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11.24.17 | 01:43

Too scared to love

Too broken to trust

Too ready to go

But too cowardly to die

Is this how life is supposed to be?

 

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My Silver Lining

Life doesn’t always go the way you want it to go.

Sometimes we win some and sometimes we lose some. Sometimes living doesn’t seem like an option even though we know it is ultimately a choice we get to choose, but how can we possibly choose life when death seems so appealing?

For the past few weeks, I’ve been going down an emotional rollercoaster: from breaking up with my boyfriend to losing my job as well as trying to commit suicide a few times. Life hasn’t been easy for me, and over time it seems like every bad thing will push me over the edge. It seems like I lost all hope in myself and in what life has to offer if all I ever get is pain and suffering.

But the amazing thing about life is that you find things when you least expected.

And I found it.

I found my silver lining.

I never had a person in my life that treated me so well and made me feel like I could be enough. The person lights up my day, and it’s comforting to know that I can rely on the, when time gets hard. It’s comforting to know that we can talk to each other as if we’re equals. They remind me constantly the things I need to remember or to be told when I’m breaking down or feeling suicidal, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

I know in the end, their words won’t change how I feel about myself. No one can make me feel a way I don’t want to feel or I don’t already feel. But to just simply have a reminder that I am special to someone and that I am important and amazing makes me feel like maybe my existence had meant and will continue to mean something to someone.

I’m far from being okay, and I know I’m still struggling just to get by. But it helps to know that I won’t have to always fight this battle alone. And it makes me cry just being able to admit that out loud and just being able to see myself in a better light even if that light may fade over time.

I just feel grateful I got to meet this person. I’m grateful of all the times we spent together and effort they have put into helping me. I know if they are going through something, I will be there in a heart beat. I will even fight whoever hurt them. Okay, maybe not physically fight, but I will be protect them.

I know my silver lining isn’t much.

It’s not a feeling nor a  thought, let alone an epiphany.

It’s just a reminder that even when things seem hopeless, even when I’m ready to give up on myself, there is someone out there that isn’t ready to give up on me. 

And maybe that’s enough to make someone feel wanted- to make someone want to fight for their future.

No, I know it’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

So I just want to say…

Thank you so much, my silver lining

You will always be in my heart.

 

this is my depression

depression can manifest itself in different ways without you realizing it until your world starts crashing down onto you

Sometimes there’s no coherent way of putting how you feel on the inside in words that somehow make sense. Sometimes how you feel on the inside doesn’t even make sense.

Right now, I should be extremely happy in my life. I have friends in college that I know I can trust and rely on. My relationship with my family has never been more healthy. I have a boyfriend that loves me very much that tries to support me and to make me special at every chance he has.

But…I’m not happy.

I have everything I ever wanted. A good relationship with my family, supportive friends, and loving boyfriend, but I don’t understand why I’m always so depressed. I don’t understand why I feel so inadequate all the time. Everything seems to bring me down, and I feel like I can’t escape these thoughts and feelings.

I hate being so negative like this. I hate that people have to deal with this.

I feel like even though I have everything, I have nothing at all. After all, if I did have everything, why do I still feel so empty? Why does it feel like I’m so alone in this world?

I just want to curl up in a ball and just disappear. And I am very well aware that this is just my depression talking. But sometimes I wonder if this depression will ever leave me or will it always sit in the back of my mind waiting for me to breakdown?

 

 

If I had drown that day…

Everything comes to an end at one point or another.

I wonder if I had drown that day what would today been like? Who would miss me?

For those who wanted me to be happy, whose happiness do you really want: yours or mine? If the happiness is mine, why didn’t you ever ask me if I am alright? Why did you just assume that I’m always going to be fine? Why do you believe and buy into that lie even when I told you time after time all I want is to die?

If I had drown that day would my body sink or would I float away?

I don’t know the science behind it, but there’s a beauty in death. There’s a beauty in the moment before death that is so hard to explain and to understand. You realize all the good, the bad, the grateful, and the ungrateful moments of your life. They flash by, reminding you what it is like to still be alive. But then comes the peace, the acceptance, and the moment where you just let go of everything and let it happen. You realize you no longer have to deal with it all. That you are finally free from the bondage that you entrapped yourself with.

If I had drown that day maybe I would have found a sense of peace.

But if I had drown that day, would my only regret be that I didn’t drown myself sooner? Or would my only regret be that I couldn’t love myself the way I loved others even at the very end.

