Some Struggles of Late

Not sleeping.  Not eating properly.  Discovering alcohol. Which, as it turns out, makes me 1) not sleep, and 2) suppresses my appetite. So it's both a problem (because I'm more exhausted than ever) and a solution (because I don't want to eat anyway). Self-harming to punish myself for not eating properly and discovering alcohol. My… Continue reading Some Struggles of Late

Whoops, guess what I discovered?

Alcohol. In that single word I can see all of the mistakes I've made in under a month. I have been sober my entire life, despite growing up in a town with a heavy drinking culture, despite desperately wanting to fit in at university where it seems damaging your liver remains the best way to… Continue reading Whoops, guess what I discovered?

These are not my only needs

I need to draw to calm my anxiety, but I'm shaking so badly I can't hold a pencil steady. I need to stop shaking because it's freaking people out, but I'm so agitated I can't stop. I need to look after myself, but a worthless person places all others' needs above their own. I need… Continue reading These are not my only needs

Chapter Zero: A Brief History of My Time with Mental Illness

I'm going to tell you a story: There once was a girl who was slightly insane, with eyes so bright they matched her brain. She had no troubles of what the day might bring, and when it was silent she would secretly sing. There is still a girl who is more or less sane, but behind… Continue reading Chapter Zero: A Brief History of My Time with Mental Illness

My Self-Harm Story

The first time I hurt myself I was sixteen. I used a pin, and scratched the part of my body I despised the most at the time - my hips. I blamed myself for my brother's cancer diagnosis. I blamed myself for the shouting that accompanied his move back in with my parents. I blamed… Continue reading My Self-Harm Story

Some Things

I had no idea what to write today. Most of the time, when I sit down to write, or to blog, or to journal, whatever it may be, I have a pretty clear idea of where I'm heading and what I want to achieve. Lately, everything is a mess. It's so much of a mess… Continue reading Some Things

Desperate Times, Normal Measures – A Poem

Eclipses decorate her flesh in a myriad mess of alluring urges and sorrowful representation of sadness and denial - suppression she says - and painfully visceral confrontation. Disproportionate coping mechanisms and trickling stains and raindrops without an umbrella or a bandage or any real predisposition to stop. What is life, when life is black, when… Continue reading Desperate Times, Normal Measures – A Poem

I don’t want things to be different, just worse

I'm struggling at the moment, lately, still, always, of course I am, because what else would I be doing if I wasn't struggling? The depression is back with a vengeance, anxiety tells me I'm going to die every time I catch public transport, suicidal ideation has been bad, self harm urges have been bad, the… Continue reading I don’t want things to be different, just worse

Step Into The Waves, Not To Come Back Out

I say that things are rough a lot, but things are rough at the moment. Not in the usual way either. Things are rough in a new way and I don't like it. The urge to self-harm has become a desire to hurt myself, driven by a sense of failure and need for punishment. The… Continue reading Step Into The Waves, Not To Come Back Out

Waves

Think of what it feel like to drown: the water covering your head, entering your throat and nose, trickling into every possible entrance, smothering, choking, burning. Imagine the panic that bubbles beneath the surface, the terror that streams from your stomach to your chest and up out of your soul through tensed shoulders and a… Continue reading Waves