I am as stubborn as my mood swings.
I am as stubborn as my mood swings.
because here’s the thing:
I don’t mean that
I made a mistake -
I am the mistake.
I don’t mean that
some facts I said weren’t right.
I mean that
when (if) God made me,
He left one piece missing.
some part that I’m supposed to have
just isn’t there.
There’s something wrong and no medication can fix it.
so what do you do when something can’t be fixed?
Do you keep trying?
Or do you give up and walk away?
I can’t tell what the answer is anymore.
something bad will happen-
I’ll fight with someone I love
I’ll eat too much
I’ll get a migraine
I’ll say something wrong
I’ll fuck up
and then I can’t help but think
how poetic it would be
to die on easter sunday.
These photos were uploaded to my ig story exactly two years ago. If you looked at them from the outside it looks like I was having a great time, eating out at a restaurant and walking around a fancy neighbourhood in a new city I had just moved into.
But that was not the reality.
That hamburguer was the first time I had eaten an actual meal in about a week. My social anxiety was so bad I couldn’t go out to the kitchen of the student’s house for fear of running into my housemates and other people I didn’t know. I’d spend most of the day out of the house to pretend like I had a busy lifestyle and so I wouldn’t have to use the bathroom there and run the risk of running into people. I ended up walking a lot, like a LOT, about 6 miles per day, everyday. I excersiced SO much that at the end of the day I was exhausted and I could barely move from how much my legs hurt. This triggered a sort of eating disorder where I would eat only fruit or some crips for days at a time until I was starving and so I would end up ordering something at a restaurant but sometimes my anxiety wouldn’t even let me do that and I also didn’t have a lot of money and eating out was expensive so I couldn’t do it often. I lost about four kilograms in two weeks, none of my clothes fit me anymore and my ribs started to show and that had NEVER happened before, like, I’m usually chubby so that’s not common.
I was also miserable, my depression was at an all time low, I had started self harming for the first time and the anxiety attacks were a daily occurrence.
But, I didn’t think I needed therapy, because I thought I was fine. I was in the city of my dreams, studying what I had wanted to study my whole life and It’s not like I was suicidal, or underweight like you know, “REAL” mentally ill people are. “I have anxiety, but everyone’s shy so I just have to grow out of it and I’ll be fine!”
So I just kept it all to myself, and I kept going.
And to anyone who’d look at my instagram, I was living the dream! I got compliments on my weight loss and everyone congratulated me on starting university.
But no one knew what was really going on, because mental illnesses are invisible most of the time, they hide behind a mask that says “everything is fine”. I still laughed, and posted all of this on my socials to tell everyone “hey, I’m okay” when in reality, I was dying.
What I’m trying to say is you don’t know how anyone is doing behind closed doors so please don’t judge people by what they choose to show on social media or to the outside world. Don’t make comments about someone’s weight, because you don’t know what they did or didn’t do to be at that weight.
and most importantly, if anything I said resonated with you,
YOU DESERVE TO GET HELP
you don’t have to wait until it’s worse or because it’s not as bad as other people. If you feel bad PLEASE just ask someone you trust for help, if you don’t have anyone, call a hotline or google it, they will know how to help.
I am in a much better place now than where I was then, you can do it too 💕
Social Distancing can be hard for a lot of people and their mental health. We’re so used to distracting ourselves with the outside world. Set a schedule. I’ve compiled a list of things to do to get your mind off of any negativity you may be experiencing either being alone with your thoughts or being stuck inside a house with people you aren’t getting along with. Retweet to help other fellow bloggers or followers during this quarentine.
2. read a book
3. make some art
4. write some poetry or songs
5. write your life memoir or even fan fiction
6. compile a list of movies you’ve always wanted to watch but never got the time or critically acclaimed movies that have won awards that you’ve never seen
7. find some new artists or bands. make a playlist for every one of your moods whether it be “cool jams” “stress relief music” “old school jams” “party playlist” “workout playlist” “nostalgia songs”
8. listen to a podcast or make your own!
9. blog, tiktok, youtube, etc.
10. learn a new language
11. facetime your friends
12. write a cute bucketlist
13. DIY something whether it be your room or making slime
14. try to get as good as Jeffree Star at makeup
15. online shop (responsibly)
16. tan in your backyard
17. try a word search, crossword, or even sodoku
hope this helped :) retweet to help someone else <3
I need friends.
