I always thought that the reason I felt the most motivated to write is when I was down..well, I’m here to correct that because I can say with enough conviction that I’ve never been lower in my life than I am now. I thought that the depression I felt before was severe , I was wrong. It’s been fifteen days since I started taking antidepressants and let me say, I’ve been on a rollercoaster that’s borderlined insanity for me. I have never felt more alone, hollow & hopeless like I have this past two weeks. I was forced to stare at the ugliness of what depression can really put one through and let me say, it’s nothing less than hideous. It’s showed me how dreadful it is & sunk me deeper into it in a way I have never felt. I am guessing y’all are wondering why I’m saying this when antidepressants are meant to make things easier.. I thought the same too until they were finally in my system and it’s been chaos ever since .Nobody coached me on what it would mean to be under antidepressants. For starters, I’m so sad right now & about every other minute I am alone with my mind. This is the kind of sadness that’s brought me to the brim of looking at a life without myself in existence. It has made me contemplate how irrelevant my existence is and how much right now I feel more of a burden than a relevant human being. I’ve isolated myself from everyone cause I am just not sure anybody is ready to see how damaged I am or how broken I’ve gotten . I’m a shell of the already messed up person I was before. The constant darkness surrounding my mind, my thoughts & feelings is enough to darken a galaxy. I knew well enough that I’d feel numb when taking antidepressants but it’s not the nice kind ,this one suffocates you and wrings the ever living life outta you.Nobody mentioned the crazy mood swings that I’ve gotten to feel first hand…The bouts of anger that sprout out of nowhere and cripple me from having any interaction with anyone in the fear I’ll blow up on them. There are moments when I am not sure whether I’m feeling at all. It’s forcing me to push people away so that I’ll not have to tangle them along in my misery. All to the moments when all I can think about is the rippling feeling of a blade on my skin that’s akin to a breathe of fresh air in my lungs. Honestly I don’t think there’s much good that’s come from taking this meds, or better yet, I’m just too broken to be fixed...and finally, the weight gain. I was scared of that when I first heard I’d be going under antidepressants and I can confirm that my fears about it were valid. I’m too scared to know how much weight I’ve gained over those two weeks cause despite the constant darkness surrounding my mind, I can’t seem to shake off the constant hunger this medicine has brought about. I’m nearly constantly hungry half the time I’m awake which is a symptom of the precise medicine I’m taking. I thought I could have a hold on it and eat moderately but it’s hard, I swear it’s hard. If I could rip this urge out, I would but again, I don’t know where to start. I’m just so tired. I’m exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally. I’m drained from the mere struggle it is to have the will to live & simply survive. I am not writing this for pity, I very well don’t need it. I just wish I could have someone who understands exactly what it’s like for me right now, someone who isn’t just seeing this but is looking at this and listening to what it is I’m relaying. I just need one person to tell me it’s not over for me yet…

Weeks later, I am where I thought I wanted to be. I thought that if I got here I’d be better. I walked into it blindly but with hope that some light would be shed into the darkness that’s been my home for so long. So here I am… So what next…?

It’s been hard finding this niche that drives me to write. It’s hard enough that I can’t force it even when I am in desperate need to let out the turmoil that currently goes on in my head. I no longer keep track of how long it’s been since I wrote, I just know its been long enough. I’m in limbo right now. My state of mind is unknown. I guess it’s part of the new feeling that comes with taking antidepressants. Can you believe it? We are at antidepressants now… I have to latch on meds for help in dealing with whatever goes wrong with me. I still feel like I don’t know exactly what that is but maybe progressively I will find out what plagues me.

So here I am, five days in since I started on my ‘happy pills’…Truth be told, I don’t feel so happy or nice to say the least. I know I’m not supposed to judge them so soon but it’s inevitable not to. I feel like shit right now. I’ve been doing my research on the precise medicine I was given and guess what, I’m not sure if they are meant to help me, or get me quicker to being suicidal. I have never been suicidal before & I know that might not seem to be the case due to my self harming ways but they don’t mean that I want to end my life. At least for me they don’t. They just mean I survive painfully enough to want to live. I don’t expect everyone or anyone for that matter to understand that. Recently actually, I have come to experience stigmatization in a form I never anticipated. It took me off guard since it was from a family member who I don’t blame for their lack of understanding on my struggles. I guess I just never fully anticipated ever being stigmatized over something I have absolutely no control over.

