World Suicide Prevention Day 2017: I Was Made For…

It’s September 10th, which means it’s World Suicide Prevention Day. TWLOHA’s slogan this year being Find What You Were Made For.

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I really struggled with this. I’ve been in a bit of a low period lately, so it’s all too easy to shut out the positive. Once I realized that that’s what I was doing I found that the answers were actually pretty simple.

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I Was Made For my art. I was made for my music and my writing; for my creativity.

I Was Made For these amazing people I get to call friends who understand and are there for me, and in return be there for them. To give them back the love and hope they’ve given me.

I Was Made For the chance to be a voice in this world. A voice to raise awareness. To fight the stigma of mental health. To fight for equality.

I Was Made For being more than my depression and anxieties. More than my BPD. My disorders do not define me.

I Was Made For something I haven’t figured out yet. But I have to believe I will.

I Was Made For this. Here. Today. Tomorrow.

♥♥

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Stay. Find what you were made for.
#WorldSuicidePreventionDay

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10 Days Until Surgery… Trying to Cope With Severe Anxiety

Yeah, guess how well the girl with severe anxiety and panic disorder is dealing with the fact that she’ll be having a fucking organ removed in 10 days?

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Not so much. At all.

As far as surgeries go, this is one of the more minor ones. I know that. Everyone is telling me this. But I already know and just repeating the same thing to me doesn’t help.

They ask what scares me about it – fucking everything. Hospitals in general, IV’s – two things I’ve encountered way too fucking often lately. What if I my anxiety gets too out of hand and I have a panic attack while they’re getting me ready to go under. I get dizzy and emotional, I can’t think properly therefore I can’t speak and say what’s wrong, and on a few occasions, I feel so faint that I actually pass out. Hell, maybe that’d work in my favour…

I was talking with my doctor today at an appointment, and pathetically typical me asked what if I wake up, to which she responds “That doesn’t happen anymore.” But it happened. Great.

Then there’s that whole bitch of a thing – being put to sleep. I’ve had to do it once before for my wisdom teeth – didn’t like it then, don’t like it now. It’s the most vulnerable state – a room full of strangers, an operating table. Some person controlling the drugs being pumped into you to make you sleep and others with scalpels and god knows what other medical shit to get the organ out. Also what the hell do they do with the organ? :/

Recovery. Pain. I can’t deal with the thought of having a fucking staple punched into me – knowing it’s there and then having it removed. Surgeons are often lazy – staples are quicker than stitches, doc says. But she’ll make a note about it, and she’ll be there to assist to help me feel more comfortable.

A few people have asked if I’m actually going to do it, have the surgery. They see the level of anxiety it’s causing that they’re actually asking.

I’m in pain. A lot of pain, everyday. It’s happening no matter how much I cry and bitch about it. I don’t want to have to take these pain meds every single day. I don’t want the decision to be taken away from me if it suddenly becomes an emergency.

I want it over with. I don’t want to go through it at all – but who does? I’m scared and I want it over with.

10 days.

Bravery Doesn’t Come Naturally to Me

I’m trapped. All of my failures have caught up to me and I am stuck.

My day-to-day is full of nothing and I can’t break the routine.

Society would call me either lazy or a loner or shy, but the truth is I’m being held against my will by my own mind and body.

I want out. I want to wake up each morning with a smile and have a good day.

I want to live. I want to travel and meet people, create memories and experiences I’ll hold dear for the rest of my life.

I want adventure. Excitement.
But I also want stability. Comfort. Home.

I want meaning. I want to change my life and change someone else’s. I want to take risks and not be so afraid of failing. I already regret so much.

All of these wants I’m not sure I’ll ever have…I’m still finding the courage, and I’m afraid that bravery doesn’t come naturally to me.

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From my art journal – “I Feel So” by Box Car Racer, always there for me in my angsty moments.