Depression - Tumblr Posts
The haunting disorder
It was getting better. I was getting better, I’ve been eating healthy and working out. I was done with binging and restricting. But I can’t. I just can’t. I’ve been dealing with this disorder for 6 years now. You can’t leave it. You can’t get away from it. No matter how hard you try. It won’t leave. It’ll always be haunting you.
Mental illness is so weird. Something that made me ecstatic and so fucking happy a week ago now leaves an ache in my chest, a soul deep, bittersweet ache, that threatens to bring me to tears.
Being the nerdy lesbian I am, this post is a fandom post. Lol. Doesn't make it less real, though.
That Imodna kiss got me deep, deep in my feels.
I was taking some Ibuprofin with my chocolate milk when I remembered that blowing bubbles into your drinks is a Thing®
and so i blew bubbles into my chocolate milk, and it was literally the largest hit of serotonin ive had in months
depression tips™
shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.
moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over.
put on clean, comfortable clothes.
put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.
drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.
clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink.
blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.
make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something.
make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.
go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.
call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.
cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.
Harry Styles: Stoic - Foreword (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/zcCrBuLaFG People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend... -Jim Morrison "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU?!" Harry screams, tears profusely running down his slightly indented cheeks, falling and gathering into small pools in the small indents of his clavicles and moistening the ends of his long brown hair. "Why won't you let me touch you.... caress you? Why?" he says his husky voice now barely audible and cracking from crying. I remain silent and stoic which by the way I've gotten pretty good at over the years. I never, I mean never ever express emotion because it shows weakness and vulnerability and only the strong survives in this cruel, corrupt, condemned, and so-called world I live in. My facade was particularly built on that." Ebony please.. Talk to me... say something...PLEASE!" Harry cries and pleads desperately. I continue to stare impassively at the door behind him not daring to make eye contact. Right now the idea of making a run for it all the way home and then locking myself in a room from feeling the guilt that I deserved, with just me and my very much appreciated friend, my blade, seems very appeasing to me. Subconsciously, I slip both hands in my pockets just to make sure it was still safely stored in my hoodie's pocket. Running the rough pad of my index fingertip along the edge of the blade, I release a soft and inaudible sigh of content as I feel it slightly slice through the calloused layer of skin. The pain feels so good. Pain is what has kept me alive all of these years. Pain makes me feel... real....
Harry Styles: Stoic - Foreword (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/hGFwlOSaFG People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend... -Jim Morrison "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU?!" Harry screams, tears profusely running down his slightly indented cheeks, falling and gathering into small pools in the small indents of his clavicles and moistening the ends of his long brown hair. "Why won't you let me touch you.... caress you? Why?" he says his husky voice now barely audible and cracking from crying. I remain silent and stoic which by the way I've gotten pretty good at over the years. I never, I mean never ever express emotion because it shows weakness and vulnerability and only the strong survives in this cruel, corrupt, condemned, and so-called world I live in. My facade was particularly built on that." Ebony please.. Talk to me... say something...PLEASE!" Harry cries and pleads desperately. I continue to stare impassively at the door behind him not daring to make eye contact. Right now the idea of making a run for it all the way home and then locking myself in a room from feeling the guilt that I deserved, with just me and my very much appreciated friend, my blade, seems very appeasing to me. Subconsciously, I slip both hands in my pockets just to make sure it was still safely stored in my hoodie's pocket. Running the rough pad of my index fingertip along the edge of the blade, I release a soft and inaudible sigh of content as I feel it slightly slice through the calloused layer of skin. The pain feels so good. Pain is what has kept me alive all of these years. Pain makes me feel... real....
fuck all u tumblr hoes there is nothing remotely romantic about being violently suicidal
For those who think they’re alone in their darkness
Everything is shifting so fast, changing, moving on. But I am stuck here, stumbling, unsure of where I stand. I just keep searching for someone to understand. Understand what I fight, the pain that I live through, the darkness I see. I search the world for tears, to match my own. And in a world drowning in sadness, I can’t find any. Tears are hidden, tears are shame. I should know, I hide my own. My unshed tears drip down my face, cupping my plaster smile in an embrace of sorrow. No one will know. But still I do search. Search for that second where a smile fades from the eye and sadness grips the heart. The moment when the eyes begin to cry, but don’t. Instead they hold it all in, the pain and regret and despair. But the more the pain, the more the suffering, the less you see it in their eyes. Because the eyes can only hold so many tears. So as they try flowing out, they are pushed back, dripping down your throat into your lungs and finally, back into your heart. And that’s when I know, they understand me. When their eyes deaden, their face goes slack, and I know then, it was too much for their eyes to hold. Too much for them to show. They walk around with empty eyes, and poison eating at their heart. But no one sees. No one sees like I see. But tired I am, of searching for empty eyes. Because the more I look, the more I see. The more I see that it is everywhere, in everything. Everyone is crying, tears of glass, collecting in their heart.
