Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry to everyone I've lied to.
I'm not okay, I'm really not.
If you have found that out, then you would have been one of the few to find out the truth. It doesn't matter. It doesn't actually matter that I'm not okay, that I haven't been for years. Three times in the past 4 years I've actually been happy. Once, a day out with a best friend I've now lost. Another time, falling for Joe, and the next while that followed lost in love. That lasted a long time. Until late February this year. Then over the last exam break. 5 days in a row with him. Fucking Christ, I love him. More than anything in this world, though that's not saying much. I don't feel an attachment to much in the world anymore. Everyone either wants me gone or doesn't give a shit. I don't have anything to offer the world. I've failed like, half my exams- I want to be a fucking English teacher, and I failed my English exam? What the fuck, like, honestly? I want to teach drama, and I can't act for shit. I can't do anything for shit, actually. What's the fucking point in being around if there's nothing I can do to help the world, or anyone?
I lie to my friends. I lie, I lie, I lie, and I still consider myself a friend of theirs? I don't deserve friendship. I don't deserve anyone.
Everyone is so fucking supportive. I love them to bits, but I'm fucking sick of it. I shouldn't be treated differently to anyone else just because I have a bit of a mental condition.
Mum. Mum, I'm sorry. I don't mean this.. I don't want to hurt you. I couldn't talk to you, I couldn't let you worry. I know this is going to hurt, I know you're going to be scared as fuck. I can't do anything else. I'm sorry. Shit mum, I love you. You're the best person anyone could have wished for to be a parent.
Dad? Fuck you. I love you, I think, but because of you I don't have any confidence whatever in myself. I've gotten shut down everytime I've tried and thought to have succeeded. I could have done better. Always could have done better. Your depression is worse than mine, you're all alone in that big old house, I'm a girl going through hormones? I'm alone in my mind dad, and I don't know about you, but I don't think a teenager should feel like this. If you fucking touch mum I hope you fucking die with a rake embedded in your throat.
She hasn't fucking made my depression by splitting up the household, I would have been dead long ago if I'd still been living with you. She has not done anything to cause this, she's got me to see counsellors and psychologists and psychiatrists and she's TRIED to HELP. The only person whose caused this is me. Don't fucking touch her, and don't fucking touch the other kids.
Joe. God Joe Joe Joe. I didn't think love was anything to envy, but shit. I don't think it's even possible to feel this much for another person. but I do. I'd do anything for you. There's nothing. Two weeks before we started going out I tried to kill myself. A week after I was going to again. You kept me off that. Finally I actually believe that yeah, you love me as much as I love you. And I want to stay. If you were the only thing in my life, I'd stay. I'd stay, I'd stay, I'd stay.
Fuck.
I can't write anymore.
Thankyou.
Everyone, thankyou.
I'm so sorry.
I'm sorry to everyone I've lied to.
I'm not okay, I'm really not.
If you have found that out, then you would have been one of the few to find out the truth. It doesn't matter. It doesn't actually matter that I'm not okay, that I haven't been for years. Three times in the past 4 years I've actually been happy. Once, a day out with a best friend I've now lost. Another time, falling for Joe, and the next while that followed lost in love. That lasted a long time. Until late February this year. Then over the last exam break. 5 days in a row with him. Fucking Christ, I love him. More than anything in this world, though that's not saying much. I don't feel an attachment to much in the world anymore. Everyone either wants me gone or doesn't give a shit. I don't have anything to offer the world. I've failed like, half my exams- I want to be a fucking English teacher, and I failed my English exam? What the fuck, like, honestly? I want to teach drama, and I can't act for shit. I can't do anything for shit, actually. What's the fucking point in being around if there's nothing I can do to help the world, or anyone?
I lie to my friends. I lie, I lie, I lie, and I still consider myself a friend of theirs? I don't deserve friendship. I don't deserve anyone.
Everyone is so fucking supportive. I love them to bits, but I'm fucking sick of it. I shouldn't be treated differently to anyone else just because I have a bit of a mental condition.
Mum. Mum, I'm sorry. I don't mean this.. I don't want to hurt you. I couldn't talk to you, I couldn't let you worry. I know this is going to hurt, I know you're going to be scared as fuck. I can't do anything else. I'm sorry. Shit mum, I love you. You're the best person anyone could have wished for to be a parent.
Dad? Fuck you. I love you, I think, but because of you I don't have any confidence whatever in myself. I've gotten shut down everytime I've tried and thought to have succeeded. I could have done better. Always could have done better. Your depression is worse than mine, you're all alone in that big old house, I'm a girl going through hormones? I'm alone in my mind dad, and I don't know about you, but I don't think a teenager should feel like this. If you fucking touch mum I hope you fucking die with a rake embedded in your throat.
