Poem to Me

Please forgive me
I've been so broken
Please forgive me
For the words I've spoken

I don't know how
To prevent your cry
I don't know how
To not live a lie

Con vs Pro

I hear someone say recently, "You say it's the worst it can get, but then it always gets worse. It can always get worse."

All I could think was, "I truly hope the worst is behind me."

Worst moments:
1 - When I almost lost Grey.
2 - When I was sure suicidal ideation was going to beat Purple after all - "suicidal panic attack" as I named the only one I've experienced.
3 - When I fully realized mom would never again hold me as I cried.
4 - When I couldn't see Indigo in the hospital because I was underage. Even though I was the final trigger.
5 - When I did see Indigo in the hospital.
6 - When Emerald was lost downtown, late at night, and all I could do was wait on Blue to help.
7 - When I had a second extreme panic attack at school. The first, at 7, was confusing. The second was, at 13, frustrating, embarrassing and the beginning of the end of public school.
8 - When I realized what a homicidal, suicidal mess Purple was, by reading a collection of poems written at 12. Would never attempt but the fact that such dark thoughts existed? That terrified me.
9 - When I was born.
10 - When Indigo moved out. And I couldn't no longer turn to them to give and receive support.
11 - When I couldn't see where Indigo and Emerald were in the shelter. I couldn't see their beds so I couldn't sleep.

Best moments:
1 - When Burgundy was born.
2 - When Burgundy was the winning factor Purple had over the "suicidal panic attack".
3 - When Burgundy made me smile in spite of the remaining migraine.
4 - When I gained a real Father, 26 days before I turned eleven.
5 - When I spoke to my Father in the language of my heart, at 19 years old.
6 - When I joked around with Blue as we shopped.
7 - When I reunited with my "soulmate/other half"
8 - When I laughed at Grey's stubborn consumption of almonds, despite their allergy.
9 - When I hung out with my pair of lovelies even though I was tired. 2.5 & 4 years old still makes me smile.
10 - When I followed my lovelies up with more fun. And partied through a torn ligament in my just relocated knee.
11 - When Indigo came back.
12 - When Indigo came home.
13 - When Emerald hugged me as I sobbed, at 17. Almost as good as mom.
14 - When Emerald, Indigo and I promised to be there for each other.
15 - When I realized, at 21.5, the day I almost died was 10.75 months ago. I'm close to being a year survivor. The anniversary isn't known for sure. But my guess is late May to mid June.

So yes, bad things happen. But along with the negative that can come, positive definitely will accompany it. It may even outweigh it.

The worst may not be behind me. But I know the best is out there too. Both ways, present and future the best is waiting to even it out. And then one day give a surplus.

And no matter how worse it gets, my previous worst have prepared me to face it all unafraid that it will win. It won't win because I have been trained not to lose. Or even think I could lose.

Unapologetically Me

So it's my birth date once again - I'm 21.

I've been alive for over two decades.

I've experienced so much.

I've been had sadness as my standard state for so long.

My 21st year was difficult. It was the scariest year I've ever been through. I didn't know where I stood with anyone. I thought I'd fallen apart too much. That 2 decades of guilt would become too much.

And the last few weeks have been especially hard. In waiting for my least favorite days, I truly hated September this time. I kinda regretted letting it happen.

Not anymore. I've spent a few hours looking back on the year and I'm proud of myself. I am almost done with school. I scheduled a driving appointment. I regularly attend my various medical/mental appointments. I don't hide out in my room the amount that comes naturally. I force myself out and to grow. I was myself, unapologetically.

I've adopted parents from media. I've made friends from times past. I've found even more things that matter to me, more that interest me, more to do in the future. I'm sure that I'll be here for many more September 28th. I doubt I'll treat them as I did as a child and adolescent. I no longer desire missing the month of September. 

Wow, I'm not an adolescent anymore. I am at the age that universally, physically, scientifically, philosophically can't be denied as adulthood. I'm leaving one club behind and am going the older, responsible group. While I hope never to have children of my own, I hope as a member of the second group I can guide the young club.

I look forward to my 22nd year. And all the changes that shall so be coming with them. Being in charge of myself is much different than raising yourself with no plan or advice. I'll keep you in the loop. I'll share the progresses that allow the woman I've always wanted to be, to have space and feel free to challenge me. Purple Owl will be changing shades throughout the year. But always a type of Purple for confidence and lock on identity.

Autism In Love

Disclaimer: this movie included some language and phrases I didn't appreciate. But it was just too moving not to share. Also, spoilers!

I didn't know what I was going to get with this documentary. I came away from it caring for all the subjects. I even felt like three were my close friends while a fourth was myself.

The Subjects:
Lenny (Leonard) - raised by a single mother, currently lives with mother & stepfather.
Dave - parents were not in the video. He has a scientific geared mind.
Lindsey - father was interviewed. She leans toward creativity.
Stephen - oldest of the group. He lives independent of his parents.

Lifestyle:
Lenny graduated high school a while back and does not have a job. He spends time playing video games, at diners, at the park, and talking to friends.

Dave & Lindsey met at an Autism convention in 2005. They were at 8 years dating when the documentary began. I'm not sure if they live together since Dave mentioned "she tucks me in at night." (That could go either way.) Dave works in physics. I'm not sure about Lindsey but office friendliness seems valued. Her coworker/employer was pleasantly surprised by her social adaptation level.

Stephen works the U.S. Postal Service. He does some kind of systematic work, which sounds relaxing. It seems like he is more interested in the work than the social aspect.

