i’m such a dumbass, i forgot to take my meds twice this week and i just realized that’s why my mood has been all over the place today. on the bright side, i didn’t have suicidal thoughts like i usually do when i forget my meds so hey, improvement right?
Well, another sunrise, another morning, another day. I lay in bed just long enough to wallow in the familiar feeling of gray nothingness and dread. Just long enough to feel the weight on my chest grow ever slightly heavier. My throat growing ever slightly tighter. However, not long enough to be late, because I know how my mother gets about me being late, and I don’t know if I can handle another telling off before I finally break in front of her. I get up, though begrudgingly, and throw myself onto my feet. I mess with my hair, put on my glasses, and throw on heavy clothes to cover my the lines etched onto my body. I pull up my socks, slip on my shoes, and walk to my door, asking myself if I’m truly ready to face the day. The answer is always no, but I do it anyway. I open the door slowly, time to switch on the light behind my eyes again.
#nic talks#atuotc #it's always hard to define flowey's feelings on anyone #i always run the risk of oversimplifying what is incredibly complex #it's easier to show and not tell #but yeah thank you for asking! #tw suicide#tw negative #asks and answers
i knew as soon as i told my sister what was going on, everything would become “real” and finally hit me. this is why i didn’t want to tell her but i did it because i’m stupid and now i just want to die
TW: This post centres around pet death. (also mention of an eating disorder, suicide attempts and depression)
On the 21st of January, 2020, I had to say goodbye to my best friend, my confidante and my loyal companion, Freya.
I got Freya when I was fifteen and firmly in the grips of anorexica nervosa. Nothing was motivating me. Not school, not my friends, not my family. Absolutely nothing could convince me that staying on earth was worthwhile.
I was seeing a psychiactric nurse for my eating disorder and I was very uncooperative in the sessions. It would just be fifty minutes of me grunting and shrugging at this man, not making any effort in the slightest to engage with him.
He suggested to my mother that what I needed was for something to need me.
She went out and found a dog breeder who had a pregnant bitch.
Fast forward two months and we had news that our puppy had been born – the only bitch in a litter of five.
We went to see her when she was only about ten days old. She looked like this little wrinkly guinea pig. She had these big blue eyes and when she yawned, you could see these pink gummy gums. She was beautiful, and I fell in love the moment I laid my eyes on her.
Fast forward again eight weeks, and we go to get her. She squawked for the whole car ride home, but when we got back to the house, she made herself right at home.
She started to play with all of her toys and even had her first wee right in the middle of the lounge! She was played with from the moment the sun went up to the moment the sun went down - and sometimes in the night too!
I would sneak her upstairs into my bedroom and she’d fall asleep in my arms. Sometimes she’d lay facing me and you could feel our hearts beating together.
Here is me and Freya the day we brought her home:
Before Freya came along, I had tried to commit suicide multiple times, but now there was this little person; this little soul who was relying on me to keep her safe.
The years rolled by, and my bond with Freya only got stronger. She got me out of bed in the mornings and gave my life purpose again. She learned to read me and was able to tell when a panic attack was going to come on.
She’d curl up on my lap and lick my face, as if to say “it’s okay mum. I’m right here.”
I had a tumultuous relationship with my mother in my early 20s, and Freya was a rock through that time. She’s been there for me multiple times when no one else has been.
When I moved out of my mother’s house and into my own at 24, I took Freya with me. She was my guardian against the loneliness, the hopelessness and the depression.
I had to get out of bed in the morning and feed her and take her for a walk, no one else was going to!
In return she gave me uncondional love, friendship and loyalty.
Just after Christmas, she began to develop gait and balance problems. The vet diagnosed her as having TIAs (mini-strokes) and said that it was a liveable condition.
On the early hours of the 21st, she had a massive seizure and this left her breathing very shallow and laboured.
I took her to the vet first thing and after xrays and blood work we discovered she was aneamic, in early renal failure and worst of all, she had widespread cancer in her lungs and a large tumour putting pressure on her windpipe. The vet then said that lung cancer was very rarely primary in dogs and is usually secondary to something else.
He said that in hindsight with this discovery and her symptoms, that it was likely not mini strokes at all, but a brain tumour.
He said we only had a week at most left with her and that another seizure could leave her paralysed.
I had to make the heartbreaking decision to ease her suffering and put her to sleep.
She passed peacfully in my arms, surrounded by the love and light she brought into my life.
Without Freya, I most definitely would not be here and without her now, I am broken. :(
Just got down off a bridge I drove to instead of going to work today. I called my therapist twice while I was up there and got no response. Stormy told me to call the crisis hotline but I just couldn’t bring myself to bother anyone else. Eventually (as stupid as this sounds) I saw a cute puppy and decided to climb down off the bridge.
I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I don’t want to go to work but I don’t want to go home and face questions of why I’m not at work.
on nights when my depression feels more sad than numb I wish I smoked you can see in books and television pretty sad girls with their teary eyes holding onto cigarettes pressing into deep deep burning lungs and skin and throat and fingers and it’s all beautifully painful
on nights when my depression feels more numb than sad I wish I was dead you rarely see anywhere in the middle of moldy dishes from last month turning side in bed because of the smell stained sheets and blood crusted around infected wounds it’s so painfully not beautiful at all