As I’ve mentioned before, I feel like shit. Day one on my meds, I was high as a fucking kite. I got so drowsy, lost every sense of coordination & balance .I was knocked out in a couple minutes. My body was adjusting to the foreign entity in its system. With the exact type of medicine I am taking, it’s meant to take care of the depression & insomnia. I don’t necessarily consider myself an insomniac, I just have a terrible sleep pattern that is inconsistent. Day two, I opted to skip on one of my pills. I’m meant to take two in a day, morning & nighttime..but on the occasion that it’s too strong for me to handle in the day, I can take one pill before bed everyday. Now to day five, I am sure I am depressed which I’m not surprised since its a side effect of the medication. I know, I’m confused too. The medicine is meant to help me cope with the said depression, not add on to it. I wish I could understand remotely what is going on but I don’t . All I know is that, I’m five days in with this antidepressants & I feel a tad bit worse than I was before. So yeah, I’m not gonna throw in the towel & quit taking it, no, I’ll wait it out and see how things go. Maybe it gets worse before it gets better.

I feel extremely hyper aware of my problems right now.. Not just mentally but even those that are happening beyond my mind. It’s devastating feeling this helpless and not knowing where to start. Nobody ever tells you how lonely depression makes you feel, it won’t let you bring anyone down with you because it’s quick to remind you that its your problem, no one else’s. Its crippling & isolating enough to have you convinced that nobody can nor will understand what you are going through. I have never felt more alone in this world than I do now. The stigma, the shame and everything else attached to depression is the weight on my shoulders that I’ve gotta carry. So you know what, I’d never wish this on anyone. Nobody deserves to have their mind as their biggest fear.

Allow me not to be ‘remotely perfect‘ right now. To not be articulate with my words for I’m certain I don’t have the right words to express exactly what I’m going through. I’ve racked my mind and sort through it of ways to express what I am constantly feeling but I’ve come short of words. Ironic really cause words are always all I ever have.I can’t afford the standards I usually often put for myself whenever I write. I can’t promise I’ll complete this post or that it’ll make any sense or that it’ll mean anything at all. I’m just taking a shot at hoping that whatever I pour out will slightly ease the emptiness & hollow feeling that’s becoming of me. I wish I was numb. I truly do. I wish I wasn’t feeling or itching or urging for the things that are enveloping me right now. I feel wrong, I feel torn & more now detached from reality than ever before… cause this, this shouldn’t be my reality.I’ve read it over and over again but it gives me no comfort to read ‘it’s okay to not be okay’. I don’t want to not be okay. I don’t want to find comfort from accepting that I feel destroyed. I don’t want to feel any comfort anymore in my pain. No words known to me can measure up to what I feel. None can describe how paralyzed I feel & how immobilized my state of mind is.I’ve thought that maybe if I could rip off my hand, I’d have nothing left to hurt. That if I could finally chop it off, it’ll kill the urge to constantly look at my self inflicted scars. Or that maybe if I wrap them up, I’ll no longer have to feel the ridges everytime I graze my palm on my wrist. I’m trying, I’m battling but I can’t promise I’m winning.So to conclude whatever this post is, I’m breathing through surviving. I’m a shell of myself & a lot of the questions I have tried asking myself as to how to get out of this, I have no answers to. I hope it’s no burden to anyone who reads this. It’s heavy, like every other feeling in my life and I would hate to burden anyone else with my being. So I apologize. I apologize that I’m a 🐚 of who I hope to be.