Love Life:
Lenny is single. He has one ex-girlfriend. But she wanted to make things more physical than he was comfortable with. Lenny also has a range of beliefs about romantic relationships that I don't necessarily agree with.
1) A man must have a job - I see the value but it's not a rule breaker to me at the beginning of dating. Courtship though is another matter. And if he loses the job, do they break up?
2) A man must make more money - honestly I'd love for the money to be pouring in and me to never have to move an inch. But I also believe in moderation and not working just for the money. If the man is stressed just to make a dollar more, is it worth it?
3) Women shouldn't pay for anything - while I appreciate the principle there and the natural, inborn desire men have to take care of their own, I don't agree wholeheartedly. Men should be able to pay for most. But to me a grown, adult woman should be able to pay for most, too. My general rule when someone else is paying for me, "if I couldn't afford it, I can't get it." However, the beauty about relationships, romantic or otherwise, is complementing each other. If both want to go out but won't pay the same amount, should the decision be affected by which gender they are?
4) Overall, a deep seated belief of inequality - men crave respect & women crave love. We aren't exactly the same. Those aren't the only things we need though. Men need love & women need respect, just not as intensely on the norm.

At 8 years dating, friends wonder why Dave & Lindsey aren't married yet. I personally don't think it's that long to date for a couple who both have a diagnosis that involves difficulty in developing relationship and communicating. They are so adorable.

Dave gives a beautiful math or science (as if I fully understand it academically) formula for love. L + P + 2T = % of love. L is for looks and physical attraction. But love has to last past those 3 years of lust so next is P for personality. The most important is how they treat you, so 2T. A person who rates high on based on their treatment of you has a better chance than based off of looks and personality alone. This is how Dave knows he is in love with Lindsey. Especially because the feelings have lasted 8 years.

Lindsey says despite not fully understanding each other, they make room for their routines and rigidity. They have been through a lot and their love is proven by remaining together. Lindsey faces love more emotionally than Dave. She knows she's in love with him because she wants to go at a pace comfortable for him even if it's not best for her. Lindsey feels that valuing the other person is love.

Stephen got married in the early 1990s. He lived with his wife, Edith, for 17 years until she was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2010. She had surgery and has been in a different town recovering since. She has medical ups and downs. Stephen isn't very verbal so I couldn't gather how much he knew about his wife's condition. His mother said he hopes for the best and believes Edith won't die. He remembered all the dates, even what he said when they met. Stephen said he knows he loves her because he cares for her. He wants to kiss, hug her and wished her the best. Awwwww!

Other struggles in the film:
Lenny was obviously suffering from depression. He felt less important than his peers who are in college or have graduated from there and moved on to jobs. He was unhappy with his diagnosis and its affect on his life. Lenny's self esteem very low. As a result of this, at one point he went to a mental hospital due to concerns that he would harm himself.

Lindsey was trying her hardest to be content with what Dave was able to give her. However, she didn't feel assured of his love. They had discussed marriage a few years prior. She pretty much promised her acceptance whenever he was ready to propose. But Dave hadn't been ready before and during the documentary. It increasingly became a topic. Up to the point, that he went ring shopping.

Edith died in 2013. Stephen was asked if he was still in love with her. He said "no. When a person dies, you can't hug or kiss them anymore. So I'm not in love with her." I translated that as the romantic love has ended but he still loves her and treasures the memories. I don't know if that's correct or arrogant of me to assume, but I just don't think he could verbally express it. That doesn't mean he couldn't feel it though, which was the position the concept of the documentary took.

Conclusion:
Lenny has a job at a grocery store. He seemed much more content with his life. I wish we got a closing interview with his mother.

Dave proposed to Lindsey! In a way that was perfectly them! She's teaching him piano and I couldn't have fangirled more.

Stephen is back at work after a few months. His parents said it was good for him to be back to a routine. While he was affected greatly by his wife's death, his ability to talk about her was encouraging. I don't know how long had passed when the interviewer asked. And I don't know if his way of communicating made it seem like he was coping better than he was.

My reaction to the subjects:
I hope Lenny continues to grow in self-esteem. Like his mother said, he's awesome. He just needs to realize it. I hope he learns that relationships, romantic or not, don't have to follow a rule book. That it's okay to write your own story.

Lindsey felt like a future me. She knows that she is struggling. But she faces it head on, bravely. And when she mentioned necklaces make her feel protected, like she has a barrier between her and the world, I realized that's how I feel about accessories, hair, and makeup. I'll give people something to talk about as long as it's superficial and not something that I'm self-conscious about.

Dave was amazing. I don't get science and math, probably because I tell myself that. But I could almost always understand him. I appreciated how blunt he is. I know that's a characteristic of the diagnosis but it felt like it was more of a characteristic of his, regardless of ASD. Excepting Lindsey, I feel like everyone always knows where they stand with him.

Stephen is how I wish I could be. He spoke when people are "supposed to". He can hold a conversation. He can convey his feelings partially and those who love him fill in the rest. I'm sure he has had difficulties in his life especially in the "olden days of heightened prejudice" and while dating. But as much as we can say that being unable to share your thoughts and feelings is a bad thing, there's a slight plus. No matter how much people push, they're only going to get so much out of you. With a person on the Autism Spectrum, any more gained is an indescribable joy. But as someone who can't stop talking, even when my thoughts and feelings really don't need to be shared, I'm slightly envious. The grass is always greener on the other side.

Mental Health in Media

Our first media series will be analyzing how mental health is represented to the mass public.

I'm using "Mental Health in Film". There is a list on Wikipedia. I will watch the movies and discuss the accuracy, glamouization, romanticization or ignorance each film protrays.

Disclaimer: My professional diagnoses at the moment: Bipolar II (a less severe form of Bipolar I) Chronic Depression, Suicidal, Social Anxiety, Insomnia, Anxiety and Panic Disorder.
My personal suspicions: PTSD, leaning towards a range of Personality Disorders, Food Discomfort, Depersonalization Disorder, ADHD, leaning toward the Autism Spectrum, Phobias, Selective Mutism.

