I wish I could say it to you, but we are on a strictly no communication basis.
The only thing we share now is our existence and hatred towards each other.
It’s sad… my greatest love turned into my strongest hate.
happy birthday, you’re an adult now.
I hope you move far far away and buy a house of your own thousands of miles away from here,
but I hope you’ll be happy.
I still wear the necklace you got me for my birthday. People tell me I should get rid of it, and I probably should, but I can’t because its the last piece of you I have left, and, as much as I want to, I can’t bring myself to let you go.
I want you gone but I want you happy,
I want you to feel awful for what you did, but I want you to come back to me.
I want to hate you, but I want you to love me…
because I love you still.
So happy birthday, thank you for the memories, the laughs, the smiles, and thank you for the love we shared.
I hope one day it will overcome the hatred we share.
Everyone on my mom’s side suffers from depression. Some members on my dad’s side are alcoholics and suicidal.
Addiction is 50% genetic and 50% due to poor coping skills.
Depression is 40% genetic and 60% environmental.
Due to this, I am 90% screwed.
Mental health is something that has affected my life for years and will continue to.
When I was thirteen I was diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and OCD.
By fourteen I was engulfed in an eating disorder that controlled and altered my life. My eating disorder was a blend of all evils, a coping skill for all my problems.
I hated my body, felt out of control in many aspects of my life, experienced great anxiety around food, and believed people would love me if I was skinny.
Starving myself fixed my problems, or at least I thought it did. I lost weight rapidly. I felt in control when I refused to eat. I got hooked in my ways.
But like for all things, the high only lasted so long… Even after losing sixty pounds, being underweight, and having every rib and bone in my spine visible, I still looked in the mirror and thought I was fat. My anxiety began to get worse, the panic attacks were hourly occurrences, and my heart began to fail due to the lack of calories and nutrients. I felt out of control once again, so I restricted even more.
It was a vicious cycle, and it continued… leaving me falling deeper into darkness, insanity, and sadness.
By the summer of that same school year, I was in the hospital. My struggles with mental health were close to taking my life.
Years have gone by now, and much has changed.
I no longer cope with anxiety and depression by restricting my food intake, I no longer weigh 80 pounds. I’m back in school, back in sports, and am much more emotionally stable.
But some things haven’t.
I still have anxiety attacks weekly, I still hate my body and worry about weight, and I am still extremely insecure and it affects how I act (making me seem full of myself when in reality I just need someone to reassure me that I’m not absolute shit). And lastly, I still feel out of control around food. I am unable to stop myself around certain types of food and it scares me. I feel like my previous ability to say no to food has disappeared, and it scares me. I feel like I have gone from starving my self to binging. It scares me a lot.
I need to find balance and balance is hard to find.
Due to statistics and my past, mental health is something I am going to have to deal with for the entirety of my life.
I don’t like this, but I can’t change this. So every day I strive to find healthy ways to cope with the way my brain thinks, the emotions I feel, and my general outlook on life because I believe, with effort and dedication, everyone has the opportunity to be happy, no matter how hard it may be.
Kindness is a virtue, but some people use it as a weakness.
I try to be kind to people.
Sometimes I stay up late doing work for others so then they’ll be happy.
Sometimes I do things for people that will get me in trouble, but I do it anyway because they asked me to and I don’t want to say no.
Sometimes I don’t say what I feel when I really should because I want to focus on them. People like talking about themselves.
Don’t get me wrong, being and kind and helping people is something I love. But sometimes people abuse it; I don’t know how to say no. It leaves me broke, busy, and feeling used.
Hey can you drive me to Ventura? sure
Could you run to Von’s and grab me some chips? sure
I’m not allowed to have him in my room if it’s just us two, want to come over and hang with us? sure
Could you grab me some water? sure
Could I borrow your shirt? I “swear” I’ll give it back. sure
Hey could you send me the Physics? sure
I like helping people a lot. But there’s a balance. I can usually tell when I’m being used, when someone is kind to me because they want me to help them with their homework or give them rides places. But I usually let that slide; I like it when people are nice to me, it feels nice to think someone cares. But I’m starting to draw a line, if you are going to be mean to me, don’t expect me do your shit. I don’t like being used and most definitely not abused.
If you abuse me, no way you’re using me anymore.
Think before you yell at me and accuse me of things, because I have to draw the line somewhere, so have fun doing things for yourself.