first post since the funny farm!

Right, so, a lot has changed. For most of February I was an inpatient in the psychiatric ward at the hospital.

I got admitted late some Monday evening because I was planning on killing myself.
I had it all worked out and I was so ready to follow through, it was terrifying. Things have been so fucked up for so long. I think I constantly forget that it's not normal to think of suicide every single day. Staying at the hospital was such an experience. I loved it, in a way. I had professional help available to me 24/7 for 3 weeks. There were no crazy expectations or pressure or any of that day to day shit. The only goal you really had was to get better. Make it through the day without being tempted to down every pill in sight. Go a week without dragging one sharp object or another across your wrist, thigh, whatever. There was usually between 8 and 15 other patients. I think the youngest one was around 9 years old, and I was among the oldest. They had depression, anxiety, eating disorders, psychosis, schizophrenia and I'm sure a whole array of other issues. We were all fragile and so incredibly close to falling apart in the most permanent way possible. There was no judgement, no harmful words, or bad intentions for the most part. Everyone in there knew they were fucked up, and they knew everyone else was too. I felt comfortable in a really weird way there. Just focus on recovery, focus on feeling better, focus on coping with life. Every single day.

I'd wake up in my sterile white hospital room usually around 7:30 when a nurse would come in. I'd get dressed and go to the dining room where everyone would eat the food that arrived on their pre-ordered breakfast trays. Hospital food isn't too lovely, but it was a comfort. I liked how much control I had over what I ate everyday. I only ate healthy food and as a result lost 5 pounds while I was in there, and obliterated cravings. I also fixed my sleeping schedule! They gave me my sleeping pills at 9pm and at 10:30 it would be lights out. The nurses shined flashlights through the windows in the door to your room every hour or so to see if you were sleeping or crying or pacing or whatever. There was no point in staying up late. Anyway, after breakfast, on weekdays we'd go down the hall to "school", two small rooms where we'd work on assignments that our actual teachers sent in, or work on things that the "teachers" there would assign, or if things were a complete confusion between your real school and that "school", you could just read or work on a crossword or something. It would go from 8-9:30, half hour break, 10-12, hour long lunch, 1-2:15. Or something like that. I mostly just worked on sketches and wrote a short story for Writer's Craft while I was in there. After school it would be "quiet independent time" until 4 to work on school stuff or read or meet with your therapist or doctor or just watch tv or whatever. At 4 there would usually be group therapy which was normally okay. It was never really that therapeutic, but it was beneficial one way or another. They taught me magical incantations to push away the suicidal thoughts, ways to cope with daily bullshit, how to improve your "sleep hygiene", how to give a great compliment, how to set reasonable goals, etc. At 5 we would eat dinner. Visiting hours were from 6-8, I think. Most nights my mom visited, and if she didn't, friends did. My mom and I juggled and played cards mostly, because there's not a lot to do. My friends and I played cards or just sat and talked the whole time. It's funny how rarely people show that they love you until something big happens, i.e. getting hospitalized. No one misses you until the fact that you're gone is blatantly thrown in their face.

I was in there for 3 weeks and there were a lot of positive things that came from the whole experience. I am by no means cured, I still have suicidal thoughts everyday, I still self harm, and some times I could swear I'm more screwed up now than I was when I got admitted, but those times pass. I'm well aware of the steps I have to take to feel okay, it's mostly just a matter of wanting to feel better. It'd be stupid to say I like feeling sad, but the sadness I feel gets overwhelming and downright blinding sometimes. It sucks you in and swallows you whole, and when you get that low, it's very difficult to break free. I've just been trying to take things one day at a time since I got out. Getting back to reality was a difficult transitition, but obviously it had to happen. My main concern is that if I ever get really significantly worse, I don't think returning to disneyland  would benefit me at all. The hospital did all it could for me, and the rest is in my hands. It's just difficult, really. I wish I had connected with people there, though I'll never forget the individuals I did meet.

