The Rollercoaster Ride

blog pic june 13th 2019


My depression and anxiety are very much cyclical. There are weeks where I feel like I can conquer the world and am so productive and feel so positive and feel that the world is my oyster and I am this close to finding my pearl. Then there are the bad weeks, like this week, where all I can do is cry over my laptop worried about money, about my health, about my future. I was up all night with the Golden Girls in the background worried and frightful of what tomorrow will bring for me.

I sit and punish myself thinking of every negative thought that I can remember. I want so much to block out the negativity and just keep going but they are so much stronger than I am some days. All I can hear are the voices of the people who gave up on me and who no longer love me. All I can focus on are the people no longer in my life and how I continually get punished for their actions.

There are some days that I want to do it all. I want to show you all that I’m better than this, that I am worth so much more. But then there’s today where I can barely breathe and I just want to spend my energy surviving instead of the constant fear and uncertainty of my future. I have no one but myself. And that’s terrifying to admit. I am knee-deep in month six without my fiance and I wish I could say that I’m kicking ass and taking names but I am not. I am more broken today than ever before. I write this to you with tears streaming down my cheeks alone and afraid and unloved and broken and I don’t know how I have gotten myself to this point in my life. I don’t understand why I’m so different from everyone else. I don’t understand why I can’t just blend in with everyone else. Why can’t I just be like everyone else? I don’t understand why my struggles seem to compound themselves daily. Why the pains in my stomach worsened. Why I feel so out of control and powerless that I just feel like locking myself in my room all day instead of facing the stares of disappointment from those around me. Instead of listening to the fake good lucks around me of those who just don’t fucking get it.

I work really hard on my writing and artwork and music every day. It’s hard being so isolated from everyone on a daily basis. I’m at the point in my life where “cheer up” is not only ineffective but insulting. The “things will get better” are so forced that even I don’t believe you anymore. “We’ll figure something out,” although well-meaning, just isn’t palpable enough a thought to give me any cause for hope.

When I had my nervous breakdown at twenty-one years old, I went to therapy and was on medication but the therapist and psychiatrist just weren’t getting it. They heard me complain and just pushed more medicines on me. Nobody understands and nobody wants to talk and nobody wants to listen. I remember going one day to therapy in hopes that if I just asserted myself that they’d finally hear me and see how I was struggling but I was just dismissed and sent to the psychiatrist to re-evaluate my medicine. How is this healthcare? And how is this taking care of those who are struggling? I may not be bleeding outwardly but I’m bleeding internally and no one can see it or if they do, they just turn a blind eye to it. It’s there for me every day. That feeling of hopelessness, the burden of carrying failure after failure, the fighting and trying so hard every day to be somebody, yet nobody listens. Nobody fucking listens. Those who I thought would be there for me until the end, have all left and abandoned me. A constant theme in my life.

I’m not suicidal, I’m fucking sad. I’m fucking sad about a lot of things. I’m allowed to be sad sometimes. But like always, I’ll pick myself up and keep trying. Just not today.





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