If you want more information on my disorders and my opinion on them, there are numerous post about just that. In particular:
Unique-ly in the Way - all disorders
Hypomania & HSP - Bipolar II & Anxiety
ARFID - Food Discomfort
Suicidal Ideation - Suicidal
Fighting Through - Social Anxiety
Throw Back Thursday - Selective Mutism
Sleep - Insomnia
Painful Memory, Useful Memory - Panic Disorder
Kristy, Are You Doing Okay? - PTSD
Paradoxical - a few disorders mentioned

I will only discuss things with content that suits my taste. I may leave out an important example because I'm not comfortable with it. After movies, I'll decide between TV and books.

P.S. Sorry I got it in a few minutes late.

S.I. Confessions Part 4

How?
How do I go from high up to falling down?

Why?
Why can't I speak when people are around?

When?
When will I be able to see more than me?

Who?
Who do I even want to be?

Where?
Where will I find my safe place?

What?
What can I do to enjoy taking up space?

Eras

Throw Back Thursday

Mom Era: 0 - 8 years old

This was a stressful era. Mom was sick. I was sick.

But the leader of the era was always around. She explained things to me. Things most people wouldn't think to explain to a child. Things most people would think was beyond a child. Things most people would think damaging for a child.

I couldnt tell her my secrets. I didn't want to upset her with my worries. Somehow, she seemed to know them anyway.

Mom held my hand as I had my MRI.

Aunt Era: 8 - 13 years old

This was a quiet era. It built underground and erupted suddenly towards the end.

The leader wasn't always available. She was tired from working and caring for us. She was busy. She was overwhelmed.

I fought her over my secrets. I wanted her to worry over them. I wanted them to matter. I wanted to matter.

She loved me through the worst times.

Blue Era: 14 - 16 years old

This was a quick era. It took longer to adjust to than it actually lasted. It shocked me when it ended.

The leader was unsure. He had a lot of concerns. He was in charge of so many people's happiness. He didn't talk to me as much as he had during the other eras.

I denied him my secrets. I denied access into the pieces the eras had created. I didn't want him to know about the scars I'd gained while he wasn't the leader.

He asked for a blanket when I was cold during my MRI.

Lost Era: 16 - 20 years old

This was a random era. Nothing was set in stone. No goal seemed within reach, even just getting through.

The leader didn't exist. There was nothing to lead. Life just passed by. School, friends, entertainment on and on without a plan. And even when it did gain a plan, the approach was haphazard.

I ran away from my secrets. I forgot they existed. When their whispers grew to shouts, I ignored the pain. I ignored them and so they controlled me.

It was the darkest era.

Purple Era: 20 years old

This era is open. It doesn't have many things written yet. The things it has are mostly bad.

The leader is me. I'm finally at the helm. I don't know how to grow up. I doubt I ever will achieve the level I had hoped for. I have confidence that this era will last for quite some time.

I'm slowly remembering my secrets. I'm facing them head on. They are just facts or thoughts. I am the person whose life depends on continuing the fight.

I couldn't ask for a blanket. I couldn't squeeze comfort into my hands. I did, however, prepare for the shot. I prepared for the potential anxiety attack. I prepared for the loneliness and longing. I cheered on and supported my physically and mentally weak state. I got through my MRI on my own.

P.S. I'm going to attempt blogging all week. I had my last day of work today and decided to write on the topic that's been on my mind since Friday.

Unique-ly in the Way?

I thought I finally knew who I was and how I fit in my world. However, I don't.

I'm pretty sure who I am. I don't change very much. Never have. And while I don't always know the right words to describe it all, I can feel the truth. But I don't fit where I had begun to suspect I did.

I try to help. Then, I find out that people don't see it like that. My help is denied or incorrect. My help actually spurs multiple new routes people have to take around me.

▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪

I take personality and mental disorder quizzes in my spare time. My personality is locked and I like who I am. But how do other people process me? What does the test have to say about the way I think?

I have a high chance of bipolar - that makes sense considering my bipolar II diagnosis.

I have a high chance of food addiction/detachment - that makes sense considering I starve myself out of disinterest and disgust.

I have a high chance of depression - that makes sense considering my chronic depression diagnosis.

I have a high chance of PTSD - that makes sense considering my parents messy divorce and my mom's slow decay of 4 years.

I have a high chance of anxiety - that makes sense considering my generalized anxiety disorder.

I have a high chance of insomnia - that makes sense considering without medication I only sleep eventually and I wake up from anxiety nightmares tired every morning.

I have a high chance of social anxiety - that makes sense considering how much people scare me and my GAD.

I have a high chance of cell phone/Internet/TV addiction - that makes sense considering being without a screen or worse a connection have entered my nightmares.

I have a high chance of being suicidal - that makes sense considering how many suicidal ideations I have in a week.

I have a medium chance of autism spectrum disorder - that makes sense considering how much human interaction confuses and frustrates me.

I have a medium chance of every personality disorder there is - that makes sense considering I hate being with people, I dwell on myself all the time, and I do random things I don't even plan.

I have a medium chance of ADHD - that makes sense considering how many tabs my brain as open in any given moment but also considering how unwilling I am to move.

I have a medium chance of chocolate addiction - that makes sense considering I never forget about chocolate but sometimes I forget it interest me.

I have a medium chance of ED - that makes sense considering I have an unhealthy relationship with food, I dislike all thighs but had an affectionate acceptance of my body for 18.5 years until my hatred of food and chewing took the better of me.

I have a medium chance of depersonalization disorder - that makes sense considering how far away my body feels at times.

I have a low chance of BPD - that makes sense considering my bipolar II diagnosis. It's possible to have both but I most likely don't.

I have a low chance of anger - that makes sense considering I accept people's negative emotions as my fault and never theirs.

I have a low chance of psychopath & sociopath - that makes sense considering I believe there are 8 billion people higher than me, including possible unfeeling people.

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So why do I open a bunch of these stupid, unpredictable tests at 5 am and take them over the course of 3 weeks? Why do I rehash the results on a long blog entry starting at 23:30 - 1:00 am on a night have I haven't taken my sleep aid and need to up early for an intense day?

