I just… I have to say this.
For everyone who has been dealing with two or more week of depression, people who have suicidal thoughts, people who self-harm, people who have eating disorders, just if you have any kind of pain or problem you struggle with constantly (even migraines, okay?), please read this…
For all of you who suffer and hurt in some way or form, I highly recommend you seek professional help if you have not already. Please do not read this in a ‘I’m frowning at you’ kind of way. I care about you all in my own weird way and I want to see you happy. So when I tell you to seek professional help, it is because that is what I did for my own problems and my only regret is not doing it sooner.
It makes me sad to see so many of you lovelies in the community that accepted me and my characters with wide open arms so warmly are suffering. You are all so great, you’re all wonderful, beautiful creatures, and I think none of you deserve sadness in your lives. But I am not telling you to speak to a doctor because of how it makes me feel, I am telling you to do it for yourself.
You should not have to suffer, all right?
Now I will tell you about myself, and I am posting this on Liefully’s blog where over a thousand eyes can read it. (
Oh my gods, why you all are here, I don’t know what I do to keep so many of you, but thank you…) I have had depression since high school at least, so that would be about probably seven or more years of depression that I just lived with it. There is the chance I had depression in middle school. But I know I had it in high school because I read about mental health as I found the topics interesting and noticed that clinical depression’s symptoms described me really well.I never spoke to any doctors and yet I had thoughts of suicide as well. The thoughts of suicide were not constant like the depression I lived with, though. I could go a few months without thinking of some way to kill myself if ever I decided to do it. But then this year, feeling the depression and having so many thoughts of suicide got to where I really wanted it all to end. I wanted to stop feeling sad but suicide is not the answer.
So I spoke to a doctor about it. I admit, it was really difficult for me to tell my doctor I had depression for a long time and thoughts of suicide. I was scared of what she might do or say. I had a ton of horrible scenarios playing in my head of what would come of telling my doctor this information because I am a worst-case-scenario type of person.
But guess what?
A doctor is there to help you. And that is exactly what my doctor did when I told her these things. She helped me. She recommended me to a therapist to speak to and my therapist has been great with me. I was not given loads of prescription drugs. I was not sent to a mental hospital. I was not in any way shunned. The doctor’s there to help, not treat you like shit. But the doctor cannot help you if you never say anything. I guess just think about the phrase “A closed mouth never gets fed.”
For those of you who have a hard time speaking to doctors, like you get nervous or intimidated, or you’re like me and just really forgetful (lol), I recommend writing what you want to say down on a piece of paper. That way your thoughts are clear and you’re better prepared to speak to your doctor.
And if you’re already seeking help, my advise to you is to be as open as possible with your doctor(s). A doctor cannot help you if you never speak to them. Doctors are not mind readers, so do not expect them to be. The information you tell them is confidential, they’re not going to go find your parents, your family, your friends, whatever, and tell them what you told your doctor. My therapist has met my mom and has not told her anything we talked about. Okay? Have faith and trust in your doctors. Be as open with them as possible so they can help you.
And lastly, feel free to come talk to me. I don’t have any “triggers” that I know of. So you can come talk to me and not worry about me start to have problems of my own from having a conversation with you. I have a Skype to talk to roleplayers. So send me a message if you want it to talk to me about something that bothers you. I would prefer it if you talked to me than hurt yourself. Okay?
Okay. So…
I love every one of you, yes all of you.
I think you should not have to suffer.
So talk to a doctor if you haven’t already.
Doctors are there to help. Shhhh, don’t be scared. <3
All the hugs to you.
You’re all beautiful creatures, whether you think you are or not.
Tag Archives: self harm
OOC:
I just… I have to say this.
For everyone who has been dealing with two or more week of depression, people who have suicidal thoughts, people who self-harm, people who have eating disorders, just if you have any kind of pain or problem you struggle with constantly (even migraines, okay?), please read this…
For all of you who suffer and hurt in some way or form, I highly recommend you seek professional help if you have not already. Please do not read this in a ‘I’m frowning at you’ kind of way. I care about you all in my own weird way and I want to see you happy. So when I tell you to seek professional help, it is because that is what I did for my own problems and my only regret is not doing it sooner.
It makes me sad to see so many of you lovelies in the community that accepted me and my characters with wide open arms so warmly are suffering. You are all so great, you’re all wonderful, beautiful creatures, and I think none of you deserve sadness in your lives. But I am not telling you to speak to a doctor because of how it makes me feel, I am telling you to do it for yourself.
You should not have to suffer, all right?
Now I will tell you about myself, and I am posting this on Liefully’s blog where over a thousand eyes can read it. (
Oh my gods, why you all are here, I don’t know what I do to keep so many of you, but thank you…) I have had depression since high school at least, so that would be about probably seven or more years of depression that I just lived with it. There is the chance I had depression in middle school. But I know I had it in high school because I read about mental health as I found the topics interesting and noticed that clinical depression’s symptoms described me really well.I never spoke to any doctors and yet I had thoughts of suicide as well. The thoughts of suicide were not constant like the depression I lived with, though. I could go a few months without thinking of some way to kill myself if ever I decided to do it. But then this year, feeling the depression and having so many thoughts of suicide got to where I really wanted it all to end. I wanted to stop feeling sad but suicide is not the answer.
So I spoke to a doctor about it. I admit, it was really difficult for me to tell my doctor I had depression for a long time and thoughts of suicide. I was scared of what she might do or say. I had a ton of horrible scenarios playing in my head of what would come of telling my doctor this information because I am a worst-case-scenario type of person.
