Shamelessly Nerdealistic

I absolutely fucking hate this and I just need to get all of this out because I’m just so fucking full of rage and hate and pain and I just fucking hate all of this. Like I swear to fuck I had to sit around the table today terrified that I’d accidentally let slip that I like dudes too and acted like hella straight cause even around my own family I feel like I can’t just be me without making them uncomfortable. Like I had to fucking pretend to sleep through church today because I can’t face all that fear and feeling like I’m hiding myself, like I can’t NOT be me but there’s so many people there who have supported me and been there for me all my life and if they found out this secret about me that’d end. And that’s one of the few things in my miserable life I can actually count as a relatively only happy situation; the congregation supported and loved me and if they knew who I was saw how I acted and who I cared about, thatd fall. And I can’t take that.

And like I had to listen to my brother talk about realizing there are all these girls who have flirted with through all these years and he was just too fucking clueless and I’m just sitting there laughing along but like fuck man there have been 4 people who’ve been romantically interested in me, and 2 of them were abusive to me, one had a bunch of unhealthy shit that warped her reality of me. The only “healthy” relationship I’ve ever been in I fucking torched because I’m so set in this idea of me being fucking miserable I had to self sabotage it and she couldn’t handle that because of course she couldn’t no one has to.

And like my family were all sharing stories about the fun shenanigans they did and all the fun they had and like talking about their successes and I’m like dafuq am I doing with my life. I’ve done abunch of random exrtracurricular shit that doesn’t fucking matter, and by the time I get my goddamn undergrad diploma I’ll be the age my parents were when they got their masters and got fucking married. By the age I’ll be when I get my undergrad my brother was the fucking editor of a newspaper. Like what the fuck am I even doing with my life. I’m a fucking useless sack of shit who can’t get over anything.

Like I know this is all some fucked up shit in my head and that this is all unfair to me what I’ve worked on and to my friends. But I don’t give a flying fuck. I can acknowledge I’m being neurotic, but I care so little about my fucking body that I will sybmit to it anyway. Like I can’t fuckign throw nyself into therapy because there’s not enough desire to actually get better cause I don’t actually care about my own happiness. I only entered in the first place cause it was conditional for my parents bailing me out, and I stayed cause I wanted to believe it’d work, and to help my friends get themselves inm. But I’m still fucking here. I’m still like this and it’s never going to fucking go away. Ever.

. I’m honestly so glad I’m so terrified of death. Like I wish I could make up some bs story about strength or whatever but the truth is the main reason I’m hear is I’m too much of a pussy to actually kill myself. Like the one thing I’m terrified more than this shit is actually dying. I don’t know. Maybe I’m actually a fucking masochist who enjoys the pain.

I don’t even know what this is. This is just a fucking stream of consciousness I’m trying to get out there cause I just need to let this all out because I can’t start the self harm again. It’d hurt too many people and I’ve come so far I can’t fall down that path again. But I just need to unleash all of this and I don’t know how else to do it. It’s this or grab a fucking knife again and we all know where that leads. I don’t know what it is about coming home that leaves me like this but it happens every goddamn time.

I’m just so fucking sick of this bullshit. Like I have enough problems in my fucking life to deal with without my fucking brain deciding now is a great fucking time to doubt my life and everything in it. Thanks brain. Really did me a goddamn solid.

I am a survivor

Yesterday was international Suicide Prevention Day and I wanted to write a post about my story and talk about it, so I dusted off this old blog to make this post.

To start, if any of you are struggling with suicidal thoughts stop reading this right now and go get help.

Now, my story.

There are a lot of things I’ve had to deal with in my life. I’m not going to list them all here, but I’m going to try to cover what is relevant.

I was bullied for most of my life, probably as far back as grade 4 or 5. Now I know there’s the normalizing “boys will be boys” talk that excuses any amount of childhood trauma, but that, to be frank, is bullshit. From a young age I was told I was weird and strange because I liked music more than sports, and from a young age I was told that I was a loser because I liked school. I was mocked for being a high academic achiever and basically told I was worthless and would never belong.

So I tried my best to fit in. I learned all the sports and how to talk about them so the others would accept me (though there are some I genuinely enjoy now). I learned to keep quiet about my grades and join in mocking the teachers that were weird. I am ashamed to say I bullied the new kid at school because I wanted the others to like me. To that kid, I am so so sorry. Please know that I never meant to hurt you, and that I just wanted to fit in.

Then high school hit, and it got worse. Grade 9 gym class was torture, and I was legitimately told by my classmates that I didn’t belong in school, that I should just go home etc. Needless to say, it hurt.

I started to entertain thoughts of suicide and starting to believe that maybe they were right. Maybe I was the one that was wrong and I was weird and different because I didn’t belong. Maybe I was one of God’s mistakes.

