I think it's ironic that I was born with a hole in my heart. I had it repaired physically in 1991. One of my favorite songs is Tiny Heart by Flyleaf. There's another song that means a lot to me that deals with the heart. Total Eclipse of the Heart has shown up several times. After one of my overdoses, it was the song playing on the radio when I woke up. A few years later, itwas in a skit for TreeHouse and that was the song that played. This woman had these really bad "boyfriends", drinking and drugs, and suicide and everything and then Jesus broke down all the people and everything. It was really cool and it made me cry. Especially because I have done every single one of those. I've used drugs and I've drank. I've attempted suicide, I've cut. I've done so many horrible things. But He still chose to save me.
I need you now tonight. I need you more than ever. And if you'd only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever. Turn around, bright eyes. My favorite Bible verse is about the heart. God has been hitting me hard with Ezekiel 16:8 and Ezekiel 36 this week. I need to let Him clean out my heart because it's still bleeding. It still has holes. I have holes I cannot fill.
It's like, Jesus is standing outside the door and knocking and I'm running away. I'm sitting bleeding and all He wants is for me to turn around. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even home.
It's ironic how cheesy love songs can be so profound. I would have probably originally hated that song, but it's had such an impact on me. I don't know what to do and I'm in the dark, but I need You to fix me.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Foundation.
"I write about hope and light and love and happiness. I want that so much for all of you. I write about recovery. I want that for all of you so badly. I was in a state of recovery. But I have been really losing that sense that everything is going to be okay. I've been feeling lost and I need to find my ground again. I've lost my way and I've lost my footing. I need to rebuild my foundation."
I'd like to point out that I don't have the slightest idea where I'm going with this, I'm just pouring out my heart.
It's amazing how I wrote that today. I found myself spending hours worshiping and listening to Flyleaf. Flyleaf is one of my favorite bands. Their song Supernatural was playing a year ago tomorrow when I woke up in my car after being knocked out for 10 minutes. I woke up to smoke swirling around me, my head pounding, smoke pouring out of my mouth. My ribs ached. I was shaking violently and at that moment someone pulled me out from the wreckage that was my car. I should have died that day. But, I didn't. And it was this that was playing when I first woke up.
Her headaches
Constant
Increasing in pain with each passing day
She can't even manage to stand on her own
It's gotten so bad
Now you think of saying
There's no use in praying
Still she bows her head so she can say,
"Thank you for just one more day."
Supernatural patience
Graces her face
And her voice never raises
All because of a love
Never let go of
Never let go of
I'd like to point out that I had over 2000 songs on my iPod, and it was on shuffle. So, the odds of that happening, not very likely. It's amazing that tomorrow marks a year since that accident. It's strange for me to think about where I have been since that year. At that time last year, I wasn't in school. I was working at target. I had just had major surgery. I went to church twice a week, and I did life group with about 10 women. We met on Wednesday nights. We would worship together, pray together, laugh and cry together, and of course, build our foundation.
I worked the graveyard shift at target. I would usually get off work at either 8am, or noon. Since my younger sister was in high school, my Mom was working, my Dad was in Antarctica, and my older sister worked the later shift, I would come home to an empty house. I'd immediately run to my Bible and read. I'd even read at least a chapter before work, and I'd pray throughout my shift. I'd sit for hours in the quiet of my house reading and spending time with my Dad. My sisters used to get annoyed with me because they'd walk in the house and would hear me blaring worship music in my room, singing at the top of my lungs.
After my ex got arrested that summer, God was all I had. God was all I wanted, because everything else left me empty and broken and all I had was hurt. I felt like I had to walk up to my Dad (God my Dad, not my actual Dad...) and hand Him my shattered heart. I told Him to keep it, that it was all His.
I didn't want it. I never wanted to feel as low as I felt the day he was arrested. I never wanted to feel how I felt when everyone for the most part that I cared about had told me once that I should kill myself. I didn't want to feel like garbage anymore.
I didn't want to feel like things would never be okay again. I didn't want to feel like I had nothing left. I didn't want to admit that for 2 years, my ex-fiance had been in place of God, but I know that he was. I know that I made him so important, because the 2 years together, and especially the last 10 months of it that was long distance, I didn't open my Bible up once. I didn't talk to God at all. I didn't find a church. I didn't do anything at all.
3 weeks before we broke up, I was heading home from my college. It was a 10 minute drive. I couldn't make it home. I had to pull over to the side of the road because I began shaking and crying and I had to get out of my car to puke. When I finally got back into the car, I sat crying. I prayed for the first time since I left Minnesota. I told God I was so sorry. I was so sorry that I hadn't prayed. I hadn't done anything. I had completely forgotten Him and I was so sorry and I knew that there was something blocking me from Him. I asked Him to take whatever it was away, no matter how badly it would hurt. After that, I was able to drive home. I found my Bible hidden in the closet and read it, feeling immediately better.
Last February, I went on a weekend retreat up to the mountains of California with my church. They had a breakout session on Saturday mornings where guys and girls were split up. The woman speaker was the woman who preached my first night at the church and was the one who prayed with me when I got baptized that night. I had known she would be speaking and was so excited to hear her talk. There was about 60 women in the room and she talked about abuse and hurt and betrayal and feeling so depressed she didn't know how she would make it through the day. She then told us to make a list of every person who we were angry with. She asked us to think of every single person who we felt had betrayed us. Then she had us rip it up. She told us not to let it poison us anymore. The first person on my list was myself.
Then she told us we had to ask for the strength to forgive them. I went home feeling so light and free. I started discipleship a week later.
When my ex wrote me the 40ish letters, that's when I fell apart. I began drinking to cover up. I walked right into my bloody field, shook hands with my old demons, and made a pact to self-destruct. I began slipping into my depression and my eating disorder. It's what I fall back on. I pushed God away. I didn't read. I didn't talk. I just sat bleeding.
Tonight, I felt like going back to the beginning to when I first let Jesus into my life. I went back to the first passage I ever read, which is so marked up, and I have read it so many times, but I found myself back to the beginning. I had to go back so I can go forward.
On the day you were born your cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water to make you clean, nor were you rubbed with salt or wrapped in cloths. 5 No one looked on you with pity or had compassion enough to do any of these things for you. Rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for on the day you were born you were despised.
6 “‘Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, “Live!” 7 I made you grow like a plant of the field. You grew and developed and entered puberty. Your breasts had formed and your hair had grown, yet you were stark naked.