So yesterday I did something very bold. I term it as bold because of how unconventional it was & risky since it would have turned out very invasive to some. I’m actively on Instagram & I was going through my followers instagram stories & I came across a picture of a girl’s arm that had marks on it. She actually wasn’t taking the picture of her arm, it just so happened her arm made a cameo and I just happened to see it. I wouldn’t say I was being observant, it was like a glance that led me to contemplating whether confirming my suspicions of what the marks were was a smart thing to do… Let’s just, my conscience didn’t fail me. That was last night and I was sure to include in my dm to her that she was at all under no obligation to answer back to me. I know I would be a bit skeptical opening up about anything remotely mental related to a stranger. Today morning when I woke up, it had completely eluded my mind that I’d sent her a message, that’s until I saw my message icon ping that I had an unread message. She was honest enough to acknowledge that what I’d seen was indeed self harm marks. Getting to the point of this story, (not really sure there’s one) , it was uncomfortable seeing them on someone else other than myself, but I twistedly felt connected to her by her self inflicted marks on her hand. I felt the bond of having another understand that one is capable of being a mess enough to hurt themselves. It was relieving but sad. I quit feeling sorry for myself after the first time I cut , I no longer chose to see it as a fault but as a survival coping mechanism. It’s just different because I relish in the feel of a cold blade to get some damn needed peace of mind.

Not too long ago I had a friend of mine frown upon the fact that I recently got a new tattoo. He’s exact question was ‘You enjoying hurting yourself with this tattoos?‘ He didn’t realize how close to home he hit by asking me that… In my own twisted way, I love the feeling of the needle skim through my skin, it’s just that this time, I’m left with a beautiful artistic reminder of things that mean more to me than others. They are the murals to those I love and to the times in my life I can never seem to erase from my mind. They are my stories, I just receive the both ends of the stick when I get them, the pain that comes with getting them, and the artistic beauty created.

It amazes me how I can never seem to let go of my mental struggles even when I’m not in the gutter . I can’t cut loose the strong hold at which I hold them close to me & how much relevance I constantly give them. I’ve written before that I felt special being ill, I felt like I belonged being depressed & fucked up generally. It gave me a sense of purpose. I was constantly sad & I got to write the best of my blogs while in that funk. Call it fear of the unknown, which in this case is anything that’s remotely good and happy… that damn H word I never seem to like very much. I just can’t grasp myself not unhappy & miserable. No need to pity me, I don’t pity me either. The most surprising thing is, despite not wanting good change, I feel inadequate for depression. I feel like I sometimes lack the magnitude needed to be special enough to be depressed. Like I can’t just catch a break with the inadequacies in my life ; I’m just not cut out for happiness or depression . Really beats the point of why I got my damn enough tattoo in the first place. I need to find a bearing of where I belong, in the darkness or the overly bright light .

Tonight I wasn’t really writing as a means to vent, I guess I just needed to release myself a little. I had a relatively good day, went out to a lovely ice cream parlor in town that touched my old soul. It’s entire vibe and setting was the eighties and it’s ice cream was as legit as legit can be. I honestly didn’t wanna leave because for those few minutes I was there ,the world around me seemed right and peaceful… content even. I wanted to stick there and live on ice cream for as long as my mind chooses it’s ready to go back to our sad reality… Sno – Cream parlor was my heaven in hell…

Is it worth it?? That’s what I’m asking myself right now cause I’m in a bubble that’s pretty different from my normal mental darkness . I’m even scared to say the H word cause I may jinx whatever it is that’s happening right now. For those who may not be following up, the H word is happiness in this case. Not too long ago I wrote about how hard it is for me to understand the concept that is happiness and when exactly one can fully say they are happy with everything that’s going on for them. I’m yet to get there….still have a lot of demons who are allergic to anything remotely good for me, therefore tend to bring out my not so favourite friend who goes by the name Anxiety.

Not to dwell too much so not to fuck it up, I’m at a better place than I usually tend to be. Something has changed that I won’t go into but it’s a significant change that’s been happening for me. I’m so worried that I’m being gullible and naive over it and letting my very betrayable feelings guide me in this case. I don’t sit well with change, of whichever kind. Bad change just sort makes things more aggravated for me. Good change is what I fear most. It tends to have your expectations higher and your judgement easily swayed. It never lasts long ; always just a matter of time before the real darkness makes itself known in whatever good change was happening. So change for me simply doesn’t work out the best . I’m transitioning currently & it’s a wild ride that is exciting, exhilarating and a whole lot more fun than I ever have had on any day. Million dollar question ; Is it worth it?

