I Am Sure It Was Done In Love

This post is in no way directed to anyone reading it. It is actually directed towards a person I had a conversation with yesterday. So when the word “you” is seen, it isn’t you dear reader. :)

It must be nice to know so much. Is it even a little possible that you could be wrong about something? You are extremely right and wise about much of life, but depression is really something you know little about. Though I can never say it to you vocally, how dare you tell me that I am not trying hard enough. How dare you propose that if I would just try harder, things would be better. How can you tell me I just need to “get over” the depression and anxiety. How dare you?

How dare you make accusations and assumptions thousands of miles away? How dare you be insensitive and uncaring? I must remember though that you are of a certain time and mindset. You are geared to think of depression and anxiety a certain way, but your words hurt me. I cried harsh and bitter tears last night. I cried and screamed into pillows. I was suffocated with too much air. Thanks so much for your advice. You know what I really wanted? I wanted someone to tell me that I am ok. I wanted love. I wanted someone to listen to what is the real me and to still want me afterwards. I really wanted someone to make me believe I am not too far gone. Can’t you look at the mess that is me and love me anyway?

In your opinion, I am cheating God, my boss, and my church. I am believing that this is not permanent. Medication won’t fix everything, but it will help. In just over a month, I will be taking medication again. How that day is longed for. You seem to think I am too far gone, untreatable even. I am not broken. I just need some help. This is not my forever. I am holding on to that. I think this is my humanity. If human I am not allowed to be, what is the purpose here?

You tried to talk about reasons for trying. You mentioned the beautiful things in life. For you, seeing a rose in your mother’s garden makes life a little easier. You enjoy that moment. That literally made me laugh. I am not counting on a flower to make me feel anything at all. I mentioned that for me, it would be fun to burn the rose. You freaked out. You said, “yeah, why don’t we just color it black with blood running out of it.” Dang it, I think that sounds beautiful! Your idea of beauty and my idea are different. There is nothing wrong with that. You were so irritated by the fact that I like blood. You mentioned that as a child I would never watch anything on television with blood and gore. Gore, the pain of others, I cannot tolerate. Blood though is beautiful and a sign of life. Pain inflicted upon another being of any kind is terrible and deeply hated.

It amuses me that you think you understand. It is ironic that you say that really the majority of people deal with depression and anxiety. I am sure to a small degree that is true. I cannot believe that everyone feels the way I do right now. If they do, I cannot even resolve that kind of thought in my brain. It is far too devastating.You “ask” how people dealt with these issues years ago without medication and without help. My response is that they did the best they could. I cannot even imagine. You mean it as more of an accusation. If they could do it, can’t we do it today? Sure. But do you understand what they went through? I don’t either because we are blessed to live in this time. And I am not anyone else. I am not you. I am not those people from hundreds of years ago. I am me. Your box is not mine. 

It pains me deeply to know that you think of me in such ways. I hate that you can’t be proud of me and see me as beautiful in spite of my flaws. Here is my decision though, you are entitled to your opinion. I will deal with the hurt that comes from your thoughts. I will be honest with you but will not open up to you anymore. I will deal with this without your help. What was I thinking anyway? With the passage of time comes the realization that people can rarely be counted on. Sometimes arm’s length is required for safety reasons. This is life. I am doing the best I can here. I appreciate your attempt to be helpful. No doubt you were sincere and had good intentions. I love you still, but somehow, this seems unfair.

    This probably sounds pitiful. I know that some of you will understand as you deal with others who don’t understand your depression. How do you talk with these people if the topic arises? Do you have any previous experience with this? Thanks for reading!


Gotta Stop

Surprise, surprise, this post contains detailed discussion of self harm. Though it is a more “positive” type of post, please use caution. There is still blatant talk of cutting. Really don’t want anyone to be triggered, especially by something I have written. Warning given!


For some reason, my brain doesn’t seem to know how to do anything half-way. If there is weight to be gained, it usually isn’t going to be a few pounds. If there is time to be wasted, say goodbye the entire day. Emotions to be felt? Let us go as far as we possibly can! So it seems to be with cutting. For a long time cutting every few days was enough. Then it became an everyday occurrence. Today I literally spent an hour cutting, “playing” with the cuts, and enjoying the pain. By playing with the cuts, I mean reopening old ones and irritating new ones. Things are going to far.