8 “‘Later I passed by, and when I looked at you and saw that you were old enough for love, I spread the corner of my garment over you and covered your naked body. I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign LORD, and you became mine.
9 “‘I bathed you with water and washed the blood from you and put ointments on you. 10 I clothed you with an embroidered dress and put sandals of fine leather on you. I dressed you in fine linen and covered you with costly garments. 11 I adorned you with jewelry: I put bracelets on your arms and a necklace around your neck, 12 and I put a ring on your nose, earrings on your ears and a beautiful crown on your head.
Okay, I'm almost done, I promise. My point is this: Life is messy. Recovery is a bloody process. You have to work so hard for it. Every day. You have to remember what it is that you are fighting for. You have to remember that you are loved so much by an amazing God who just wants to hold your hand every step of the way. You have to remember that you can't keep going down the road you went down. You can't turn to drugs and you can't turn to alcohol. You can't turn to your eating disorder. You can't turn to your depression. You can't turn to your old addictions. You can't turn to whatever it is that made you fall into the darkness. Whatever your bloody field is, you can't keep staying there. You have to let go of it. You have to let go of the people that let you down. You have to let go of the feeling that you were betrayed.
Just listen to this song. Because you are so loved and you will never comprehend how much you are loved, but you are loved and you are treasured and you are adored, and God just wants to hold you and meet you in your field and help you leave it behind. Let Him embrace you. Let Him carry you. Let Him heal you.
I'd like to point out that I don't have the slightest idea where I'm going with this, I'm just pouring out my heart.
It's amazing how I wrote that today. I found myself spending hours worshiping and listening to Flyleaf. Flyleaf is one of my favorite bands. Their song Supernatural was playing a year ago tomorrow when I woke up in my car after being knocked out for 10 minutes. I woke up to smoke swirling around me, my head pounding, smoke pouring out of my mouth. My ribs ached. I was shaking violently and at that moment someone pulled me out from the wreckage that was my car. I should have died that day. But, I didn't. And it was this that was playing when I first woke up.
Her headaches
Constant
Increasing in pain with each passing day
She can't even manage to stand on her own
It's gotten so bad
Now you think of saying
There's no use in praying
Still she bows her head so she can say,
"Thank you for just one more day."
Supernatural patience
Graces her face
And her voice never raises
All because of a love
Never let go of
Never let go of
I'd like to point out that I had over 2000 songs on my iPod, and it was on shuffle. So, the odds of that happening, not very likely. It's amazing that tomorrow marks a year since that accident. It's strange for me to think about where I have been since that year. At that time last year, I wasn't in school. I was working at target. I had just had major surgery. I went to church twice a week, and I did life group with about 10 women. We met on Wednesday nights. We would worship together, pray together, laugh and cry together, and of course, build our foundation.
I worked the graveyard shift at target. I would usually get off work at either 8am, or noon. Since my younger sister was in high school, my Mom was working, my Dad was in Antarctica, and my older sister worked the later shift, I would come home to an empty house. I'd immediately run to my Bible and read. I'd even read at least a chapter before work, and I'd pray throughout my shift. I'd sit for hours in the quiet of my house reading and spending time with my Dad. My sisters used to get annoyed with me because they'd walk in the house and would hear me blaring worship music in my room, singing at the top of my lungs.
After my ex got arrested that summer, God was all I had. God was all I wanted, because everything else left me empty and broken and all I had was hurt. I felt like I had to walk up to my Dad (God my Dad, not my actual Dad...) and hand Him my shattered heart. I told Him to keep it, that it was all His.
I didn't want it. I never wanted to feel as low as I felt the day he was arrested. I never wanted to feel how I felt when everyone for the most part that I cared about had told me once that I should kill myself. I didn't want to feel like garbage anymore.
I didn't want to feel like things would never be okay again. I didn't want to feel like I had nothing left. I didn't want to admit that for 2 years, my ex-fiance had been in place of God, but I know that he was. I know that I made him so important, because the 2 years together, and especially the last 10 months of it that was long distance, I didn't open my Bible up once. I didn't talk to God at all. I didn't find a church. I didn't do anything at all.
3 weeks before we broke up, I was heading home from my college. It was a 10 minute drive. I couldn't make it home. I had to pull over to the side of the road because I began shaking and crying and I had to get out of my car to puke. When I finally got back into the car, I sat crying. I prayed for the first time since I left Minnesota. I told God I was so sorry. I was so sorry that I hadn't prayed. I hadn't done anything. I had completely forgotten Him and I was so sorry and I knew that there was something blocking me from Him. I asked Him to take whatever it was away, no matter how badly it would hurt. After that, I was able to drive home. I found my Bible hidden in the closet and read it, feeling immediately better.
Last February, I went on a weekend retreat up to the mountains of California with my church. They had a breakout session on Saturday mornings where guys and girls were split up. The woman speaker was the woman who preached my first night at the church and was the one who prayed with me when I got baptized that night. I had known she would be speaking and was so excited to hear her talk. There was about 60 women in the room and she talked about abuse and hurt and betrayal and feeling so depressed she didn't know how she would make it through the day. She then told us to make a list of every person who we were angry with. She asked us to think of every single person who we felt had betrayed us. Then she had us rip it up. She told us not to let it poison us anymore. The first person on my list was myself.
Then she told us we had to ask for the strength to forgive them. I went home feeling so light and free. I started discipleship a week later.
When my ex wrote me the 40ish letters, that's when I fell apart. I began drinking to cover up. I walked right into my bloody field, shook hands with my old demons, and made a pact to self-destruct. I began slipping into my depression and my eating disorder. It's what I fall back on. I pushed God away. I didn't read. I didn't talk. I just sat bleeding.
Tonight, I felt like going back to the beginning to when I first let Jesus into my life. I went back to the first passage I ever read, which is so marked up, and I have read it so many times, but I found myself back to the beginning. I had to go back so I can go forward.
On the day you were born your cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water to make you clean, nor were you rubbed with salt or wrapped in cloths. 5 No one looked on you with pity or had compassion enough to do any of these things for you. Rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for on the day you were born you were despised.
6 “‘Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, “Live!” 7 I made you grow like a plant of the field. You grew and developed and entered puberty. Your breasts had formed and your hair had grown, yet you were stark naked.
8 “‘Later I passed by, and when I looked at you and saw that you were old enough for love, I spread the corner of my garment over you and covered your naked body. I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign LORD, and you became mine.