The part of my social media audience that have nothing but disdain and contempt in their heart for me but pretend to like me because I entertain them with my bullshit: 🌾👀🌾
Me: Well, let me start by telling you all, in shocking detail, how my past traumas manifested into a life of mental illness and isolation in a series of 1000 Instagram stories told over 20 minutes which culminate in me dancing naked in my bedroom to reggaeton.
I miss breakdowns before responsibility and motherhood kicked in…
I miss living with my Mum and deciding to go for a 3 hour drive at 1am, blaring music, singing, having a woman to woman chat with myself, leaving my shit friends angry voicemails, banging on the door of whatever random guy I was dating to tell him I fucking hate him and then possibly having sex depending on how much I had insulted him in my rage, driving some more, crying myself to sleep and waking up hating myself.
You know, the good old days!!
So as I was trying to fall asleep last night my mind started drifting to Lone Star, as it does, and I was wondering if it might be possible that TK has some form of undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder?
Keep in mind, I know very little about Bipolar, but from what I do know, it seems to fit some of his characteristics?
On the depressive side, we have him openly admitting to feeling things akin to depression, the relapse after his breakup with Alex, not know who he is or what he wants to do with his life, I’m sure there are more but I can’t think of them right at the moment.
On the manic side, he sleeps with Carlos right after meeting him, he jumps headfirst into danger (despite Judd very clearly telling him not to), he starts the bar fight, he proposed to Alex when everything we know points to them not being together long enough to even live together much less get engaged and married, and when Carlos calls him over for dinner he automatically assumes it means for a hookup (this one could be a debatable point as the situation was unclear), again there may be more but this is all I can think of atm.
Of course, I could be completely off the mark with this one. Thoughts?
my brain is floating
i can feel the small short circuit disconnect from my physical being
i can feel the separation of my soul as it moves through my skin and hovers above it
the shell of my body is on puppet strings as i try to navigate my way around
i am still moving, i am still breathing
but i am no longer a person
i am no longer living
my brain is floating
my movements feel less and less like my own as the strings walk me to my bed
i lay on top of the covers and stare at the ceiling
begging my brain to just come back, to just work with me
get back inside my body, reconnect those circuits
my brain isn’t listening and my thoughts are becoming harder to hear
i’ll take a nap, maybe it will come back to me in my dreams
my brain is floating
am i awake? my body will not move
the strings attached to my limbs have been cut
i can feel the world carrying on around me and i beg myself to get up and carry on with it
where is my brain?
i can no longer feel my soul lingering above my skin
i can no longer feel anything at all
there is nothing left inside of me but some muscle and bones that won’t work
i should go back to sleep, i’ll feel alive when i wake up
my brain is floating
i’ve been in bed for three days now, i think
i don’t know where my brain went
my soul doesn’t want this body anymore
the sun is shining through my window, but it’s so dark in here
i think i’ll just lay here a while
maybe my body will disappear into the same thin air that swallowed every other part of my being
maybe i’ll float away, just like my brain
It was life-changing for me when someone said that all coping mechanisms were necessary at some point and came from a place of survival. Behaviours that hurt you now at some point probably saved your life, because they helped you get through unimaginable trauma or symptoms, or because they helped you survive in an environment that wasn’t safe, or they helped you protect yourself against someone. Self-harm, disordered eating, and other trauma responses aren’t stupid or selfish, they’re your body trying to protect you with love, the best way it knows how.
That’s why it’s so tough to break those habits and patterns, you can’t hate your way out of them. It’s been really helpful for me to reframe triggers and urges that way, instead of saying “you’re an adult you shouldn’t still be feeling like this, you’re stupid and immature for still wanting to self-harm”
I’m trying to say things like
“I appreciate the strength it took to learn this tool, I know it helped for a long time and it came from a place of love, but now it’s not helpful and we’re going to do something else because now I’m in a new situation and I have new and better tools.” (like journaling, playing music, talking to friends, going for a walk, listening to loud music)
Experiencing hypersexuality during a pandemic be like
My coochie: guess you’ll die ;)
Schizoaffective Borderline and My family has given up on me.
