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Permalink 12:23:06 pm, by falling.to.earth Email , 551 words   English (US) latin1
Categories: falling_to_earth

Forget This


First, let me make my apologies for my extended absence. It has been so wonderful to be part of this community and for the comments I have received thus far I am extraordinarily grateful. That someone else cares--even if that someone else is a stranger--is incredible. I would wish to extend that same kindness and generosity to anyone who reads this blog, day or night. Whenever.

Depression is a debilitating disease unlike any other, and to paraphrase an author whose name is currently  beyond my memory, a prison, where those who suffer it are both the poor jailbird and the cruel jailer. That it is able to do thoroughly destroy individuals that--so very commonly--are lovely, brilliant, and strong, is a tragedy.


My own experiences in depression have always been as such: that even when I actively, straight-forwardly seek help, I am either left to my own devices or handled entirely in the wrong way.
My mother, for example, would have you believe that I, despite being the gifted program and outstripping virtually every one of my classmates in whatever activities I devote myself to, because (2 of) my grades are poor, am doomed to a mediocre college where my intelligence is laughable.
My father would have you believe that I am a lazy, arrogant, unintelligent child who is wasting whatever little talents she has, and that I am very thoroughly an embarrassment to all those who are associated with me. That I am depressed is only a further sign of my fault, my utter failures. I am seeking glory but  unwilling to do the work and will be easily outstripped by all those many people that exceed me in every respect.
Perhaps I am arrogant. Perhaps I am lazy. Perhaps I am wasting my talents. Maybe I even am stupid. Certainly I have made poor choices in the past. But I have decided this: That my parents, both of whom are currently aware of my depression and of my suicidal ideations, don't matter.


Of course their little girl, of course this little girl--who has been sexually exploited, who has been trapped in a home where abuse and violence are an everyday occurence, who has been so utterly tramautized by their own constant beratement, immaturity, and demeaning attitudes that she hates not only herself, but is entirely incapable of forming intimate, healthy relationships--needs to be reminded further of this.
Why should they have any care for the happiness of their offspring? Why shouldn't they treat their children with absolute disgust? Why shouldn't they constantly berate and betray them, and continue even through their knowledge of the pain of these children to punish them for it?
I have only this to say: Fine. Herd me into therapy. Force anti-depressants down my throat. Remind me of how terrible and cruel and stupid I am. But you know what? I deserve better. I know I deserve better and I know I am better than what you tell me I really am. I know myself better than you ever will and when it comes down to it I won't need you. I can succeed. I can thrive. I can do something and as you say otherwise I say FORGET YOU.
[I threw all of my medicine in the trash today. Happy, are you?]



Permalink 06:34:17 pm, by falling.to.earth Email , 292 words   English (US) latin1
Categories: falling_to_earth

Scrambled Thoughts

I spent most of yesterday planning this blog.

Is that odd? I'm not sure. But even so, I thought about it, pondered what I was going to say for hours because finally I had an audience for my words. And I do. And I have so much to say. But when I sat down at the computer today, ready to articulate my feelings, my mind was a blank. I couldn't find the words. It was like someone had put all my thoughts in a blender, and now they're all scrambled together. Just a mass of words and phrases, unintelligable to anyone else.

So I think I'll just write what I feel, anything that comes to mind.

I think that because I've been hurt so much by friends and those close to me, that I find a certain pleasure in causing them pain. It sounds horrible, but it's true. It makes me feel better, knowing that someone else hurts when I hurt, that someone else cries when I cry. That someone else cares about me, even when I don't care about myself. That someone needs me as much as I need them.

It's horrible, the way I look at myself. I've been told that I'm pretty, gorgeous even. But all I see in the mirror is an ugly, obsessive freak. A parasite per se. I look in the mirror and I hate myself. I wonder how anyone could possibly love me. I need to be loved by others, but even I can't love myself. I hate my body, I hate my personality, I hate me. I hate this.

I have to go for now, but here's to hoping I'll be able to pull myself together for my next post. Grrr.





Permalink 12:56:38 pm, by falling.to.earth Email , 221 words   English (US) latin1
Categories: falling_to_earth

The First

This is my first blog post--ever.

I think that's the way most writers begin their blogs, by admitting that they have never written a blog post before, and then admitting their feelings. So I think I'll do the same.

I'm really scared about this, posting all my fears and failures on a forum for the whole world to see, but I think that this blog will finally force me to admit everything I want to pretend never was. I want to push past my depression so very badly. I want to live again; I want to breathe fresh air; I want to dream happy dreams; I want to fall into an easy sleep each night with a huge, sloppy smile on my face again. I just want to be happy. If anything, I think that this is a noble goal.

I'll never tell anyone that I am doing this, though. It'll be my dirty little secret, my personal savior edging me on. Healing, I think, is a very personal thing. No one else can do it for you. And if I'm scared about revealing my true emotions to the world, I'm most scared that my friends and family will find out. The carnage would be incredible... I've been denying my depression for so long...

Well, finally I come out. Here goes...

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