9 “‘I bathed you with water and washed the blood from you and put ointments on you. 10 I clothed you with an embroidered dress and put sandals of fine leather on you. I dressed you in fine linen and covered you with costly garments. 11 I adorned you with jewelry: I put bracelets on your arms and a necklace around your neck, 12 and I put a ring on your nose, earrings on your ears and a beautiful crown on your head.
Okay, I'm almost done, I promise. My point is this: Life is messy. Recovery is a bloody process. You have to work so hard for it. Every day. You have to remember what it is that you are fighting for. You have to remember that you are loved so much by an amazing God who just wants to hold your hand every step of the way. You have to remember that you can't keep going down the road you went down. You can't turn to drugs and you can't turn to alcohol. You can't turn to your eating disorder. You can't turn to your depression. You can't turn to your old addictions. You can't turn to whatever it is that made you fall into the darkness. Whatever your bloody field is, you can't keep staying there. You have to let go of it. You have to let go of the people that let you down. You have to let go of the feeling that you were betrayed.
Just listen to this song. Because you are so loved and you will never comprehend how much you are loved, but you are loved and you are treasured and you are adored, and God just wants to hold you and meet you in your field and help you leave it behind. Let Him embrace you. Let Him carry you. Let Him heal you.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Comfort.
My discipler told me to get the book Jesus Calling. It's a devotional for every day of the year. It takes Bible verses and tells you things that God wants you to know. It's like God is speaking directly to you, which is really cool. She told me to look at the day I was born first. Before even buying it, since I was at WalMart killing time, I turned to my birthday to see why she wanted me to read it so badly.
It's not a secret, I have low-self worth. I used to ask God all the time why I was created. I felt like He made a mistake the day I was born. In the first few months after my O.D, I would sit at night crying wondering why God had saved me, because I wanted no part in living, because I felt like I wasn't worthy of life. I'm 21. And while my self-esteem has become a lot better than it used to be, it's something I will always struggle with. This is what God had to say to me about the day I was born:
Bask in the luxury of being fully understood and unconditionally loved. Dare to see yourself as I see you: radiant in My righteousness, cleansed by My blood. I view you as the one I created you to be, the one you will be in actuality when heaven becomes your home. It is My Life within you that is changing you from glory to glory. Rejoice in this mysterious miracle! Thank Me continually for the amazing gift of My Spirit within you.
Try to depend on the help of the Spirit as you go through this day of life. Pause briefly from time to time so you can consult with this Holy One inside you. He will not force you to do His bidding, but He will guide you as you give Him space in your life. Walk along this wondrous way of collaboration with My Spirit.
I was seriously about to sob in the store as I read that. A few days before that, my Granddad sent me my birthday card. I was nervous about opening the card because my Grandma was the one to send them every year. I still have the last one she sent me. Inside it said the world became a more beautiful place the day you were born. I got a call from him on my birthday. He told me how wonderful of a person I am and how I am doing so well and I'm 21. He said how I have such an amazing gift to offer the world and he was hoping that I could finally see it. He told me how proud of me my Grandma was and how he knew she would have wanted to eat ice cream with me (our way of celebrating). She wanted me to know that I was special and how God has His hand on me. She wanted me to know that God didn't make a mistake by creating me, since she knew that's how I felt every minute of every day for the longest time.
How comforting is it that? None of you are a mistake. None of you ever deserve to feel as low as I have felt. Because you are worthy of life. You are worthy of love and happiness and I know it's cheesy, but sunshine. I want all of you to feel so much light and warmth. Because I have been to some incredibly dark and cold places, and I never want you to feel like that.
You're not a mistake. You were created with a purpose and I love you so much.
It's not a secret, I have low-self worth. I used to ask God all the time why I was created. I felt like He made a mistake the day I was born. In the first few months after my O.D, I would sit at night crying wondering why God had saved me, because I wanted no part in living, because I felt like I wasn't worthy of life. I'm 21. And while my self-esteem has become a lot better than it used to be, it's something I will always struggle with. This is what God had to say to me about the day I was born:
Bask in the luxury of being fully understood and unconditionally loved. Dare to see yourself as I see you: radiant in My righteousness, cleansed by My blood. I view you as the one I created you to be, the one you will be in actuality when heaven becomes your home. It is My Life within you that is changing you from glory to glory. Rejoice in this mysterious miracle! Thank Me continually for the amazing gift of My Spirit within you.
Try to depend on the help of the Spirit as you go through this day of life. Pause briefly from time to time so you can consult with this Holy One inside you. He will not force you to do His bidding, but He will guide you as you give Him space in your life. Walk along this wondrous way of collaboration with My Spirit.
I was seriously about to sob in the store as I read that. A few days before that, my Granddad sent me my birthday card. I was nervous about opening the card because my Grandma was the one to send them every year. I still have the last one she sent me. Inside it said the world became a more beautiful place the day you were born. I got a call from him on my birthday. He told me how wonderful of a person I am and how I am doing so well and I'm 21. He said how I have such an amazing gift to offer the world and he was hoping that I could finally see it. He told me how proud of me my Grandma was and how he knew she would have wanted to eat ice cream with me (our way of celebrating). She wanted me to know that I was special and how God has His hand on me. She wanted me to know that God didn't make a mistake by creating me, since she knew that's how I felt every minute of every day for the longest time.
How comforting is it that? None of you are a mistake. None of you ever deserve to feel as low as I have felt. Because you are worthy of life. You are worthy of love and happiness and I know it's cheesy, but sunshine. I want all of you to feel so much light and warmth. Because I have been to some incredibly dark and cold places, and I never want you to feel like that.
You're not a mistake. You were created with a purpose and I love you so much.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
You Gave Me A Promise.
I've been sitting in my living room reading all of 1 John. Wow. It seriously just blew me away. I was listening to the song You Gave Me A Promise by Fireflight and going over what I had written February 1, 2007, the day I prayed Jesus into my life.
LIQUOR leaves you breathless.
DRUGS leave you senseless.
JESUS wont leave you regardless.
LIQUOR leaves you breathless.
DRUGS leave you senseless.
JESUS wont leave you regardless.
Monday, November 21, 2011
I Want You To Live, Not Just Survive.
One of my friends sent me those lyrics tonight. I haven't seen Christian since August of 2009 after my last mission trip. Christian is studying Youth and Family Ministries at a college about 20 minutes away from my home town. We met the summer before after I had been filming where I had been before TreeHouse. He and I had been filming. I came to TreeHouse after several suicide attempts. He was there for the same reason.
