it’s funny how a celebrity commits suicide and suddenly everyone who didn’t have an opinion before it is coming out spewing a bunch of bullshit about how selfish or cowardly suicide is. not only is it disrespectful, but it’s just plain ignorant. to say such awful things about a person who had a disease so terrible that they felt their only way to kill it was to kill themselves is just wrong. try to think of it this way: if you were at the end of your rope, ready to pull the trigger, kick out the chair, cut the vein, or swallow the pills, would you want someone standing over you saying “what’s your problem? you are being so selfish. stop being such a coward and just get over it.” see how much that makes you want to keep living and then come back and talk to me.
i feel like all i’ve been doing tonight is crying. i really want to say fuck it and flush 321 days down the drain but i’m trying to stay strong.
i just feel so empty and sad. i don’t want to feel like this anymore. it hurts too bad.
fuck. i wish i cared less. i’d have a pack of blades and cuts everywhere by now.
oh sweetheart i am so so proud of you! that is an absolutely amazing goal to have. just wanting to remain clean is fantastic!
one of the first things you need to do is realize that it will be hard and allow yourself to be a human being. slip ups happen, and that’s ok! you’re going to want to do it, and that’s ok! allow yourself to feel it. allow yourself to be anxious or depressed or scared. but instead of taking it out on yourself, deal with it in a healthy way.
look into some helpful alternatives. not every alternative works for everybody. i try to stay away from recommending or using alternatives that make it feel like you’re harming. i recommended to my boyfriend that he use a red pen to mark himself a little while ago and it ended up making him feel worse. so i don’t want to take that chance anymore! i recommend taking that energy and putting it into something positive. write. draw. exercise. take a hot bath. pamper yourself. make yourself a yummy meal and let yourself enjoy it. talk to somebody you love.
probably the biggest realization i had that helped me stay clean was that cutting is a choice. feeling those awful feelings that make you want to cut is not a choice, but it’s your choice what you decide to do with those feelings. cutting is so unhealthy. not only does it raise the chance of infection and amputation, but it also scars you. physically it’s awful, but thing of the symbolic implications. you’re cutting open the one thing that stand between you and your precious insides. you’re cutting the barrier between the rest of the world and your heart, your brain, your lungs, your bones, your muscles; you’re exposing the wonderful body keeping you alive. cutting is the ultimate act of self hatred in my opinion, and hate only breeds more hate, which only breeds more depression and other icky feelings. cutting just keeps you down that much longer and brings you that much deeper.
learning to love myself was so important. learning to choose recovery every day, take my medications, go to therapy, use other other alternatives etc was SOOO helpful. i’m 313 days clean (SOMEHOW) and it gets easier every day. i’d say the first month or so was the hardest, but after that it became so much easier. being in recovery, loving yourself, taking care of yourself etc. will soon become second nature. there are whole days that go by that i don’t think about cutting. it’s amazing. if you put in the effort, you will see progress honey. i promise.
i’ve only been with my boyfriend for a bit over a month, but he makes everything so much better. just having someone i know i can talk to no matter what and who supports me no matter what is fabulous. if you don’t have someone like that in your life, you can ALWAYS come talk to me! i can’t promise to always understand, but i do promise to always keep an open mind and be here for you no matter what.
good luck sweetie! i’m so proud of you. and you should be proud of yourself. :)
I have so many new and different followers that I don’t even know if any of you remember the video I made about Darren Criss a few years ago, but my Shane has been bothering me to make a video so I went ahead and did a response to that since so many things have changed.
It’s basically me with no make up on rambling about how I recovered. I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND if you don’t want to watch it!
