The worst feeling…

…in the world, is feeling nothing at all. I feel like an empty shell. Like dust. Like dust that could just be blown away into nothingness.

It makes me want to self harm. Bring the feelings back. Make sure I’m still alive, or something.

I can’t get death out of my head. I’m fantasizing about it, like it’s a beautiful desirable flower. Like a puffy cloud I just want to fall back into and get lost in.

Who knew nothingness could be so descriptive.


Daddy’s Girl

I just heard a song and wow it made me bawl while I was driving I could hardly see through my tears. The song was by NF called How Could You Leave Us. The guy is rapping and singing about his mom not being there for him and eventually dying over an overdose from a pill addiction. He talks about the things they will or did miss out on. How he was angry but now wishes he just would have called her. Now one of the few sacred songs I really relate to.

It got me thinking. Ugh and as I type I have such a headache from crying. I was always such a daddy’s girl at heart but it was never a safe environment to allow myself to express that and so the need always got left unfulfilled. I think that’s why I always felt so alone because I just wanted my dad but he was scary or just plain negative and demanding, and eventually was a heroin addict. I don’t feel like he ever took care of me. Not like a good father. Not the way I needed.

Not only did I miss out on all of the child things growing up, but I missed out on him getting to experience and appreciate the person I had become, even in spite of him. I missed out on the adult experiences with him. I couldn’t just call him to meet up for lunch or coffee. I couldn’t go for him for adult or parental advice. I couldn’t expose my kids to him or him to my kids. He never got to see and be proud of my successes even though I was a teenage mother. He never got to tell me how proud he was for graduating. Getting promoted at work. Buying a house for me and my kids. Buying my first car on my own. Nothing. He was too busy and consumed with shooting up. I often just feel sorry for him because I believe he had a lot of the mental issues I now have and while I can understand why he was how he was, sometimes I am still so angry at him. Angry that he just wasn’t there for me. I felt like love always came at an expense or was just not there. He was too consumed to make room for real fatherly love. I’ve always lived in this fantasy world about what it’d be like if he were a good dad. Or if I had one. That’s how I coped. I fantasized constantly when I was little. I still do to this very day. Constantly seeking a replacement to fill this void that is still there.

I am an adult and yet I still feel like I am just as much of a daddy’s girl still waiting for him to show up and make things right. Like I’m stuck in this childlike state that I feel like I will never get out of. This part of me is still terrified, feeling unloved and neglected, has no voice and if I had to put a picture to her, she is huddled in a corner because being surrounded by walls is the safest form of embrace I ever found growing up. I relied on stuffed animals, “blankies”, fantasies and close small places like bathrooms or closets, which I still do.

It makes me wonder so many things. Will I ever be free from her? Will she ever grow up? Will she ever be ok? Did he ever realize, like really realize, what he was missing out on? Did he ever try to be better or did he just give up? Which hurts too but I try to understand.

I guess this causes a lot of inner conflict for me. Sometimes I feel like I have multiple personalities but I think instead I just have many parts of me and depending on what is happening at any given time determines which version of me you will get. And the version of me can change within a split second if my environment changes and I either feel safely vulnerable enough to let the little me come out, or the bigger badder scorned bitch to take over as a protector. And then there is “it”. The it. I haven’t figured out what “it” is but it taunts me. Makes me crazy. 

I guess that’s it for now.

Leave me alone! Why are you leaving me alone?

This is similar to the “I hate you, Don’t leave me”. Slightly different. Some say we are attention seeking and I guess depending on how you look at it that may be slightly true but not really. We are looking for attention but we are mainly looking to see who really cares about us when really we are setting things up for failure. Like we are putting us and the other person in a no win situation so we can validate our thoughts and feelings or provoke the abandonment that we are so sure will happen. Like if we know it’s coming it will hurt less or something.

I’m extremely guilty of pushing people away and isolating myself. Mostly I isolate because I don’t want to hurt anyone but I tend to push away the very people I particularly want and need. Which is usually a boyfriend or girlfriend first and foremost, and family coming at a close second, but let me focus on partnership relationships.

I have pushed my boyfriend away many times. Unfortunately our loved one becomes our biggest target because they have the ability to hurt us the most. This is terrifying for us. Factor in that many of us have had very unhealthy relationships in the past and this only adds to the fear that this person truly doesn’t care about us and things will come to an end “like they always do”.

I have written about this before and have seen it around the internet but we push away to see who loves us enough to stay. We feel unworthy and so someone chasing us when we push them away feels like they are proving they care. What if they listen and are trying to be respectful in giving us our space? How dare they! But if they chase us like deep down we want, we may still get mad at you for one reason or the other. It goes against our beliefs and we can’t make sense of that.

I’ve surely had my share of unhealthy relationships and neither my boyfriend or I are perfect. There have been times (actually only one time or two) that I can remember him actually walking away, not coming after me, and not even really reciprocating when I was out of my episode and ready to be loved again. Boy did that hurt but what could I really expect from someone when I am violently throwing things across the room, or am targeting my rage at him or being completely irrational, or just flat out refusing his attempts to help.

