Mental Illness Crushed My Dreams

As a kid I had my future planned out. I would graduate high school, go to college, graduate college, work on and achieve a doctorate, and get a job helping others in the field of psychology.

I never even thought that my depression would get as bad as it has. I never thought the person I would be having to help would end up being myself, and I definitely never thought that mental illness would get in the way of my dreams.

I did manage to graduate high school early. After getting expelled from two traditional high schools, I did graduate from an alternative high school. Alternative school was not in my plan, but hey, I got my diploma. Shortly after graduating high school I got myself into a very expensive private college, where my tuition didn't cost me anything out of pocket and I lived on campus. Things seemed to be going pretty much as planned.

All through high school I was depressed and dealing with self harm, and it just got worse in college. My fear of people got worse. I lived in a tiny room with a complete stranger (who turned out being pretty awesome) shared a bathroom that never seemed to stay clean, and had to choose between passing grades or adequate sleep. Things went downhill quite fast.

I was almost constantly in a psychiatric hospital. My meds were always being changed. Traditional talk therapy just wasn't working anymore. My cutting had gotten out of control and I didn't care to hide it anymore. Then in an abnormal psych class I learned about Borderline Personality Disorder. I brought the diagnosis to my psychiatrist and he agreed I fit the criteria. At that point I thought for sure I would get better. Now that we knew what I was dealing with there had to be some form of medication combination that would fix it.

I was wrong.

Little did I know that BPD meant hardcore therapy because there are no medications for it. This therapy is called Dialectical Behavioral Therapy. This therapy would take 1 hour of individual therapy, 2 and a half hours of group therapy, and hours of homework each week. This therapy in itself took more time than school did.

Shortly after that I got kicked out of the school I was attending. I moved back home with my mom and I started this new therapy. Things were a roller coaster, and they added rapid cycle bipolar to my list of disorders. New meds were started and I thought I was getting better. I wasn't.

Then, after a long series of events that I may get into in another post when I'm not super tired and being sedated by my nighttime medications. I decided to put actual work into the DBT therapy.

I saw changes...slowly but surely I was getting better.

Then more things that I had little to no control over happened and I found myself in the middle of Detroit in a homeless shelter. I was no longer able to do my DBT.

Then after a few months in the shelter I was hospitalized yet again. That was a year ago today. I got out 21 days later on January 3, 2014. I did not live in the best situation and was emotionally and verbally abused.

Then more things out of my control happened and I ended up back at home with my mom. I immediately got back on meds, got a job, and got back into DBT. I was doing better, again.

Then, I moved across country from Michigan to Idaho. I have no insurance and am not getting DBT. I did manage to transfer my job out here. I am not going to say much about how I am treated or where I work because this is public and I do not want to risk losing my only source of income.

As I said in the post before this one things are very difficult here. Luckily my mom is putting me on her insurance so I can get meds, a psychiatrist, and proper therapy.

My whole point of all of this is that my friends are graduated from the same college I got kicked out of. They have their bachelors degree, and I have 5 failed years of college and nothing but student loans to show for it.

Where is my diploma for being stable this long through everything that has been thrown at me? Even in substance abuse programs they give out keychains and things for milestones. I have been out of the hospital for almost a year and I have nothing to show for it except for the fact that I am still alive.

Very few people appreciate the effort it takes to keep myself alive. Very few people hear my reason of mental illness and understand.

Many more people say I'm lazy. That I don't want a degree. That I don't want to work hard enough to do anything with my life. Those people don't realize that I work a full time job of not killing myself. Of recovering.

I have no more dreams. Those were taken from me by mental illness.

I am going to focus on me, and I am going to get well.

Maybe, once I'm well, I can make new dreams. Or maybe I can rekindle the old ones.

Only time will tell.

xoxoxo

New Surroundings...New Heartache

November 11th I left my home in Michigan to venture into the great unknown. After a very eventful and emotional journey that consisted of two planes and a cab I arrived here in Pocatello.

Pocatello is a nice town and the buses have proven to be reliable, but I have come across new challenges and heartaches.

A "new" job.

