And Then I Saw You Were Not Perfect, And I Loved You Even More

I watch you deep in slumberland, pillow up against my hip with your head gently rested on it so you don't irritate your freshly pierced ear. Watching you peacefully sleep, the only things running through my head are how perfect and beautiful you are.

I understand no-one is perfect. And you're not perfect. But at the same time, you are. You're perfect for me. You're perfectly imperfect and I wouldn't have you any other way.

It's been this way from the start. You've never hidden your imperfections, but flaunted them. Each imperfection you reveal to me, the deeper I fall for you. I have never needed someone perfect. I've needed someone real. I've searched in all the wrong places for love, companionship, a significant other. Looking back, each relationship had it's red flags from the get-go. Things I should've seen, but blinded myself to because I was desperate.

Everyone said I needed to take time to myself, figure out who I truly am, what I want, where I want to go, my little quirks. Everything fell into place. You fell into place, my love. Everything happened the opposite way of how everything typically goes and that's how I know this is different.

I chose my path, I chose my schooling, I chose my life. Then you came along, and just happened to be where I would be. You've shown me a different side of love, the better side. You've shown me what true love feels like, looks like, talks like simply by being imperfect but perfect. The way you treat me is a way I'm not used to being treated. Sometimes, I subconsciously react the way I do because of how the past has treated me. I'm not used to someone so compassionate and loving that I think I misinterpret normality. For you, I try my hardest to remind myself of that. I remind myself that you deserve the best, and I refuse to give up fighting past demons so I can be everything you want and need.

You are better than anything I've ever dreamed or prayed for. You're a true blessing from God, and every second, I'm thankful to say I'm yours.

I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more.

Passion: An Early Morning Thought

When I like someone, every ounce of their being becomes a passion and an addiction. The long nights skyping and laughing until the sun is peaking through the cracks of the window, glistening in her eyes. The crave to kiss their lips as if your life depends on that final moment. Feeling the uncontrollable urge until you finally fill up your tank with gasoline and drive 10 hours just so you can finally feel how soft their skin is and how those early morning sunrises in her eyes look more breathtaking lying right next to her in bed. The passions you already have in life blossom, as you continue searching for the right person. Love forms from those early mornings where the sheets are tangled and sleepy kisses are exchanged. Love consumes your soul, creating a passion for them that causes you to so blindly do stupid things because they all of a sudden become first in your life. Your passion towards them fuels like the same passion you have towards writing, or sports, or cooking. You drive 3 hours and skip a day’s worth of classes just to take care of them when they’re sick. You drive through a blizzard just because you miss them so much, and they miss you and you feel empty without their presence, the exact emptiness you feel when you give up a life-long dream, or give up doing something you once enjoyed doing. The difference is that love is not a hobby. The passion towards a person you love is more, because as addicting as a hobby can be, when a person you love decides to walk away, it’s out of your control. You don’t get to decide when to re-engage that passion, no you are stuck with the fact that it’s gone despite how much you still crave it, need it. You go through withdrawal symptoms like quitting cocaine without a proper detox regiment. It’s all sudden. It’s all intense. You feel it trying to force it’s way out, and it burns so much through your veins that you have to release it, because if you can just pour out all of the passion coursing through your veins where they once were, maybe, just maybe that passion will finally die and they will no longer live within you. The worst part, is figuring out if that passion towards them will die, or if you will.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month

Mental Health is just as important as any physical ailment. Our minds must be taken care of; It’s an important function of our body. When our mental health suffers, our entire being suffers. It’s a daily struggle, but love and support eases the pain of those suffering.

Let this be your sign if you are struggling. Know that someone out there DOES care and DOES understand what you are going through. You’re not a freak, you are not some psycho, you are human. You deserve to feel safe and comfortable talking about your problems instead of feeling fear or worrying about judgment. 

Mental Illness is a real disease. If you feel like you have nowhere to go or no one to talk to about your mental health, if you feel unsafe or worry about judgment when opening up the conversation to seek help you need, know that I am here. 

I will offer a supportive, compassionate ear. I will listen to any issue, no matter how “small” it may seem. Your mental health deserves to be cared for. You deserve to know that you are not alone, you are not crazy, someone out there genuinely wants to help you feel better and cares for you. 