Then I think, if sadness is all around me, why do I feel so lonely? Misunderstood, judged. Does acknowledging my sorrow take away your ability to deny yours? Is depression something we just want to shove in a small box and tuck away, denying that it exists? Something to apologize for when it shows its face? Why are we so afraid to admit that it’s there?
Of course, some people can’t shove it into a box. No, it is woven into everything else that we are. It simply can’t fit into such a small box. We can’t hide it anywhere. So maybe we just hide ourselves somewhere. Somewhere dark, where the darkness inside can feel safe. Safe to exist. Safe to be a part of us.
Don’t look me in the eyes. Because it’s still there. No matter how many times I push it down, you can see it in my eyes. It filled my heart, and lungs, and throat. So now, it rests in my eyes, always. And now, they can’t flow in. Only out. I can’t hide anymore, and I’m scared to death that you’ll see. Tears shattering on the ground, sobs clawing themselves out of my throat, emotion racking my body with convulsions. You will see the fear seizing my muscles, sending shivers through my nerves. You will see my crumpled body, broken spirit, shattered mind. I’ll be laid bare, vulnerable, at your mercy. Basically begging for your kindness, destroyed by a simple smile or crushed by a careless word. And that is something I won’t do. Not again. Never again.
Constant sweaty palms from being afraid, miserable, and overheated has left people thinking I have a rigorous moisturizing routine.
No, no, silly human. These are the natural benefits of being deranged and deteriorating. Soft, smooth, luscious hands... And IBS.
I was born to be a writer. I am certain of that (I'm not).
Also born with chronic physical and mental exhaustion.
Born autistic.
Listen, there isn't a damn mindmap large enough, a visual organizer versatile enough, to contain the level of incompetency my brain engages in when trying to be creative.
Where are my thoughts? HOW DO I LOCATE THEM WHEN I'M DONE THOUGHTING THEM? I'm too tired to finish this thought.
Maladaptive daydreaming really does get you down; like one moment parame is living their best life, in a happy, safe and loving relationship away from all stress and pain. Then all of a sudden I've been pulled away from that world and into this one, kept focused on the moment by words of hatred and discontent at my very existence, desperate to go back to daydreaming.
Sometimes I just realise that the only reason I stay alive is so that I can daydream.
Constantly daydreaming of what could have been, a better time, a better life altogether
Just saying...
Please do not interact unless you have experienced any form of trauma or abuse and/or experience mental illness, especially with maladaptive daydreaming.
I do not want people re-blogging or commenting on posts (mainly) about MaDD saying stuff like "omg, this is so me because I like to pretend ___ every once in a while". Or "oh, I'm just so imaginative like this".
Like, shut up. Shut up. It's not fun living like this. It hurts. Especially after going on for aeons thinking the daydreams were helping, but I get to a point of realising that it's not, and it's not okay. I'm not okay.
The FBI agent in my computer watching me silent scream-cry whilst I pull my hair out, staring at my college work for hours on end every day for the past 6 months before I start talking to myself and frantically pacing then freezing in a daydream attack: 👁️👄👁️
Might just fucking end it (or try to, again). I don't have anyone to stay alive for anymore and they clearly didn't need me to begin with. I'm such an idiot to think I could ever be wanted, I'm completely alone again, there's nothing for me here
Let it go~
Let it go~
I don't wanna deal with my own bullshit anymore~
Prospects Document #1
Scenario 3, Prompt: Madness of One who has had enough
Empty.
But so full.
All that is empty is blank, so blank, and you can’t help but…fill it up.
The emptiness echoes, rattles, buzzes, slams, fizzles, cracks-
And dances.
Over and over and over again, it never stops.
Do you know that feeling where you don’t know what to think at all that you start thinking about everything so that you can think of something? So hollow and stuff and it’s so weird because you noticed just now and it’s really weird. Like you just don’t know. Your mind is so dead that even you start getting concerned about yourself, and then you realize that damn am I okay? You just don’t know. Like you don’t know what to feel at all. At all. Nothing. That you start feeling everything because you start wondering why don’t I feel anything and then suddenly everything is crashing down on you so strongly that you don’t know what to do anymore.
You just don’t know.