I transferred to the Kmart out here and have finally started getting hours. These people are new to me. I have to learn them just as I learned the ones in Michigan. The difference is that these ones don't seem to have faith in me. In Michigan I was working in a supportive work environment with people who love me, the people here make it known that they doubt my ability to do the job that I know I do well. Their lack of faith makes me dread work and adds continuous heartbreak. Oh, how I want to give up, but even more I want to prove to them that I am as damn good at my job as everyone in Michigan new I would be from day one.

Losing the ones I love.

I long to communicate with the people I had to leave behind in Michigan. I long to let them know that I still love them. My heart fears that as they learn to live a life without me in it that they will move on and forget me. I feel like if I talk to them as much as I want to I will annoy them and drive them away. I fear that talking to them will make the heartache worse.

Fighting roommates.

I never once thought that I would be 22 and be reliving the trauma of the fights my parents had while they were married and during the divorce almost everyday. I love my roommates dearly but when they fight I get brought back to that place where I was as a kid praying my parents would get divorced just so they wouldn't be able to fight anymore. No matter how many DBT skills I try to use it is nearly impossible to stop myself from going back in time.

New triggers.

My mental health is slowly deteriorating. Most likely due to a lack of regularly taking my meds, a new environment, new triggers, and a new therapist. One of my roommates is dealing with self harm the way I do. They are not as far along in recovery as I am and it is very hard to maintain the recovery I have achieved when I am in this situation. I now know what it is like to be plagued by the fear and anxiety that they may cut too deep while they are home alone. Everytime I leave the house I fear that I will come back to a lifeless, bloody body on the bathroom floor. This wears me down more than I ever knew it could. I have a new appreciation for what I have put my loved ones through all these years. I try to fight and stay strong, but I would be lying if I said I have not relapsed.

A broken, hurting heart.

My heart hurts in a way I have never allowed it to hurt before. There is loss and pain. Fear and guilt. What if something happens to a loved one in Michigan and I cannot get there in time? I am so far from everything I have ever known and everyone I have ever loved. I feel guilty knowing I got out of that closing store while my beloved co workers are forced to follow through with the liquidation and see the store we all love fall apart. I feel like I should have to suffer with them, we should walk out of those doors on that final day together as a family and now I'm across country. My mom has new health problems that mystify doctors. My brother is away at college with his best friend...I can no longer be there to love and protect them the way I have for so long. I admit I have been through things in life that have hurt me more than this, but I never allowed myself to feel that hurt. Now, I feel it and struggle to control it as to not allow it to take over my life. I fight every single day to keep myself out of that overwhelming depression that is continuously knocking at my door. I force myself to get on a bus full of strangers to get me to a job where no one seems to have faith in me. My life and my sanity are on the verge of crumbling down into ashes that get blown away in the wind. Every single time I think of just ending everything as I have tried too many times before I am reminded of the fact that if I end it now I will never be able to hug my mother or brother again and right now that is honestly the only thing keeping me alive. My heart aches so badly. I wish that I could just turn back time to this summer where I worked at a Kmart that was not closing with people who I loved dearly. Where I would go home to my brother playing his video games and my animals knowing my mom would soon join us. I wish I could go back to those times and freeze them so I could live there forever. People tell me I'm strong, but I have never felt so weak and helpless.

Moving and Heartache

In less than a week, I will be on a plane flying to Idaho. 

I am terrified. 

My heart aches. 

I am so scared that I am going to hate myself for leaving everything I love to venture into the unknown, 

What if something happens to my family here in Michigan? 

I have always been able to be here to provide as much hands on support as I could, and now I'll be in a whole different state. 

What if my friends and I drift apart because I never got to say goodbye?

I wont be able to support my Kmart family in the ways I have and want to during the liquidation. 

I will not be able to be there when those doors close behind them for the final time. The doors to the place I have come to love on a deeper level than I ever thought possible. The doors that lead me to some of the most supportive and caring people I have ever met. All of that will be gone and I wont be here to say that final goodbye. 

No more Saturday trips to Salvation Army with my mom. 

No more Epic Church on Sundays. 