But, yeah, that's kind of been life lately.. I've been keeping busy ever since with work, art projects, poetry and short stories and a ton of excersize. I don't know. It's just been so long, I figured I should post something. Yep okay bye.

feeling a zillion times better today.

My exams are donediddlydone, I got everything done that needed to be done, I worked for the first time in almost 2 weeks and I don't have school again until Monday. I get to see the psychiatrist in two weeks, which is frickin far, but at least I have an appointment. Yesterday I kind of just broke down crying at Jake's. I cried like a baby for an hour straight, in my most vulnerable state ever, and he just held me and listened and reassured and did everything a boyfriend should do. I've been omitting some things from him lately, and I finally got it all out in the open and he has a pretty decent understanding of all the crap that's been going on in my mind lately. It's made us closer than ever, and while obviously I'm not completely dependant on him, I feel a bit better knowing he's really here for me. I'm so glad things are finally back to normal with us.

Uuuh, what else has happened. On Friday I hung out with a friend and tried salvia. It was horrible and fascinating at the same time. I felt like I was trapped in a bubble, trapped in time, trapped in something. I can't explain what. I swore I could see inside my mind and watched bits of my brain performing their tasks and deciding things like what I would say next. I thought I was communicating in some weird telepathic way with my friend who was also on salvia. It was fucking weird. I also freaked out a bit, got really anxious and was counting the seconds until I would feel normal again, terrified it would never happen. I couldn't quite separate my thoughts from my words and apparently ended up spewing word vomit about one of my greatest anxieties. I even worried said friend with how anxious and worked up I was getting. He was cool about it all though, and has since proven to be a very caring and helpful fella. It was an interesting experience and I'm glad it happened, but I reeaally don't think I'll ever try it again.

Today I got to hang out with bffl and Emily which was lovelylovelylovely. I love them and how comfortable I feel hanging out with them. They're also fucking hilarious and make me happy and less worried about everything all the time. 

Now I've kind of just got the rest of the week to do whatever I please. No homework, no certain plans, no responsibilities other than working again this sunday... I can relax. I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts. Oh, another thing, I tried spray painting with my friend the other day. Fun stuff. I think tomorrow I'll play around with that, and maybe work on a drawing. Life is nice sometimes.

I've been feeling a bittt better since that last post. Or maybe I've just been a bit too busy to feel anything at all. Sunday night I didn't get any sleep because Jake and I almost broke up and it was very dramatic and tearful and then my brother and I were chatting until 5am. I think the massive fight between jake and I was what we needed and brought us closer together, which is cool stuff. I spent Monday evening with him. I saw django on tuesday with Sammy, which was nice. I always like seeing her, even though it's always been too long since the last time. I've been super busy with art, and tonight I'm going to be super busy with english and probably won't sleep. I like being busy though. I'm gonna go do that now.

I'm on the brink of tears and my stomach feels sick so I'm just going to blog until it goes away and I'm not going to apologize for being the most depressing fucker around. It's my blog, your choice to read it and I can't control my feelings. See what I did there.

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. My anxiety's killing me lately. I can't function like an ordinary person. I can't seem to be happy about anything anymore. My depression's killing me. My self image is killing me. My loneliness is killing me. My lack of motivation is killing me. These new pills aren't doing shit and when I went for my biweekly dr appointment, she said "Well, you haven't killed yourself..."