Because they remind me of what I already know. They remind me of the person I am and love, even when others make me doubt myself. While the list may make it seem like I have some incredible life ruining flaws, it highlights the ones I couldn't stomach having. What's a little depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, suicide when compared to psychopath, anger, depersonalization?

I don't fit nicely in my world. I never have. I've been in the way since I was less than 1 year old. I'll continue to upset the lives of people I love and my own.

But I know who I am. I know I'll get in the way in new and exciting ways. I know that I'll run away to fictional worlds because they don't question what makes me who I am and label it as wrong.

I don't mind being unsure of how my medical team will help with with all my needs. Being unsure if I want the help, especially when I'm not doing my best to assist their assistance. Being unable to face all the things I need to at once: my deep-seated fear of driving, my knee pains, my back spasms, my lack of excerise, my lack of appetite, my possible neurological problems that cause seizures at the random age of 20, my increasing depression, my increasing anxiety, and weakening control and mental strength. I don't mind any of those things.

I don't mind as long as I continue to be sure of who I am. Even if I dislike being unique, different, special, left out. Because those things don't matter as long as I can accept myself.

My unique-ly in the way self. I am after all a work of art.

P.S. this was a major rant and didn't really have a point at the beginning. I do feel much better though.

Hypomania & HSP

The problem with hypomania is knowing that eventually it will wear off.

I had a very up day Sunday. I giggled, I shrieked, I ate, I laughed, I lived. But come Monday, things were bothersome again. Fast forward to Wednesday, and I'm bemoaning my existence (after therapy of course. My worst moments through the week always seem to come within 40 hours of saying "have a good week" to my therapist.) I woke up Thursday surprised I survived the night and somewhat (as much as possible) optimistic about a day to recover slowly. Until I cried at work. From then out it was over. The misery was cemented.

I'm feeling a little better today. Breathing isn't as difficult. Thinking isn't as painful. Walking is a little less hard.

But still I'm not quite well. I'm recalling past comments and hearing them in the worst way.

"How can you keep track of everything in that notebook? I would get so confused." - "You're not normal. Your behavior isn't normal. You are an enigma always to be alone and never understood." Different. Right, I can't get away from that. I'm told I'm supposed to embrace my uniqueness and not be so utterly destroyed when I'm sent off world again. Because my emotional responses, which are out of my control, are wrong as well.

"You take up a lot of room in the fridge for one person." - "You take up too much room in the house." Smaller. Right, it's my first priority in life. I'll work on that despite the progress of even having food in the fridge.

"You don't feel up to it? You don't care about me." Or "You don't agree with me? You think my perspective is wrong, even though I have more authority in the matter?" - "Your emotions rule you. You can't vlbe self-sacrificing." Or "You can't possibly have a solid opinion based on your perspective. You just want to oppose me!" Selfish. Right, I don't sacrifice enough just staying alive so other people can avoid that added stress. I am unfeeling while doing my best to make everyone happy with what little energy or real interest I have. I should definitely be able to find a way to agree with things I don't believe I can do or I don't believe are right.

It's a constant struggle. I know people mean well. I know I lean toward paranoia personality disorder. But that's the thing. I'm already bent to think that people are out to get me. And then I hear at least 1 negative thing every day from the outside. I hear negative things on repeat from the inside. I wish I could trust the outside to give me time to digest the previous comments.

Why can't the up days last longer?

I'm just in the way. Of people I love. Of myself. And I'm not sure how much I can ignore anymore. I'm not sure if I'll be able to survive every day when my worst fear is be achieved every day. And pointed out.

I just want to quit.

Lethargic

I'm tired.

That's it. I'm just plain tired.

It's the end of the school year meaning it's a super busy and important time for me.
I have class projects to complete.
I have to finish working with one child and mentally prepare for the other.
I have to figure out what classes I still need for whatever it is I want to do in child care.
I have to sign up for classes after that.
I have to decide how much to work next semester.
I have to rearrange my room.
I have to figure out how to handle my mental and physical condition, especially my avoidant eating habits.
I have to get my license because life is too hectic to traipse 5 towns on foot.
I have to say goodbye to the dark months and prepare for the mega bright ones.

Wow, my mind was overwhelmed but putting it in writing gives it clarity. There's so much to be done.

I'm more than tired. I'll admit it, I'm scared. I'm scared of most of these things individually and I'm scared of what they signify all togethet. I have to take care of myself. Even more than the last decade. For the last decade, I've let myself get away with doing the bare minimum requirements and all that caused was a major build up of wotk. If I want to progress at all, I have to take multiple steps almost simultaneously. In vague, blurry synchronization.

P.S. there were 40 things on my to do list when I woke up and I got it down to 37. Yay me.

Suicidal Ideation

I've been gone for three months. What have I to say? Not much.

I started sharing my feelings on here because I hoped that anyone who needed to read my blog would find it. But I never had a plan for what to share and when I did make one, I didn't stick to it. And I didn't do much to direct people here.

Now, I'm been sharing quotes, poems, and excerpts on Instagram. I've started reviewing shows on Tweezine. I've got quite a Pinterest following. I comment on YouTube videos and sometimes have conversations.

But this is where I get to be the most real. My thoughts don't get interrupted by others'. I can go into more detail without worrying about losing anyone.

I'll keep blogging. At the moment I'm not sure if I'll stick to a schedule but I know poems, chapters, memories, and definitions will continue to be posted.

---

Today's phrase: Suicidal Ideation

Proper definition
Medical News Today -  Suicidal thoughts, also known as suicidal ideation are thoughts about how to kill oneself, which can range from a detailed plan to a fleeting consideration and does not include the final act of killing oneself

Wikipedia - concerns thoughts about or an unusual preoccupation with suicide/death

Valleybehavioral.com - Suicidal ideation is broken down into two forms: active and passive. Active suicidal ideation involves an existing wish to die accompanied by a plan for how to carry out the death. Passive suicidal ideation involves a desire to die, but without a specific plan for carrying out the death

My comments - I fully understand the first.