Christian has one of the biggest hearts I know. He would do anything for a friend. He knows I've been having a hard time. I've been recently put on twice the normal dose of my anti-depressant. It keeps the suicide thoughts away, not that I had been having any, but because I still struggle with low self-worth. He told me I know you've been through a lot, and I know that after what your ex did to you, and after losing your Grandma over the summer, you've gone through a lot, and I can't imagine what you feel like, but I just imagined God hugging you as I was listening to this song. So if you ever need anything, you know where to find me. Hang on, girl.
Sometimes, life brings us so much pain. We wonder why we should get up when it seems like something else will make us fall again. Sometimes, we feel like we have nowhere else to turn, so dying, ending our lives, seems to be the best option. But I want to tell you that I believe you are strong and I believe that life is worth living. Even for me. Even for you. Even if you've done some unspeakable things. I want you to know that ending your life would be a tragedy.
I want you to live, not just survive. Please, hold on. It gets better. I promise.
Friday, November 18, 2011
My first descent into hell.
6 years ago today, I have just turned 15. At around noon that Friday, I am called out of my class and told to go to the school's information desk. Since they call you on an intercom system, they usually tell you to just go to the information desk and from there will tell you where to go. I have never been called out of class, I feel like my entire world is caving in, and I am trying not to cry. I have been feeling like this for months.
4 days ago was my birthday. My Mom hands me a journal. I began chronicling my descent into hell and wrote about the blackness of it all. I wrote about the black wave of terror that swallowed me whole. I had been writing when my name had been called. Walking to the information desk, I have no idea how I get there. Everything seems to be moving extremely fast and my anxiety is getting the best of me. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack. This isn't my first panic attack, and it won't be the last. I tell the woman my name and she tells me my guidance counselor wants to speak with me. When she notices how scared I look, she reassures me that it's probably just about classes and not a big deal.
I walk into the guidance office and tell the woman my name. She immediately puts me into my counselor's room. He and I had never met and he rushes in with a set of writings I had written in my 3rd hour English class. Since I had been cutting, I was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and ripped jeans. I have dyed my hair pink and it is long enough to hide most of my face. I have on heavy eyeliner and my fingernails are painted black with a sharpie. My ears are bleeding because in my English class I got the wonderful idea to pierce my ears with paperclips. Here comes another question several people ask: Was I Gothic because I was depressed, or was I depressed because I was Gothic? I don't think it's either, for the record. The counselor stares at me for a moment, doing what most people who saw me that year did. He was taking an inventory of what I was wearing, and I felt like he was judging me. He was looking to see where I had hidden my cuts, but I didn't know that.
He begins telling me how worried he and others are for me. He asks me to lift up my sleeves and I don't know why he is telling me this because I can feel myself shaking from the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can feel the ground spinning and I begin sobbing and taking quick breaths. Since he knew I was having a panic attack, he asked if I wanted someone with me. Ben was called out of class and I immediately apologized. He held my hand as they called my Mom. When she walked in, she took one look at me, and said what the hell is going on? When they told her I had been cutting and I needed to be tested for major depression, my Mom turned to me and said what the hell is so wrong with you that you have to cut yourself? I tell you over and over again how wonderful you are and you just don't get it. What the hell is wrong with you? I tell her in a whisper: I cut because I'm dead inside. I bleed just to know I'm alive.
My Mom takes me to the doctor and we stop for McDonald's on the way. It is 6 years ago today and I can remember exactly what I ordered. I can remember chewing my entire meal counting each bite I took. 20 chews for each bite. 120 bites for my burger and 120 for my fries. Does this seem odd that I can remember in detail what I ate? I can remember sitting in the doctors office waiting for them to do my inventory and I would shake my leg in a nervous twitch so that I would be burning calories. I remember wondering how I could get away from my Mom long enough to purge, but since she had just found out I was a cutter and suicidal, she wouldn't let me out of her sight.
The woman who sees me was anything but professional. She wouldn't even talk to me and I hated her for it. I began to yell at her and used every profane word I knew. The woman said to my Mom not to worry, cutting, being suicidal, and being bulimic was an adolescent phase, I was fine. I left the office screaming at her. I just wanted one person to understand how low I felt. How every inch of me had been bruised. How I had no energy to do anything. How I tried so hard to just get through my days and as soon as I would get home from school I would collapse into bed and sleep. Forget about homework. Forget about anything else. I would sit in bed half dead waiting for the courage to end my life. My Mom drives me home and I am ignoring her. I won't say a word. I blare my headphones and listen to the CD Ben made me for my birthday.
When I get home, I collapse into my covers in my Green Bay Packers sweatshirt my parents gave me for my birthday. A few hours later I tell my Mom the shit in my head won't stop and I just want to die. She had been on the phone pleading with insurance companies, pleading with my old therapist, pleading with doctors, pleading to let someone see me. She says get dressed you're going to the ER.
In the ER, I run into my old babysitter and she asks me why I'm here. My Mom makes up some excuse I can't remember and silences me before I open my mouth to say I'm f'ed up and it doesn't matter. When I am finally seen by a very pregnant doctor, she admits me into GeneRose1 West at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. That's a 2 hour drive from my house. I arrive at Rochester and fight with everyone there until finally at 4am they let me go to bed.
In the hospital, I get some of the best sleep I have ever gotten. Everything is peaceful and quiet and I feel safe. Looking back as I write this, I see just how far I have come in 6 years. Who was this little girl so bent on dying? I don't recognize her. Even though I still have my slip ups, I feel so far removed from her. I have strength and love and light in my life. The girl going into the hospital, going into hell for the first of many times, did not have any of that.
4 days ago was my birthday. My Mom hands me a journal. I began chronicling my descent into hell and wrote about the blackness of it all. I wrote about the black wave of terror that swallowed me whole. I had been writing when my name had been called. Walking to the information desk, I have no idea how I get there. Everything seems to be moving extremely fast and my anxiety is getting the best of me. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack. This isn't my first panic attack, and it won't be the last. I tell the woman my name and she tells me my guidance counselor wants to speak with me. When she notices how scared I look, she reassures me that it's probably just about classes and not a big deal.
