New article was published on The Mighty today! My second with them. 😀
New article was published on The Mighty today! My second with them. 😀
April 17th 2016. A day I won’t forget – can’t forget.
Today marks one year since my last suicide attempt.
On this day in 2016 I swallowed a cocktail of pills, slit wrists. And I was saved by two friends.
Life has changed in so many ways since that day. Some for better, some for not. And some things are exactly the same. It’s crazy thinking back on what I’ve been through in just a year. So much. Too much, at times. I look different now, in a very noticeable way if you know me. Last year I was already fading fast and it’s all taken its toll on me, both physically and emotionally.
Heartbreak and betrayal. Successes and failures. Friends found and lost. Illnesses and surgery. Abandonment.
So many ups and downs.
I’m still just a fragile girl, a scared girl, lost and unsure. Loneliness is still my closest friend, but I’m moving forward in life. I’m making things happen. Things I never would have thought possible on this day last year.
A year ago today I gave up on life. But I’m still here. I wanted it all to end but two amazing people saved me that day, and I found hope. I’m still here.
So excited to be published on TheMighty.com and be an official contributor! It’s obviously very personal to me and, I feel, really important.
2016 has been a clusterfuck, we can all agree to that I think. But in some ways, this year has been the best I’ve had in a long, long time… which is fucking sad, considering.
Let’s get the worst out of the way – my health, both physical and mental. At the beginning of the year, I was diagnosed with BPD and PTSD. Learning how to live with these and my other diagnoses continues to be a struggle. There are good days and bad days. Always will be. These things are not curable.
I did attempt suicide in April. Not awesome.
Other health stuff that’s going on physically, which are irrelevant for what this blog is about. But lots going on there… Though I will say – 2 days ago, the 13th, I was in the hospital again and finally got an answer to an ongoing problem I’ve had since I was a teenager – gallstones. Yup. One of the causes is rapid weight loss which is more than likely the case here.
Experienced my first real heartbreak, and fucked up my friendship with him along the way. Also not awesome.
But when I think about it…there’s actually been a lot of good.
Starting with reconnecting with one of my oldest friends that I grew up with. It was right at the beginning of the year and I honestly don’t know if I’d even be here right now if I hadn’t reached out to him. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I would not be here. Not enough words to describe how thankful I am for him putting up with me hah – he’s a true, genuine friend. He does his best to understand what I’m going through with my mental health and everything else, has supported and encouraged me with my writing. And it’s just been good to have that again – just having a friend, you know? Someone who has known me for most of our lives.
Getting to know a friend of sorts better – over skype and texts and online. She called me in the hospital after my suicide attempt and got me through that first night. She just has the kindest heart. We have some very big differences but that doesn’t stop either of us from appreciating eachother. I’m so thankful to have gotten to know her.
Another friendship this year. We’re polar opposites but similar in so many ways, and I love that. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a friendship like that – that girl friend all girls have where you just kinda click and it’s easy (for the most part lol, as all friendships go) and fun and special. I haven’t had that since highschool. I’m truly grateful for her. I’ve been burned so many times by people closest to me, and it’s been a challenge to put that trust in someone again… but no matter what, I can’t thank her enough.
DBT is another good thing. It made me nervous and I was skeptical but it really was one of the best things I could’ve done for myself at the time.
I started volunteering at the SPCA. Honestly, those animals probably help me more than I help them. The best therapy.
Kittens for days.
Me and the big grey one here had a bond. He thought he wasn’t gigantic and could fit in your lap like a kitten. That’s all he ever wanted – the comfort of contact. Didn’t take long for him to steal my heart. As happy as I am that he found a loving home, I’ll forever miss my huge lap kitty. Lol saying goodbye was emotional for me.
And then there’s my writing. This time last year, on a whim, I emailed one of my favourite authors about this book idea I had and her confidence in saying that I do have a talent and something important to say, a story to tell, completely blew me away. It took a while, until June, to actually start submitting my writing to places, but I did it. And it’s been terrifying and so exciting. My first publication in print was such a surreal time. Believing in myself is a very new thing…but I’m trying my best. Thank you Charlotte, for lighting that spark in me.
It hasn’t been an easy year but I have made progress. I can only hope my recovery continues.
The freelance life is tough. I’m both a freelance makeup artist and writer now, I guess. Ever since I started submitting my writing 6 months ago, I’ve kept this notebook, aptly named “Published Shit”. Paid or not, I add my published writings to it as a sort of keepsake. I’ve accomplished something I never thought would happen.
A few days ago, I received an acceptance email for my 3rd paid publication. Being able to add it to this notebook – the 10th entry – is pretty fucking cool.
My first poem published in print ❤
Huge thanks to Untethered.
Look at me
like I’m not broken.
Like nothing’s wrong
like I haven’t missed
the way you used to breathe.
Thanks to psychcentral for publishing my piece on self-harm!
‘Always recovering, never recovered.’ A simple sentence that can be a harsh reminder. And that’s not to say your efforts or how far you’ve gotten were for naught, but to keep getting back up when you do fall. I’ve learned over the years, of course, that it’s extremely important to know you are not alone. Others are struggling and surviving alongside with you and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve always had a difficult time accepting the shame part. I’m very back-and-forth on my scars. On one hand, they’re a reminder of what not to do, proof I’ve held on this long. But on the other hand, I hate them. They’re a reminder that I was ever so weak to do such a stupid thing, and now I have to live with the physical proof. The amount of shame and guilt I’ve dealt with not only from myself, but a few loved ones as well, breaks my heart. I can’t help but feel they’re ashamed of me; of knowing me, being who they are to me, as they tell me to cover them up like a dirty secret. Maybe they don’t