This offer is not just for the month of May. It’s for every month, every day, no matter what hour. I’m here 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 364 (365) days a year. I love you all, and I care. <3 p="">

A Letter To My Heart That Is Still Mending

Dear Broken Heart,

All I can really say to you at this point is I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't protect you more. For the first time since we experienced first true love together, I allowed us both to open up and breathe every part of someone else's love. It's been an easy road recovering from break ups mostly, which makes me think maybe we weren't as madly in love as we thought we were.

I believed her. From the moment she told me that she could never do anything to hurt me, because I'm too good of a person and I don't deserve being hurt, I trusted her with every inch of my being. This had you trusting her as well to take care of the both of us.

Every moment I saw her from that point on, you fluttered with excitement. You'd jump so fast that I sometimes lost my ability to breathe because we were both entranced with her presence. When I'd kiss her hello, you'd skip with excitement and sigh with awe. When I'd kiss her goodbye, you'd consume my entire chest begging for me not to walk away and I could feel you crying in sync with my eyes. You were the most at ease when we'd lie against her, and we both felt safe. We both even agreed that she might even be "The One".

When she left for her initial training for two weeks, you felt hollow in my chest. You'd sigh with disappointment and fall towards my stomach whenever she was mentioned, or whenever there was a missed call. She'll be home soon, we'd continue telling each other, but we both knew it didn't feel complete without her physical presence.
But damn, the nights when she'd finally come home after a week of being gone, or even getting to see her for those small lunch breaks, you'd smile and feel warm. Even once those moments grew into longer time periods without her, we'd try to remain positive.

I never felt you lie so still in my chest and get so cold than the moment we were told she cheated and was planning on breaking up with us. Those warm moments suddenly exploded into ashes in the pit of my stomach. During the initial moments taking it in, I felt you completely shatter and break like glass being dropped. You shattered into a million, cold, lifeless pieces, and I went down with you. We both mourned together, and drank until we both could barely function.
You are one angry drunk when you're in love though. Within minutes of the liquor consuming my veins and your structure, you boiled up hotter than Hell could ever be. It felt like Satan himself was melting inside of you. I could feel you banging into my ribs, trying to escape so you could hit someone yourself. To ease your tension, I hit and threw items for you until we both could barely take in the air surrounding us. After that moment of intense, Hellish anger, I held you and together we sobbed into the floors that surrounded us.

Time moved slowly. We both fell into a deep depression, barely able to move out of where we rested. There were moments when we both had a strong desire to just stop moving altogether, but we fought through it. I kept you going, and you kept me going. We tried to get over it, but every time we'd see her new love, the girl who stole her away from us, you'd start banging into my rib cage again begging to beat the bitch up yourself for causing you so much pain. Every time you realized she was around, you'd flutter with hope that maybe I'd kiss her again so you could feel that safe, warm feeling yet again.

We're coming close to 8 months since the actual break up, and I'm sorry that to this day, you still hurt immensely. You've turned into stone with an electric barbed wire fence surrounding you. You refuse to open up again and let someone else into that same spot where she once lived and existed. I keep telling myself I'm over her, and I'm over the situation.

But if I was truly over her.... you wouldn't still be experiencing the inability to move. You wouldn't flutter every time she was near. You wouldn't keep trying to rip your way out of my chest every single time the new girl is around. You wouldn't hurt, or sink, or crumble every single time I start gluing you back together and she appears in some way.

I understand why you're guarded. It will take time for us to fully 100% heal. Maybe someday, we'll find someone that will make us comfortable so we can yet again experience that amazing safe, warm feeling and you can skip all you want. I miss that wonderful feeling inside my chest. It's been hard. We'll both heal completely some day.

Sincerely,
The Girl Whom You Live Within

I'll Follow You Into The Dark....

Do you ever feel like you're doomed to be alone?
That you're not destined to be great at anything?
That the rest of your life, you're just going to suffer painfully?

I've been starting to feel that way lately.

Many aspects of my life are completely unstable. One thing I've felt confident about since the beginning of the new year is my work life. I've felt confident in working in a tattoo shop as a body piercer, and writing/vlogging for a magazine. It felt nice to have at least one thing stable. It felt nice to feel like I was good at something, and I belonged somewhere.
Until a few aspects of my work life fell through as well. Now I'm beginning to really, truly question if I'll ever reach a stable point in life again. It brings up some red flags for myself.