 


 

Reading this was really hard.

It’s something I wrote the day after Valentine’s Day when I suddenly remembered the day I wanted to drown myself at the beach. I was with someone that I secretly loved, and his presence stopped me. For the longest time, I believed he was the reason why I didn’t decide to off myself that day. He became the reason why I wanted to continue living. Little did I know, putting my self-worth and my will to live in others will only result in heartbreak and further depression.

Because when you put your self-worth and your will to live in the hands of others, it won’t make you feel better in the long run. Because when they’re gone, you’re back to square one again. And sometimes, when you’re unlucky, you’re even much further back on the path you started on. But in the end, no matter what you did or didn’t do, you have to learn from your past experience. And trust me, I did.

But whenever I feel down I just start to think what if I had drown that day…would I be happier? I guess the answer is

I don’t know.

I don’t know what would have happened, and I’m glad I’m in a place right now where I can confidently say,

I don’t care if I would have been happier.

I don’t care about the hypotheticals, because right now I can see all the people I have in my life. I can see all the possibilities that have yet to come. I can see my own happiness in the palms of my hand. And it’s safe to say that if I had drown that day…

I will never live to see how happy I am today.

What “love” feels like

Love feels wonderful. It makes you feel like you deserve all the good things in your life despite of your shortcomings. Loves feels inviting. It makes you vulnerable to the people around you that cares and allows you to trust again. Love is limitless. With it, there’s nothing you can’t do. There’s no sky you can’t reach. There’s no dreams that’s too big.

But a love like that has never existed for me.

I thought it did, but most of it was just me being delusional. Most of it was just me hoping that I might mean the world to someone. Or maybe most of it was just my unfortunate luck with those who took advantage of my feelings and my love.

I wish I had at least my family there for me, but truth be told, they were the first to hurt me on so many different levels. And when I tried to find refuge in other people, I was faced with the same pain again. People are cruel. Sometimes people are just a reproduction of what their family have done to them and what their family is like.

Some people don’t understand what a blessing it is to be loved, to be cared for, to matter to someone- especially someone that matters to you. Some people don’t understand how hard it is to be the perfect child and to be happy all the time because you know if you aren’t, it’ll break your family’s heart. So even in the darkest time, you can’t even go to them for comfort. You rather keep up the facade because the pain is easier to bare with than the pain of watching those you love cry.

And I hate that about me sometimes. That I want to run to them crying, but I don’t due to fact that I’m scared. I’m scared because I know if they don’t give me the support I want and need, I will only end up distancing myself from them even more. I’m scared that I’ll have to keep up the act of being a strong person. But if there’s anything I learned in life so far, it’s that even the strongest thing breaks. It’s just a matter of when.

And I’m breaking. My depression erodes away my sanity and my mind, one sadness at a time. And in moments like this, I can’t help but ask myself, “Why doesn’t anyone love me?” I can’t help but scream at the world for making me go through so much. For making me wonder what I ever did to deserve all of this pain.

It just overtakes me. Like a blackhole, sucking me into the void that exists at the bottom of my heart. It’s like I’m trying to walk forward, but I end up cutting off my own leg off cause gods know why? Maybe because I’m a masochistic bitch that just wants to see myself suffer as I try to escape the inevitable.

Maybe it’s because I’m scared that if I move on, there will be nothing waiting for me on the other side. That even then, I will still be empty and still be unloved, and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that. I’m scared that even in my own story, I will continue being the side-character that no one ever pays attention to- that ends up being the bad person every time because I’m misunderstood.

And I’m so tired of being misunderstood by those I care about and love. I’m so tired of being abused by people and having them tell me that it was “love”, that they did it because it was “my fault”, that I made them to do it, that it’s because I wasn’t good enough for make them treat me otherwise.

I’m tired of shouldering other people’s pain and carrying it as my own. I’m just so tired of everything that I cut myself off from my emotions so I could be empty.

I’m tired of having to feel empty in order to not feel pain.

I just want this to stop, but I don’t know how.

My brother once told me that if you hit your bruises over and over again, it will just become numb. And I guess without realizing, I started doing that too. I keep hitting all the bruises people had given me, hoping that maybe one day, I can numb out the pain.

But I wonder, where did their inflicted pain end and where did my self-inflicted pain begin?