I walk into the guidance office and tell the woman my name. She immediately puts me into my counselor's room. He and I had never met and he rushes in with a set of writings I had written in my 3rd hour English class. Since I had been cutting, I was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and ripped jeans. I have dyed my hair pink and it is long enough to hide most of my face. I have on heavy eyeliner and my fingernails are painted black with a sharpie. My ears are bleeding because in my English class I got the wonderful idea to pierce my ears with paperclips. Here comes another question several people ask: Was I Gothic because I was depressed, or was I depressed because I was Gothic? I don't think it's either, for the record. The counselor stares at me for a moment, doing what most people who saw me that year did. He was taking an inventory of what I was wearing, and I felt like he was judging me. He was looking to see where I had hidden my cuts, but I didn't know that.
He begins telling me how worried he and others are for me. He asks me to lift up my sleeves and I don't know why he is telling me this because I can feel myself shaking from the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can feel the ground spinning and I begin sobbing and taking quick breaths. Since he knew I was having a panic attack, he asked if I wanted someone with me. Ben was called out of class and I immediately apologized. He held my hand as they called my Mom. When she walked in, she took one look at me, and said what the hell is going on? When they told her I had been cutting and I needed to be tested for major depression, my Mom turned to me and said what the hell is so wrong with you that you have to cut yourself? I tell you over and over again how wonderful you are and you just don't get it. What the hell is wrong with you? I tell her in a whisper: I cut because I'm dead inside. I bleed just to know I'm alive.
My Mom takes me to the doctor and we stop for McDonald's on the way. It is 6 years ago today and I can remember exactly what I ordered. I can remember chewing my entire meal counting each bite I took. 20 chews for each bite. 120 bites for my burger and 120 for my fries. Does this seem odd that I can remember in detail what I ate? I can remember sitting in the doctors office waiting for them to do my inventory and I would shake my leg in a nervous twitch so that I would be burning calories. I remember wondering how I could get away from my Mom long enough to purge, but since she had just found out I was a cutter and suicidal, she wouldn't let me out of her sight.
The woman who sees me was anything but professional. She wouldn't even talk to me and I hated her for it. I began to yell at her and used every profane word I knew. The woman said to my Mom not to worry, cutting, being suicidal, and being bulimic was an adolescent phase, I was fine. I left the office screaming at her. I just wanted one person to understand how low I felt. How every inch of me had been bruised. How I had no energy to do anything. How I tried so hard to just get through my days and as soon as I would get home from school I would collapse into bed and sleep. Forget about homework. Forget about anything else. I would sit in bed half dead waiting for the courage to end my life. My Mom drives me home and I am ignoring her. I won't say a word. I blare my headphones and listen to the CD Ben made me for my birthday.
When I get home, I collapse into my covers in my Green Bay Packers sweatshirt my parents gave me for my birthday. A few hours later I tell my Mom the shit in my head won't stop and I just want to die. She had been on the phone pleading with insurance companies, pleading with my old therapist, pleading with doctors, pleading to let someone see me. She says get dressed you're going to the ER.
In the ER, I run into my old babysitter and she asks me why I'm here. My Mom makes up some excuse I can't remember and silences me before I open my mouth to say I'm f'ed up and it doesn't matter. When I am finally seen by a very pregnant doctor, she admits me into GeneRose1 West at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. That's a 2 hour drive from my house. I arrive at Rochester and fight with everyone there until finally at 4am they let me go to bed.
In the hospital, I get some of the best sleep I have ever gotten. Everything is peaceful and quiet and I feel safe. Looking back as I write this, I see just how far I have come in 6 years. Who was this little girl so bent on dying? I don't recognize her. Even though I still have my slip ups, I feel so far removed from her. I have strength and love and light in my life. The girl going into the hospital, going into hell for the first of many times, did not have any of that.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic.
I admit it, I'm a pessimist. I look at things darker than most would. When I like someone, I think things like, well they would never like me back. Or I think we'd never work out anyway so why even bother? When people tell me I'm being pessimistic, I tell them, no I'm not, I'm just being realistic.
But that's the thing, it's not realistic. It's not realistic to be alone forever, or for things to always be bad, or to never work out in anything. I'm not just talking about what I do when I like someone. I do that when I have a test. I do it when I have a job interview. I do it so many times it's not even funny.
So what do you do when you find yourself being so negative? 2 weeks ago in therapy, my therapist asked me what I thought about myself. I immediately went into a huge negative spiral and he said, stop for a minute. Do you notice how you deflate when you talk about yourself, or when you talk about things that are pessimistic? I hadn't even noticed! Then he said, okay, deep breath. What do you like about yourself? I sat there for a few minutes, not saying anything. When I finally said something, he said, do you see how you light up again? Stop. Take a break. When you go into your negative spirals, you have to stop and retrain your brain to not think that way. You actually have life in you when you talk about the good things. You have to retrain your brain after years and years of low self esteem to actually like yourself.
I know, it's incredibly hard work, but stop and take a deep breath and write down all the things you love about yourself. Retrain your brain after all those years of damaging things it thinks.
But that's the thing, it's not realistic. It's not realistic to be alone forever, or for things to always be bad, or to never work out in anything. I'm not just talking about what I do when I like someone. I do that when I have a test. I do it when I have a job interview. I do it so many times it's not even funny.
So what do you do when you find yourself being so negative? 2 weeks ago in therapy, my therapist asked me what I thought about myself. I immediately went into a huge negative spiral and he said, stop for a minute. Do you notice how you deflate when you talk about yourself, or when you talk about things that are pessimistic? I hadn't even noticed! Then he said, okay, deep breath. What do you like about yourself? I sat there for a few minutes, not saying anything. When I finally said something, he said, do you see how you light up again? Stop. Take a break. When you go into your negative spirals, you have to stop and retrain your brain to not think that way. You actually have life in you when you talk about the good things. You have to retrain your brain after years and years of low self esteem to actually like yourself.
I know, it's incredibly hard work, but stop and take a deep breath and write down all the things you love about yourself. Retrain your brain after all those years of damaging things it thinks.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Baby, I'm a Firework.
I went out to lunch with my best friend for my birthday, and I turned 21. I'm honestly so glad to have made it this far. Instead of focusing on the fact that I almost didn't, I just want to tell you all that life is worth living and that you're an amazing person.
During lunch, the song Firework by Katy Perry came on the radio and I was thinking, this is the year I realize just how amazing I am. And so now here is a list of songs that make me feel better about myself.
Firework by Katy Perry. I love it because it's all about how amazing you are and don't let anyone bring you down. You might feel like wasted space, but you can't ever be replaced is probably one of my favorite lines. You're a firework, light up the sky.
