Tag: life

the thing about pain

the thing about pain is that it hurts. it is a consequence of the anger festering deep in your heart. what type of pain is it today? the angry fire radiating from within? whose flames lick and lap up at your nerve endings? imploding or exploding? which one is it today? perhaps the cool dull ache gnawing at your bones? there’s more on the menu and get this – a secret menu i haven’t yet unlocked. can’t wait for the new seasonal releases!

i’d like to decline ordering from the pain menu. i’m afraid i’m all pained out for like, life. but if you insist i suppose i’ll choose to feel nothing. one big pile of heaping nothing, please. numbness is my favorite flavor! how did you know? oh yes let me snap a picture of this despair and upload it to the Void. (an exclusive place to me only).

i wanted to write about pain but it hurts. and like i said, today i choose to feel nothing. so let me be numb for a little while longer

brain evolution

Happy 2025! This is my first post of the year. Yes, it is January 27th. I have truly been slacking but times have been tough !!! But I’m back. I had to take a break from writing and being myself for a while but I think I feel like I want my brain back now. My brain muscles are atrophying.

Here are some things I learned during the longest stretch of not writing ever.

It’s really hard to think. Apparently, I’m an external processor now. I don’t think I was one before. Sorry to everyone I annoyed! I will return to internal processing via writing now. It’s much better for me as I’m far more eloquent this way. However. It’s been a while (maybe over a year and a half?) since I sat down and properly faced my thoughts.

I’m always confused. My thoughts are way too fast for me to process. All my thoughts and emotions get jumbled up and I find myself never at peace, never having clarity. Like I’m breathing really fast yet I can never get enough air. Does that even make sense?

I stopped writing because I couldn’t anymore. Not because it hurt but because it didn’t. I had so much anger inside I swallowed it all up, breaking my heart and numbing the rest of me. I can’t quite explain it but I’ve been disconnected this whole time. I’m just a brain controlling my body, reacting as best as I can to the circumstances I am given. On a good day, anyway.

I’ve been doing my best on autopilot for a while in hopes that faking it will indeed mean making it. And you know what? It kind of worked. Of course, some nights it’s hard to sleep. Some nights it’s hard to breathe. But every night you make it through. I have a 100 percent rate of making it through the night.

Speaking of night, it is past midnight so I shall bid thee liquidguilters (?? I’ll come up with something better) a wonderful sleep.

Signing off for tonight, blog stylez,

Dnee (evolving brain)

god isn’t real and nothing really matters

I never believed that God, destiny, or whatever [insert higher power] existed. Because if everyone’s lives were already predetermined, nothing we do matters. And if something like that did exist, why is there still so much hurt and suffering in the world? 

I used to fall asleep with hate in my heart and blood on my wrists.  Did I deserve that when I was 14? 15? 16-17-1819202122? Maybe. I was the one hurting myself. But what about all the times others hurt me? Did I deserve all of that? Did I deserve to eat lunch alone in the middle school bathroom stall because I didn’t feel safe anywhere else? Did I deserve to have my safe place taken from me? When girls tried to climb the stalls to take pictures of me? Or crawled under the gaps between the stalls and floor? 

I thought I knew what being violated felt like. I got too familiar with feeling empty and broken. I was comfortable in my numbness, and I let the emptiness sit in my chest. It was easy to let boys girls bitches friends dad mom people take pieces of me because they were already broken.  

My rapist took a different piece of me the night he fucked me against my will. 

Did I deserve to be touched without my permission? To be choked and hit and beaten as if I was not 97 pounds and him, over 200? To have bruises in places that should not have been touched?

I did not know I could feel emptier than I already was. The only thing I truly felt was the hate I had for myself. I felt hate in my blood in every fucking heartbeat pumping hate running through my veins as if I weren’t already drowning with lungs full of liquid guilt, as if I needed more reasons to kill myself slit my wrists and bleed out all the hope hurt just to feel anything other than this. 

I learned that the world moves forward even if I don’t. Life goes on. Pain and suffering go on and on and on and on. 

It still hurts when I think about what he did to me because he was my friend because I trusted him because I didn’t deserve what happened or maybe I still blame myself for being weak stupid trusting naive stupid stupid stupid and these days I think about that night more and more frequently, not of my own volition though I am just so triggered because I am back in Bangkok again and it still hurts because he was my father and I loved him and I trusted him to protect me from people like my rapist and I didn’t expect I didn’t think how could I know at the age of 11 that he was the one I needed to be protected from? How could I know?