Ross- A Transgender Short Film
TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM, GENDER DYSPHORIA, TRANSPHOBIA
Stuff like this reminds me of my trans man and it makes me so sad to know he went through struggles similar to this. Transphobia is so ugly and awful and needs just as much attention as anything else.
oh i forgot to mention this is the coworker who called me a crazy emo the first time he saw my self harm scars and then proceeded to offer me sharp objects the rest of the night and told me to “make some more.”
i was one week out of the hospital for a suicide attempt.
and this guy still has a job…
this summer, i’m starting a war against fat shaming. we’re expected to wear long sleeves, pants, baggy clothes, and fucking wet suits even though it’s five million degrees outside JUST because people are uncomfortable with seeing some flab. well fuck that shit. i want to be cool and comfortable and i want to show off my beautiful body. this is the first summer in five years that i haven’t been covered in cuts. so i’m going to wear short shorts and bikini tops and short sleeves and there’s not a fucking thing anyone can do about it. who’s with me?!
i work at a tiny Subway in a crappy mall food court. there’s not much else for teenagers to do on weekends but go to the mall, gather in the food court, and annoy everybody in a ten mile radius. more than once i’ve had teenage boys come up to me and harass me. i guess you could say i’m an easy target. i’m 20, 5’6, and weigh about 300 pounds, give or take. i’ve been teased my entire life, mainly by boys my age or younger. there’s nothing funnier than making fun of the fat girl, right?
tonight as i was closing up the store i had a teenage boy come up to me, stand a little to the side, and loudly say “hook it up, fatty!” he proceeded to laugh and quickly walk away to a group of laughing teenage boys. i just clenched my teeth and kept cleaning.
i usually don’t let shit like this get to me, but for some reason, it really upset me. i’ve had low self esteem my entire life. i’ve tried every diet you could ever think of. i’ve tried starving myself a few times. a mixture of mental illness and self hatred caused four years of self harm. i cut up my fat arms, my fat thighs, and my fat tummy. i punished myself until i was shaking and i couldn’t breathe. how dare you be so disgusting. how dare you be so fat. how dare you be so worthless, worthless, worthless.
but tonight, instead of going home and carving the word fat into the fattest part of my stomach, i decided to take this picture:
what about this body is so awful that i was convinced i needed such punishment for so long? why does everyone let my body impact their opinion of me more than my character? why is “fat” the worst thing someone can be? you know what would have hurt me even more than being called fat by a low life teenage boy tonight? being called selfish, mean, arrogant, manipulative, controlling, jealous, vindictive, cruel, etc.
my body is not the worst thing about me. my body is not reason enough to harass me, call me names, and try to make me feel worse about myself than i already do. my body is the only body i’m ever going to get and i’ve spent 20 years hating it because society has taught me that i should.
i’m putting my foot down. enough is enough. i am beautiful. i am beautiful from the top of my head all the way down to my orange painted toe nails. i’m beautiful from my scarred, chunky thighs to my big, hanging stomach. i’m beautiful from the fat under my chin to the flab under my arms. i’m beautiful to my D cup boobs to my flat as hell ass. i may not have a flat stomach and a thigh gap but i’ve got killer hips and legs that should be shown off.
i am damn lucky to have this beautiful body and anyone crazy enough to put up with my bullshit would be damn lucky to have my beautiful body as well. and if you disagree, i am no longer choosing to give a single fuck. this is my body. this is my life. the only opinion that matters is MINE.
i have choices in my life. if i’ve learned anything through my long, extensive recovery process, it’s that. i choose body love. i choose body positivity. i choose to love the only true home i’ll ever get.
and you know what else i choose?
because i fucking deserve it.
As time goes on, you spend less time thinking about the exact seconds you’ve gone without it. You spend the first few months obsessively opening the app and staring at that number because you saw the razors at the store and got a cut at work and the anxiety meds aren’t working and you just need a release. But then triggers become less and less powerful and you spend more and more time between break downs and before you know it you’re almost 8 months clean. So here’s to not realizing I’ve made it this far. Here’s to forgetting important milestones. Here’s to living a life devoid of obsessive thoughts of razors and pain and torn apart flesh. Here’s to finally moving on with my life and leaving my sick obsession in the dust.