Someone close to me told me that the world doesn’t know how dark and twisted it gets when I am in my lows mentally. The lengths it takes me to pick myself up from the self induced depression and anxiety I struggle with. That’s why it has me thinking, is this sense of joy & contentment worth it, if at all there stands a chance of me completely falling back to my dark place. Could I be convincing myself that it’s not just a matter of time, that whatever I have going on won’t be my ultimate downfall ?That I may finally have my last straw and loose myself in my own demons if things go wrong at the end. Am I able to pull the plug with my mental state in one complete form or will I be in pieces unrecognizable to even myself?

It scares me. Everything downright scares me shitless. On one hand, I don’t want to not live because I wasn’t strong enough to try and fail or try and win. But I’m also not gonna deceive myself by ignoring the fact that I’m not mentally capable like everyone else. My mind doesn’t function like everyone else’s… Will I need two or three more therapists to get me out of my personal mental hell if I continue giving myself a chance to live without the certainty of the consequences of my actions. I have walls built up so high, you’d think I’m a castle… Is it worth it, peeking out to see if I’ll survive beyond the walls that my mind have convinced me are there to protect me despite being well aware I’m a prisoner instead. It’s a hard risk to take….A very dangerous one too. Asking myself how worth it it is may be the wrong question all together… Maybe what I should be asking is if I can handle it whether I’m in it or not.. ?

Its been a hot minute since I last wrote but I’m guessing that didn’t really matter to most or anyone for that matter. I could have been dead for what it’s worth. My God I hate my life. Anyway, I’m not dead if you may still be thinking so. Death right now feels too infinite for me. The part me that I wish was more optimistic and even slightly hopeful believes that somewhere out there, there’s something for my wrecked soul. I may not see it now, but I at least have hope there is.

I want to say a lot has happened since I last wrote but technically, it’s not been much at all.. It’s more of my emotions that deceive me to thinking a lot has happened, since I wouldn’t be here if things were any easier for me. For those who might not know this ,I write when I’m most fucked up. I’ve created such an illusion for myself that I have been trying to have things under control but here, I don’t have to decive myself. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, everyday is utterly ridiculously differently fucked. In the span of two months, I’ve gotten casual at ‘self hate ‘.I don’t have anything more to say on that, apart from that life’s shit, I’ve gotten over it, you should too …or not. Anyway, back to what my weeks been like ,I met a boy ,majorly got a crush, he was a douche like they all are and now I’m getting it sorted by plotting possible murder for the emotional turmoil I’ve felt for his sorry ass. My God am I gullible and dum right, I fell right into that one didn’t I? Cute boy, cute enough smile and just the right amount of asshole in him… Mercy’s perfect dose of stupid.

Over time, I’ve learned that there’s quite a lot of things that my lack of self love acts as a disadvantage for me. I’m so emotionally dependent on those I love, I pour it in torrents, I have zero left for me. Just to put it out there ,I’m a cling lover so try not getting me in love with you or remotely infatuated with you…God knows I wish I could understand what exactly it would mean for me to love myself more than I put into loving others. I’m my own undertaker. I dig my own grave and bury myself in it. That’s what gullibility is for me. So here I am, ready to cling to any one or anything capable enough of loving me for the both us. Sad isn’t it,,,Que pity party ,,,,,where’s my blade at ??

So for my gullibility to stay on a leash long enough for me to understand the complexity of self love, I’m gonna put my head down and try ‘hate’ people instead .Maybe, just maybe, it’s about time to let in a little bit of no love.

First of all, I wish I was a bundle of roses & was about to light up your world but sadly no.. This isn’t gonna be a pleasant surprise where I’m all dandy about life. I’m actually not sure where this is headed because I’ve lost my mojo for a while now & I understand my mind sometimes likes caging me with writers block where the words just don’t seem to come to me. So no promises this is going to be a complete entry but what the heck…

I’ve been doing a lot of wishing lately …just as I’m about to do now. How I wish I had the world’s best words to express how or where exactly my emotions lie right now. Am I still in the blink of insanity, I don’t really know. Am I still depressed or is it like a looming shadow somewhere at the depths of my mind, I don’t know either… Right now what I do know is that there’s a lot about me that I don’t really know much about yet or have any answers to.