God can’t be real. Fate. Destiny. All of that cannot be real. So while the concept of a higher power comforts many and lets them believe that everything will be okay in the end, I choose not to cannot believe in it.

I cannot believe life is predetermined because I cannot accept that this – my life my soul my brokenness my loneliness and hurt and anger-pain-emptiness-numbness unworthiness hatred guilt – is how I am supposed to feel. Maybe for now, but not forever.

I’d rather be dead than feel this for the rest of my life.

I don’t want to hurt – like this – anymore. 

I don’t know how much more I can take.

I’m trying my best but it is getting harder and harder to breathe. I am trying to heal in the environment that hurt me. I don’t think it’s working I need help I’m so trapped get me out of here I can’t sleep I don’t feel safe here this isn’t home I don’t think I can do this anymore I’m fucking breaking I am hiding the truth in my art because I am scared of him still and if this is art then it’s all up to interpretation, isn’t it? I speak in metaphors and hide between the lines. If you can read between them you can’t because I can’t either I am just scared.

Maybe I should just pray about it.

losing my battles

drowning

I’m hurting again. The days are bleeding into one another and I am bleeding internally. I promised myself maybe four years ago now, that I wouldn’t make myself bleed anymore. Not externally, anyway. But there is so much pain in not letting go. In not cutting myself open and bleeding out the hurt and pain inside me.

I am so angry sometimes it scares me. I feel like punching a wall. But mostly I just want someone to punch me. Someone to hurt me so hard I forget what it’s like to be hurting on my own. People understand broken bones but they do not understand broken parts. They do not know what it’s like to be screaming all the time. They do not know what it is like to be woken up from visceral nightmares of hanging bodies and loose limbs in the forest. They do not know that when I wake up, I remember. I remember every single detail of my dream and they do not know that I was there. I know it isn’t real. It’s probably stupid and incredibly trivial. But when I wake up from a nightmare, it sticks with me. I sleep a lot more than I should because my nightmares make me tired.

I want to dream about something so incredibly mundane like waiting in line at an airport or buying mayonnaise at the grocery store. These dreams are getting too much for me to handle and they are spilling into my reality. I get scared walking through the streets. I think someone will stab me or shoot me. I’m scared of geocaching in the woods because, what if I find a hand? What if I find a body? I’m not ready for that. My dreams are a part of who I am. I don’t expose myself to violent movies or scary movies even though they’re my favorite kind to watch. I like feeling unsettled from a movie but I can no longer enjoy them because I don’t want to exacerbate my dreams.

I feel lost and out of control. I hate uncertainty and life is known to be full of them. I’m at a tumultuous time in my life where I can’t find the balance between my mental health, work, and school. I feel like a failure. A disappointment. Why is my bar set so high?

These days, I’m grateful to just be able to get out of bed. To brush my teeth and go outside. Normal things that normal people do. But they’re easy for them. It’s a battle every single day for me to even get up. I can’t find the motivation to do it. My bed is my kidnapper and I have Stockholm Syndrome. I love my bed but I hate it. It gives me comfort but it won’t let me leave. Why won’t it let me leave?

I’m supposed to be stronger, to be better, but I don’t know if it’s working. All the medication, all the therapy — is it even worth it? Am I stronger than I was before? Just because I was raped, found out that I was sexually abused as a child, had suicide become a part of my life? Am I stronger than I was before? Because that’s all that matters, right?

All my traumas are spilling out all at once and I don’t know what to do. Every single day is a struggle. Every single day is a battle. And most days, I am not winning.

pointless

I want to be a good writer. I want to tell the truth and be honest with the world. But how can I do that when I’m always lying to myself? I’ve been writing and re-writing this post, but the truth is, I have no idea what I’m going to say. I want to say something but nothing is worth saying. My life is at the point where I’m sort of flatlining. Not in a bad way, but not in a good way either. Too many things have happened between the last post and this one. Even though I want to be as transparent as possible, some things just aren’t meant to be shared with the world. So, I’m sorry. Is withholding truth the same as lying? I should stop writing now. I don’t know what point I’m trying to make.

to my 12-year-old self, please stop crying

tumblr_o43352OCkH1s3jg9qo1_1280Dear me,

I’m sorry you feel so scared. I want to tell you that it gets better – that with each passing second, your heaving chest will feel lighter and the voices around you softer. But it doesn’t get better. Not really.