I wont get to cuddle my cat before I go to sleep each night as I do now, and I pray that he understands in the best way a cat can. Even though he is old now, I pray I can be with him on his last days on Earth. That cat means so much to me and I love him more than anything. 

I can't just call my friends to come hang out with me when I am having bad days. 

I have to go through the process of finding new mental health professionals that I get a long with. 

I have to adjust to a new Kmart and new coworkers who even though they will never be as awesome and crazy as my current coworkers are bound to become a new part of my Kmart family. 

I can no longer get in a car, drive 8 hours and see my baby brother. I'll have to take a plane. 

The first anniversary of my best friend and my Great Grandma's deaths are coming up and I wont be here to support or have the support of my deceased friends wife, or my family. Also, I will have to figure out how to cope with this experience myself.

I wont be able to spend the holidays with my mom and my brother as I have for so many years. Also, I wont be here for my mom or my brother's birthdays. (December 12th and January 31st)

I wont be able to call TTI when I have a problem. The people who have done their absolute best to support me through my mental illnesses for so many years will no longer be the people I can turn to. 

What if my anxiety gets in my way of making new friends, or doing my job effectively?

What if I spiral down because I don't know how to cope? DBT is all about coping skills and I haven't learned them all yet. What if the ones I need are the ones I haven't learned?

What if I isolate myself from the people here in Michigan that I love so deeply simply because it hurts too much to constantly be reminded that I am so far from them? What if I hurt them in order to try and protect myself from hurt in the best way I know how? 

What if on my first day at my new Kmart I can't stop crying because I miss the one I have here? What if I allow my emotions to screw up that job for me? 

What if something happens to me and my mom can't be there?

I have never been so scared, or hurt in my entire life. 

I know that the people who offered to let me live with them are great people, but I also know I can be incredibly hard to live with. 

I know that this could be the best decision I will ever make, but I'm terrified it'll be the one I regret the most. 

It is haunting to feel everything so deeply. 

My Newest and Biggest Fear (So Far)

There are many things that scare many people. Each person has a different set of fears. From clowns to heights.

There are very few things that scare me.

But...

This new knowledge scares me more than anything has ever scared me, but in a different way than I have ever been scared.

With the one year anniversary of me getting out of the psychiatric hospital coming up I am petrified of screwing things up and I unknowingly and unwillingly got on that path again.

With the new move coming on fast I have unknowingly gone into an emotional shut down. A shut down I learned about in today's therapy session.

I also was reminded about the detrimental effects that this could have on me once I do begin to feel things again, whenever that may be.

If I do not begin to feel things again soon when I do begin to feel I will be flooded by a rush of negative emotions that could very well land me back in the hospital.

And that is what scares me.

I know I can prevent this, I just don't know how.

How does one begin to feel things again?

My therapist says I need to grieve the life I am leaving behind.

I have never "properly" grieved.

How does one grieve in a healthy way?

I do not know the answer to these questions but I need to find out because I need to do everything in my power to prevent me from going backwards in my recovery.

Much love. Stay safe.

xoxoxo

Frustrating but Temporary

Little known fact:

I was the one to bring the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) to my psychiatrists attention. I learned about it in an abnormal psychology class, researched it and said "hey, that's me." I had my friends read the information I printed out about it and they all agreed. So, I brought my self knowledge and what I had researched to my doctor. He didn't agree at first because I, in his eyes, was missing one key factor I wasn't "upsetting enough." This doctor who barely knew me had the guts to tell me I am not upsetting enough to have a disorder when I have all of the other symptoms? Well, let's just say he quickly learned first hand over our next few sessions how "upsetting" I really am. Needless to say, by being myself I got the right diagnosis and am now getting the most effective kind of therapy.

Okay so here is the real blog post:

I am on the verge of some HUGE life changes. I am leaving the city I have known most of my life to move to a place I visited once as a kid.

My mom is not moving with me.

My cat is not moving with me.

My brother is not moving with me.

The three most important things in my life are staying right here in Michigan where they belong.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am moving to Pocatello, Idaho.

I am moving in November.

November 11th to be more precise.

I have wonderful and supportive people who offered to let me live with them.