The second confuses me only because of "unusual". Maybe it is because I've been around death a lot or it's because I suffer from Suicidal Ideation but it just really stands out to me. How would one measure an  "unusual" amount? I've been weirded out by how much some people I know talk about death. Is that a sign for me to worry about them?

The third definition is great. I think I operate life in a passive S.I. state but have moments through the day of active S.I.

In Real Life

I cannot speak for everyone who suffers from it. But I can share what it means for me.

Almost every bad moment leads to a thought of "wouldn't it be better if I was dead?" "If I was dead, I wouldn't feel anything. I wouldn't feel like this now." "If I was gone, I wouldn't have said, did the wrong thing. This person wouldn't feel this way."

Suicidal Ideation is never knowing when a bad moment will come but knowing that when it does, bad thoughts won't be far behind.

It's walking down stairs and thinking "if I miss one, just one little tumble or skip, I'll end up on the floor, possibly with bones twisted in interesting and exciting ways."

It's walking down the street and waiting to cross thinking "if I leap out now, would the car screech to a stop soon enough?"

It's sitting around the house and moving to pick something up. It's that little thought, "how pretty would my arms be, dripping red? Which way would the knive, scissors, razor swerve if I just let it drop and let gravity do the work?"

It's the little moments like missing a bus, losing your keys, not charging your phone that has you questioning everything. "Is there even a point? I'll do the same thing next week, or something worse tomorrow. Is there a reason to wait and see what kind of new terrible things I can just barely get through?"

It's knowing that even though these thoughts exist, even though your head is always a mess and making you sad to have to hear and visualize these painful things, you will never complete them.

It's wondering if surviving can really be considered being strong, as they say, or just cowardly. If taking the plunge is something you won't do simply because it inconveniences you, does it count? Wondering if such a reason not to is really reason enough. People have made it through because they don't want to die. But you? You've made it through because you can't be bothered to take the time.

It's knowing that's not healthy. That people would be sad to see you go. That people would become a little more lost and a little less whole. And yet, that not being enough for the thoughts to stop.

It's not knowing how to ask the questions "how are you feeling" "what's wrong" and "are you okay?" Because what are you supposed to say? "I'm fighting off thoughts of how to end myself." "I'm sad because I have these thoughts that don't benefit anyone." Or "I'm sorry, I'm not really here. I'm watching everyone say goodbye and seeing them attend what is the happiest day of my life. I guess, it's not really the happiest day of my life because I would have to be there, but it's not a great day for them all. Can I feel bad for them when I'm the one who caused the bad day?"

It's shaking off those questions as best you can. And not making anyone aware of the sadness in your head.

The thoughts are a part of who I am. A day going by without such things in my head has never existed. 20 years old and inching along, 13 years old when I wanted to live in multiple world's of fiction, 8 years old when my mom died, 5 years old when I still couldn't pronounce my own name and I was so ashamed, 3 years old when I would cut my hair for disappointing myself, bite my nails when I was anxious, eat paper when I felt empty. All these stages in my life have been met and passed with these thoughts by my side, so loyally.

The only way to survive is to accept them as they are, ignore them the best I can, and live life as fully as I want to in each given moment.

I don't know if there will be a day when I'm able to do all that "normal" people my age do. I don't know if I'll ever want the same things they want. But I will continue to age. I will make the thoughts go away as quickly as I can and never, ever act. Because that is the rest of who I am.

Poem:

On some days
Days like today
Days where I didn't want to fight
Days when I started to see light
Before darkness crept back in
Down into my soul, in the blood under my skin

On those terrible, dreaded days
This is what keeps me afloat
Because who do I want to transfer the pain to
To my beautiful baby cousins who know nothing of the world?
To my brother and aunt who tried to raise me as their own little girl?
To my sisters with whom I've fought this battle, we three who lived it all?
To my friends who know dark gray, not endless black but wish I wouldn't fall?

No
Struggle as I might
I will bear the pain
Because I don't want to go
Six feet under
With a smile on my face
While a part of everyone else
Breaks off and fades away

ARFID

Mental Health Awareness week was 12 days ago.

It's been a month of mental health for me. I started blogging again. I've been writing quotes and short recounts of pain. I went to a forum yesterday called "Breaking the Silence." It was nice to hear stories from others and to hear the enthusiasm for gaining understa5fnding on mental health.

I have come to accept two more disorders. I still have to talk to my doctors but I can pretty safely say I have Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder and Nightmare Disorder.

I avoid eating. I tell myself I can eat later. I restrict the foods I eat. I have about 50 safe foods so I'm better off than most people with the disorder. I have foods I have trouble looking at, even think about. My throat will start closing up and I get anxious.

But I make myself get food when I can. I force myself to eat just a little more. I'm trying to figure out what foods I can always eat. 100% safe foods. My physician told me not to go under 120. I don't know what's going to happen if I do. Right now that's 1 pound away. A 1 pound buffer, if you will. Can I keep from losing that safety net?

I was really worried about my weight from 6-9 y/o. I was in the 60s for about 2.5 years. I was terrified I'd never gain weight. That I would look gross. That I wouldn't grow correctly. That I wouldn't be average height or weight. I was used to being average.

I remember going shopping with my mom. I would choose foods that looked good to me. She'd ask about things I usually ate and I'd say no.

One memory from 2nd grade haunts me.

Mom: Purple Owl, get your backpack and come to the dining room.

Purple Owl looks at her backpack and sighs. School, again.

Purple Owl: Here I am. Do I have to go?

Mom: Yes. Here's your lunch.

Purple Owl takes the bag and opens it. Ew, a sandwich, fruit, and juice box.

Purple Owl: I don't want this.

Mom: Purple Owl, you need to eat.

Purple Owl: But I can't eat this.

Mom: Do you have your lunch ticket?

Purple Owl nods.

Mom: You can take the lunch and then you'll have two choices.

Purple Owl: But what if I don't want either?