Who Says by Selena Gomez and The Scene. I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of her music, but I love this song because it's all about not caring what other people think. I'm not a beauty queen but I'm still amazing. I am who I am and if you don't like it, there's the door. But I am worth it and I deserve happiness.
Beautiful-Eminem. I can't find the edited version, so ignore all the F bombs, but I also love this song because you might feel like a joke. You might feel like a huge mistake and super ugly and worthless and not good enough, but that's not true. Sometimes, life can be so hard, but if you just hold on, you'll see that you are beautiful.. And you will see that life is so worth living.
I have math homework that I need to start but I just want to say that you all are amazing and worthwhile. Keep holding on, beautiful, you're amazing. :)
During lunch, the song Firework by Katy Perry came on the radio and I was thinking, this is the year I realize just how amazing I am. And so now here is a list of songs that make me feel better about myself.
Firework by Katy Perry. I love it because it's all about how amazing you are and don't let anyone bring you down. You might feel like wasted space, but you can't ever be replaced is probably one of my favorite lines. You're a firework, light up the sky.
Who Says by Selena Gomez and The Scene. I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of her music, but I love this song because it's all about not caring what other people think. I'm not a beauty queen but I'm still amazing. I am who I am and if you don't like it, there's the door. But I am worth it and I deserve happiness.
Beautiful-Eminem. I can't find the edited version, so ignore all the F bombs, but I also love this song because you might feel like a joke. You might feel like a huge mistake and super ugly and worthless and not good enough, but that's not true. Sometimes, life can be so hard, but if you just hold on, you'll see that you are beautiful.. And you will see that life is so worth living.
I have math homework that I need to start but I just want to say that you all are amazing and worthwhile. Keep holding on, beautiful, you're amazing. :)
Friday, November 11, 2011
Words to Live By.
Anyone who knows me or has seen my room knows I love quotes. I have an entire notebook at home devoted to quotes I have collected since I started treatment in 2005 for major depression. I love finding motivational things to get me through the day and here are some I have collected.
I hope they can help you the way they have helped me.
"When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place." – Unknown
"Remember, there are no mistakes, only lessons. Love yourself, trust your choices, and everything is possible." - Cherie Carter-Scott
"Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved." – Victor Hugo
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." – Plato
"Little by little, one walks far." - Peruvian Proverb
"Let's believe that if we all stand together we’re a force that can shake the whole world." - A Day to Remember
"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless." - Mother Teresa
“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” - Lucius Annaeus Seneca
"Only eyes washed by tears can see clearly." - Louis L. Mann
"Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible and achieves the impossible." - Charles Caleb Colton
“Forgiveness is the act of admitting we are like other people.” – Christina Baldwin
"You just have to keep on breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise and who knows what the tide will bring." - Cast Away
"You are stronger than the darkness in this world."-Unknown
"Believe that there's light at the end of the tunnel. Believe that you might be that light for someone else." - Kobi Yamada
"Gradually the healing took place, seeming as it always does that it wasn't taking place." - Ursula K. Le Guin
"Ah yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it." - The Lion King
I hope they can help you the way they have helped me.
"When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place." – Unknown
"Remember, there are no mistakes, only lessons. Love yourself, trust your choices, and everything is possible." - Cherie Carter-Scott
"Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved." – Victor Hugo
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." – Plato
"Little by little, one walks far." - Peruvian Proverb
"Let's believe that if we all stand together we’re a force that can shake the whole world." - A Day to Remember
"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless." - Mother Teresa
“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” - Lucius Annaeus Seneca
"Only eyes washed by tears can see clearly." - Louis L. Mann
"Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible and achieves the impossible." - Charles Caleb Colton
“Forgiveness is the act of admitting we are like other people.” – Christina Baldwin
"You just have to keep on breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise and who knows what the tide will bring." - Cast Away
"You are stronger than the darkness in this world."-Unknown
"Believe that there's light at the end of the tunnel. Believe that you might be that light for someone else." - Kobi Yamada
"Gradually the healing took place, seeming as it always does that it wasn't taking place." - Ursula K. Le Guin
"Ah yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it." - The Lion King
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Take Care of Yourself.
So, my suite mates have gotten me into Glee recently, and I have been obsessed with Damian McGinty from there. He is just so lovable. Last week he sang this song and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I keep listening to it non-stop.
I think it's something everyone should know. There are people out there who love you and want you to take care of yourself, even if they can't always be near you. Even though sometimes life forces us to say goodbye. There are people out there who want you to stay alive. They want you to do your best to keep yourself alive and to keep going when everything is going so wrong and all you want to do is quit.
I think it's something everyone should know. There are people out there who love you and want you to take care of yourself, even if they can't always be near you. Even though sometimes life forces us to say goodbye. There are people out there who want you to stay alive. They want you to do your best to keep yourself alive and to keep going when everything is going so wrong and all you want to do is quit.
It's time for us to part Yeah It's best for us to part Oh but I love you, I love you Take care of yourself, I'll miss you The nights are long alone, I sit alone and moan Oh cause I love you, I love you Take care of yourself I'll miss you And no more tears to cry I'm out of goodbyes It's time for us to part although it breaks my heart oh cause I love you, I love you Take care of yourself
Take care of yourself
Take care of yourself I love you
Take care of yourself. Keep living. Endure. Keep breathing.
There is someone out there who loves you and wants you.
Your life matters. You matter. You matter so much. To me. I love you so much.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
It's an Elvis Night.
I know I've talked about Kevin a lot. But he was a huge part of my life. And I've spent the last 18 months attempting to get over him. I've been doing pretty good with it, too. But anyway, I have realized that there will always be a part of me that will love him and care about him. Yes, what he did was inexcusable, but I also remember the person he was when I was around him. It doesn't matter though, because we cannot be together ever again and I don't want that. I know that the scars will always be there, but I have noticed them fading, not hurting as bad. That being said, it does come back at night. I am a night and day person. At night is when my demons come out to play. At night is when I wonder why I wasn't enough for him to stay. I wonder what I did wrong to make him cheat on me.
