waywardwombatzombie

[waywardwombatzombie]

How Long

I️ finally got an appointment scheduled with a psychiatrist. It is in 2 months. I️ know I️ wasn’t going to be immediately cured on the first visit but, I️ can’t take these feelings. They physically hurt and ache. I️ don’t want to feel this way any more. I’ve been fighting this alone for almost 10 years. I️ just need to hold on for 2 more months. I️ just need to trust the meds i’ve been given will work, eventually.  

[waywardwombatzombie]

An Intro Letter

This is a safe space. I️ am hurting and in search of ways to cope. You may or may not be able to relate, and that is okay. If you have found my page, I️ am sorry for the circumstances that lead you to relate to the tags I️ use. I️ hope that you are able to find comfort in knowing you are not alone. 

I️ am not writing for attention. I️ am not going to confront the human issues in my life for a long while. I️ have followed many weight loss and healthy eating and workout regiments to no avail. I️ have dedicated myself fervently to my faith for years to no avail. I️ have spoken to Collegiate, State, and Church therapist in the past that were ineffective. I️ am currently seeking the help of Psychiatrist and medical professionals. (perhaps an official diagnosis and medications will be effective) I️ am writing here because, sometimes it just helps to have your pain known. To be honest and heard without a (well intended) more harmful than helpful solution being handed to you with a bible verse as the spoon full of Splenda to “make the medicine go down”. 

Im also “in a season” of extreme doubt. I️ have all but fully moved into an Agnostic view when it comes to religion. I️ was raised Southern Baptist before my moms affair and we had to leave that congregation. We attended a Non-Denominational church for a while but, I’ve been struggling with doubts since I️ was a child. Now that I️ have a bit more freedom to research and form my own opinions, I’m seriously thinking about leaving Christianity. 

 Please do not be afraid to interact and comment. I️ am not regularly active, and can make no promises to reply but, you will be heard. My requests are simple. Advice is welcome but please, no “just...” advice. To me, “just...” advice implies that the recommended action is simple. That it is an easy thing and invalidates whatever struggle I️ may be working through in my own healthy way to overcome. Receiving “just...” advice is one of the quickest things that will send me into a self-hating, dissociative, repressive state that makes me long for my less than healthy coping habits. 

If you’re the type of person to bully, insult, or be insensitive and rude I️ doubt you would have read this far. I️ can only imagine you ended up here because you are hurting too. I️ promise you, there is no need to say what you want to say. No, I️ cannot take a joke. I️ promise you I️ say much meaner (and more creative) insults to myself daily. I️ have been writing myself hate-mail for almost a decade now.  

If you are still reading, thank you. 

*The Bullet Points of my Past*

>Mom; Cheated , Divorced, Almost Ran Away, Remarried, Divorced 

>Manipulative, Gaslighting, Alcoholic, Emotionally Dependent, Anti-LGBTQIA+

>Dad; Divorced, Remarried, Sides with New Wife Every Time

>Fat Shaming, Controlling, Everything Can be Fixed With a Jog, a Salad, and a Prayer

>Sister, I️ Took on Role of Mother, Currently 19 Y/O

>Bad Coping Habits, Independent, Inconsiderate, Still a Broken Kid Inside

Theres much more that I’m not yet ready to put out there but, thats the general idea. I️ am usually a pretty open person. My line is usually “As long as you’re not family, I’ll tell you any and everything”.  

