Open Topic

Be Your Fucking Self.

My whole life I always heard from family, and countless doctors that I need to be myself around others. I have had trouble being myself in front of others and still do. I was afraid I was going to be judged, made fun of, or not liked. I never really fit in with anyone other than people who are like me. Because they get me. We get each other. So, I learned in order to be yourself, you must grow a backbone (which I never had) and have thick skin (I also never had). No one truly knows what makes you happy other than yourself.

I’m always going out of my way to please others, and forgetting about my own happiness. So this is an important concept to realize because you will never please yourself if you are constantly trying to please other people instead. You need to stand up for what you believe in and show the world the beauty of what makes you unique.

Having the courage to show other people how different you are is what really garners respect, not just doing what everyone else is doing because you are afraid they won’t accept  who you are.

There will always be those who will try to look down on you, yet what they are really upset about is their failure to make you conform to their demands. Besides, these people are most likely already miserable because they lack the strength to showcase their individual differences like you can.

When you are being yourself, it is easier to see what you want out of life and what is truly important to you. Think about how when you fall in love, whether it is in your work, your hobbies or that special person, the whole universe seems to be in tune to your feelings.

You know exactly who you are as a person and those around you can see it as well. This helps eliminate the people in your life that do not complement the person you want to become and attract those who do.

It doesn’t matter if some people think you’re crazy when you first begin putting your soul on display. As long as you are happy because you are doing what you love, everything else will soon fall into place.

You get to live life just once. Be the game changer, you’re in charge. You’re the boss of you. You set the ground rules and boundaries. No one else has that superb power or pleasure. No one else ever should. Know what you truly want from your life, work towards making them true, have faith in yourself, love yourself. Be confident…. BE THE REAL YOU!!

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Open Topic

Life Goes On.

Most panic attacks last around 20 to 30 minutes, and those 20 to 30 minutes can feel like a lifetime. Before I had been to therapy I didn’t have the tools I have now such as mindfulness.

What I tried to do at first was keep myself busy by listening to some music, clean the house, or watch a movie and hope it passed quickly. It never crossed my mind to pick up a pen and paper or open a word document.

I thought I was going insane. No one could see what was going on inside my mind.

When I started putting pen to paper and tapping away on a keyboard, it started to make more sense. Visibly seeing what was going on inside my head on paper, made it seem more real than I had only previously felt.

If I was having a panic attack I would try to write. I would write down how I was feeling. What was fuelling the panic inside me and I could sometimes write myself out of it.

The same with my depression. I felt alone. I was scared to reach out for help from anyone close to me or anyone at all honestly. In my head, I felt weak. I hate the person I am when I go through a depressive episode because it doesn’t feel like me at all. Everything I know of myself is gone.

Suicidal thoughts are no stranger to me. Over the last four years especially, I have thought about taking my life to end the pain I was in. I didn’t want to die! I didn’t want to be alive feeling like I did/like I do. There have been a couple of nights worse than any I have ever experienced. A couple of nights where the thoughts could have turned into actions.

The first time, I picked up a pen and a notepad. I started to write. A few sentences in I realized I was writing a goodbye. A thank you. Was this a suicide note? I went with it. Crying the whole time. Scared of the words I was writing on the paper. By the time I got to the end of the second page, I had written myself out of it. I tailed it off in case someone found it so they knew it wasn’t a suicide note. I closed the notepad and went to bed.

Sleep, the only time I felt I could fully escape.

The second time, wasn’t too different, this time on my computer. I can cope with being low but this low was another level. It was early January and I was in a severe state of depression for about 3 months straight. I wrote something similar to what I’m writing now on social media, but this time it was me opening up about how I really felt. What I was really going through. I hadn’t been this truthful with anyone. Maybe not even myself. Part way through, I realized how much of an emphasis what I was writing was on not wanting to be alive. I was tired and didn’t want to keep going through this. I definitely wrote my way out of ending it all but it was the responses I got back that changed everything.

The reason I shared what I wrote was because I wanted people to understand. I wanted people to know what it is really like to experience what I was going through.

Realistically, it was a cry for help. I had a small amount of support before but a lot of people, especially doctors and professionals looked at me like I was making it all up.

I couldn’t believe the amount of people who were in my shoes or were willing to be there for me. There was a reinforced sense that I wasn’t alone. People did care about me, more than I could ever know.

Not everyone wants to listen and if you start talking to yourself, people may start to think you are going insane. The difference with writing is you are going to see what you are writing down. You can refer back to it. You can share it. Or you can throw it away and be done with it. ~CTW~

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Open Topic

Letter To Depressed Self.

You know, l am fine. In the eye of a storm. I breathe. I’m watching the threatening walls of this storm that jeopardizes my perimeter. But, the air is still so I can get myself together. Bracing for the next wave.

I call for help. But I don’t need one. Left to my own devices I make a plan. Worthless. But keeping me occupied.

I pray. But I am not sure that I’m hurt enough for God to react. Desperate, but too indecisive to move.

I write. I was given the time to. I use it to pass the message to my depressed self. It will be alright. It will be alright.

I talk to myself. Now, between two depressions in a row to infinity.

Hey. Don’t worry. I survived. I am loved. I am being tested. I am being thrown around to see different perspectives. I am being gutted to let the evil come out. I am being suffocated to cherish the air I breathe. I am being haunted to understand the spirits of evil. I am being prosecuted to learn the laws of Heaven. I am being abandoned to value love of others.

Some lives are thrown to the sewers of society so they develop a strong lust for life.

Lust stronger than the wind of a hurricane. Lust that moves the Earth in an infinite spin of destinies. Of every human. In their desperate breath lasting 70, maybe 80 years. And they are gone. Lost in the spin of a crumb in the vacuum of the Universe.

And the walls of the storm are approaching. But I lack the strength. I am not sure I can go through it again. And again.

I remember. I wrote this. It is a manifesto of a life in the eye of the storm. I was ok. I will be ok again.

Now, let me die again so I can live. Another life. Another day.