She hasn't fucking made my depression by splitting up the household, I would have been dead long ago if I'd still been living with you. She has not done anything to cause this, she's got me to see counsellors and psychologists and psychiatrists and she's TRIED to HELP. The only person whose caused this is me. Don't fucking touch her, and don't fucking touch the other kids.
Joe. God Joe Joe Joe. I didn't think love was anything to envy, but shit. I don't think it's even possible to feel this much for another person. but I do. I'd do anything for you. There's nothing. Two weeks before we started going out I tried to kill myself. A week after I was going to again. You kept me off that. Finally I actually believe that yeah, you love me as much as I love you. And I want to stay. If you were the only thing in my life, I'd stay. I'd stay, I'd stay, I'd stay.
Fuck.
I can't write anymore.
Thankyou.
Everyone, thankyou.
I'm so sorry.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
There's a couple of things I need to change.
1. I will not let my depression be an excuse for anything. I'm a high school student. I'm in my final year. Of course I'm going to have a high workload. Don't blame your depression that you can't deal with that Brittany, it's your laziness, your high level of procrastination, and your distraction by emotions. Everyone deals with it, don't let yourself become a victim just because you've got a bit of a mental tiff that you should be able to deal with anyway. You're seeing someone for it, what more do you want?
2. I need to stop staying up. I don't care if you won't sleep, you don't know if you can't try. It probably has a negative impact on your mood, even if the bad nights it's worse if you don't do it intentionally. Just wait until a good night. They've been infrequent recently, but one will come, you know it will. Then you will let yourself go to sleep, or at least you will try, before 11:30.
3. You need to stop succumbing to nights. There is nothing that makes them any worse than the days; you're just weak. Keep yourself occupied. Talk to people. Don't be negative in your talking either. All it does is give you an oddly warped sense of satisfaction and makes them feel as shit as you do.
4. Treat people a damn of a hell of a lot better. They deserve it. You don't. They're supporting you and helping you through this, even if you don't want to be helped. They deserve some gratitude. Stop telling them what their motivations are, and maybe then you'll start believing it too. People aren't in it for the listener, the person who'll stick up for them, the companionship, or sexual gratification, in the case of one person. They're in it for you. You don't believe any of this, even as you're writing it. But hey, use your negativity to your own advantage for once. You're crap at it all, so why would they be seeking it from you? If you can't believe that your logic doesn't make sense.
This is all shit self talk.
You're a shit person, what do you expect?
Jesus. I don't think my eyes have learnt what the idea of stopping crying is.
What the hell.. Everything was going so well, and this week it's been spear tackled.
1. I will not let my depression be an excuse for anything. I'm a high school student. I'm in my final year. Of course I'm going to have a high workload. Don't blame your depression that you can't deal with that Brittany, it's your laziness, your high level of procrastination, and your distraction by emotions. Everyone deals with it, don't let yourself become a victim just because you've got a bit of a mental tiff that you should be able to deal with anyway. You're seeing someone for it, what more do you want?
2. I need to stop staying up. I don't care if you won't sleep, you don't know if you can't try. It probably has a negative impact on your mood, even if the bad nights it's worse if you don't do it intentionally. Just wait until a good night. They've been infrequent recently, but one will come, you know it will. Then you will let yourself go to sleep, or at least you will try, before 11:30.
3. You need to stop succumbing to nights. There is nothing that makes them any worse than the days; you're just weak. Keep yourself occupied. Talk to people. Don't be negative in your talking either. All it does is give you an oddly warped sense of satisfaction and makes them feel as shit as you do.
4. Treat people a damn of a hell of a lot better. They deserve it. You don't. They're supporting you and helping you through this, even if you don't want to be helped. They deserve some gratitude. Stop telling them what their motivations are, and maybe then you'll start believing it too. People aren't in it for the listener, the person who'll stick up for them, the companionship, or sexual gratification, in the case of one person. They're in it for you. You don't believe any of this, even as you're writing it. But hey, use your negativity to your own advantage for once. You're crap at it all, so why would they be seeking it from you? If you can't believe that your logic doesn't make sense.
This is all shit self talk.
You're a shit person, what do you expect?
Jesus. I don't think my eyes have learnt what the idea of stopping crying is.
What the hell.. Everything was going so well, and this week it's been spear tackled.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Crashing.