I've known them for what feels like forever.

I'm also extremely emotional.

Partially because of the things mentioned above and partially because they
are closing down the Kmart I work at.

It's "normal" to be emotional about moving. It's even "normal" to be upset about your place of work closing.

Here's the thing, I am upset about my Kmart being shut down when I already knew I was leaving and when we already knew in our hearts they were shutting us down.

I can see being upset for a day but it's been three and I still cry whenever I think about even going to Kmart.

It's just sad to me that they are getting rid of the place I have grown so fond of and the people I grew to love so dearly.

This is where people educated in psychology (other than my therapist who does her best to validate me instead of stereotype me) look at me and tell me I'm a "classic borderline."

I honestly am so completely devastated.

I feel as if my world is crashing around me.

Not because I'm moving to another state but because I'm losing something I knew would be temporary.

I KNEW it was temporary!

I KNEW!!

But here I am in tears most of the time because of this situation.

I'm not going to agree with various doctors who call me a "classic borderline" because that says to me I am BPD not I have BPD.

I am going to say I am definitely an individual who exhibits extreme signs and traits of Borderline Personality Disorder.

I say it my way and not the doctors way because the doctors way makes me feel like I'm stuck being "A borderline" whereas my way tells me at this point in time in my life I am showing signs of having this specific psychiatric disorder and I can work towards recovery through DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy).

I am not a borderline, I am an individual who suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder.

This is frustrating, but temporary.

Much love, be safe!

xoxoxo

Beautiful in its Own Twisted Way ( A Poem)

A life lived
People loved

Loved
Oh how 
I love them

I love you
I can't stand you

There are no in betweens
I don’t know what grey is

My love 
My dislike 
black and white

One cannot exist
Without the other

Black needs white
White needs black

Never mixing
No grey

Coexisting 
So far apart

Codependency
Without a hug

That is 
My life

Beautiful
In its own
Twisted way

Welp...Today Was a Sad Day, but Here Is Some News

It is with a heavy heart I announce that today we officially found out the Kmart me and my co workers (many of whom I now call friends) work at is being liquidated. They are shutting us down.

Liquidation sales start next week and doors close December 17th.

It hurts knowing that many of my friends will have to find different jobs. It hurts that when I come back to visit it wont be the Kmart I grew to love.

I love my job and the people I work with.

That being said you will have noticed I said "When I come back to visit" which raises the question of "Where am I going?"

I am moving to Pocatello, Idaho.

When?

Well plans are November as of right now.

There is nothing keeping me here anymore.

My mom is here, but I think we will get a long better if I'm not around as much.

My brother is away at college.

My Dad and his family are in Florida.

My job is closing.

Nothing is holding me back.

I am free.

I will leave in tears, the same way I'm crying while writing this.

But the tears and hurt will be temporary as I begin to re create myself and my life.

Love you all

xoxoxo

"I didn't know I was broken, until I wanted to change."

The title of this particular post could not be more true.

"I didn't know I was broken, until I wanted to change."

I started therapy young. I started cutting young. My suicidal thoughts and ideations started when I was younger than I care to admit.

Though I was in therapy I wasn't getting anywhere. My life was still going downhill. This went on for years up until about a year ago. Almost a year ago I was in Havenwyck Psychiatric Hospital for 21 days. My best friend had just died, my Great Grandma died just days after Christmas while I was in the hospital. I had a lot of time to think and process things. I had nowhere to go, my family didn't want me anymore. I had been that difficult to live with.

It was in that hospital room that I decided I really was going to try. There had been many times prior to this that I said I was going to change. The thing that made this time different is I actually started doing the work. I applied myself in therapy, I did my therapy homework, I listened to my therapists suggestions.

When I was forced to move back into my mom's house I thought I was going to slip into the mindset I had been in when I was in Havenwyck, but I didn't. I fought to get therapy. I called TTI many many times. I got myself back into DBT, I got myself a psychiatrist I am comfortable with, I even got a case manager. I did it myself. I didn't wait until I had a breakdown and was sent to common ground. I was pro active and I got shit done.