Sisters: Mom, we're ready.

Mom, packing her bag: Okay girls. We'll be right there. Purple Owl, you have to eat something. We talked about this. You want to gain weight. You promised you'd eat lunch everyday.

Purple Owl's eyes light up.

Purple Owl: I want a Slim Fast.

Mom: They’re for weight loss or management. It's for adults. You don't need it.

Purple Owl: You've let me have some before. And if the serving size is for adults, it's different for children.

Mom: You promise to drink it?

Purple Owl bobs her head up and down.

Purple Owl: Yes. It's yummy.

Mom: And you're not taking it just to be like me?

Purple Owl shakes her head and entire body.

Purple Owl: No. It makes me hungry but it's also filling. I want to drink it.

Mom: Okay you can take it. Put the lunch bag in the fridge. Maybe you'll have it as a snack.

Purple Owl opens the pantry and chooses a chocolate Slim Fast. She makes room for it in her school bag. Purple Owl puts the lunch in the fridge. She wrinkles her nose. Not eating that today.

She skips to the living room and joins her family.

The lunch lady asked me three times if that's all I had for lunch. I think she thought my mom was neglectful, forcing me to diet, or unaware of dietary needs. She didn't know that my mom just wanted me to eat something, anything. She didn't know that I fought for the Slim Fast.

As for Nightmare Disorder, I thought everyone had nightmares, especially children. I blamed it on an overactive imagination and any intense movie or story. I didn't know that 1 to 3 bad dreams a night was a problem. I didn't know that remembering dreams for years was odd.

I have about 6 recurring dreams that started at some point in childhood or adolescence. A few years will go by between them. And each time they come back, it's like I'm welcoming an old friend. As I squeeze myself into a ball and wrap up in my blankets, I feel slightly comforted recalling the details. At least my dreams always have my back. They always want to visit.

Is that a normal way to relax from nightmares? Well it's my way. And it's not like I can go talk to someone about my bad dream in the middle of the night. Talk about my fear of going back to bed. Talk about my fear of what my brain is going to think up next.

I know about these disorders now. I'll work to get more information on them. I'll work to understand what they mean for me. And I can work with my doctors and others to find ways to face them head on. And that's a better place than I was in before.

Worst Day of 2015 - 10/14/15

So far this year I've dislocated my knee, had a reaction to medication, dreamt I was assaulted, and had a major withdrawal.

But today was the worst day of the year.

So yesterday I slept in by accident. And then I laid in bed for more than 2 hours, not wanting to live, let alone think about school projects. I had an okay day, once again not accomplishing or eating all I wanted to. And then, I had to spend time with people. People I love but don't understand me. By the end of day, I was wondering if I'm the weirdest person on the planet or an alien. I'm different and a waste.

Anyway, I was up until 1am getting ready for school. Then my meds and night routine. And off to bed.

I woke up at 5:30 am to a hazy version of my repeat assault dream. I got down from bed and started my morning routine. Drinking water I hate to start my metabolism and prepare for the heat. Eating though I don't want to. Packing food I won't want to eat. Getting my bags ready for a school day and project I don't want to go through. Trying to find clothes that fit the temperature throughout the day and my body that's wasting itself away.

I got to the bus stop, 85% convinced today would be good. Had a nice enough conversation with a guy about what time the bus was coming. And started listening to my beautiful music. The bus came. I got on.

Three minutes into the ride, I realized I couldn't do it and closed my eyes. (My sleep aid was probably still kicking in.) Music, breathing, and waiting for my stop.

Off the bus now, I went across the street and put more money on my card. Trying not to think about my account amount. Sitting, waiting, and reminding myself to breath. When the bus finally came, I sat down and immediately closed my eyes. I got off soon enough, my knee hurting form the harsh stop.

Up to my classroom, not caring about stares for mouthing and gesturing along to my music. Smiling at my teacher and sitting in the classroom with 5 other people. Putting out water and tea I didn’t want to drink but would force myself to. My headphones stayed on. My music is my lifeline, my central gravity. I did some class reading. Decided to get my grades before class, like everyone else.

Class was good as usual. My teacher is wonderful. Only problem being students not majoring in child development complaining about the discussion topic. I shouldn't let it bother me but it does. (Like everything.)

Realized after class that I really should follow through with asking my 1st teacher for the last thing I needed in my 2nd class' first aid kit. "It's just borrowing." "She's a really nice person." "The fact that you failed to obtain this one thing isn't going to ruin her opinion of you." She didn't have it. Slightly stressed (about a project I didn't care about yesterday). But talking to her made me happy. She's a nice part of my day.

Off to my next class. Started a waffle sandwich because I hadn't eaten in 2.5 hours. Forced myself to eat half. Very worried about this 20/300 point project. (If you're going to do something, you have to do it right. Right?) And then, we don't even start with it. But that's alright. My teacher is fun to listen to and very informative. My tablemates are engaging. The grading waited until the end of class.

Then I realized I didn't plan how I was get home. Found 2 buses with the least walking. (Knee hurts, after all. Want to just cut it off. And wearing full length jeans in 90+ degree weather.) But it wasn't coming for 50 minutes. Waited on campus. Music. Continued reading. Started doing my hair to do something with my hands (even though I don't believe in doing hair in public. It's amazing what you get over when you're out of energy to care). Off campus to my bus stop with my hair 70% done. Waited 20 minutes mainly in the sun. Worried my phone may die. (40% scares me while I'm out of the house.)

1st bus was 15 minutes late. Rode listening to music trying not to panic about missing my 2nd bus. Trying to convince myself to get off at my stop and not ride until wherever. (After all, I had work.)

But the 2nd bus was also late. So it was okay. Waiting in the sun, drinking juice and chewing jum. (I'm developing an oral fixation.) I got on the bus, glad I put more money on my card than I had originally planned. Once on the bus, I realized I was sweating too much (minor withdrawal and overheating). I didn't have much left.