There are some things in life I've just grown to accept. I can't imagine them to be any other way. Like my sister, being born with Down Syndrome. I am constantly being asked whether I wished I had a normal family, or a normal sister, or if I wonder what it would be like. No. The answer's always no. I love my sister, couldn't think of changing her for anybody else or anything else. She's taught me compassion and love and patience and acceptance, and without that I wouldn't be the person I am today. I don't wish I had a normal family, I wish people wouldn't assume that my family isn't, just because she is a huge part of it. She can be the nicest person I know and having a big sister that acts like what a 'normal' big sister would couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't be anything like the experience I've had growing up with her. I couldn't be thankful enough, and though I'm sure I'd love a big sister as I love any member of my family, I wouldn't cherish her like I cherish Danica. Danica is beautiful, and sweet, and caring, and kind, and though her capacity to understand can sometimes be frustrating there's no way anyone could stay mad at her. She is normal, she's more than, she is my normal.
I've grown to accept my dad and his moods and his aggression and his.. everything. I dread seeing him every week, because I never know when he's going to flare up, I never know what we can do to aggravate him this time. I'm not as scared of him as I was when I was younger. He wouldn't hurt us unless he was absolutely pissed. But it's a part of him. I remember when I was very young, sometime before I was 7, I got a pink Kelly dollhouse for my birthday, or for Christmas. I'd been asking for it for a long time, and when I finally got it, I loved it to bits. It had moon and star cutouts in the walls and a slide and you could swing part of it out so you could see a room. It was my favourite toy, and I made Kelly play with it everyday. Once, I didn't do something Dad asked. He'd only asked a couple of times, but when he realised I hadn't done it after he asked more than once, he made me sit on a chair in front of him, then he went to my room, put the dollhouse down, and then stomped on it. It broke easily. It was only plastic. And then there's the time when we moved out of the first refuge, and he came to see us regularly, and was calm, and I thought something had changed in him, because he was civil and polite and lovely and it felt like having the dad that everyone else had. And I was happy. Until one night, he came to our house, and he took us out for a walk, like usual, but he was slightly drunk, and in the house, once we got back, Mum said something he didn't agree with. He immediately lost his temper, and they got into an argument. Except it wasn't an argument, because arguments are two sided. Mum was just standing in a corner crying while he yelled at her. Us kids just ran to our rooms once we realised what was happening. I was... 2003 it was, so I was 8. We came out only after we had heard the front door slam and Dad drive off, and we ran to Mum and hugged her. There was nothing else we could do. And then I saw the stains and dents and bits of broken china on the walls. We had Ovaltine before bed every night, and the mugs were sitting on the counter. Dad had picked them up and thrown them at the wall.
So yeah. I'm used to Dad being aggressive, to being borderline violent, to being someone to dread, but I can deal with it now. Evidently, not well enough, my 'dealing with it' having manifested in depression or possible bipolar disorder.
It seems rather dramatic. As a sixteen year old, I've been homeless three times. I've tried to commit suicide 4, and had another go at it last August, which can't be called an attempt seeing as I just collapsed and sobbed on the platform. And tonight I feel like throwing myself off a bridge or a cliff or the platform. If I had sleeping pills accessible in the house I might have already done it. And yet for the past 5 days before today I've been really good, I've been on an ultimate high. Now I've come crashing, and I feel lower than I have for weeks.
It's times like these that make me scared. Because I don't want a constant stream of suicidal thoughts taking hold of my mind in such a way that I feel like it's acceptable. And that's what it's starting to become.
These last five days have been kind of amazing, because for the first time in a long, long, long time, I got a taste of being happy. I didn't think it really could exist any more for me. And it did. It's that which should bring light, that I know I can still be happy. It's just hard, when that's the first proper glimpse in what's nearing a year.
I'm scared of suicide being okay. It's not and I need to convince myself of that. The rational part believes that, but it's the irrational part that makes the decisions.
I just want to curl up with Joe and ignore the world for just a few more days. I want to feel safe in knowing that my next thought isn't going to lead me to suicide.
I need help.
I suppose I'm getting it. If at the meeting they decide I'm eligible, one of the first approaches they might try me on is to get me on some antidepressants, to level my mood so I'm starting from a solid base. I still want more than anything not to take antidepressants, but I want to be better. Still not yet for myself, which needs to change, but for others. Then they're going to start me on cognitive behaviour therapy...
I don't know. I don't think it'll help, but I suppose I need to look at it with a healthy mindset for it to work as well. So I'll start trying to convince myself of what I believe is a lie. Don't fight against the irrational for once.
I'm fighting against myself no matter which way I go about it.
