Sometimes, I believe that I’m cursed, just like in the medieval days. It sounds a bit silly when I say it out loud, but it feels like no matter how hard I try to be kind or helpful, it’s never enough. All that’s left for me to do is remove an arm or a leg and give it to someone in need of an arm or a leg. And I’m not even sure why someone would need either, but you understand where I’m going with this.
I will admit that I’m sometimes not the greatest person to be around and there are times when I’m not all that helpful, but it’s not like I don’t feel terrible for not helping when I can’t. Life gets in my way sometimes and I get lost in a world of my own.
People don’t understand though, and I feel like no matter how much I do, instead of hearing, “Thank you for trying”, I only hear complains and unhappiness.
When I’m in these situations, all I can think is, “I’m never like this to people, why are people like this to me?” It’s something I can’t wrap my head around, I will never say something shitty to someone and make them feel like a turd for the rest of their life. I think about what I want to say so that it won’t hurt someone or mess with their mental health issues further.
I was in a seven-year relationship where I was emotionally abused, so I get it, you don’t do it.
That’s why I feel cursed, I’m incapable of being mean like other people are and no matter how good or nice I am to people, they find it super easy to be absolute shit to me.
As persecutory as it sounds, I’m going to go have a 2007 Britney moment one day and just start filming people being shit. Might even shave my hair too. Maybe if I have a full-on breakdown everyone will get it, no I’m joking I don’t have time for that right now.
Hey again from me, Bee! So today I’d like to open up about my depression and how I deal with it daily. I’m sure anyone who reads my blog regularly is over having to read about depression, but it’s such a big thing and so widespread that I feel it should be spoken about often. You never know who you might save.
I’d say that my depression started when I hit puberty at the tender age of 11. Then it wasn’t as severe, I just cried a lot about things I didn’t understand and things that I had gone through that I now understood. I wasn’t very pretty while going through puberty so I was rejected a lot and told I was ugly so you can imagine that it didn’t help with what was already happening in my head (this is why you keep your mouth shut if you have nothing nice to say). Imagine being 13, depressed and just wanting acceptance from your peers and they tell you that you’re ugly and fat, lol it sucks.
When I was 15 I met someone that liked me and it was lovely finally being liked. We were together for quite a while, but unfortunately, he just didn’t understand my brain and didn’t know how to deal with my manic episodes or my overthinking and if you don’t have the support of your partner, it makes things a million times worse because now you have to face this completely alone. At this time I wasn’t on medication and I had no idea what was truly going on with my brain, I only knew I hated it and wanted it to be gone. I cried for no reason, I had panic attacks all the time, I was self-harming (my self-harming started when I was in grade 5 already) I’d go to bed super late and sleep until almost 2 pm each day.
So let me open up about what I assume brought this on. When I was 8 I had this best friend and I’d spend weekends at her place, my mom was under the pretence that my friends mom was home, however she would lie to my mom and go out with her friends and leave us at home with her father (my friends grandfather). I remember it starting as “accidents”, he would purposefully not wear underwear and expose himself to us and if I shouted out about what he was doing he would try shut me up and say it was an accident. I thought nothing of it, I was 8 and just assumed the best thing to do would be to avoid him and NEVER be alone with him. This didn’t work out unfortunately and it ended up with him molesting me while my friend was next to me. I’d move his hand away or I’d get up and leave because even though I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, I knew I didn’t like it, but I also thought I’d get into trouble if I said anything. I was so afraid I’d be blamed for what he was doing that I just kept quiet. I was also older than my friend and I thought if he was doing this to me, he must be doing it to her too and so I always felt this strong need to protect her. She was teased a lot in school and so I was her big sister.
He would come into our room late at night and try and kiss me, I would push him away and hide my head under the blanket until he left the room. I remember laying next to my friend the one night when we were a little older, I asked her if he would touch her inappropriately and she just looked at me and turned on her side. For me that was confirmation enough that he was doing the same, if not worse to her. Especially when I wasn’t around. My mom had her maternal instincts and would always question me about my friend’s grandfather. She would always say I could be honest with her and I was still so ashamed and scared I’d be blamed that I would always say everything was fine and she shouldn’t worry. Obviously, my mom wasn’t dumb, but she believed me because I’d kick up a fight if I couldn’t go see my best friend. So she continued to let me go there until one day I came home complaining of a sore bladder (I started getting bladder infections all the time) and my mom quickly put a stop to me going there, even if I kicked up a fight.