[waywardwombatzombie]

They think they help

This morning I️ woke up in the beginnings of a depressive episode. I️ felt it beginning to set in yesterday while visiting family so, I️ knew this would probably happen. I️ began my process to try and work my way out. a process I️ have had to learn on my own. Eventually, needing the restroom got me out of bed. when I️ came back to my room, I️ made my bed instead of getting back in it. (a big win) I️ sat at my desk and messed with some new winter dice I️ had just gotten and felt some fuzzy socks I️ had also just gotten. (Interacting with things that give me even a little bit of happiness can create a path out) I️ put on the socks and grabbed my new word-search and some crayons. I️ put on my playlist of songs that make me happy and began working on the word-search. I️ take my time. Each word I️ find is another accomplishment rewarded by getting to color. I️ am getting grounded and even smiling as “Granger Danger” is playing. Then my dad comes in to tell me my siblings will be leaving soon. I️ chose to be honest with him. I️ told him I️ woke up really sad this morning but, I️ have worked hard to make it out and that the word-search they got me had been really helpful. He said, well if you’re feeling that way then you need to get out of your room or let some sunlight in and not just sit in your rom alone and mope. 

The way he said it, like that was all just so easy to do. The moment he closed the door I️ began sobbing. I️ had spent the last few hours rebuilding my self esteem and confidence. Telling myself I️ matter and that the day could be worth getting out of bed for. I️ was working hard to get myself to a place where I️ could come pout and interact with the family in a way that was healthy for me. In a way that didn't involve me repressing my shit so I️ have worse to deal with later. I️ had been doing good. He reminded me why I️ am not honest with them with how I️ feel. Why I️ heve suffered alone for a decade. Why I️ would rather let my self esteem, image, and GPA deteriorate instead of asking for help. My dad thinks everything can be fixed with a jog and a prayer. According to him I️ am sad because I️ am not close enough to God or I️ am too fat. 

I️ came home this semester because of how detrimental it was for me to be alone. I’m beginning to wonder if being home will make any difference at all.     

[waywardwombatzombie]

I’m so tired of feeling this way. I️ wish I️ had someone. I️ want someone to notice me. I️ want to feel needed in a valuable way. People turn to me, and cry to me, and I️ support them. But, when I️ need something, they are nowhere to be found. 

[waywardwombatzombie]

Lonely

Have you ever felt so lonely you physically hurt? 

I️ really need a dog. If only I️ could afford an emotional support dog. I’m such a physical touch person, that would help a lot with these panic attacks. 

[waywardwombatzombie]

Just Two Marshmallows

[waywardwombatzombie]

Just Two Marshmallows

These two marshmallows have been such a light in my life. Thank you all for the wonderful story.

[waywardwombatzombie]

I️. Owe. Her. Nothing.

[waywardwombatzombie]

A moment of excitement

I️ took some steps towards mending a perpetually broken relationship

I️ ordered a new medium for my art, should get in Wednesday

Still terrified of traveling with my mother as nothing more than her emotional support animal. 

[waywardwombatzombie]

Another failed attempt at dating

I️ was raised for a world that no longer exists. 

[waywardwombatzombie]

[waywardwombatzombie]

Not so late night thoughts

I️ think loneliness will be what does me in. 

I️ often like to be alone. I️ seek seclusion and a respite from those around me. There is a difference between being alone, and feeling alone.  There is a fine line between feeling alone and feeling unwanted and alone. Eventually, you feel unloved. 

Even though love has never been good to you, you still crave it. Like some embarrassing guilty pleasure, you try and find ways to feel it however you can. Your life has given you a front row seat to watch love decay into lies, betrayal, hatred, threats and acts of violence. You go to church and they tell you love is patience love is kind. Love does not envy or boast and is not proud. Love is not easily angered. Love protects and trusts. 

I️ fear love. I️ fear it and yet I️ need it. I️ need acceptance. I️ need to feel worthy. I️ need to be wanted. I️ know, it is not okay to say these things aloud. I️ know I️ am supposed to just be strong and take care of myself. But it has been over a decade, even God rested. Why can I️ not rest? Why can I️ not mourn? 

My mask is porcelain. Delicate and frail. I️ have painted over the cracks and fractures. I️ feel them all with each breath. I️ live in fear that the next breeze will be all it takes to shatter it. I️ know the shrapnel will deepen the scars that each paint covered split. 

What’s worse is I️ know that on the fateful day, it finally implodes, I️ will be left to pick up the pieces. Alone.