So now I have to stop, even though I really don’t want to. This is a need. The wounds aren’t being given adequate time to heal. The cuts are starting to bruise a little. My whole right thigh up to the top of my hip bone is literally covered in scars and cuts. Right now I love them. They are beautiful, but there will come a time that I hate them. That time is dreaded. Just one more problem with me and my body. 

I am worried though what I will do without the pain. While teaching or interacting with others, I am constantly touching the cuts hidden underneath my clothes. It is somehow very comforting. What will I do without that? It is a huge coping mechanism for me right now.

I also need to stop because I can’t get enough blood. It doesn’t matter how many cuts there are and how much they bleed, it isn’t enough. Eventually that is going to lead to some severe problems.

Finally, I need to stop because of my sister. I am so afraid of what she is going to think when she sees the cuts, and she will see them. Not much gets past her. Even just thinking about it I feel embarrassed, stupid, scarred, ugly, exposed, and sad. I certainly don’t want her to cut. How can I tell her not to when she knows that I do? Sounds kind of hypocritical. I try to remind myself that I am human and that she won’t base all her decisions off what I do. She is intelligent and sane. She will be ok.

So as sad as it makes me to have to do something like this, a new countdown is starting. Here we go.

Your Humor…. Oh Wait, You Were Being Serious

I stand amused people. There is nothing quite like someone, who is not a doctor, and has never been overweight a day in his life giving the perfect prescription for weight loss. Literally all you have to do is “stop eating”. Wow. If only everyone would just stop eating, the obesity problem in America would be solved. The person can’t be blamed. No doubt he was trying to be helpful, but it took great restraint not to just laugh in his face. I love him, but really? :) In Romanian we would say “serios”. That holds the same meaning as our “really” but with a little more intensity. Serious!? :)

I Weighed And The Scale Didn’t Break

When it comes to doing things that are not enjoyable, there seems to be a general system my mind follows. Usually whatever the undesired thing is will be considered in brief flashes for a few days. Then it will be put off with no intended date of completion. Then, at some random time, the mind will say “Hey, you know that thing we have been putting off for some time? Yeah, that one. We should do that.”  My reply sounds something like this, ” Ok. I don’t really want to, but it must be done at some point. When should we do it?” The dreaded response,”How about now?” As long as the task is completed at that very moment and not delayed any longer, the pain is fairly minimal. The trick is to do the job right then.

So this morning, after dressing and convincing my body that the day is worth getting up for, my brain decided that the scale had been neglected long enough. It has been around three weeks or a month or a long time since the last weigh in. I have been dreading weighing again since the last fall off the bandwagon. So with much chagrin and lack of breathing, I stepped on the scale. People, I only gained one pound. One pound! For some that would be the end of the world. Not a whole pound! How will we ever recover?! For me, a pound was glorious as the expectation was to have gained at least five pounds. I could cry with happiness. Somehow my brain and my body did not betray me. Only one pound. Now I know the right track can be found and hopped on again. There are five more weeks before I go home. The goal is to lose at least five pounds before I get on that plane. Here we go! :)

How do you deal with tasks that you don’t really want to do? Are you a procrastinator? And as always, thanks for reading. Cheers!

Self Discovery

When do we “discover” ourselves? When do we find out who we are? No doubt that the process is different for every one, but is there a general formula the majority of people follow?

Recently it has become a theory of mine that the teenage years are when most people learn who they are. This would happen through involvement in different activities and possibly rebellion. There is probably a degree of truth somewhere in that idea. At the same time, there is so much more I know about myself now at almost 24 than I did as a teenager. And yes, I am aware that almost 24 is very young.

What caused the learning? Is it life in general, the process of time, that allows one to see who he really is? Is it the problems and pains of life that bring out the true us? Maybe it is not life that makes us who we are. Perhaps it is actually that through life and time we learn to see ourselves more clearly. We grow and change into a clearer picture of what we have always been. 

There are a lot of questions about myself. Maybe this all sounds stupid, but I can’t help but wonder who I am or if it should even matter. So far my whole life has been lived for others and their expectations. Dress codes, rules of sexuality, social norms, gender roles, and time clocks. Somehow, it seems that what I do and all the expectations never agree.

It just makes me wonder if this is even really me or is this just the “me” everyone expects. I can’t help but wonder if time will be a clear teacher of who I am or if I am supposed to discover myself through some list of actions. As a teenager, there was never any rebellion. In college I fell in love. I broke off the relationship because the college and my parents told me I needed to. So even in my “rebellion” there was surrender. Maybe that was the best decision, but how can I even know?