Got off the bus. Saw my house and kept my eye on it as I tried to just get inside. Upstairs, in house, took apart my bags, and took a nap.

Woke up 3 times from a horrible food guilt related nightmare. I was having trouble breathing. Couldn't tell if it was physical or mental but it didn't matter. I was late for work. Got dressed on the coolest thing I could find, got water, and left.

I walked down the street singing my favorite calming and reassuring song. Tried to relax, turned the corner and fought a panic attack. Can't have an attack with a child (#1 fear). "Put it off."

Both of us were a little off so it wasn't as enjoyable as usual. As I walked home I told myself to just get home. It didn't work, completely.

Crying on the street has always been another big fear. And today it was realized. Twice.

Straight to the bathroom, ignoring my sister. Cleaned up, calmed down, went out and apologized. She understood. We sat together for a moment. I got a cold pack for my head and went to bed to lay down and relax. Up 30 minutes later, picked out comfortable clothes that make me feel less disgusted with my body. Cold shower, repacked my food and bag. And out I went.

I took my hair out as I walked. I changed my mind about having it up. ("So did I waste that energy earlier, the precious calories?") I smiled at an older lady because smiles are contagious and she has earned a right to joy by surviving life so long. (Is it narcissistic to think of my own smile as a gem? It's only because people tell my it's cute.)

And at this point I realized I was overreacting. Yeah the week, month, year (lifetime) hasn't been going according to plan. But moping isn't going to help. Worrying about my lack of energy (calories and patience), possible panic attacks, and bouts of misery isn't going to delay any of it.

Both my charge and I were more conversational. I enjoyed the time.

I had dinner with friends. (My excitement had been going back and forth all day.) I had fun.

I came home and got to be truly alone for the first time today. Peacefully and unstressed alone, favorite music and my phone.

Once people came home, there were moments I was unhappy with the conversations. But I was ready. Finally.

So yes, it was the worst day of this year. Yes, a couple of my biggest fears were realized or close to it. And yes, the bad part of the day takes up most of the space but I'm here.

And at the moment, don't mind being alive. What more can I ask for?

If I can make it through today, I can make it through any day.

10/15/15 update: wasn't so neutral about being alive most of the day. Woke up continuously for 3 hours with nightmares. Weak all day, physically and emotionally. I was so sure I would faint at some point. A period, 400 calories, and lots of walking will do that to you. But today (well, Friday morning at 0:31), I'm kinda liking existing. Hope I wake up feeling the same.

Snapshot of Purple Owl - 9/28/15

1) I love myself the most. I hate myself the most.
2) I had two invisible identical sisters when I was under 13. I knew they weren't real and I only thought of them when I was bored. I invented "Pink" at 4 y/o. "Periwinkle" was created at 7 y/o because "Pink's" personality wasn't for me anymore. I gave up on them when I was 9 y/o and reading all the time. The only time we all interacted was when I remembered them at 13. I did a craft project with my mirror sisters and their input. I showed them my new room and my organization system. I disliked being the 5th child. I disliked being without a partner. But it was my first attempt at creating characters so they are a fond memory.
3) Disorders:
Chronic Depression
Insomnia
Generalized Anxiety, Panic and Social Anxiety
4) Self Diagnosed:
ARFID
Nightmare Disorder
Cireadian Rhythm Sleep-Wake Disorder (desired sleep times 2-5 am & 2-5 pm)
Separation Anxiety Disorder (I hate being away from people I've deemed "safe")
5) Poser, Rebel, Determined to be Different:
Names hurt. And I wish I knew how to be "common." ... Well, not really. But it would be easier.
6) I get attached to people, places, and objects incredibly too fast. (Give me all the nouns. Lol)
7) I'm still afraid of driving.
8) There's an employee at my local Jack in the Box (fave fast food) who knows I order chocolate sauce in my root beer float. And I don't know if that makes me ashamed or proud. For now, proud.
9) Strange habits:
Fries in milkshakes (common right?)
Hot cheetos in icing
Chips in yogurt
Meat/Tomato Sauce over Steamed Broccoli
Apple & Cashews (like a Candy Apple, yum)
I can't go anywhere without an undershirt.
I always put the heaviest bag on my left side.
10) Childish Habits:
Hot milk before bed
Two security blankets - 1 for home, 1 for public
New clothing becomes a comfort for weeks.
New outerwear becomes a security source for months.
11) I love watching adaptations and parodies to see how the writers adjust stories and scenarios to fit their needs.
12) I feel most comfortable with children.
13) I want to write for a living but I don't think I'll ever be confident enough for that. So for now, I want to work with children and write for myself.
14) I love music. My favorite songwriter is Martin Johnson. My favorite voices are Steve Perry, Arnel Pineda, Jon Bon Jovi, Adam Levine, Kim Jonghyun and Lee Jinki. I pretty much love every "boy band" from Beatles to Seventeen.
15) I believe that, no matter what, one's goal should be to make others' day better.
16) 9/27 & 9/29 are my least favorite days.
The 27th reminds me of what I haven't accomplished.
The 29th makes me paranoid that I won't accomplish anything in the coming year and be back to the 27th.
17) Therefore, I determine that it doesn't matter how I feel waking up on the 28th, I will be happy with myself by the end of the day. I spend the day doing as much as I can, of what I need to and want to do. I force myself to think positively all day.
18) This is my last year as a late adolescent.
19) I dislike getting close to people. When I feel our relationship becoming stronger, I get scared. I'm afraid that I won't be someone they want. That my people will dislike who I really am. And that they'll all change their minds.
20) I hate myself the most. I love myself the most.

*21. This year reinforced my belief that the hardest and best thing is to be yourself. It was difficult to see myself through the disorders, medication, injuries, and obstacles. But I did. The most clearly I saw was 9/27 & 9/28. 19 year old Purple Owl, you were beautiful, inside and out. Let's see where my 21st year takes me.

Returning to My World

I don't trust words.

