brother, parents, cousins, aunts, childhood friends, high school friends, high school teachers, college friends, Italy friends, furry friends, Boston friends and roommates who have loved me through my darkest times. I am amazed by the support, both of those who haven’t had experience with mental illness before loving me and those to whom I am forever connected because of our similar experiences. My people are #worthlivingfor.

There is so much #worthlivingfor. I’m so glad I’m here to experience it.

I am fundraising with @twloha to help provide access to counseling for those who need support. Please visit https://give.twloha.com/fundraiser/2871863 .

Thank you for reading this. personal message. It was long and it was sensitive. I am grateful for the courage to share and thankful for every listening ear and kind heart. I could write pages more. But today I encourage you to share what is #worthlivingfor in your life. Tag me (@lafferrx on Insta). Spread the love- the world needs it more than ever.

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nagitosasshole · 5 years

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this is an unfinished (and cringey) thing that my friend told me to write (ayyyyyyy, beeeeeaaaaaaaaan)

I seriously doubt I'll ever finish it, but I'm gonna put the raw, unedited drabble on here ig wjjwjwjwjwhwjq

A deep scream rips through the calm, still room. a shaking form grips white sheets in the dark, threatening to rip holes in it.

He felt as if he was drowning, drowning in his own salty, sticky sweat. Sticky just like his blood, him not being able to discern which is which terrified him.

The only way he can tell the difference is the taste, he knows the taste too well, he can feel what tastes almost like pennys on his tongue, making him feel like he was drowning all the more.

He wanted to say so much to his parents, but he's too scared, terrified maybe. He feels like his entire existence has been a weight on everyone's shoulders, Mom, Dad, Mr. Joestar, Avdol, Polnareff, Jotaro, hell, even the dog, Iggy.

He feels bad for even leaving his family in the first place, he feels bad that he's never been as happy as he had till then, he feels bad that parting ways made all of them happy, he's just sorry for being lonely.

Him being lonely made him distant, him being distant made his family distant, not once trying to work with him, they just decided he was a lost cause early on. All of those feeling cast a heavy weight, almost like an anchor on you as you try to swim to the nearest island, hoping for safety. But the water will only cast a steady red hue as you squirm, fighting against the rising tide and weight of your loneliness, only worsening the metallic water.

All he can see when he falling in to unconsciousness is DIO, the once looming threat to him and all who he loved.

They beat him, didn't they? So why, why does he still how control over him? The threat is eliminated and the wounds heal, but the scars stay, blinding him further. He's terrified that maybe DIO's death was temporary or a hoax, terrified that he never did regain control over himself, maybe he was still a ploy, forever alone and terrified of himself.

The deep scars on his face stopped him from seeing around him, but he thinks maybe it went too far. The water cutting through his face made a pink hued, metallic knife, cutting through his eyes and going too deep, it's almost like it touched something inside of him.

It's like a warning, you're too young, you have one last chance to go. Even then, he'd rather die knowing he helped, knowing he wasn't alone. He thinks it may be selfish, but his family never cared about him anyway. Mr. Joestar and Jotaro would grieve, but surely move on. Polnareff and Avdol, they're his friends and he would gladly die for either, but they would move on, too.

He honestly hoped he'd die helping them, it would be a fitting death. He doesn't have to go back home, the burden is lifted off of his parents. His friends would grieve but move on, but yet, he's still alive. Even when he's shaking after seeing him when he passes out again, he's alive.

He feels almost guilty for living. So many died but he wanted to die, but didn't. That thought makes his chest tighten and feel like it drops into his chest. He wants to die helping, yes. But he's terrified of dying. The thought kept him up every night they were out trying to find DIO.

Everytime he was able to get a bathroom or room of his own, he wouldn't bother to try and hide his shaking. He was terrified but he had to keep a calm exterior to help his friends, to finally fix what he thought he broke. But that mentality almost snaps in half after beating DIO, everytime he wakes up in a cold sweat, he knows its because of DIO, but he's dead. He knows he's gone, but he still feels his body freeze as DIO arrogantly saunters over to him, smirking as he starts saying something, but he honestly can't hear a thing. Time is frozen for him, and he's powerless. He can feel DIO's fingertips graze the buttons of his old school uniform, another reminder of his past faults. He smirks with pure malice and joy in his eyes, leaning into Kakyoin's ear.

"What ever happened to our friendship, Noriaki?" He grins moving carefully into the crook of his neck

"You were so lonely..." he finished, voice suddenly getting soft. That unnerved Kakyoin more than anything else.

"I was your best friend, remember?" He said, gently running his hand up his chest to his collarbone as he pulls away from his neck. Kakyoin wants so desperately to gasp as he feels DIO's fingers grip around his throat, but nothin comes out, he is still under DIO's control.

As he separated from him, Kakyoin sees The World behind DIO, ready to finish what he had started. He wanted to scream, to run, but he can't, he's stuck in place, forever witnessing his own dissent. He sees The World rear back his fist, snarl on his face as he pushes forward, punching through Kakyoin's abdomen.

Kakyoin still feels frozen but feels the air move around him in slow motion, he feels a warm, wet sensation engulf his body as he sinks more, DIO and The World nowhere to be seen. As he sinks all he sees is rosy water, staining his uniform rose while his wound cascades a deep red color. His entire body feels frozen, but yet it feels warm.

He's petrified and is asking for someone to help, for someone to even end him, but his face is one of pride, mirroring his expression when he was up against DIO, he really thought he had beat him, but DIO will always have something over them even after death. He just wished that DIO actually killed him that day, maybe everyone would be okay then. Maybe then he wouldn't be shaking, almost borderline panic attack every night. Maybe his parents would sleep easy. Maybe Mr Joestar and his family would sleep easy. Maybe all of his new found companions would be sleep easy, too.

AYYYYYYYY THIS IS REALLY BAAAAD (,Ծ‸Ծ,)- ur friendly neighbor pothead ali

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