I've been questioning everything. I'm afraid no matter how hard I try, I'll never amount to anything in the business world. I'm afraid I'll eventually get fired from whatever it is I'm doing, or I'll leave and not be able to amount to anything greater. I'm afraid eventually my BPD, my depression, and anxiety will all lead to my demise to where I'll be unable to function in a work place. I'm afraid it'll all build up, and I'll just lose that aspect of my life as well.
I'm afraid that I'm unlikable. That since I can't control my emotions, relationships, and thoughts and they're so freaking intense in my head and constantly shifting, that I'll either end up in another abusive relationship, or that I'll just end up all alone from fear. I'm afraid I'll never find someone who will be patient and love me for me. I'm afraid of letting someone that close to me, because I'm afraid that they'll eventually get tired of me. They'll eventually just leave anyway. I'm afraid of attaching myself or letting my feelings take over.
I'm afraid that eventually I'll become a burden to all my loved ones. I already feel so incredibly guilty and undeserving of the love and care they provide. Maybe right now, I'm not a burden to them. I'm scared that eventually my depressing thoughts, constant need of a distraction, reassurance, and help will become a problem and no one will want to help or listen anymore. I'm afraid the suicidal thoughts will get to them, and they'll stop being able to handle it. I require so much attention for wanting to just be left alone. I require so much push to get things done, even if I end up crying from not wanting to do it. I know my loved ones just want to help me try to get back on a stable path, and get me to a better place in life.... but I feel so incredibly guilty and it makes me feel like I'm being selfish, even though I don't ask for the help and I can't control my inability to motivate myself.
They've reassured me that's what friends and family are for. But I feel terrible that they have to play a second role of caregiver or even a babysitter just to get me through each day. It's so incredibly unfair for them to have to take time out of their days to take care of me and I hate that. Eventually, it's going to get exhausting for them as well....

A lot of this is my BPD talking, and I recognize that.
But it's convinced me how completely true those statements are.
No matter how many times my friends and family tell me "It's going to get better. Everything will be okay. We're not going anywhere." ....it doesn't change the future factor of if they will truly get sick and tired of having to put up with my shit. I wish I could completely control it, or even half way control it.... but I can't.
It makes me feel like I'd be so better off just... saying fuck all of this. What's sad is the fact that my BPD has also convinced me that yes, everyone would be sad at first... but eventually everyone will forget me. They'd be able to stop worrying. They wouldn't have to take care of me anymore. Or tire themselves out trying to help me. I feel like I'm such a lost cause. I'm not going anywhere at this point.... I've basically failed miserably at life, and it only continues to put me into a shit hole. I'm tired of being the disappointment. I'm tired of everyone having to worry about me, having to take care of me by taking time out of their lives......

I'm just exhausted.....

It's where my demons hide, it's where they kill and inspire me inside.

Sex is a natural part of our being.
Sex is part of creation, lust, and bonding.
Sex is beautiful.... until it's non-consensual.

No woman or man should ever be able to count the times they didn't consent for a sexual on with a single finger. Unfortunately, I barely can keep them on one hand, and that's just the number of people who did not gain my permission, not the number of instances.

I read an article today written by my boss at Flurt Magazine. It was a piece on how she almost went into the sex industry just to make ends meet, struggling to find shelter, a place to stay, and her mental health was on sharp rocks. A lot of what she said took a lot of raw feelings and experiences; Things that most people would never in a million years admit to, let alone publicly publish an article about it for the world to see. It took Amanda a lot of guts and strength to actually do such an incredible thing. It also got me thinking.
I've been working for Flurt for about two months now. I've recently started writing some more personalized articles on my experiences of life. While I'm open about a couple of my non-consensual encounters of sex, there's still many skeletons I've kept in the closet.
Most people know about three, not the recent fourth one. The first encounter is the one I rarely speak in depth about. I usually just leave it at "I was maybe six years old." Only people I've sincerely trusted enough with details know MOST details about it, and it's only a few people perhaps? Those are details I have yet to even feel comfortable sharing with a therapist.
The second encounter was with an ex-girlfriend of mine back in high school, and again, I don't generally prefer to go into the details.... or on how many instances I had to endure the pain.... or how the first time I willingly had sex with a girl after that, I had a full blown panic attack and started crying.
The third one was an attempt, not an actual act, but it doesn't make it any less traumatizing...especially when you've already experienced it before. Even my friend who was present during the attempt was traumatized...but then again, I would've also.
The last one was more recent. I kept saying no. No means no, no matter how many times it's said. Pushing away, saying no, squirming, are not invites to try to arouse me. I felt like an empty shell already, being drowned in my own storm of depression, and ended up giving in. Afterwards, I got up, and stared at a blank wall for two hours, unsure of what to even think.