I need to change. If not, I’m going to lose my family. I just am a totally different person when I go manic. They don’t understand that mania is real. They don’t like how I act or my actions, neither do I. When it’s all over, I’m ashamed of what I’ve done. They don’t see that I don’t want to be this way either. They just say I need to change. How do you change the symptoms of mania, let alone a Borderline. It takes years and years of therapy and finding the right meds. So does that mean in the meantime they dont want anything to do with me? When I need them the most? They are incredibly quick to judge my actions from afar but not one of them but my sister offers solutions or tries to help me. She’s the one I can’t lose. I love my family but I’ve already lost them. I’m on the verge of losing my sister because of how I act. She said I’m always wanting attention. It’s true. I do want attention. Because I feel unloved. I feel worthless, that this will never end. I need help.
In August of 2019 I decided I was going to end my life. After several months of severe depression, extreme mood swings, a rough go at work, and a complete loss of control, I was put on a new depression medication that triggered a need for suicide.
After experiencing extreme side effects, my boyfriend took me to the emergency room for stomach pain where I confessed to a nurse that I was going to kill myself. I brushed it off causally, “I don’t know I’d probably just take some medication and fall asleep in the bathtub.“
At the time it sounded pretty logical and easy. To the nurses, I was a harm to myself.
Before I knew it I was strapped to a gurney on a 5150 hold by the state of California on a collision course to 72 hours of terror and reflection.
After not sleeping for 2 days, being poked, prodded, and placed in room 139 of a behavioral health unit, I looked in the mirror and thought, "How the hell did you get here, Tess. Everyone has always looked up to you. You’re a musician and a creative and you have a good job, a nice family who helps you out, a boyfriend who would do anything for you, and talent that everyone recognizes as incredible, but you still want to die. How the hell did you get here.”
I sat down on the hard, plastic bed and grabbed the piece of scrap paper I had taken from the common area, and a miniature thick marker i’ll never forget the brand: Pipsqueaks by Crayola and I started to write.
“Patient 139/ sits in 4/4 time/ craving peace of mind and a pen."
These lyrics would shape my future and bring me back to life as the person I knew I used to be. You see, my entire life I had been running, producing, creating, working, traveling, being adventurous, existing as a beacon of success. Once I stopped running and got in my head, I was sick. I ran out of gas. I couldn’t get out of bed. My moods were soaring and diving weekly. I didn’t recognize myself.
Ever since I was a little kid, I knew I was put on this earth to share music and help others through it.
While in inpatient care, I learned that I was bipolar. I was put on a host of trial-and-error meds that led me through months of harsh side effects and agony, but ultimately I found a cocktail that gave me some relief, although every day is a struggle.
My main goal to get my life back on track was to record an album. Through therapy, support from my partner and family, I worked up the courage to continue to write songs, finish the song "Patient 139” and record a 4-song EP that chronicles the story of my survival.
It was released on March 27, 2020. When I promoted it online, I received hundreds of comments from young people sharing their stories, finding inspiration, and relating to the song and the message. The darkness I experienced transformed into light. And I realized that, that was the point of my music all along.
It’s an exciting time for me but I still have my setbacks. Mania and depression flow through me like waves that just wo’t crash. I’m still cycling through doctors, and moods as if they were wheels on a bicycle but I know things are trending upward.
I hope that one day I could speak at your conference, play this music, perform and share how I got my hope back. I still have sad thoughts and I still don’t know how things will be day to day, but I do know that I’m going to make it, and I’m helping other people make it too.
Being hypomanic while living in an abusive situation that could be set off by any little thing like: undercover crazy
They said here in England we could be looking up to 6 months of this,
It is screwing with my mental health that’s for sure but now I’ve got my PC set up and I’ve got our living room tidied and sorted from the moving in process ( Kade helped with that he built my desk mostly bless him). Like I’ve got a nice chill area to hang out and relax that isn’t just being sat in bed all day.
It helps having somewhere else to go to just a different room in the house. Also the sun is shining through the windows and I can hear the birds like I could earlier this morning before dawn.
It’s nice in here I like it. I just need to find my old speakers to put my phone in and get music playing. Music helps my mood and then I can find stuff to occupy my day.
Maybe come up with a really loose schedule for myself or more so a list of different activities and things to do throughout the week to maintain some order and normality to everything.
Order and daily routines is meant to help with Bipolar and probably my borderline too so I definitely think this could be useful.