I’m not certain of whether to call what I have been doing as soul searching or simply waiting it out.. I’ve racked Pinterest looking for a way to understand what self love is & I can tell you the most I have gotten to it is a new found intrigue in art that leans more into the aesthetic aspects of myself. So simply, that hasn’t been of much help in my new found search for the meaning of self love. Hardest shit ever. I’ve tried to understand what kindness towards myself means and it’s an entirely new concept to me besides that I need to not physically harm myself. Anything else is uncommon ground for me.

The hardest part about all this for me has been the constant battle I have had in my mind between whether this has all been a silly cry for attention or whether I am legitimately mentally unstable. I’ve gone over it in my head more times than I can count about whether my mind has been so deranged enough to convince me that I’m sad & depressed or if it’s something that’s actually chronically wrong with my brain… Now that’s been my real battle, my real struggle. Come to think of it now, in either options, my mind is still a messed up pile of shit.

Positivity …Such a bitter pill to swallow. I wish I could swallow it as a syrup because of how quick people wanna shove it down my throat. I’ve tried to warm myself to it through quotes and songs and whatnot but I’m not just there yet. How can I conjure positivity when I can’t even seems to think straight half the time. My emotions no longer have anything to do with this because I’m not sad or hurt. I’m not spending my day wallowing in bed or bawling my eyes out. I actually get to spend my day like an average normal human being, but my mind just hasn’t caught up to speed with acting normal. I’m still drawn to a darkness that I can’t explain. I’m a human paradox….welcome to my parallel universe.

Bathe my sorrows away 🛀

I just took a bath. Where is the glamour or surprise in that you ask 🤔?? Well, I hadn’t bathed for a couple days as unpleasant as that revelation may sound because I have been sulking in bed and so damn tired to do anything for that matter. Yes, when I am in my very annoying funk, I am so exhausted by everything that simple day to day tasks are highly undo~able for me. So I want to let you in on how my bath time was…

Initially, I wasn’t just taking a bath to shed off the dirt I had accumulated over the couple days. I am keeping it to myself the number of days I hadn’t bathed to not entirely destroy my life reputation 😅.I wanted to release the tension from my body with warm water and just for those few minutes, close my mind and shut everything off. Not so sure whether that happened ,whether I closed my mind cause I’m pretty sure I was thinking through how to write this blog post. I had this whole entire idea of how I wanted to feel in that bathroom and how I was supposed to shed off the weight on my body. There is something I once in a while do whenever I am at my home where I cleanse myself and just take time to feel beautiful while I am bathing: I light up some candles in the bathroom and take my sweet time to lather myself and bathe very sensually. The candles are nothing fancy, just the normal nonscented kind. I usually have this whole idea in my head, where in my mind I am supposed to be in a 🛀 soaking up in a bubble bath while sipping on a glass of wine but we work with what we have right?

I don’t know whether I washed away my sorrows and tension off my body but at least I became clean 😊. My hair was soon gonna turn into a bird’s nest so a good old bath has done me well. While I was in the middle of bathing, I tried out a test theory to prove to myself that the reason as to why I can’t bring myself to physically hurt myself is because I would rather not feel pain anymore than I am mentally. I poured candle wax on my bare skin right from a burning candle and tried to numb the feeling of the heat sipping into my body. I couldn’t completely numb the pain which was sorta what I wanted to prove. I will leave it at that because my mind is still uncertain when it comes to the whole issue.

My whole bathroom experience was interesting at some extent. I had one motive when I initially decided to bathe and left with a sort of interesting feeling which wasn’t initially intended but not in a bad way. It wasn’t exactly exhilarating. On the current, I am okay. I have gotten that question today a couple times from people and to be truly honest I haven’t had a solid answer for ‘how are you?’ .For now, I am okay. Bathing has actually relaxed me and my body is at least in tune with the rest of the world for now before its dragged back by my messed up mind. I might have missed the wine and the bathtub but whatever part of me has gotten relief even just for tonight is worth the nonscented candles and look warm water.

P.s I took a couple pictures of how my bathroom looked like while I was showering with the candle light and the aura. I also took a picture of myself in that very raw moment. I recently tweeted how I haven’t felt beautiful in a while. Sulking does that to someone. The picture I took may not be all that glamoured up but for that moment, I felt relaxed.