I've grown to accept my dad and his moods and his aggression and his.. everything. I dread seeing him every week, because I never know when he's going to flare up, I never know what we can do to aggravate him this time. I'm not as scared of him as I was when I was younger. He wouldn't hurt us unless he was absolutely pissed. But it's a part of him. I remember when I was very young, sometime before I was 7, I got a pink Kelly dollhouse for my birthday, or for Christmas. I'd been asking for it for a long time, and when I finally got it, I loved it to bits. It had moon and star cutouts in the walls and a slide and you could swing part of it out so you could see a room. It was my favourite toy, and I made Kelly play with it everyday. Once, I didn't do something Dad asked. He'd only asked a couple of times, but when he realised I hadn't done it after he asked more than once, he made me sit on a chair in front of him, then he went to my room, put the dollhouse down, and then stomped on it. It broke easily. It was only plastic. And then there's the time when we moved out of the first refuge, and he came to see us regularly, and was calm, and I thought something had changed in him, because he was civil and polite and lovely and it felt like having the dad that everyone else had. And I was happy. Until one night, he came to our house, and he took us out for a walk, like usual, but he was slightly drunk, and in the house, once we got back, Mum said something he didn't agree with. He immediately lost his temper, and they got into an argument. Except it wasn't an argument, because arguments are two sided. Mum was just standing in a corner crying while he yelled at her. Us kids just ran to our rooms once we realised what was happening. I was... 2003 it was, so I was 8. We came out only after we had heard the front door slam and Dad drive off, and we ran to Mum and hugged her. There was nothing else we could do. And then I saw the stains and dents and bits of broken china on the walls. We had Ovaltine before bed every night, and the mugs were sitting on the counter. Dad had picked them up and thrown them at the wall.
So yeah. I'm used to Dad being aggressive, to being borderline violent, to being someone to dread, but I can deal with it now. Evidently, not well enough, my 'dealing with it' having manifested in depression or possible bipolar disorder.
It seems rather dramatic. As a sixteen year old, I've been homeless three times. I've tried to commit suicide 4, and had another go at it last August, which can't be called an attempt seeing as I just collapsed and sobbed on the platform. And tonight I feel like throwing myself off a bridge or a cliff or the platform. If I had sleeping pills accessible in the house I might have already done it. And yet for the past 5 days before today I've been really good, I've been on an ultimate high. Now I've come crashing, and I feel lower than I have for weeks.
It's times like these that make me scared. Because I don't want a constant stream of suicidal thoughts taking hold of my mind in such a way that I feel like it's acceptable. And that's what it's starting to become.
These last five days have been kind of amazing, because for the first time in a long, long, long time, I got a taste of being happy. I didn't think it really could exist any more for me. And it did. It's that which should bring light, that I know I can still be happy. It's just hard, when that's the first proper glimpse in what's nearing a year.
I'm scared of suicide being okay. It's not and I need to convince myself of that. The rational part believes that, but it's the irrational part that makes the decisions.
I just want to curl up with Joe and ignore the world for just a few more days. I want to feel safe in knowing that my next thought isn't going to lead me to suicide.
I need help.
I suppose I'm getting it. If at the meeting they decide I'm eligible, one of the first approaches they might try me on is to get me on some antidepressants, to level my mood so I'm starting from a solid base. I still want more than anything not to take antidepressants, but I want to be better. Still not yet for myself, which needs to change, but for others. Then they're going to start me on cognitive behaviour therapy...
I don't know. I don't think it'll help, but I suppose I need to look at it with a healthy mindset for it to work as well. So I'll start trying to convince myself of what I believe is a lie. Don't fight against the irrational for once.
I'm fighting against myself no matter which way I go about it.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
What is messing with me? This last... while, the days I've been fine, but the evenings and nights after about 6PM I turn completely sour. I assume every silence, every gap is a result of my inability to communicate, any voice raised a fraction is because I'm an irresponsible, selfish idiot and I deserve everything they dish out against me, and worse. I overreact; case in point last Wednesday night. I turn against everyone I talk to, in a hope they'll see just how bad a person I am, that they'll grow frustrated at me and want to hit me every time I say something. Because that's what I feel. I want to break myself, I want to make myself weak and dishonourable. I don't want to honour promises, and sometimes I make promises just for trying to make myself break them. I want to make myself into even more of a bad person. I want to be hated by everyone I talk to, I want to let go of this world and any attachments I have in it. I want to be abused, I want to sink to the lowest levels I can in every way. I love too much to do that... and so I need to make people hate me, so they know what's best for them... I don't know. I need someone. I need to stop. But I need to carry on. Shit, shit, fuck. Someone smash me against the wall, break all the bones in my body, crack my skull and leave me bleeding on the floor. Leave me comatose. That's the only kind of life I'd be any good at.
Seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow... For fuck's sake, why is anyone even fucking bothering.
Seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow... For fuck's sake, why is anyone even fucking bothering.
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