I didn’t want him to give up on me no matter how difficult I was being. When he did, it hurt more than I could ever put into words and then the real fear of abandonment kicks in. Why am I so easy to give up on? Doesn’t he love me enough to handle me at my worst? Maybe I’m just too much for him too. But after all of the damage I just caused he will surely leave.

Well he is still here. One thing I’ve learned in my two sessions of therapy, or that finally sunk in, is to do the exact opposite of what my illness wants me to do in those moments. The times I want to isolate are the times I should be letting someone in. It’s hella hard but it works most of the time if I try hard  enough.

For the first time I feel like I’ve found someone  ho wants to take on the battle with me and not just throw it in my face or just make me feel worthless about it. Or incompetent of doing anything.

It’s only been twice now but instead of running away like I’ve wanted and usually do, I’ve asked him to go for a walk with me. The one time I still got intense but not so much against him, and the other time, yesterday, it just felt good that he was willing to walk with me and to listen if I needed to talk. He stands up to my illness which is sometimes good when I feel like I can’t do that on my own. He has seen a good bit of my crazy and he is still here ready to take it on as needed. 

I still worry that I will exhaust him with my reoccurring episodes, or that I will overwhelm him with my crazy neediness and clinginess. I guess there isn’t tons I can do about that, at least not overnight. Who knows. 


And now I can feel the numbness settling in. I’m like at a halfway point. The paranoia is a little less intense but now I’m just blocking everything and putting on a facade as needed to just get through the day. I’m afraid to tell anyone how I feel because I still don’t trust anyone. Still not quite sure what to do. I feel like I should stay awake as long as possible but I’m starting to get tired.

Full blast 

Everything is on full blast right now. I can’t turn my ears down. I can hear everything and I can hear everything all at once but I can single out each sound all at the same time. There is too much going on.

Too many people talking. The ventilation is so loud and there’s this high pitched whistle waving in and out of it. I can hear people’s phones and the picking up and putting down on the receiver.

Coughing. And those fucking vents. I can hear them in the whole building. They’re so loud. Keys. What is everyone talking about. I mean I hear them but I feel like they’re talking or making noises in some kind of code to each other. How many of them are in on it? I mean could it be all of them? Why are people trying to talk to me?

What the fuck is going on. I’m so overwhelmed with noise right now. I’m hot and cold. I am writing because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t focus and if I don’t write I’m just staring off trying not to hear so much. I don’t know what to do.

Fucked up

I am so fucked today. I got an hour and a half of some kind of sleep last night. I didn’t fall asleep until around 5:30am. My meds didn’t work for some reason.

Now I am fucking miserable. My brain is messed up as it is but add no sleep to the mix and it’s all amplified. As if my normal intensity isn’t enough. The odd thing is im not even tired but everything is affecting me. Everything is making me so fucking angry. I can’t talk to anyone because they’re responses just piss me off. That voice just jumps in and starts talking shit. People are so full of fucking shit it disgusts me. 

No one is what they seem. I’m convinced of it. Nothing is safe. I don’t understand. I feel like I am the only one in this world like me. The whole world is in on this big conspiracy against me and I don’t know why. Why is no one genuine? Why me? What did I do to deserve this big bullseye on me? Why did God make me just to be shit on? I don’t get it. I don’t want to be around anyone. These fucking people are all up to some shit.

I need to get away but there is nowhere to run. I can’t hide or get away. They’re everywhere.

Out of inpatient

Well shit got real again and this time I went to the hospital. Was in for about 4 days. The program has really changed since I’ve last been there. It wasn’t nearly as helpful but there were a couple of positives and some real negatives as well.

Looking back and with some talking with my social worker and filling out some paperwork, I recognized one of my biggest triggers and I came up with a plan to hopefully decrease that as a stressor. I started that today and already can see and feel it paying off.

I came home yesterday afternoon. I was so ready to come home and yet so afraid to face to world again; home, family, people, work.

Coming out I felt like a small pet in a new home. Or like a lost child. I was jumpy at everything, scared and nervous and a bit clingy to my boyfriend. I didn’t even want to drive.

I took today off from work yet and while I don’t feel quite ready, I’m going back tomorrow. 

Yesterday and today I’ve been trying my hardest to do a few things. 1. Stay calm. Everything I do and feel is with so much intensity so I’m trying really hard to keep at a better level with everything. It’s very hard because it makes me feel lost. I don’t really know myself any other way. 2. Keep my stress low. I am trying to recognize what stresses me out and either figure out a way to lessen the stress, or just walking away and asking to put it on hold. 3. Lastly, I’m trying to talk more. Tell people how I feel, especially before a potential storm.

One thing I noticed while being in there is that my phone and all of the constant connections to the outside world are major stressors. I don’t even really like texting anymore. I hardly want my phone on anymore unless I’m out alone and may need it.

I hope to not have to go back but honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t the last time.

I did learn a few other coping skills. Just simple things like coloring that really help to distract me and calm me down, so I think I should get myself some coloring supplies.

My psychiatrist has been amazing through everything and I’m really thankful to have found him.

I guess that’s all for now.