Remember when you thought it was the end of the world when they chopped down your favorite tree in the park? You felt like you lost yourself and that you won’t ever feel complete again. It’s kind of like that. A part of yourself will always be missing, and you’ll always wonder what you did wrong. You will wonder why men and women try so hard to impress each other only to spend the entire night staring at a lit up box, concentrating on virtual people that aren’t in front of them. You’ll wonder why girls sprint to the bathroom after dinner only to stick their fingers down their throats. You’ll wonder why your parents argue in the middle of the night.

And then you’ll stop wondering. You’ll become one of them.

Nameless, faceless, lost. Your eyes will sink lower and lower into your skin, and they will lose the hope and curiosity they once held. You will scream and cry and question why you are never enough. You will drown over and over again, but no one will notice even though the walls are so thin. And you’ll worry. You’ll worry about the way you look. Society has ingrained into you that pretty girls are skinny girls, pretty girls are perfect girls with perfect teeth and long hair. You will spend many more years worrying about the way you look and questioning why you don’t look like girls in magazines and movies.

Your mom will tell you to stop eating. You will look down at your plate, trying to choke down a mouthful of tasteless leaves while you choke back tears. You will spend many hours sitting on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the door, wishing you were as cold as the tiles beneath your feet. You will hurt, and you will cry, and you will wish you didn’t wake up. There will be scratches on the pale walls made by metallic rulers. Names of crushes, dates of first kisses. Tally marks of days spent alone and nights spent lonely. You will spend time on the corner of your bed – curled up and alone, staring at the artificial fluorescent glow, wondering when it would all get better. There will be late night phone calls and tears that ended up with scars not on the walls.

But you will learn, and you will cope.

You will learn to drown out the noise, the endless whisperings and reminders of “you are a disappointment” and “no one loves you.” It will be difficult, but you will try. If I could give you advice, this would be it: Stop looking at your feet. The world is much more beautiful when you actually look up and notice the things around you – the skies, stars, people. See those old books and novels that line your shelves?

Read them. Live a thousand lives among warriors and princesses and dare to dream as far as they do. Stop focusing on what other people think of you – they don’t matter. Find a group of friends who will not judge you and who will love you for who you are. Trust in them and trust in yourself. But most importantly, love yourself. I know it’s difficult- I’m still struggling with it today, and it will still be a struggle in the future. Keep trying. Accept the love you receive, and give as much love back as you can. You are worth it.

Love,

20-Year-Old Me

gratitude

I don’t know what it is with me lately. One moment I’m completely fine — happy, even. Another moment, I feel as if my whole world has been torn apart. I have been getting this strange feeling of, not quite an uncertainty, but an almost-uncertainty. I don’t know how to put it in words.

I feel like a stranger in my own body. Like I’m in a room full of people and it’s the first day of school again and no one looks familiar. Sometimes, when I lie awake at night, I feel so lost. When warm arms hold me close, I feel safe until the thoughts start creeping in. Then, I feel lonely. Empty. Lost. I realize that everything is temporary. This blanket of safety and security is temporary.

This is not meant to be a sad post. Just one of acceptance. Maybe things don’t get better. Maybe I’ll feel this way the rest of my life – a life that I am incredibly grateful to have had.

My life is full of tickles and laughs. Kisses and cuddles. Purrs and piles of clothes. But it also full of uncertainty. Of fear and anxiety. Of sadness and loneliness.

When I journal or blog, I only write about my negative emotions. But I think I’m going to try writing about being happy. I don’t know if I can do it, but I want to. As much as I’ve accepted the way things are, somehow, there’s still a tiny sliver of hope left in me that things actually might get better.

Yes, things are shittier now than they have been when I was 16. Things are messier and more complex. But in a way, I have never felt more whole. I guess it’s all part of becoming an adult.

I want to be better. I want to love life all the time. I want to be happy. So, I am going to actively try to appreciate and love life.

Here are the people who make me smile – the people who make me feel a little less uncertain about where I’m supposed to be.