I started self harming halfway through my grade 10 year. It started first as a way to regain control during my panic attacks, but it developed a mind of its own. Some nights I did it out of self loathing, other nights it was a desire to let out all the demons in my head. Some nights, unfortunately, there was no reason at all. This is when the suicidal thoughts started to creep in. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I just wanted out. I wanted release. And I was worried that the torture I was already putting my body through wasn’t enough.

This continued for another year and a half, though I was lucky enough that I started to get to know people who genuinely cared and looked out for me. I have unfortunately grown apart from them, and haven’t talked to them in months or even years, but Jed, Jasmine, and Bethany, thank you so much for your support. You probably won’t ever realize that you legitimately saved my life, but you did. So thank you, again.

My grade 12 year two major things happened. First, I accepted to myself that I was Bisexual and that saying otherwise would just be lying to myself and to the world. The second was I entered my first relationship. She was really awesome and we got along well and she understood everything, or so I thought. As time went on and I moved away for University, things started changing. Every time we fought, I would have to apologize for being upset. I was afraid to tell her if I was going out or hanging with friends cause I was worried she would be mad. I I couldn’t tell her anything without it being an issue, and I felt trapped trying to take care of her since everything I did seemed to be wrong.

In short, I was emotionally abused.

It was around this time were my depression reared its ugly head again, and instead of just a blanket feeling of blah-ness and unhappiness, I actively wanted out of my life. I starting harming again, and I felt like there was nowhere to turn to.

Once again my amazing friends were there for me. They showed me that the way she was treating me wasn’t normal and that it was actively harmful. I looked up articles on abuse online and identified all of the signs I was experiencing. I still remember the phone call I made to her at the local Tim Hortons with my friends by my side as I finally found the strength to end it.

I cried for almost a week.

She threatened suicide and starved herself. She was put under surveillance and almost had to go to emerge once or twice. And the entire time I blamed myself. How could I be so selfish? How could I be so caught up in my own life that I could be so hurtful to someone who was as broken as I was. I realize now that it was just yet another tactic in the emotional abuse arsenal. But my friends helped me get through it. Jackie, Miranda, Megan, Erin,tara, rachel this is your turn for the thank yous.

Rebuilding my life after that was hard. She had been such a big part of my life for so long and the mental game of blaming myself for everything and feeling guilty for every bad thing that happened started to take its toll. I tried to date another person but I wasn’t in the right mind set. I’m amazed we lasted as long as we did as she sat patiently through my panic attacks and listened to my late night crying over all the problems in my life. I felt like I had no direction, no purpose.

My second year of university was one of the hardest years of my life.

I stopped going to class, I forced myself to stay up late in some kind of self-imposed punishment and slept through the day. I got more aggressive and confrontational. I started failing classes and drinking too much. The self harm reared its head again, this time paired with Binge-Eating Disorder. I felt trapped in my life and I just wanted out out out. I don’t think any of my friends realized just how close I was to jumping out my window. I know for sure my roommates didn’t know. To most people I was all smiles and positivity, running through life with a smile on my face.

I entered a relationship again, but it was not the right time for either of us. We both had stuff going on in our lives that we took out on each other, and every single thing that went wrong I blamed myself. I don’t know whether they felt the same, or if it was my fault, or what was really going on. All I know is that mentally I was not in the right place, and that the relationship just made me feel worse.

So why am I saying all this? Why am I posting this sob story of my life? Because, and this is huge, I promise that IT GETS BETTER. I have an amazing group of friends who is with me every step of the way and support me in the bad times and enjoy the good. I am starting to get on solid footing with school and work and clubs and balancing my time. I’m getting better at taking care of myself and being honest about when I need to take time away from the world to tend to me.

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. There are still days where a plethora of mental illness threatens to overwhelm me. There are days where I feel trapped in the same mental state as when my abuser had her strongest hold on me, and I feel like I can never escape from under her shadow. There are days where I struggle to get up and go to school and put myself out there into the world.

But there are also days where I go home feeling content, if not happy. Feeling like things are on the upswing, and that maybe, just maybe, sometime soon I won’t have to go through an hour of preparation to face the nightly struggle of lying alone in bed with my thoughts racing. Maybe someday soon I can start reducing my medication and living my life as a normal human. Maybe one day I can look back and say goodbye to the depression, the anxiety, and all the other shit that my brain has thrown at me throughout my life.

And those are the days that you are going to have. I know it’s hard right now. You’re in a dark tunnel and you don’t see the exit. But I promise you, it’s there, and you need to be around to see it. Your life is beautiful and amazing and YOU NEED TO BE HERE TO SEE IT TAKE FRUIT.

I love all of you.

kyraneko:

bitchcicle:
My favorite misconception about bisexuality is that bi people are half straight half gay as if I walk around in my straight form but then spot a fine honey and dive behind a bush shouting “I’M GOING GAY” and roll out on the other side with a flannel on and the entire discography of Ani Difranco in my back pocket
I’m picturing a Magical Girl transformation sequence.