So, in essence, do self discovery and rebellion have to be friends? Can one live without the other or are they an exclusive couple? In the end though, does it even matter who I am? Is trying to find my identity a selfish journey? For the record, this is not a cry for confirmation that I am not a selfish person. Genuine reactions are appreciated. :)

What are your thoughts on self discovery? Do you think it is important? Would you like to share your story? Thanks for reading! This is the first post on self discovery. Keep an eye out. There may be more to come!



Help! I Am Stuck … Inside My Own Head!

Do you ever feel this way? Like you are completely stuck in the jumble of thoughts that is your mind? What a complicated place to be sometimes!

The problem with our minds is that they are always on. Driving down the road, taking a shower, washing the dishes – engage brain.  If we are watching a movie, we think. Should we be working, or going,or cleaning, or staying, or whatever – there will be thoughts. Maybe that is why people meditate. Maybe meditation gives one the opportunity to silence and sort all those thoughts.

My favorite way to tune everything out and to calm my mind is usually with ear-buds in and world turned off. Sometimes Adam Lambert does the trick. Sometimes it is ASMR. Often it is just soothing instrumental music or YouTube. YouTube is good.

Do you ever feel like your thoughts are overwhelming you? How do you manage your thoughts? What is your “go to” for relaxation of the mind?

The Warning Signs Are There

Warning: This post contains very detailed and descriptive talk of self harm and also a mention of suicide. Please be careful. Warning.


Recently self harm has become a very common practice for me. The problem is the space. I am not a small lady, but in my opinion there are only certain places that are good to cut. The thighs are excellent. The wrist and the inside of the elbow are fantastic. Sometimes the sides and hips are good. I have cut on all those places already. My favorite by far is the inside of the elbow area. The skin is extremely thin and the blood comes to the surface very quickly.

Because it is Summer time, cuts on the wrist and inside of the arm would be easily noticed. Or so I thought. No one has questioned the cuts on my wrist. They haven’t noticed the longer sleeves or the way the sleeves are nervously pulled down every few seconds. Part of me wonders how you don’t notice cuts and scratches throughout someone’s body. I also cut on the inside of both ankles. There aren’t many cuts there, but they are there. Do people think it a coincidence that one person can have so many scratches on various body parts?

It kind of makes me sad that people are so focused on other parts of life that they don’t notice what could be something big for others. At the same time, who can blame them? If cutting or self harm is not an issue they have dealt before, how would they know what to look for? As someone who does deal with this, I am constantly looking for warning signs in other people. There are many tell tale signs that are often overlooked.

I feel like if people were more aware, maybe more people could be helped. Somehow I feel as if my cutting is under control. Today I will not cut. I already want to, but the old wounds need to heal up some first. The fact that the wounds can be stroked and patted to induce some pain is helpful. I don’t feel addicted. But I also feel that having a history of cutting made entertaining thoughts of suicide easier. Perhaps I am wrong. These are just my  thoughts.

Sometimes I take pictures of the cuts. Looking at them brings back the feelings of the moment and relaxation, maybe even comfort. I have thought several times what it would be like to show my neighbor the cuts. There are many ways I imagine she would react, though the reality probably wouldn’t be as fun as my fantasies. :)

Anyway, just something that needed to be expressed. The blog is usually a good place to do that.

They Are Back!

The emotions are back. This morning I have wanted to cry at everything. That is fine. Crying is better than feeling nothing. There was actually a bit of contentment, happiness, and excitement upon waking up. Even dreaming of the ex couldn’t bring down the goodness, and that usually does it pretty quickly. I have no clue how long the emotions will be present. They are going to be enjoyed as much as possible while they are here.

Having any kind of feelings again is like meeting up with a friend who hasn’t been seen in years. You know each other. You know much about each other. But there is still an adjustment period to work through. This is the adjustment period.

Do you ever feel numb? What is the transition from numb to more “normal” like for you? Thanks for reading!

Just Holding On

In no way does it seem safe to assume the latest episode of depression is over. That being said, trying to come back to some form of “normal” is difficult. All feelings seem to be gone. The medication I was on made me feel numb like this, but I have been off of it for over a week now. Can’t blame the medicine any more. There is just seriously nothing. Except exhaustion, there is that. I just want to go to bed and sleep for a few hundred years. Even tried listening to sad music this morning to see if some kind of emotion could be drummed up. Didn’t feel a thing.  Holding on though. There is still hope. Maybe tomorrow will be better.