When I turned 11 that’s when we got taught about sexual abuse in school and all of a sudden everything fell around me. I would cry myself to sleep at night, I felt so violated and dirty. As I got older, so the depression weighed down on me, I hated myself and my body, because it didn’t feel like it was mine anymore. I developed a weird view on sex and all things that go with it. Finally, when I turned 18, I sat in my mom’s car on the last day of my final exams and I poured my heart out to her about what had happened to me all those years ago. We cried extremely hard and then I was booked to see a psychologist to try and help me through my trauma. Back then I didn’t think it helped, but now I’m 22 and I can say that I am honestly over that trauma. I turned it into strength because I realised that I was giving my time and energy to some sick perverted fuck and I refused to allow any of it anymore. I stopped self-harming by 17 after I had a really bad episode and blacked out in my bathroom. After therapy I no longer cried about what had happened, instead, I embraced it enough to use it as a way to build myself up again.
I have only been on medication for about 5 months now for my depression that will unfortunately never go away, but with mindfulness and my medication, I feel as though I am slowly becoming the girl I remember. Also, a healthy relationship with friends, family and your partner are so vitally important for your mental health. If it no longer brings you joy, throw it out.
Thanks for taking the time to read through this long post. If you or anyone you know needs someone to speak to, please contact me, even if you’re from halfway around the world, having solid support can do the world of wonders. Stay sweet x
You always read about how a rebound relationship is meant to be doomed from the word go and that it’s basically the downtown of relationships. I call bullshit, just saying. What up it’s yo girl Bee again, I’ve had writer’s block for a couple of days and I’m pretty sure I still do, but I’m attempting to write because that’s what I said I was going to do! I hope you enjoy this one…
Previously I had written a small blog on how last year my entire life changed and I was convinced that something was very wrong with me. I had never been strong enough to walk away from something that was no longer bringing me joy. I constantly waited around to be walked away from, but for once, this girl said no more, please. I eventually got so unhappy with my life that I was an empty void. If I wasn’t extremely irritable, I was super sad and always breaking down into tears about nothing.
After about 3 months of constant misery and sadness, you realize that you aren’t the only one who is being affected. Often, when we’re in a situation such as this, we only consider our own feelings, this time it was different. I was causing someone else unhappiness through my constant despair and the wall that I had put up. That wall was to protect me from the piercing, gut-wrenching heartbreak I was expecting. You know that one where your entire life just sort of falls to a pile of rubble in front of you? Yeah, I had enough of that feeling, I’d experienced it way too often for my liking. So I said goodbye and then this Punk came along and showed me that I deserved everything good in life. From convincing myself that I was a piece of crap, who should stay undeserving forever, I now believe that no matter what one has done in the past, you can always change for the better, if it’s what you want, and I got lucky enough to meet someone who encouraged me to forgive myself for my past.
The point of this is, I read an article on a study that was done on rebound relationships. We’re always told they cannot work or won’t work, etc. However, here I am happier than ever with someone society would consider a rebound. From this relationship I’ve only been allowed to grow, to be happy, and boy-oh-boy has there been much to learn and accept. I think our biggest mistake in life is our inability to not give a shit about what society thinks. No one should be allowed to sway your mind when it comes to life decisions unless you’re making horrible choices, then I understand people wanting to get involved. Allow yourself to love who you want to love, even if it’s going to piss a bunch of people off. I’ve been in a situation where the opinion of others was always taken into consideration and you know what? That isn’t love.
Am I crazy for loving someone so soon? Hell to the nah, love is love and if you love someone, what are you supposed to do with those feelings if not feel and act on them? I’m definitely crazy, but not for believing that I’m allowed to love another person again. Stay cool ya’ll!
I Blame the Internet 