I've wondered if I'd ever actually openly publish something about the details of these incidents. Would the massive details being publicly known help with my PTSD healing? Or would it further destroy me writing down and admitting every single detail? Could I mentally handle the criticism that could pop up from the world? It's inevitable as a writer that not everyone is going to like (or agree) with what you have to say, even if it's from your own personal experience. My biggest fear/question: Could I handle my family actually knowing the truth? All the years of hiding the incidents, all the unexplained childhood events that led to the signs of it, but no one knew what was going on.
One of the biggest factors into my depression.
All the secrets I've kept hidden away...

It's all said and done for me. I can't take back ANY of those times, and I have to figure out my own ways of healing and coping with the PTSD attacks that force me to relive the graphic moments; some of which are memories that slowly unravel that I DON'T want to know exist still in my head.
However, I begin to wonder if I actually stated every last detail and made it publicly known....
Could I truly save someone's life or inspire someone to fight through the pain?
Or would it be a waste of my breath?

Coping with A New Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder

It felt like a regular doctor's visit.

For my depression and anxiety, I go in every few months to see my psychiatrist about my medication. We were discussing some of my lifestyle changes: Being in debt, moving, living in a not-so-wonderful situation household wise, dealing with relationship instability, etc. She asked if I was in therapy, and explained trying to get in touch with my old therapist since she left the practice. We went out to the lobby to get me set up with a new therapist, when I noticed there were three items under my "Current Health Issues" column instead of two. My latest diagnosis, as you can see from the title, is Borderline Personality Disorder.

Okay, so now raises the big question: What exactly is Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)?
According to The National Institute of Mental Health (nimh.nih.gov/BPD):
"Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a serious mental illness marked by unstable moods, behavior, and relationships.Because some people with severe BPD have brief psychotic episodes, experts originally thought of this illness as atypical, or borderline, versions of other mental disorders. While mental health experts now generally agree that the name "borderline personality disorder" is misleading, a more accurate term does not exist yet.Most people who have BPD suffer from:

• Problems with regulating emotions and thoughts
• Impulsive and reckless behavior
• Unstable relationships with other people.

People with this disorder also have high rates of co-occurring disorders, such as depression, anxiety disorders, substance abuse, and eating disorders, along with self-harm, suicidal behaviors, and completed suicides."

Now that you've had a minor education lesson in Psychology, let me essentially break it down (not only for your benefit, but myself as well.)To be diagnosed with BPD, you have to qualify under at least 5 of the following symptoms. For educating the public purposes, I'm going to go through each of the symptoms and give you a glimpse into the head of someone with a mental illness.

• Extreme reactions—including panic, depression, rage, or frantic actions—to abandonment, whether real or perceived
  Okay, so I've always been a bit of a drama queen, which is partially what makes me a decent actress and fiction writer; I can tune in with other's emotions and put myself into those situations so easily. Being alone has always been a fear of mine, especially when it comes to loved ones. Leaving my first college to transfer, and even transferring the second time, one of my biggest fears was that my friends would ultimately just forget me. The friends I made I was extremely close to, and losing them seemed devastating. While I recognize almost every of time that the moments I feel abandoned come up, they are irrational.
  
• A pattern of intense and stormy relationships with family, friends, and loved ones, often veering from extreme closeness and love (idealization) to extreme dislike or anger (devaluation)
  Okay so I don't think this one is nearly as bad. I do notice I can attach easily to people. I have minor trust issues (who doesn't?) but I can easily gain a sense of closeness from a person. I am working on this aspect of my life though, especially when it comes to dating. At least I'm not the stalker type of close with people. I like to think I'm fairly normal in this category.
  