Courage in the form of Silence (Trigger Warning)

I haven’t gotten too much into this subject, because I’m not gonna lie, it’s hard to talk about this. I was sexually assaulted by two of my male classmates in 8th grade while one of my friends watched and filmed me. Not only did she not help me, she showed a bunch of people that video of me being cornered, being groped, and having my dress ripped off on of my side.

I developed PTSD after that. I didn’t quite knew I had it despite the nightmares and heighten awareness around guys. It wasn’t until 9th grade where a boy cornered me in the music room, locked the door, and pressed his body against mine that I froze before bursting into tears. I went to a psychologist after the incident, and she told me it was PTSD.

It’s been hard dealing with PTSD, especially when my trigger is males. It used to be so bad that I couldn’t even shake a guys hand nor hug them. Overtime, my PTSD started to get better with the help of CBT. That didn’t last for long. On May 28, 2016, I was sexually assaulted and then raped repeatedly by my ex-boyfriend. The PTSD came back full-blown. My parents and some of friends weren’t the most supportive people either. They all blamed me, and they did so for every single sexual assault that have happened to me. By now, they just tell me, “If you get ‘sexually assaulted’ so many times, isn’t that your fault? You must be doing something that makes the guys want to do that. I don’t know if I can believe that you’re really the victim in this thing”

And now I get to my point. I didn’t realize what my ex did was rape until I attended my college’s orientation. After that, I joined one of the group therapies on campus where survivors come together and share their thoughts, feelings, and experience while supporting one another. I was nice to have people there that understood what it was like. Due to my schedule, I can’t attend this quarter, but something has been weighing on my mind.

March 3, 2017 – Friday Night

I got to the frat party with my friend early. We were the first one there. There were these two pledges that were on duty, meaning that they could not drink. Long story short, one of the pledge fed me a lot of alcohol. I threw up in the bathroom about 26 times in 30 minutes. After that I kept throwing up even more, but he kept insisting that I had threw up all the alcohol and that I should drink more now that he’s off duty.

I will admit I wanted to drink more even though I knew I shouldn’t, and him as well as the other guys pressuring me on did not help. I ended up drinking more and found out that my friend had left me to go off with some guy one hour into the party. I felt abandoned and upset, and instead of being mad at her, I decided to drink more to forget about it. Now, no matter how much I drank at this point, I threw it all up in the bathroom.

About 3 am or so, most people were leaving, and I didn’t want to be the only one there without a ride. I told that guy that I was gonna leave, but he insisting that he will come back to my dorm. He knew that my roommate was gone for the weekend, and he became so aggressive in his demeanor. His girl good friend called me an uber to send me home, but he tagged along while we walked there.

I was sober up pretty much at this point believe it or not. The elevated sense of awareness kicked in and my body had went into survival mode. I acted even more drunk as a way to draw attention to myself and to make sure the girls weren’t going to leave me behind with him. It worked pretty well until he became even more insistent. He got into an argument with his friend were he said “____, ____, come on now, we known each other since what? Highschool? Help a brother out”

I heard him loud and clear, and I remember her saying “____, you’re a great guy. I know you are. And I really want you to get this pledge. Don’t just risk it all because of one night okay?” and he said “But come on, _____. I’m just going to take care of her.” Luckily for me, she refused to let him. We attracted quite a lot of attention outside, and another group from the party walking to the frat house saw us and got involved.

This is the point where the guy got even more insistent on bringing me back to the frat house to ‘take care of me’. Now at this point, some of you might wonder why I assumed the worse of him. He was running his hands up and down my back this whole entire time. He constantly fed me alcohol and wouldn’t let me leave alone. It was clear that he wanted something out it. It got so bad that the other frat guys had to get involve and tell that guy to chill out. It was ugly.

March 4, 2017

I got back to my dorm after crashing at one of the girls’. I went to the ER shortly after feeling dreadfully ill. I ended up with alcohol poisoning, and my body went into an insulin shock. My guy friend that invited me to the party texted me asking if I was okay and what happened. I had just found out at this point from Facebook that he was the VP of the Frat.

A part of me didn’t want this pledge to lose his pledge. A part of me was scared that if I told my guy friend, he wouldn’t have believed me. So I decided to keep silence, yet again, like I always did.