I’m grateful for Dena. She always manages to pull me out of my never-ending dark hole of a mind. I’m thankful that she understands me and supports me no matter what.
I’m grateful for Sabti and his energy and positivity. He reminds me of what it is like to live life again. I’m grateful for all my friends – Dena, Sabti, Kristen, Bennett – and I love them for always sticking up for me and caring about me.
I’m grateful for Joe and his unwavering support, even in trying times. I’m grateful that he wakes me up every morning, makes me food, and I’m thankful for how patient he’s been with me. Even though honestly, I’ve been a total bitch these days (so sorry, baby).
I’m grateful for all the love that he gives – to me and the cats. For his open-mindedness and hope for the future. He always says, “it’s all going to be okay.” And I believe him.

Thank you for reading! Let me know how you try to stay positive in the comments section.

decrescendo

slow down

my eyes are blurry

lightyears behind

don’t touch the moonlight with your bare fingers

you’ll get hurt

i’ll do it for you – don’t worry – it doesn’t hurt me anymore

i’m used to it

stars no longer sear into my skin the way they used to

you’re supposed to protect me but

i think it’s you who needs protecting

the skies are so pretty but they hurt so much

i’ll make sure you get to see the clouds without pain

i won’t tell you how much it hurts

how much i let you hurt me

and you’ll see this too but you won’t understand

because these are all metaphors


I’m not really in the mood for writing but I figured if I started, things would just get flowing. I had an exam today that I thought I was unprepared for but it turned out better than I thought, so that’s good. I still have a bunch of work piling up and I’m not so sure what to do. I want to take a break from school and from life but it seems like I’m always taking a break even though I don’t feel like I am. Joe says it helps to make to-do lists. He made me a pretty pink smoothie today. I’ve been on my new medication for about a week now and I do think it’s helping but I still need more time to adjust. As I was studying yesterday, I realized that, in the grand scheme of things, this moment is very small and I probably won’t even remember it. And I should focus on the important things that make me happy. Sometimes I get sidetracked. Life just gets in the way. I took two naps today and I’m still tired. Every morning when I wake up, the only thing that gets me through the day is the thought of coming back home to sleep. I want to feel inspired again but I don’t know how. At least that’s a step towards somewhere, right? I need affirmation that everything is going to be okay because I don’t know if it is. I’ve lost a lot of myself and I don’t know how to get her back. I just don’t know anything anymore.

31 October​​ 2018

I don’t feel so bad today. I think.

I woke up at 9:30 a.m. and decided not to go to my bio lecture because I think that it is a waste of my time. I hate biology.

I ate cheerios and immediately felt guilty afterward.

I submitted my essay to the very nice professor who granted me an extension (I told him about my crippling depression). Which made me realize that I should probably be asking for more help.

I told Her Campus about my crippling depression too (ironic because I’m working on the mental health campaign). So they’re giving me time off.

I finally have an appointment tomorrow with BU’s student health services so I guess I’ll finally have help (??).

I keep having nightmares that leave me panic-stricken in the middle of the night. I always feel guilty for waking Joe up but it is so hard for me to fall back asleep. His breathing helps steady mine.

I can’t remember the last time I called my dad and I always feel guilty thinking about it. I can’t call him yet – he’ll ask me how things are and I can never lie to him. But I can’t tell him how much I’m struggling because I need to prove to him that I can be an independent adult.

I have an article I’m supposed to write for my journalism class that’s due in a couple of days. I like this class a lot. And my professor is incredibly inspiring. But I’m scared of all the deadlines I will miss because of my mental health. I haven’t missed any yet because I’m really pushing myself.

This post sucks but it made me feel a little bit better so I guess that’s okay. I still feel incredibly lost but I’m trying.

-D

 

*I realized after I posted this that today was Halloween. So, Happy Halloween! It’s kinda sad that I forgot actually, it’s one of my favorite holidays.

the truth

I haven’t been feeling so great lately.

Mental health has always been something that I’ve talked about as a thing of the past. But it isn’t. Not at all. I’ve had my fair share of relapses, but every time I sink a little deeper, I know that I can make my way up. I’m not so sure this time.

I don’t know what’s happening. I feel like I am trying so hard to be okay because I know it isn’t easy for the people around me. And it sure as hell isn’t easy for me either. All the days have blended in with one another and I feel as if I am losing myself. All I want to do is stay in bed and sleep forever. But I know that I can’t. I know that I have responsibilities. I’m supposed to go to college and get straight A’s. Be a good role model for my younger sisters. My parents have invested in me. My family looks up to me. I want to give up. But I can’t.