Yes, thank you, my incredibly useful doctor. It's true, I haven't killed myself. Does that make this any less horrible? Hell, I'll be honest, I've been cutting again for months. Last week I had an anxiety attack over eating fucking pizza. Pizza. I fucking love pizza, what the hell is wrong with me? I can hardly enjoy spending time with Jake anymore, because half of the time my mind's screaming at me that I'm a disgusting, worthless, unloveable ball of shit and the other half of the time it's screaming not to trust a word he says. I can't leave him though because I need him more than ever through all this. I'm not even honest with him though. He doesn't know the gravity of this and yet he's the only person who I let attempt to help me. I don't know if it's because he doesn't understand or because I'm not explaining. It's painful though. (Elaboration, it's not all horrible, sometimes I'm really happy with him, like I used to be.) I can'tcan'tcan't keep being a burden though. Not to him, not to my friends, not to my family. I've put off an english assignment for like a month now because the work just makes me want to cry. It's easy and I could get a great work on it so why can't I just fucking do it. I can't do any of the studio work for my art classes (like using the printing presses) when there's more than 4 people in the room without panicking and leaving. The list goes on, but I won't post that here. I just keep piling on various means of escapism, one after the other, hoping one day I'll wake up from my mindless fog and find everything's blown away in the wind. So yes doctor, I haven't killed myself, but every day it gets more difficult not to. My body's here, but my insides feel withered. Most of the time, this just doesn't feel like living.

I have to go back to the stupid hospital and see the damn psychiatrist again, so once again I get to listen to the ordinary spew about "depression is treatable" "social anxiety is treatable" "treatabletreatabletreatable". I just want to feel better, but I can't even conjure up a world in my mind where I'm "better". They say there's no cure to depression, it just becomes manageable. Well I don't want to just manage it. I don't want to live like this. Just make it go away.

it's raining at 4am.

I drank an energy drink at 11 to work on my sculpture a lot. Well, I worked on it as much as I could... now my body craves sleep and my mind is off the walls. Ooops. It's been a weird week. I got grounded again, only for a week though. Bigger oops. It wasn't a huge deal though, I just home a bit late and yeah jknfekjr. I've been productive though (some of the time?) this week. And other days I just haven't been myself. I think some days I struggle to recognize myself. I've been trying to avoid that realization a lot lately. I've always felt so weird and secluded, and I guess some days you can really use that; results may vary. I've been doing a lot of art and haven't written a single word for english all week. I printed my litho stone and an etching, started a new etching, finished a candleholder, worked on a new sculpture... Monday will be productive as hell, because somehow I'm going to glaze the candleholder, make more litho prints, prepare my copper plate etching, and finish a plexiglass etching? I guess that's pretty do-able. I guess I should do more english.

I visited my great uncle today. He taught in the art program many years ago and even taught my current sculpture teacher when he was in bealart.Today he is 93 and incredibly frail. He showed me a ton of art he's collected throughout his life, as well as his own portfolio. It was fairly impressive. He seems so sad and alone though. He lives in a quaint, very old fashioned looking house filled with one of a kind things and covered in wallpaper from the 50s. Everything is tidy beyond belief, as if things were measured out precisely to find their perfect location. It was beautiful, but haunting. He's the only person who lives there now, floating around with his memories. The tidyness makes it look like no one even lives there, in a way. He reminisced frequently about his late wife and all the people he's no longer in touch with. He never specifically said anything about being lonely, but it's painfully obvious. I feel so sorry for him. I'd visit him monthly if I could, but he's so frail that he moves slowly, can't stand up straight and is out of breath just speaking. It's incredibly difficult to converse with him sometimes, plus he really doesn't know me that well. I'm so sad my mom didn't have us spend more time with our family members. I come from a family of artists and wouldn't even know it. I think when I get some time, I'll try to make an art piece for my great uncle and visit him again once it's ready. It probably won't be for months, but that's better than a decade or whatever.

It's so difficult to think straight lately. I suppose this is when I turn to this sad little blog the most.

dumpy slumpy.

I am mourning the loss of the glorious break.
It's been a really lovely two weeks... I've got to spend time with plenty of people, started an etching and a sculpture, drawn a bit, worked a bit and gotten a lot of sleep. I think the latest I ever slept in was 12:30, which is pretty damn good for my standards. I'm kind of happy to go back to school, because I want to keep working on my art projects... however, I only have two weeks left of my current studios which is going to make me want to shoot myself in the face as I attempt to get everything done. English is worrisome too, mostly because I haven't read all of this crappy book she assigned over the break or started the project due tomorrow. I mean, technically for me it's not due for a few days, I guess. So that's good. I just seriously have to be motivated for the next two weeks which will be a struggle. I'll manage though.