• Distorted and unstable self-image or sense of self, which can result in sudden changes in feelings, opinions, values, or plans and goals for the future (such as school or career choices)
  This is pretty much my entire life in a nutshell. I have absolutely terrible self-esteem, and I definitely get super moody in this aspect. I've had a lot of issues struggling with sorting my life out, and I don't feel stable with my life. I've been fairly influenced when it comes to moving around suddenly, changing my life around, etc. Ultimately, I feel like nothing. I feel like even with working at the tattoo shop and writing/vlogging for Flurt Magazine, I feel like I'm going nowhere and I've accomplished nothing with my life.
  
• Impulsive and often dangerous behaviors, such as spending sprees, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating.
  Whoop, there it is. Luckily, I'm not one for shopping. However, some of these do apply to my life. After getting out of my last relationship due to life instability, I kind of decided that I needed to just "fuck around" for awhile and just do no-strings-attached casual encounters. Luckily that got cut off from my life quicker than I anticipated when I met Rachel. We're not officially together or anything, but I do like her and want to prove to her and myself that I can in fact be faithful and committed when the time is right. That's a completely different story though that I could ramble on. As far as reckless driving, I text and drive. I've considered driving into things, but I realize I could jeopardize someone else's life. Substance abuse.... I recently was super drunk and tried Molly (aka Meth & Ecstasy combined). I don't believe I'm addicted to alcohol or any other drug for that matter. Lastly, binge eating. Probably the worst of these behaviors for me. I was a binge eater for a year during high school, until my gallbladder began malfunctioning and I ended up being so sick that it had to be removed. I was pretty good about binge eating, but notice recently I've started doing it again as another way to cope. It's not really eating my feelings, it's more of I do it because I want to feel some sort of pain, even if it's stomach pain. It's a unique type of self-harm.
  
• Recurring suicidal behaviors or threats or self-harming behavior, such as cutting.
  *TRIGGER WARNING*
  I've been a cutter since I was 13. I've gone several lengthy periods where I have restrained myself from the destructive behavior. However, it is an addiction for me. It's a way to release the emotional pain by putting it elsewhere so I can focus on a different type of pain. I was doing well for awhile, but the past two relapses I've had, I noticed I was having a sort of "psychotic" episode. I panic hard core, feeling desperately alone, and I don't know where else to turn to at the time. Everything goes kind of fuzzy, and next thing I know there's blood. I tend to have this mentality during the psychotic episodes that if I cut, I can somehow release the inner demon making me feel the way I am, almost a way to get them out of my bloodstream and out of my body.
  As for suicide, well, I'm not really one for death. I'm actually terrified of it. However, last school year I ended up with suicidal thoughts, but they went away once I got on my medication. They started returning in September, and have struggled on and off with them since. I know if anyone is reading this, a common reaction might be, "That's so selfish of you." Well, it doesn't seem selfish in my head. If anything, I feel like I'm doing everyone a favor by not having them worry about me 24/7. I already feel unworthy of the people around me since I feel "crazy". Sometimes, it feels easier to just leave the world so that everyone can stop wondering every second how I'm doing. Keeping them worried seems more selfish to me (Note: This is just my ramblings of what goes on in my head. At this moment, I am in no means suicidal.)
  
• Intense and highly changeable moods, with each episode lasting from a few hours to a few days
  This one is pretty self-explanatory. I notice it's gotten worse, especially when it comes to my period. Already with PMS, women experience a heightened mood swing rate. It was pretty typical of me I guess anyway, but more recently I tend to be more emotionally unstable. I'm a fairly relaxed person, and my mood usually reflects that way.Around my period any more though, YIKES. Believe me, if you're one of my friends and you hate how I'm acting, imagine how I feel! I don't like it any more than you do. Hence why I get so apologetic.
  
• Chronic feelings of emptiness and/or boredom
  Feel nothing, want nothing, know nothing. Emptiness is a terrible feeling. I do get bored rather easily, and I'm lucky that now I have my work to fall on during those times to keep me focused on something. I notice with my boredom, the emptiness comes along with it. You over think everything, and suddenly, NOTHING. Emotional numbness sometimes sucks worse than actually feeling.
  