At the same time, I don’t want to give up. I’m grateful for my life. It’s been a good one. To Nina, Sara, Joe, and Dena: thank you for always supporting me and taking care of me. I hope I haven’t taken anything for granted. I love all of you so much. But I’m not so sure that I can be fixed. I’m not so sure I even have the energy to want to be fixed. I just don’t know anything anymore.

How do you tell people who love you that you can’t do this anymore? That you are just so so tired? That you just want to sink deeper and deeper into yourself until you disappear? That you just. want. to. sleep.

You can’t.

The point of this blog is for me to get my feelings out and to tell the truth. For the longest time, I thought that I always had to write something happy – people love reading happy stories, right? Or if I wrote something sad, it would have to be about how “things are so much better now” or how I learned so much or how I suddenly discovered myself.

But that is not what this post is. I haven’t reached any sort of resolution or conclusion. I’m more lost than I have ever been before. I need help and I don’t know how to get it. I’m tired of trying.

a letter to my madness

Dear Madness,

sad rain girl

The days keep getting harder and harder. I really wish we weren’t this sad. I know that we’re in this together and that we should work together to make things right. But you make it so damn hard for me to want to help when all you do is fuck everything up. I don’t know what to say to you because I’ve tried everything and nothing seems to work. Nothing seems to be enough. I’m tired. Please stop making me go through this again. Everything hurts and this is unfair. I want to enjoy life. I want to wake up early and drink orange juice and pet my kittens and go to bed without waking up and crying in the middle of the night. I’ve accepted you, I’ve reasoned with you, I’ve made you almost disappear a couple of times. Don’t I get points for that? I have taken you home with me and introduced you to my family. They’ve accepted you too. Why isn’t that enough for you? Why do you keep coming back to haunt me? You’ve been my shadow for a long long time now. I’ve gotten too used to you. Please leave me alone.

— Spilled

12:56 p.m.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of never knowing what to say, of saying too much, of saying not enough. I’ve been having such a hard time being back in Boston and I don’t know why. I can’t focus on one thing for long enough, it’s as if I no longer care. I keep messing up over and over and over again. I’m unhappy. I don’t want to wake up. And I feel ungrateful for feeling all of these things because it seems like this, right now, is all I’ve ever wanted in my life. Is there something so fundamentally wrong with me that I can’t appreciate what life has given me? I should be used to feeling this way. I should know how to deal with this. But I feel so lost right now because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when 2 a.m. depression hits me in the middle of the day.

I’m tired.

love & guilt

I don’t think I express enough gratitude. My thoughts are so muddled sometimes and life just moves so fast that I never have enough time to just sit down and reflect on how lucky I am to have so many amazing people in my life. Sometimes I get scared thinking about how much people actually care about me. Partially, because I always feel so guilty. Who am I, and why do I deserve your love?  I spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence really loathing my existence. I mean, I’m just me, right? I wonder if they realize that I don’t have much to offer them. I’m not even that funny or smart. I’m just me. I know I shouldn’t feel this way – I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’ve accepted the love I’ve been given. But I just can’t help it.

I just feel so silly writing about all of this because I’ve been trying so hard with the whole self-love thing. I always talk about how much better life is for me now that I’ve started writing more and getting more in touch with myself. But the truth is, it’s always going to be hard. I’ll always have to try to make a conscientious effort to take care of myself. Sure, it gets a little easier, but it’s never going to be easy breezy. I don’t know what’s with me – I’m always going through ups and downs and confused in-betweens. This is just one of those.

I’m not quite sure whether or not I’ll post this, but when I first started this blog, I wanted to be completely myself and completely honest. This is my safe place. I know this entire post sounds as though I’m complaining about wow all the love I’ve been given and wow so many people love me. I promise that’s not what I meant at all. I’m so thankful. It’s just hard to accept sometimes.

So, *ahem* as the sole inhabitant of this safe place, I loudly and proudly announce: I am so grateful for all the wonderful people in my life – I have sweet sisters, close friends who have my back, and a best friend who always supports me. A boyfriend who always makes me feel safe. I’m grateful for all the love I’ve received from this world – God knows I don’t deserve it, but I have it and I am thankful.

 

Okay, that’s all for tonight! Thanks for reading my ramblings, I’m gonna go hide in a hole now, bye! X