I'm not looking forward to being stressed, anxious and uncomfortable every day, ugh.. that's my main worry. I hate the way I get when I have to do small tasks that I'm not confident about, which is like 50% of the art program. fndkjfnskfnjsd I'm freaking out just thinking about it now. I never remember anything our teacher's teach during lessons because I don't know, I don't retain information? I think I've been having trouble focusing. I don't know what the hell my problem is, but when I actually have to do these procedures I have to have Michelle practically walk me through every single step and I know she's getting annoyed with me. Uggh I feel useless. If I try to do stuff on my own, I almost always screw it up and then have a panic attack over the embarassment, rendering me useless for the rest of the day. I also hate working near people. I'm starting to be swarmed with memories of how fucking shitty and painful it is having this stupid fucking social anxiety.

aaand we're back to the ultimate question of "how the hell am i ever going to survive in the real world"

Apparently I haven't blogged since december 8th? Where have I even been, I don't know.

I've been up to my ears working on art stuff. I sort of finished one sculpture, nearly finished a candleholder for jake's mom, nearly finished my lithography drawing, finished an etching... over the break I have to make another sculpture, make another etching, read a book for english, write a script for english and see people and stop being sad and stuff. Christmas was really nice. I have a ton of fabulous books I look forward to reading next semester, as well as some lovely new clothes aand a new laptop. I'm spoiled and stuff. Jake got me an exceptionally glorious coat, as well as netflix. Netflix is making it really difficult to be productive though, but oh well. Wow thinking of school is overwhelming. Today I'm giving alexander and emily their presents, I hope they like them and stuff. jnfdknfvksnsj I wish I hadn't just made that list of everything I have to do, now I'm overwhelmed. I'll manage jfnskjnfsdk okay.

I've also been hanging out with my friend Jordan at school at lot which has been awesome. We also went to a really awesome vintage store and I helped him pick out gifts for his girlfriend and he helped me pick out gifts for Jake. Teeeaamwork. We also exchanged christmas presents, it was delightful. I'm so glad to have another friend in the art program. We critique each others' work, yay woo. I've also been working a fair bit. I worked saturday, sunday and monday. My next shift is sunday and it's my first 6 hour shift, oh my oh my! I don't love my job, but I've gotten okay at it. It is what it is. I need money. I'm also on new medication. I think it makes me feel more numb than anything. It also gives me headaches. I guess we'll see how that goes.

I've also been thinking a lot lately about trust, and how to react to and connect with people in general. I never blogged about this in detail because I hate thinking about it and it makes me feel embarassed and like a worthless piece of shit. But, Jake's been cheating on me for a while, kind of. I found out a month ago, gave him hell for it and didn't budge until he was crying begging for forgiveness. It was a shitty experience. I guess he's stopped though? I'm giving him another chance which most people will find incredibly stupid. Obviously things haven't been the same since. I don't think they ever will be.

This made me think about how betrayed my mom felt when I was lying and drinking. I love my mom, I'm dead serious about that. But I've still lied to her since. I feel bad every time, but I like what I get up to, and it's just easier not having her constantly disappointed in me. Just because Jake lied to me, doesn't mean he doesn't love me? I don't know, this is getting so gay, I hate talking about feelings. I'll never really trust him again, I think. And I don't think my mom should ever trust me to be fully honest with her. It's heart breaking, but it's honest. Love can exist without trust. I think I'm deciding to stop trusting people all together. It's human nature for everyone to put themselves first in most cases. Never again will I believe that any human being should feel differently about me. I will no longer be surprised when someone lies to me or hurts me. It happens. I am a highly insignificant person who is going to accept that this is the way life is. I will still love people, and believe that they love me to some degree, but that is completely irrelevant to trust. Lies are inevitable and trust is a fantasy concept.