• Inappropriate, intense anger or problems controlling anger.I wouldn't say I have anger issues. I notice I've been more irritable however. I mean when I get angry, goddamn you probably should just walk away. I once had an ex (who was in the military, mind you) that always told me she was terrified any time I ever was angry. I get passionate when I'm mad. Who doesn't though, right?
  
• Having stress-related paranoid thoughts or severe dissociative symptoms, such as feeling cut off from oneself, observing oneself from outside the body, or losing touch with reality. Last one (Thank god, right?) This one is probably the most interesting symptom. Maybe you've had a dream before where you were watching yourself through the dream. If you haven't, here's a better example: Imagine being in a movie theater watching yourself do exactly what you are doing right now, but you're the only person in the audience. It's honestly kind of bizarre and hard to explain. I think the best way I can explain it is through an old blog post I have on this page:"You're sitting in a busy, noisy room, All of a sudden, it's quiet. Te earth just feels still, and you feel like for a moment, it's only you. Nothing else is around; it's all just quiet. After a few moments, you begin hearing noise again, and you snap back into reality realizing that while you were stuck in that moment, the world continued on without you. The noise and rush of the room comes back to your sense, overwhelming them."

So maybe this was educational, maybe you got bored reading inside my mind. I'm trying to come up with multiple ways to understand my new diagnosis, and what living with it entails for myself. I'm doing my best to sort out my feelings and understand myself on a new mental/emotional level. I'm pretty big on being self-aware of myself, and this to me just presents a new challenge towards that goal. I understand that I have a lot of these symptoms, but it doesn't make it easier to admit to it.
I'm learning to embrace it, so that I can make a difference. I want to see this as a new opportunity to speak on behalf of those who are too afraid or in the same position as I am as far as accepting the diagnosis. I'm hoping to see it more as a blessing and learn to love myself with it, than let it consume me and become my Hell.

My body is my canvas: Tattoo #8 & 9

As part of healing with my depression, I've been using my tattoos for symbols of parts of my life. While this practice can be typically common, I've gone over emotional with the meanings behind some of my tattoos.
The tattoos I'm getting next are going to be my more delicate meaningful ones.

#8: I've spent so long in the darkness,
I'd almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.

This quote takes on a lot of meaning with my depression. With the depression has been a lot of darkness in my life lately. I've been going through a rough time the past few months, and my depression was severe to the point of me being bed ridden. Things are slowly lightening up, and to me, this quote is a reminder that no matter how long the darkness lasts, to remember and be grateful for the light(s) guiding you out of the darkness.


#9: Dave Sanchez Sugar Skull Modified.

The picture on the left is the original skull that was used to inspire the one on the right. As you can see from picture one, those colors will be incorporated into my piece as well, maybe some change ups. Behind her head is broken hearts, and there is a single tear falling from her eye.
The things added to the one I'm getting is the corner of her mouth is stitched.
*Trigger Warning*
This is where the symbolism comes in for me. This piece is being used as part of my healing towards the sexual assaults I went through. I've been through two sexual assaults, and one attempted. This tattoo is about the silence I've encountered through the experience. The broken hearts represent the sexual assault during a relationship of mine, and how it acts within my relationships. It also represents the pain I feel inside every time I'm reminded of any of the encounters. The tear represents the tears I've shed, and how it negatively has impacted me. The stitching on her lips represent the silence I've faced, feeling unable to talk about it with family and in certain instances. It represents the silence I feel when rape jokes are made.
This tattoo is a symbol of my strength, what I've endured, and how I'm continuing to go on. The rose brings on the elegance aspect of my recovery. It shows my continuation to grow and fight through the daily PTSD battles. It's the beauty of how I am a survivor.

Picking up the pieces

It's been quite awhile since I've actually written on here. Somewhere in that time, I found myself, lost myself, and am slowly collecting the pieces to get back to my peaceful place. It seems so much easier than it sounds- but the brutality if this entire thing is it's one of the most goddamn difficult things to do. It's exhausting in every single aspect: Physically, mentally, and emotionally. It also doesn't help when at times, you have the wrong support system trying to help you.

