Life happens. Hurt happens. It won’t ever stop. But I’m trying to push through for a few more minutes. Then a few minutes more.
Tag: mentalhealth
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Life happens. Hurt happens. It won’t ever stop. But I’m trying to push through for a few more minutes. Then a few minutes more.
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The worst part, of course, is still the insomnia and sleep deprivation. Either I can’t sleep when I try or I don’t sleep when I can, and then I’m left utterly exhausted, profoundly depressed, and utterly hopeless. Unable to do anything other than sit and watch the time slip by, onward until it’s too late.
My education Story
Your help with my student debt goals would mean the world to me! I’m raising $80,000 to pay off my … More
Honeymoon Hitch hikers – Chapter 4
It’s been a while since my amateur acting days, but I try to go method and channel the rich dudes from my favorite movies. Eccentric billionaires who don’t care about societies standards, who of course would be seen in a luxury hotel wearing cargo pants, hiking boots, and a worn-out shell.
Honeymoon Hitch hikers – Chapter 3
I’ve never voiced this out loud before. To anyone. Even though I can’t quite put my finger on what my issue is, stumbling through it with him feels like the only thing I can do at that moment. “I just…I think it’s gross. Maybe?” That’s the closest I’ve ever come to explaining it to myself, even though that’s not quite it. “And I’ve been told I’m a bad kisser. But I’m working on it. I have to.”
Honeymoon Hitch hikers – Chapter 2
I can’t believe I said that, but I can’t take it back. My heart is pounding so fast that I can barely breathe. What am I doing? This is crazy. I’ve spent years learning my lesson not to be impulsive, to really think about the consequences of my actions. I’ve worked so hard to teach myself to be accountable and selfless.
But for whom?
Honeymoon Hitch hikers – Chapter 1
. My simmering panic flares to life when the pastor says we can kiss, and my hand flies up for … More
I Used to Be – Chapter 1
I dump all the pills onto my bed, and count them again, slowly. They glisten in the afternoon sun, so innocuous. These are meant to help me get my life back together, but they aren’t working. Nothing is working. No one can help me, and I’ve gotten to the point where not many people care anymore.
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The worst part, of course, is still the insomnia and sleep deprivation. Either I can’t sleep when I try or I don’t sleep when I can, and then I’m left utterly exhausted, profoundly depressed, and utterly hopeless. Unable to do anything other than sit and watch the time slip by, onward until it’s too late.
(Don’t) Kill Yourself?
Sometimes we can’t live with what we’ve done to others, or the pain that others have caused us. Sometimes the things that people do to us screw us up so bad that it’s pretty likely we’ll never be the same again. Sometimes, life just really, really sucks. So if life is this bad and things aren’t ever going to get better, what are the alternatives?
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The hardest part lately has been the grief and pain that seems to come out of nowhere. Sometimes I won’t even know what the trigger is. But all of a sudden, I’ll just be drowning in it, with nowhere to turn and no idea what to do with out other than shut it out.
Week 2, Day 7
I tried to see if one of my friends still had their old apartment that I could potentially stay at, but that was a no go, so I guess I’m destined to stay here for a while. I was disappointed at first, but maybe this is my chance to do this right.
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I’m trying to be grateful. Not because I’m some wellspring of gratitude, but because things really could be worse.
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And I’m here. When I don’t believe that it will happen for me, I will believe that it will happen for you. When you don’t believe, I’ll believe enough for the both of us.
Week 1, Day 7
I’ve felt satisfied and fulfilled, and frustrated and scared. Today, I was hit with a powerful burst of longing for the life I used to have. Mostly, I’ve been tired. It’s been hard getting used to sleeping in the cold, and even though I’ve managed to stay quite warm under the blankets with layers of clothes, it’s never easy to poke my head up into the frosty air.
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So, I spent my first night back in the city, and I feel more motivated than ever to change my situation. The only Airbnb that I could afford for the week is an absolute disaster.
Love Languages? – Conclusion
I hope that we can build relationships with others where love can flow freely. By understanding when people are trying to love us or trying to ask for love, we can probably clear up a lot of the backlog that causes people to try and take that love by force, or force it on others, which is part of the cause of abuse.
Love Languages? – Gifts
Don’t get me wrong, I loved receiving gifts as a child. I loved birthdays and Christmas mornings and opening up the packages. We sometimes even got Easter gifts. I loved trying to find gifts for friends and family that they would like. We occasionally did Operation Christmas Child.
Love Languages? – Physical Touch
ouching can be more complicated than the other love languages. It’s the opposite of something like acts of service or gifts in that it brings you more up-close-and-personal with someone else. It’s a lot harder to go stealth with this love language.
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So I wonder, does God see only the fiftieth time that I’ve messed up that day? Does He hear my cries when my heart can’t take it anymore? Does He hold my dreams as tenderly as I do? Does He look at the efforts I expend to try and make the world a better place and smile? The same way I smile when I see my son doing the same?
Love Languages? – Acts of Service
I think there are necessary maintenance activities for each love language, but there’s also enhancement activities that really bring people closer. The “tinglies,” as I mentioned. Which isn’t always romantic. It’s that little jolt of love you get when someone really connects with you.
Love Languages? – Words of Affirmation
And yet, I dream of being famous and having accolades and being appreciated by the masses. I dream of having adoring fans who fall in love with my work and tell me that I’ve touched their lives in one way or another. I also dream of having friends who compliment how smart, helpful, beautiful, and integral I am to them.
Love Languages? – Quality Time
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Love Languages? – Intro
As an amateur armchair psychologist, I of course have a million ideas that I thought you might be interested in. As the smartest person I know, I realized I might actually have a lot to offer on this topic.
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Sleep calls to you, but it’s a siren song, beckoning you to ruin. No, best stay in the middle and not seek solace on the shores to the left or to the right. Best not to even look overboard, because you might be dragged over before you even know what’s happening, and then where would you be?
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I write this on behalf of you and other survivors who can’t face their abusers. I write this on behalf of my own child who will one day realize the extent of the damage that my own pain caused him. I do hope that I can be well enough one day to receive his honesty and honour his story, but if I can’t, at least he’ll know that once upon a time I knew how he feels. I also write this on behalf of the perpetrators of emotional violence, like I myself sometimes am.
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My brain is riddled with holes. The structural matrix of my being is barely strong enough to resist a slight breeze. I require others to keep me together, because left to my own devices, I fall completely apart. Without you controlling me, I don’t know who I am or what to do.
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So, sometimes I forget that I have this thing. Sometimes, life will be going so well that I forget that I’m sick. All it takes is a few good days, and for some reason, my brain thinks that I’m cured, that I’ll never have a bad day again, or if I do, it will feel different, and I’ll be able to rise above.
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So I wonder, does God see only the fiftieth time that I’ve messed up that day? Does He hear my cries when my heart can’t take it anymore? Does He hold my dreams as tenderly as I do? Does He look at the efforts I expend to try and make the world a better place and smile? The same way I smile when I see my son doing the same?