Tonight I sat on my bed sobbing, missing my Grandma like crazy. I remember June 4th of 2010, waking up in the morning and my Dad had made me breakfast. He told me he had spent some time on the phone with my Grandma and to pack my bags because he was driving me to see her. I was going to spend the week with her and that he knew I needed to see her and have her wisdom and comfort and love. I had just lost my fiance and my Dad was wondering if I had cut myself in the night or anything like that. I vaguely remember him having my Mom check me in the bathroom for cuts because when I had cut it was in areas easy to hide. She found none. I remember Paul from TreeHouse calling me and me sobbing and him telling me that I was strong and I would be okay. I remember him asking me what my plan was and I told him my Dad and I were about to drive to Colorado to see my Grandma and he told me that my contract was still valid (the day I first went to TreeHouse he had me sign a contract saying if I was suicidal that I would call one of the staff, Paul was Kevin's mentor, so he knew what he did, and how close we were.) I remember sobbing most of the way to my grandparents house and my Grandparents rushing outside to meet me.
I spent a week with my Grandma while my Granddad and Dad drove to Minnesota to get my sister from college since she graduated in May but took a summer class to finish. She and I sat at the kitchen table early in the mornings since she said laying down and dying wasn't an option. She would make me breakfast and I would cry, hardly eating. So she would bring out the Elvis. She and I would listen to him and she asked me what had happened. I told her what I knew, that he had gone to jail, that it was for a sexual assault charge but I didn't want to know more. Then I begged her not to tell anyone, especially my Dad. She and I would spend the day fishing. We would sit on the porch and talk. She would smoke her camels and I would open up to her.
She told me she didn't have experience in breakups because the only man she ever dated or loved had been her husband for 56 years, but she told me how she knew how to keep living when everything seemed to be going wrong. She and I spent the week listening to music and watching old school movies.
I feel so much better just remembering how much my family has been there for me, and remembering how much love and wisdom my Grandma poured into me. If I ever have a family, I hope I can do that for someone else, and when I am a therapist, I hope I can do that for the people I am trying to help. I have been given so much love and support and God has given me so many second chances it's not even funny.
I am so glad I have been able to feel this sad, because it means I'm alive. And I am so glad I was able to cry and listen to Elvis tonight.
Tonight I sat on my bed sobbing, missing my Grandma like crazy. I remember June 4th of 2010, waking up in the morning and my Dad had made me breakfast. He told me he had spent some time on the phone with my Grandma and to pack my bags because he was driving me to see her. I was going to spend the week with her and that he knew I needed to see her and have her wisdom and comfort and love. I had just lost my fiance and my Dad was wondering if I had cut myself in the night or anything like that. I vaguely remember him having my Mom check me in the bathroom for cuts because when I had cut it was in areas easy to hide. She found none. I remember Paul from TreeHouse calling me and me sobbing and him telling me that I was strong and I would be okay. I remember him asking me what my plan was and I told him my Dad and I were about to drive to Colorado to see my Grandma and he told me that my contract was still valid (the day I first went to TreeHouse he had me sign a contract saying if I was suicidal that I would call one of the staff, Paul was Kevin's mentor, so he knew what he did, and how close we were.) I remember sobbing most of the way to my grandparents house and my Grandparents rushing outside to meet me.
I spent a week with my Grandma while my Granddad and Dad drove to Minnesota to get my sister from college since she graduated in May but took a summer class to finish. She and I sat at the kitchen table early in the mornings since she said laying down and dying wasn't an option. She would make me breakfast and I would cry, hardly eating. So she would bring out the Elvis. She and I would listen to him and she asked me what had happened. I told her what I knew, that he had gone to jail, that it was for a sexual assault charge but I didn't want to know more. Then I begged her not to tell anyone, especially my Dad. She and I would spend the day fishing. We would sit on the porch and talk. She would smoke her camels and I would open up to her.
She told me she didn't have experience in breakups because the only man she ever dated or loved had been her husband for 56 years, but she told me how she knew how to keep living when everything seemed to be going wrong. She and I spent the week listening to music and watching old school movies.
I feel so much better just remembering how much my family has been there for me, and remembering how much love and wisdom my Grandma poured into me. If I ever have a family, I hope I can do that for someone else, and when I am a therapist, I hope I can do that for the people I am trying to help. I have been given so much love and support and God has given me so many second chances it's not even funny.
I am so glad I have been able to feel this sad, because it means I'm alive. And I am so glad I was able to cry and listen to Elvis tonight.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Ben. And Russian music.
It's funny how music can take you back to places where you've used to be. I've been listening to tA.T.u all night long. They're a Russian band. My first boyfriend, Ben, got me into them. I listened to them all of freshman year. I hadn't listened to them in such a long time, but I found myself back to listening to them tonight as I'm studying for a huge history test.
I never really talk about Ben. But I thought I would tonight because I'm feeling nestalgic and my therapist recommends me going back and dealing with all my issues, so I guess I need to talk about him.
We met when I was in the 6th grade. I was eleven, cutting secretly, and occasionally binging and purging. But no one knew that. This was one of the last years I was on adderal and adjusting to middle school had been really hard for me. I was bullied almost every day. I would eat lunch alone in the bathroom stall. This was two years before I met my best friend, Jeff.
I was a swimmer, and had been since I was in Kindergarten. My Dad, and both of my sisters swam, too. I would spend every free moment in the water, but at this point I was developing physically faster than everyone around me and as I became more depressed, I despised the girl in the mirror. Swimming became something I dreaded. That's how I met him. His Dad and my Dad were friends and swam together as well, so I went to his house for a party. We began talking at practices and the first time I saw him in school I blurted out, wow, you have a shirt on. Because I always saw him at the pool, I have ADD, had a crush on him, and was an awkward 13 year old at this point.
He laughed and said wow you're dressed, too. We began talking more and hanging out the 4 nights a week we would swim for two hours. We began hanging out at school as well. He was the first to sit and eat lunch with me, so I wouldn't sit in the bathroom anymore. He would tell me how he was happy we were friends, and how he liked it when I would smile, because he knew I didn't really like myself, and that sometimes I would cry. He was the first one to see my scars. He told me he didn't like it when I hurt myself. He told me that I was an amazing person and he wished I could see it.
In 8th grade, I began going over to his house after school since he lived right behind the school. We would hang out and watch Invader Zim and Futurama. We would listen to Nirvana and all kinds of music. When his Dad would come home from work, he would sit and talk to us and he would make me dinner sometimes. He would tell me how he liked that we were friends and things like that. I was happy to be there because Ben was really nice to me and would make me feel like he wanted me around. He would come over and for my birthday he would make me CDs with our favorite songs on them and movies and things like that.