You really don’t know because if you did know why would you be so empty why please ask yourself that tell me why Iwant t oknow
Things are going off in your brain but no it’s not (lol) -- you’re probably just imagining it and you are because you don’t have anything to think about you just think you do,,.that’s not right | it’s empty empty empty em and nothing can fill up emptiness because it’s empty for a reason and nothing going to happen so you have to make yourself believe something’s happening because being empty is not right and shouldn’t be happening so you have to fill it up with noise maybe even images- hallucinations(?) yeah probably yes yes but you need to hallucinate and make your ears ring and ring and ring and ring and ring and ring and ring because if there’s nothing to think about that’s not right(???) it’s not right at all it’s not it really isn’t it’s not
Then you get ahead of yourself and everything is overwhelming because you tried so hard but it was too much it always is but if it’s not too much then it’s not enough but even if it’s not enough that overwhelm you too and it’s too much but it’s okay you can sleep through it
You can’t sleep
There’re bells now you can identify that
They sound really weird though it’s like they’re ringing yes but it’s like they aren’t they sound like they’re cackling but’s that’s not right? It’s not it’s weird because of that but you know they’re bells I know too but it’s not like they’re real right but then why does is feel like they are?
It just gets louder and it’s your fault because why would you try to fill it up?
You can’t do anything about it now you can’t sleep you stop thinking but then now it’s empty again and filling up you can try again you do and it only overwhelms you again and it’s ringing and it doesn’t stop
It’s your fault it really is.
Well, it’s a boring night, so. Get to it.
Dancers dancers dancers are dancing and they’re dances are damning
Something starts howling the ringing is still there and now there’s laughing what is going on-
The hundred bells are deafening to listen to- no maybe more than that actually. Your ears will burst.
Maybe that’s how you can sleep
No? Okay.
But we both know that that’s the only way.
Something’s rattling inside the room you’re enclosed in, but it doesn’t seem like it.
Scattered things everywhere everywhere there is nothing though because it’s not real it really isn’t
It’s still there
No
No
Not really
There’s pulsating your brain is pulsating so are your arms your legs your neck your feet your hands your face your eyes your ears your heart you
Some puncturing some stabbing some scratching some more
Some more more
Yeah
Yeah it’s really weird
Anyways, where were we? Oh right, you can’t sleep. Every wondered why?
Could be lotta things, could really be! Not sure how you work though, but we both know that it’s not my fault.
Anyways, it’s my turn. I’ve got a lot of things to say.
There’s a lot going on and I’m not sure what to make of it. Help me. There’s this constant ringing in my ear that comes and goes whenever, not sure about that. Am I unhealthy? Totally. My throat is killing me, it’s been killing. It’s killing me. Got blood everywhere, too. Got a headache, too, it’s killing me. It’s killing me so bad.
Then what about me? Me? Me? Me?I could be wrong but ME?
ME?
?
?
?
/
Got many thoughts?
Got none?
Anyways.
Got enough time for more? Cmon, some more.
Just cuz you cant sleep dont mean that you gotta bypass me like that thats just rude
Im not just another voice in your head Im right here! Right here!
Got many thoughts, huh? Got none, huh! Huh Huh really, could you be anymore worthless? What even is your purpose in life? Can’t even function like a normal human, huh? If you think too much, there will be no clear thoughts to comprehend, so basically don’t think at all. And no thoughts are just no thoughts. No thoughts! None!
Really! Seriously! Im being serious!
Anyways.
So
Lost track, sorry, really sorry
…it’s actually really embarrassing
I know the ringing is very loud, and it sometimes hurts, but it’s all that you have. The laughing you hear are distorted memories. And since your empty, empty brain has nothing else to think about but your worthless thoughts, you are no less empty than your brain. Are you sad? Happy? Angry? Manic? Why, with those confusing expressions, proper comprehension of your mood is not possible. I need to tear open your head, snip off your useless strings and see for myself. I need to cut it up, I need to rip your frontal lobe open to see for myself. What else is there? I need to look for everything else. Amygdala? Hippocampus? Prefontal Cortex? I will tear your head apart. I will peel off your skin. I will break your skull. I will pick apart your brain. I will dismantle you. I will turn you inside out. I will take everything that is making you this way. But, isn’t that all that you are? Are you not all that this is? The fact that all you are is emptiness is really embarrassing.
You're so embarrassing.
Word Count: 1,092
Inspired by Kara Kara Kara no Kara of Kikuo
I'm feeling depressi today should i:
A. Watch a new TV show everyone is talking about that looks really good
B. Watch a TV show I meant to watch like two years ago when it first came out
C. Watch my comfort TV show like criminal minds or NCIS which I've already seen like 10 times
Or D. Watch no TV shows, watch tiktok and take a nap
Ah, the struggle
You wanna know what really really hurts? When your fiance tells you, "you should go back to therapy."
He isn't wrong but... Damn...