April 5, 2017 – Now

I started getting nightmares again. I had trouble sleeping at night. Once a week, I at least get a nightmare of my ex raping me in my dreams and/or a dream of me bumping into the frat guy and him trying to confront me or talk to me. This has been going on since that night, and it’s becoming an emotional and physical toll. I saw that same frat guy two days ago on the Ring Road because this week was requirement week. He is now an active member.

I broke down in tears while I hid at Langston library after getting a pretty bad panic attack. I did, however, got the courage to see my guy friend that’s in the frat. When I did go talk to my guy friend, that frat guy was there and tried to approach me. Good thing, that guy backed off after seeing that my guy friend. Even then, I still feel so scared, especially when my guy friend invited me to their rush party this friday. He really wants me to come, but I’m scared I’ll bump into that frat guy and he’ll try to approach me. It’s sad to say that I don’t feel safe with this frat anymore.

I’ve always felt fearful on campus ever since that night too. I try not to mind it at all, because it wasn’t like I was sexually assaulted or anything. But it still scares me a lot because of what it reminded me and because of how it triggers my PTSD. But I’ve been trying to remind myself that even though I’ve been silent about it, I’m not weak or a cower. In my own way, I am still courageous for going on about my day the best that I can.

I think I’ve been silent for so long that it has also build me up to a stronger person that’s speaking out against such behaviors and such mindset. That’s why I think I might tell my guy friend what happened, because it’s not just about me, but about other girls. I would hate for other girls to go through what I had to gone through. Even if I might be overstepping my authorities here, I want my guy friend to know that such thing exists in his frat and that it should be really called to attention.

So in a surprising way, courage has been built and strengthen by my silence, and I’m grateful for that.

 

Frat Party + Alcohol -> PTSD

I am still in the middle of breaking down as I write this.

I feel sick to my core. I feel disgusted at myself, and I don’t understand why I’m being so harsh on me when no one should be so mean to themselves.

I arrived at a frat party, also the first ever college party in my life, with my friends. One of them were my suite mate and roommate while the other was my roommate’s friend. Well, first of all, I suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and although I am not diagnosed with Social Anxiety, I do have symptoms of anxiety where I have a hard time emotionally and physically communicating with people.

At the party, I just didn’t know what to say. All my friends are more social than me, even though some of them were sober. It seems like people just approach them and they can easily talk to them. I felt alone and left out, because it seems like everyone wanted to talk to them instead of me. If I try to have a conversation with someone, my friend will just come and dominate the subject. And then suddenly, they become closer to each other, and I’m just an awkward third wheel.

I suffer from PTSD due to my past experience of sexual assault. It wasn’t until almost a year ago that I was raped that my progress really back tracked. In the past, my PTSD was so bad that I couldn’t even talked to a guy. I was always paranoid that they were going to assault me one way or another. It got better to the point that I could talk to them and shake hands every now and then. At one point, I actually got comfortable enough to the point of hugging them and crying in one of them’s arms. However, after I was raped by my ex-boyfriend, everything changed.

I am back to square one. I don’t know how to talk to guys. I’m terrified that they will take advantage of me both physically and emotionally. Going to a frat party did not help. It actually made it worse. Being surrounded by a bunch of dudes that just drinking and smoking made my anxiety worse. I was constantly scared of what may happened to me or to some other girls or even my friends. At last, my PTSD kicked in the minute my roommate disappear off with a frat boy to hook up with him somewhere else. Even though she said she’s consenting. Who the fuck knew at the moment especially when she’s crossed faded?

I’m terribly scared even now. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to turn to. I really feel alone on my campus. I don’t have friends I can express this too, because they either go “aw I’m sorry, that’s so sad” or “maybe you should see someone about this” I do see a therapist for my PTSD, my anxiety, and my depression. This just feels like a curse I have to live with. Always fearful that someone is going to assault me. I know it’s illogical, but when is anxiety and PTSD ever logical?

I don’t know if I will ever get over my fear of men. It really destroys me that even though I miss having guy friends, I’m really scared and it’s not me choosing to be scared. I don’t know what I can do about it. I feel like I’m really stuck, but most importantly, I just feel alone. I feel like I’ve just been suffering alone. I know I have to be strong, but being strong is so hard when you’re trying for others and not trying for yourself.

A part of me just wish that maybe some day someone will notice me and notice my pain. And they will tell me that I don’t have to hide it anymore and that it’s okay to show it and release it. I just want to be loved and to be understood. I don’t even think I’m making sense anymore. I’m feeling so tired. I just want to cry myself to sleep.