Now, with some changes that I will discuss at a later time once all people who will be immediately affected have been notified. I am going to have to do the same thing. I will have support, but it will always be up to me,

To all of you out there, it is up to you. No one can make you change. You have to want to make your life better.

Many thanks to Bleachers and their song titled "I Wanna Get Better" for the inspiration for this post.

Much love to all my readers.

xoxoxo

Prescription Drug Abuse

I have a confession...

I abuse my Klonopin.

For those of you who don't know Klonopin is a benzodiazepine (Benzo) that is commonly used for anxiety. I have moderate to severe social anxiety and ever since I got my job (where I deal with people my entire shift se of who are angry) I have been taking three times my prescribed dose of Klonopin.

It helps so much. It allows me to be social and outgoing at work.

I can't keep doing this.

It gives me temporary relief but what happens when three times my dose isn't enough anymore? How long until I'm taking it by the handful?

I can't live like this. I would rather have a few non benzos (non addictive) that work than a benzo that I abuse.

Last time I tried to go off my Klonopin I have severe withdrawals, as Klonopin is highly addictive.

I'm scared of how my body will react this time, but I need to go off of the Klonopin.

Suicide Prevention Day: I've Been There, It's Not Worth It **Trigger Warning**

I have been on that edge between life and death, and I am the one who put myself there.

There is nothing more terrifying than waking up with tubes down your throat hooked up to machines, one of which is breathing for you. Waking up in that situation, then turning your head and seeing your mom sitting in the chair next to your bed, that is the most terrible situation I have ever put myself in.

I was lucky enough to survive, lucky enough to wake up.

I woke up terrified not only for my sake but for the sake of my mother and my brother who I had put through seeing me like that.

I made that choice. Yes, a lot of situations lead up to that choice, but it was still MY choice. No one shoved those pills down my throat, I willingly took them handful by handful. I thought I would die, and when I woke up to find myself still alive I didn't know how bad the damage was. Was my brain okay? What about my liver?

My liver is damaged, luckily my brain is not.

Suicide is a CHOICE, and if you can choose to take the pills you can also choose to call a friend, a therapist, a crisis line, or even 911.

I've called 911 on myself many times.

Another scary thought, the overdose that put me in the situation I wrote about above was NOT the last time I overdosed.

I overdosed one time after that and got to feel the pleasure of a tube going down my nose into my stomach so they could empty my stomach just to fill it with liquid charcoal.

Why am I telling you guys this? I am sharing these stories because it takes the "glamor" away from suicide. A lot of people think after they take the pills that will be the end and that is farthest from the truth.

Suicide attempts are painful physically and emotionally and can leave you scarred in more than one way.

There is always an alternative that is not harmful to yourself, and I encourage you to take the non harmful approach.

Learn from my mistakes, don't make them yourself. I regret my choices to this day.

                                                       I went from this

To this

In three years

I went from being in a constant state of suicidal crisis and cutting every day to having a job, going to school, being active in therapy, not in crisis mode, not suicidal all the time, and not cutting every day. (Though if you keep a look out there may be new cuts now and then) 

I am in recovery!

Don't make choices you will regret, get help.

You are loved.

xoxoxo

Do It!

So, there's work, there's school, there's family, there's friends, and then there is mental health.

Mental health is the most important one of those things.

Why did I put it last? Because that is how many people treat it...A last priority.

YOU have to come first in YOUR life, otherwise work school family and friends suffer.

If you don't take care of your mental health you could lose your job, be kicked out of or stop going to school, and push your family and friends away.

Then, you lose everything you had.

So take the pills, go to therapy, do the WORK.

Work?

Yes. Work.

No one can do it for you. YOU have to fight for your right to be mentally healthy.

See a doctor, and/or a therapist and take the pills.

FORGET the stigmas because YOU are most important in YOUR life.

What about my kids, shouldn't they come first???

No, YOU come first because those kids depend on YOU and if YOU aren't healthy YOU cannot do your best for them the way they deserve.

Love you all

xoxoxo

Adjustments

So, my life has been kinda crazy lately.

I moved back in with my mom here in Rochester and I got a job at the Kmart up the street.