In many ways, I've figured out that it's best to try to collect the pieces on my own. I've been so dependent on people helping me gather them, and they're usually the ones that take the pieces with them when it's no longer convenient to put my missing piece where it belongs. The only way I can explain this is through biblical reference.
I once attended a Christian retreat where the focus was having someone help you "carry your cross", aka your burdens, the things that weigh you down. I trust people too much to help me carry that cross, and ultimately how it goes is such; They see me struggling, they pick it up on the other side with me, walk with me for a while, then end up walking away all of a sudden. By this point, I fall by the sudden weight shift, and with the loss of blood from my crown of thorns (aka my depression, my burdening thoughts) I lose energy to continue.

This is why I've come to realize that I truly do need to solve all my problems myself. I don't mind my friends and loved ones reminded me to stop and drink some water and rest. I actually encourage the support. It revives my own strength and encourages me to continue my journey- no matter how hard it gets.

Depression seriously fucks with your head in so many disturbing ways. I can only name a few of these examples: (WARNING: THIS COULD BE TRIGGERING)
The suicidal thoughts: not exactly something I'm proud to admit, but yes. I have them at times. I've read several great quotes that describe depression, one of my favorites being, "Depression is like drowning, except everyone around you is still breathing." It's so suffocating, especially mentally. One of my biggest flaws in character is that I HATE being a disappointment in any way. When I feel like I'm massively disappointing multiple people, that I'm doing everything wrong, burdening the world; Bam. The world would be better off without you. At least that way, you can stop hurting the people around you with your mistakes and stop disappointing others. You can be replaced, you will eventually be forgotten.
I recognize, this is absolutely terrible. Deep down somewhere, I know this is a completely false statement. That's the absolute crap my mind traps me in though. It's that I'm not good enough. I don't deserve to be treated nicely. I deserve any and all hurt of any form, including in my past. I haven't fully gotten to work this out with a therapist, but I believe somehow, in a sadistic way, it's part of the healing process. It's the constant breaking myself down to rebuild myself up. I have heavy demons that I can only eliminate through a long healing process.

Self-Harm: Again, not one of the prettier aspects. Self harm has become so different for me now than it was when I was 13 and beginning to draw my stories and struggles on my arms and legs. I use to never push down hard enough, because I didn't embrace the pain enough nor did I want to face the fact that I had a problem. My past two relapses reminded me of my very first time: I feel my head to fuzzy in a delusional way, I remember grabbing whatever I'm going to use, then without thought, I push as hard as I can. The thoughts in my head, now dribble down my body. They're released from intoxicating my bloodstream. There's a sudden calm following. It's all such a flash and blur. The build up to it literally feels like insanity. I can't even describe the feeling, and I hope none of my loved ones or friends EVER understand that feeling.

Body confidence: anyone who's close to me knows I'm super self conscious of my body. There's random moments, when I'll be in a good mind state, and I'll see the pure beauty I have. During that time, I can also see my body how it actually is, a healthy shape and size that actually can look slimming at times. The rest of the time, despite those moments, I feel so insecure. When I look into the mirror, that girl who looked slimming a few hours ago now has a double chin, stomach looking 6 months pregnant, jeans so constricting and wide hips that can run into everything. It's a complete distortion of how I actually look. Beauty in society comes in all sizes and I'm a firm believer in that one. However, when your own mother and society runs their mouths, telling you that the weight you're gaining is unacceptable, this is exactly what happens. It's part of the reason I was anorexic for awhile in high school after gaining 10 pounds and being told that the fact I had to go up a jean size meant I needed to lay off eating so much. Then there was my senior year, trying to deal with this all over again. I did the opposite, and during my depressive states would eat until I felt my acid reflux hit. It was a different pain that lingered. I formed a bad habit out of it and consequently, cause my own gallbladder to fail by the age of 18. Which is super young for a person to have their gallbladder removed and looking like a fucked up burnt chicken thigh. Honestly, I dont give a flying fuck what society says. Its my mother. Like I said earlier, I'm a people pleaser. Especially when it comes to the people who created and raised me. All a child wants is parental acceptance. To constantly hear the fat, pudging, your-jeans-are-too-tight comments? Yes, it ruins your own self image.

I'm picking myself up, yet again in a different time of my life. I'm returning to blogging as an outlet and my self reflection. Writing is therapeutic. Maybe someday, I'll recover entirely, even if it occasionally comes crawling back into my life.