When I started high school, I still liked him. High school was even harder for me to adjust to. The bullying hadn't stopped and I was extremely depressed. I began skipping classes and purging. I had changed and wore all black. My Mom says if you've ever seen an ad for anti-depressants, that was me, except the punk edition. I wore eyeliner like Cleopatra, I would dye my hair punk colors and listen to metal. Ben told me to start listening to t.A.T.u because he thought they would help me start to express myself.
He would walk me to every class and hug me and tell me I was going to be okay and make it through my day. When I first was hospitalized, he made me a card and called me to see how I was doing. He was supportive and soon after we started dating.
As I got sicker and more depressed, began taking medicine, began cutting more often, began telling him how much I wanted to die, he told me I would make it through, how he didn't want me to die. He told me how he loved me and how he hoped I wouldn't kill myself. After three more hospitalizations, he started cheating on me and he became cold.
He wouldn't hold me anymore. He wouldn't walk me to classes. He wouldn't call. He told me I was dead inside and worthless and that the world would be better off without me. He convinced all of my friends except for Jeff to leave me, and completely stabbed me in the back. That night, I was lying in the hospital, waiting for the doctors to see if my liver had damage because I had overdosed and tried to end my life.
I know this is the readers digest version. But I am not angry with Ben. I haven't talked to him in over three years. I know he only dated me so I wouldn't kill myself, and I know that I was very sick and shouldn't have been dating. I'm not angry. It's not his fault. Do I blame myself? Sometimes. But I know that I'm not fifteen anymore. I know that at fifteen and suicidal, you can't really make the best choices, but I also know that I am a better person because of him. I have learned to take more care of myself and how not to let anyone's words destroy me, to not let anyone be my entire world. Dating a huge jerk ended up being a really good learning experience for me.
I never really talk about Ben. But I thought I would tonight because I'm feeling nestalgic and my therapist recommends me going back and dealing with all my issues, so I guess I need to talk about him.
We met when I was in the 6th grade. I was eleven, cutting secretly, and occasionally binging and purging. But no one knew that. This was one of the last years I was on adderal and adjusting to middle school had been really hard for me. I was bullied almost every day. I would eat lunch alone in the bathroom stall. This was two years before I met my best friend, Jeff.
I was a swimmer, and had been since I was in Kindergarten. My Dad, and both of my sisters swam, too. I would spend every free moment in the water, but at this point I was developing physically faster than everyone around me and as I became more depressed, I despised the girl in the mirror. Swimming became something I dreaded. That's how I met him. His Dad and my Dad were friends and swam together as well, so I went to his house for a party. We began talking at practices and the first time I saw him in school I blurted out, wow, you have a shirt on. Because I always saw him at the pool, I have ADD, had a crush on him, and was an awkward 13 year old at this point.
He laughed and said wow you're dressed, too. We began talking more and hanging out the 4 nights a week we would swim for two hours. We began hanging out at school as well. He was the first to sit and eat lunch with me, so I wouldn't sit in the bathroom anymore. He would tell me how he was happy we were friends, and how he liked it when I would smile, because he knew I didn't really like myself, and that sometimes I would cry. He was the first one to see my scars. He told me he didn't like it when I hurt myself. He told me that I was an amazing person and he wished I could see it.
In 8th grade, I began going over to his house after school since he lived right behind the school. We would hang out and watch Invader Zim and Futurama. We would listen to Nirvana and all kinds of music. When his Dad would come home from work, he would sit and talk to us and he would make me dinner sometimes. He would tell me how he liked that we were friends and things like that. I was happy to be there because Ben was really nice to me and would make me feel like he wanted me around. He would come over and for my birthday he would make me CDs with our favorite songs on them and movies and things like that.
When I started high school, I still liked him. High school was even harder for me to adjust to. The bullying hadn't stopped and I was extremely depressed. I began skipping classes and purging. I had changed and wore all black. My Mom says if you've ever seen an ad for anti-depressants, that was me, except the punk edition. I wore eyeliner like Cleopatra, I would dye my hair punk colors and listen to metal. Ben told me to start listening to t.A.T.u because he thought they would help me start to express myself.
He would walk me to every class and hug me and tell me I was going to be okay and make it through my day. When I first was hospitalized, he made me a card and called me to see how I was doing. He was supportive and soon after we started dating.
As I got sicker and more depressed, began taking medicine, began cutting more often, began telling him how much I wanted to die, he told me I would make it through, how he didn't want me to die. He told me how he loved me and how he hoped I wouldn't kill myself. After three more hospitalizations, he started cheating on me and he became cold.
He wouldn't hold me anymore. He wouldn't walk me to classes. He wouldn't call. He told me I was dead inside and worthless and that the world would be better off without me. He convinced all of my friends except for Jeff to leave me, and completely stabbed me in the back. That night, I was lying in the hospital, waiting for the doctors to see if my liver had damage because I had overdosed and tried to end my life.
I know this is the readers digest version. But I am not angry with Ben. I haven't talked to him in over three years. I know he only dated me so I wouldn't kill myself, and I know that I was very sick and shouldn't have been dating. I'm not angry. It's not his fault. Do I blame myself? Sometimes. But I know that I'm not fifteen anymore. I know that at fifteen and suicidal, you can't really make the best choices, but I also know that I am a better person because of him. I have learned to take more care of myself and how not to let anyone's words destroy me, to not let anyone be my entire world. Dating a huge jerk ended up being a really good learning experience for me.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
You Arx A Kxy Pxrson.
Xvxn though my typxwritxr is an old modxl, it works vxry wxll-xcxpt for onx kxy. You would think that will all thx othxr kxys functioning propxrly, onx kxy not working would hardly bx noticxd; but just onx kxy out of whack sxxms to ruin thx wholx xffort.
You may say to yoursxlf-Wxll I'm only onx pxrson. No onx will noticx if I don't do my bxst. But it doxs makx a diffxrxncx bxcausx to bx xffxctivx an organization nxxds activx participation by xvxry onx to thx bxst of his or hxr ability.
So the nxxt timx you think you arx not important, rxmxmbxr my old typxwritxr. You arx a kxy pxrson.
You may say to yoursxlf-Wxll I'm only onx pxrson. No onx will noticx if I don't do my bxst. But it doxs makx a diffxrxncx bxcausx to bx xffxctivx an organization nxxds activx participation by xvxry onx to thx bxst of his or hxr ability.
So the nxxt timx you think you arx not important, rxmxmbxr my old typxwritxr. You arx a kxy pxrson.
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