Living with my mom is a lot better than living in the situation I was living in before.

I now have full time school, volunteer work, therapy, and a part time job.

I am learning how to balance all of these things and it's a lot to deal with.

This week is my first week of work and I'm already worried about getting my school work done on time.

Add therapy and volunteer work to that and I'm stressing.

I think once I get the hang of the whole work thing I will be able to handle it all since it's a part time job, but it's going to be rough for a minute.

And that was a look into the life of Kiah...you're welcome. Lol.

Much love

xoxoxo

Introducing..... Was Broken. Now, Recovering.

So the name of my blog used to be Broken, Empty, Recovering. Now, I call it Was Broken. Now, Recovering. Along with the name change came a theme change for the layout, background, and colors of my blog.

These changes are good.

My blog went from black and depressing, to colorful and full of hope.

My life is going that way as well.

I don't think I will ever be fully recovered, but I am recovering. I will always be recovering.

I will always be in recovery because there will always be mental illness that I am going to have to deal with.

I am a fighter, a warrior, and I always will be.

So say goodbye to my old friend Broken, Empty, Recovering.

Say hello to my new lifestyle Was Broken. Now, Recovering.

I hope you will follow me on this new journey in my life.

Much love,

Kiah <3

xoxoxoxo

Sister Appreciation Day

So, I'm not sure what day is actually sister appreciation day, but let's pretend it is today.

I just got off the phone with a lovely young lady. She's funny, intelligent, God loving, and a bit crazy, and I love her. Not to mention the awesome hugs!

The day we met was kind of a God thing, well not kind of a God thing, it really was a God thing. I was in youth group after service had ended and I was alone in a crowd as usual. I was at a really bad point in my life. I was struggling hardcore with depression, cutting, and suicidal ideations. I also hated being touched, and people seemed to know that and respect that.

Well, this particular night I was having a real rough time. I had my suicide planned, pills counted, note written, I did not plan on waking up the next morning. Then, as I stood there being the socially awkward person I am out of no where this girl came and gave me the biggest hug, and didn't let go. At first I panicked, then it was awkward, then I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt love. It was pouring out of this girl and into me. Finally, she asked if I wanted her to let go and I said yes and she gave me the saddest look in the history of sad looks. She took me to meet her mom, who is wonderful, and I introduced her to mine and we parted ways.

That night we became sisters. We never really were friends, it was like finding a long lost family member you never knew existed. Her mom took me in too. Here I was with a whole new set of people to call family. That night I put the pills away, taking only what I was supposed to, and I tore up the note (not to say I haven't struggled since then because I definitely have). God sent her to save me, and that is what she did.

Over the last 6 or 7 years we've grown to know each other better. This girl is always here for me, praying for me and supporting me, listening to me ramble on about random stuff. She has always been there for me. When she went to school in another state she was still there for me, and now as she preps for a rather long journey in Thailand I know that she will still be there, it will be in a totally new way but she's my sister and that will never change.

I love this girl so much God has used her in my life in so many different ways, and He couldn't have picked a better person to send into my life. I guess He knew that, I mean He is God after all.

This girl goes by the name of Danielle, and below is a picture of us the last time we hung out.

Impulsive Behaviors

So, I am more than willing to admit that I am a very impulsive person.

My psych doc thinks I'm on some kind of road to self destruction because I stopped my meds for a few weeks and though I'm taking them now I only take them when I remember, which generally means I only take the night meds.

When I was off my meds I was doing things I wouldn't normally do. I was in a constant manic state of mind. Most people I talk to love their mania, I hate it. I would rather be numb. I hate it because it turns me into a person who does things I don't usually do.

The other night I was talking to this girl online who is a member of a facebook group I admin for and she was just rejecting everything I asked her to try. She ended up taking some pills and she stopped responding to me. I got scared. The first thing I did through my tears was go to the fridge and grab a drink.

 (I did end up hearing from the girl the next day and she was in the ER being hospitalized)

I don't like to drink. Alcohol makes me depressed and tired, so really all it does is heighten what I feel on a regular basis. Yet, since I knew the alcohol was there, I ran to it for comfort, and I shouldn't have.