I love words so much. I love the way they look. I love how they’re sung. And I love what they mean. When their definition is black and white.

But when they can easily be confused or ignored, I don't like them anymore. And depending on which words you put before or after each one, you can mean something else entirely.

I learned what basic anorexia means the other day. It means a long-term lack of appetite. I've always tied it to anorexia nervosa, the eating disorder. It was disturbing to see anorexia listed in connection to suicidal ideation when I didn't know it existed. I'd never been aware that a lack of appetite was something to be aware of or tell the doctor.

I'm trying to get myself to eat. But I think my medication is adding to the slight lack of appetite I've had for years. I'll talk to my physician and psychologist. I need to go back to therapy and work on my feelings about my body actually working against survival.

Speaking of my physician, I have to get a new one again. I have to meet someone and tell them all about myself. If this was two months ago, I wouldn't care. But right now, I don't want to do it. Which is why I have yet to make an appointment.

In addition to going through the process of meeting someone new, I have to explain my knee situation. How am I going to tell a stranger I've given up and want to get surgery? I've only told one person in real life. How am I supposed to tell someone who doesn't know or understand me and my circumstances?

But still I'll do it. I'll get surgery if the timing is right and I'll have a clean slate soon. With my knee, my lack of appetite, and my mental state. And maybe, maybe if I work extra hard a clean slate with words.

Soon I'll use them in their black and white, as well as gray, forms. I'll stop waiting for people to read between the lines. I'll start saying the words that are hard to say.

I'm not going to hope that more people understand me because I've been hoping for a decade. And it hurts. I'll just trust the words to carry my meaning to their recipient. Any misunderstanding that happens after that is not my fault.

P.S. Sorry the post is all over the place. I just had a lot I haven't been able to say.

Update: Since I originally wrote this, I found out I can continue going to my old physician. I left that part in because it displays my thought process and fears.

Fighting Through

So I was miserable this morning. I didn't want to do anything.

It was probably because of how late I got to sleep, 4 am. And then I barely woke up in time for my physical therapy appointment.

I'm happy I'm not seriously depressed anymore. But I don't know if I can stand these random days of misery. How am I supposed to grow if I pause every few days?

But I shook it off. I did a hair mask, face mask, and body scrub. I feel renewed.

I finally started on an assignment that was due Wednesday.

I'm disappointed that I didn't turn my assignment in on time. I'm disappointed that I didn't blog twice this week.

Now if only I can get over my hatred of sleeping so I can wake up on time tomorrow.

But I do see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Goodnight, Owls!

P.S. Yes it's corny but that's the group's name :)

Throw Back Thursday

I've always been conflicted about school. I love learning and being around peers. But I was stressed about being assessed by teachers and tests. I was also stressed about my classmates and their problems.

I missed a lot of school because stress made me sick. I went to work and college classes with my adult family. Just to avoid school.

TBT:
I remember one time my oldest brother was going to take my sisters and I to school. I locked the door to my bedroom and put my hands behind me on the rungs of my bed. I figure if he couldn't get me, I wouldn't go to school. I don't remember what was that day's pain but he wasn't buying any aches. I don't know why I didn't want to go. And I felt bad for disobeying. But I couldn't see another way.

My brother took off the door knob. I begged him to let me stay home or go with him. But he said no to both. With our 17 year difference, it wasn't that hard for him to pick me up. I went to school. And just sat. I wasn't able to stay away from school but I could mentally remove myself.

Now that I'm older I realize how terrifying it would be to have an elementary student lock themselves in   room. Especially when they're clearly distraught.

I think I still do that sometimes. I get ill from stress. That's a fact. But sometimes I convince myself that I'm worse than I am. If I don't want to go somewhere, suddenly I'm broken. It's like I've mentally locked a door and wrapped my arms around a pillar. And then if I do get myself out, I'm not really there. When I'm shy, I talk too much. When I'm anxious, I don't talk at all.

But I know this now. I understand it more. And that's the first step to improvement.

P.S. I wrote 25,135 words for April Camp NaNoWriMo. It wasn't my first goal but my secondary goal was 25,000. So even if I could change it and win on the website, I'm considering myself a camp veteran now. I can't wait until the next camp

Speak...Now!!!

Oh tell me, tell me
Why it seems
Things that happen
Aren’t taken seriously

Talking is what goes on
No communication at all
Explaining again and again
Never understanding

Say something to me
How should I reply
Or is it really important
You’ll roll right over it

Listening is good
Using your ears is grand
So why does no one do so
Why can’t it be had

When will I be heard
Do I have to scream
Will it matter when it’s worse
How bad until you see

I can’t talk
And so I lose
Lose my trust, my truth
Lose my everything, lose you

Old poem: I want to say 1.5 years ago but it might have been longer.

I've figure out how to talk. I can say at least half of what I mean now. It isn't always enough. But it's more than before. And people are more understanding and wait for the other half.

Hopefully, I won't lose my truth. Or my people.

Growing

I really meant to do one of the topics this week. Namely, the Media Friday. But yesterday got away from me.

So here's some more musing.

I'm participating in Camp NaNoWriMo. It's like NaNoWriMo only  the writer gets to set their own goal. I set mine at 30,000 words. I'm working on three stories though, so it might go up.

Three stories at once would have seemed weird to me before. And very stressful. But they have a common theme. And I have to write them all as I am now. So I'm not putting a single one on the back burner as I have done in the past. Those stories never get written.

Other than that, I'm enjoying school and work. I'm learning so much. I look forward to putting it into practice.

I'm looking forward to having a real job. Something else that used to scare me because that would mean I was growing up. But I'm starting to believe that I can do the whole adult thing. Crazy, right?

I'm also not so panicked when I think of having a license. Maybe I'll get lessons soon.

P.S. Word count: 18,856

Wait

I don't know why
I say bye instead of goodnight
I don't know why
I suddenly feel like a cry

But please be there
When I figure it out
I want you around
For every laugh out loud