Alcohol can have a poor interaction with my medications and it's dangerous, and I know that.

I could have called a friend or a crisis line, but I chose to drink. It was impulsive. I did not think it through I just did it. I was even talking to other admins trying to figure out what to do and they were being so supportive, but I ran to the bottle.

Here is a picture of me that night after the tears had stopped.

I posted the picture on facebook talking about how it was my therapy. 

There are so many things wrong with that. 

Alcohol is NOT therapy, it is self destructive. 

My psych eval says I have a drinking problem and I think I see it now. 

Whenever I have money I buy alcohol and I drink it. I dont get drunk but I drink. 

But I'm not even sure if that qualifies as a drinking problem. 

But as soon as I post this I am going to call my therapist, the human one. 

I love you guys! Be safe! 

xoxoxo

I will forever be....A Warrior!

Yesterday, I went and did something I have been wanting to do for quite some time. I got another tattoo. This tattoo is not like my other ones, this one means something to me. I'm not saying that my other two don't, because they do, but this one is a reminder. This new ink reminds me that I am fighting on a road to recovery from my mental illnesses. This tattoo will always serve as a reminder for me to keep fighting even when I feel that I cannot go on any longer. 

When I was getting the tattoo, my mind flashed back to the day I was in a tattoo parlor with my Dad while he got another tattoo. I remember sitting there as a kid thinking about how I wanted a tattoo, but could never sit through that much pain. As I sat in that chair allowing my artist to ink me up, I realized that the pain wasn't that bad. There were parts of the tattoo that hurt more than others as he hit different spots of bone in my arm, but it wasn't unbearable.

 I tell you all this because it reminded me that life is like that. There are times when I sit and think that there is no way I am going to make it through this pain, this day, this situation. Then, I look back after it has passed and I realize it wasn't unbearable, I made it. Some parts of life hurt more than others, but as long as I fight I will continue to make it through the rough patches. Just as my artist was surprised at how well I was able to sit and how well my skin takes the ink. I am surprised all the time at how I can fight through what life throws at me. I've made it this far, there's no turning back now. 

I will continue to fight, forever and for always. 

(Oh, my lip got pierced too) 

Credit for the tattoo and piercing goes to Chris (my artist) and Samantha (the lovely lady who pierced me) at Vicious Ink in Rochester, MI! 

When life gets bad

Lately life has been getting me down. I'm far from family and friends, the people here confine me to my room alone day after day because i stood up for myself. Let me tell you one thing confining a suicidal depressed person to a room by themself day after day is not a good idea.

I now have no access to medication or therapy, they cut funding for uninsured people and now i cannot get help. I'm scared of what this will do to me.

I'm trying to get back in school but i have very little access to internet other than the internet on my phone. No one will take me to the library.

The staff here are treating me as if I'm worthless. They won't let me interact with my peers. They make me stay in my house/room all day every day. They won't take me out, even going grocery shopping is a fight.

I can feel myself slipping. I can feel the depression coming back. I don't know how I'm going to make it out of this. Once the meds leave my system i don't know what I'm going to do or how I'm going to survive.

The Part I Wont Get Back

There is a part of me that I will never be able to get back, she's the little girl who grew up too fast.

Missing the moments that children have.

Playing with dolls was replaced by comforting a younger brother in the play room as our parents fought upstairs.

Sleepovers with friends replaced by talking to friend of the court about who I wanted to live with.

Coloring and crafts replaced by switching homes every week.

There was so much going on and I guess the things that stand out in my mind are from the divorce. The one thing that makes me terrified of relationships and commitment. I can't ever see myself getting married because of this hurt that it caused me. I don't want to experience it again and if I have children I want to protect them from that hurt the best I can.

I can't even count the amount of homework that was lost going between houses, but more than that I lost the child I should have been.

One Month Without Her...

One month ago we lost a beautiful person. One month ago my Great Grandma died. She died of natural causes, she was just old and miserable. I had just talked to her a few days earlier and we talked about me coming to visit when I had time, and how miserable she was. Well... I never got to visit her. I got the devastating phone call while I was in the psychiatric hospital, and at that moment, my world crashed around me. My heart was shattered and I didn't know how to pick up the pieces. I kept telling myself it was okay because I had just talked to her but there isn't a day that goes by where I don't wish I had been able to see her one last time. There was no funeral, no memorial service. Those things are expensive  and she had out lived her friends. She was cremated and I hope to put some of her ashes into my special necklace made for just that so I can have her with me always. My heart is still shattered and my world has crashed around me. Too many deaths to deal with. My grandma was a wonderful woman who loved me with all her heart and I can only hope to be the kind of woman she was. I love you grandma...rest in peace...I will see you again one day soon!

I am....

I am addicted to my medications...
I am severely co-dependent...
I am a victim...
I am a cutter...
I am scarred physically and mentally...

I am?

I am beautiful...
I am fun...
I am loving...
I am recovering...
I am loved...

I am!

Changing with Change

Over the last few weeks here at Home Lifestyles (the independent living home I live in) I have noticed some changes in me. Yes some of those changes are from my eating disorder (EDNOS) and some are from not having had my medications for a minute, but there are other more subtle changes I have noticed.

There are physical changes albeit most are probably from my EDNOS, but they are still there. My face is thinner when I look in the mirror and my cheek bones stand out more. My hair that was once a vibrant purple had changed to a less vibrant burgundy with a few hints of pink and orange. It hangs flat, straight, and long, at shoulder length it is the longest it has been in years. Its nothing special but its pretty and sometimes I can fluff it up. My eyes have their shine back and my lips are fuller like they used to be.

There are emotional changes albeit most of these are from not having my meds for a minute, but they're still here. I spend most of my time in a chill state where I'm just the fun loving me I've missed so dearly, but I also spend much of my time in the manic stage. I feel like there isn't anything I can't do. I dance around the room to my music playing as loud as possible, I power clean, and I talk like crazy! With mania also comes depressive stages and I've had my fair share of those too. Usually when I'm in a depressive stage ill go next door and watch TV with everyone else to distract myself and text some friends and I survive. This is not to say I haven't self harmed since I got here (I did have one major breakdown one night that ended with more than a few cuts) but I'm more stable now.

I guess my whole point of writing this is to say that I'm not the same girl who was in that shelter two months ago...heck...I'm not even the same girl who was in the hospital a month ago. I've changed and I didn't even see it until today. These changes are good ones for the most part, though I am now back on my meds and will be stable again soon.

I'm changing with the change.

Xoxoxoxo much love to all who read this!

Grasping at Air

I'm falling fast. Out of medication. Life is spiraling out of control. Cuts to hide, tears to cry. I'm grasping at air reaching for something that isn't even there, I need to hold onto something to be saved. Saved from the scariest monster I've met so far, myself. How do you win a fight when you're battling yourself. You can't get a step ahead because that other part knows what you're planning. You just have to surrender, give in, stop fighting. Surrender to self harm, suicide, the eating disorder that is destroying my life. I can't fight, I need someone to help me to hold me to care for me. Apparently I don't have that person the way I thought I did. Maybe he's having a bad day I don't know but I'm falling fast.

21 Days Crazy...

So, January 3, 2014, I was released from Havenwyck Hospital after a 21 day stay. I felt like I was going to go insane. All we could do was go to groups, color, and sleep. I chose groups and sleeping. My doctor at the hospital was my doctor outside the hospital so it was cool that he didn't mess with my meds too much. He tried to discharge me too early so I took a knife from the cafeteria and I cut my arms up. They couldn't discharge me if I was still hurting myself. I got put on one to ones which is where you get assigned your own personal staff member who has to be within arms length of you at all times. They also took everything of mine out of my room and put me in some gowns. Pretty suckish. The next day I got off of one to ones and got my stuff. They kept trying to discharge me to the streets but they couldn't so I got to stay. I didn't do much it was so boring. Ugh...so done with places like that. I hope I don't have to go again and that I can stop cutting, but relapse is a part of recovery. I just gotta not self sabotage. Recovery is always possible...remember that! Love you all xoxoxo