But guess what?
A doctor is there to help you. And that is exactly what my doctor did when I told her these things. She helped me. She recommended me to a therapist to speak to and my therapist has been great with me. I was not given loads of prescription drugs. I was not sent to a mental hospital. I was not in any way shunned. The doctor’s there to help, not treat you like shit. But the doctor cannot help you if you never say anything. I guess just think about the phrase “A closed mouth never gets fed.”
For those of you who have a hard time speaking to doctors, like you get nervous or intimidated, or you’re like me and just really forgetful (lol), I recommend writing what you want to say down on a piece of paper. That way your thoughts are clear and you’re better prepared to speak to your doctor.
And if you’re already seeking help, my advise to you is to be as open as possible with your doctor(s). A doctor cannot help you if you never speak to them. Doctors are not mind readers, so do not expect them to be. The information you tell them is confidential, they’re not going to go find your parents, your family, your friends, whatever, and tell them what you told your doctor. My therapist has met my mom and has not told her anything we talked about. Okay? Have faith and trust in your doctors. Be as open with them as possible so they can help you.
And lastly, feel free to come talk to me. I don’t have any “triggers” that I know of. So you can come talk to me and not worry about me start to have problems of my own from having a conversation with you. I have a Skype to talk to roleplayers. So send me a message if you want it to talk to me about something that bothers you. I would prefer it if you talked to me than hurt yourself. Okay?
Okay. So…
I love every one of you, yes all of you.
I think you should not have to suffer.
So talk to a doctor if you haven’t already.
Doctors are there to help. Shhhh, don’t be scared. <3
All the hugs to you.
You’re all beautiful creatures, whether you think you are or not.
Lokisdottir: cuttrgrl: iamthefirechild: cuttrgrl: iamthefirechild: Read More I’m…
Lokisdottir: cuttrgrl: iamthefirechild: cuttrgrl: iamthefirechild: Read More I’m…
I’m just. I don’t even know how to respond. My mind just keeps spinning the same things around. The same things I keep saying over and over. I’m not strong. I’m not worth it. Why would anyone care? I just…
I don’t think I can stop again. I did it once, I got scared out of it by someone physically catching me, following me, finding out. No one follows me anymore. No one bothers to try and find out why I duck away to the bathroom so often “to check on my hair and makeup”. I’m also not 15 anymore. There’s no reason for me to be scared anymore. They can’t take me away, lock me up, force feed drugs into me now.
Even if anyone sees, no one’s going to act on what they’ve seen. No one’s going to care.
Oh, god, honey, don’t trick yourself into that one. This one I will scare you with.
Yes, they can. They can still take you away. They can take your rights away, they can lock you up, they can put you on whatever they want and they can ignore anything you say about it.
That is what happened to me two years ago. I didn’t ask to be put in that hospital. I didn’t want to be there; I fought tooth-and-nail not to be there, and policemen came to my house and handcuffed me and forced me into that place, and no one listened to a word I said the whole time I was there.
Yes, I /am/ trying to scare you with that.
And believe me, if I was there, where you are, I’d be checking. I’d be sitting down with you and asking if you will let me keep the razors for you. Sadly, teleportation does not yet exist, or I would be on your doorstep right fucking now, and I do not lie when I say your hurting right now would be all the beacon I need to tell me where to go.
There’s a reason I insist my fiance keep his knives out of my sight. There’s a reason I have four cats and five hundred books and spend my hours roleplaying on tumblr. These are my strengths. You have them too. You’ve told yourself you don’t, and I … well, I don’t accept it. But I comprehend it. I know the little voice. It’s sly and it’s smooth and it’s as wicked as Loki as he tries to take Black Widow apart and it is /wrong/.
You are not the monster. You are not weak.
You are strong like the willow. Maybe you lose branches to the storms, and maybe the slightest breeze feels like a terrible storm. It’s okay to be that kind of strong. It’s okay to need people. Random people, specific people, whatever.
I don’t know, this is a problem with me and I don’t know if it applies to you, but it’s okay to let yourself BE cared about. ‘I don’t deserve it,’ does your little voice say that? Mine does.
Do you need me to stay up with you all night with this? Do you need to hear me say this so you can hear sincerity? I know text is hard. I can’t hug you this way. I can’t wrap you in my voice and have you hear all the right stresses I’m putting.
I’m just. I don’t even know how to respond. My mind just keeps spinning the same things around. The same things I keep saying over and over. I’m not strong. I’m not worth it. Why would anyone care? I just don’t even. No one IRL shows the slightest amount of concern about it, so I guess I just have a difficult time believing anyone on the internet would care, either.
If I tell you what I want to hear, how can I expect what follows to be genuine?
I’m not trying to be mean, that’s just what I think. Honestly, when people say things like, “I’m not sure what to say to make you feel better” my reaction is, “Good. At least I know you’re being sincere.”
I just…I don’t know if I can make myself believe it.
Belief starts out so small, for us. A tiny, tiny spark set against the darkness that’s closing in, crushing. I know that one. In the night, alone, listening to the whirring in my head, to the thoughts I can’t stop thinking … I know it. How do you convince yourself someone cares when you’re all alone?
The answer is, you don’t. Not convince. You take the letter out, the gift from someone, you reread over and over the words people send you when you do manage to cry out. You hold on to that. So you, right now, you print these words of mine out, you copy them on to paper, you do what you have to do, and put them under your pillow, or with your razors, or wherever you think you need to be reminded.
Every day, every hour, every minute if you have to. I know that path. I do. Some days even one step at a time seems too hard.
Whatever it is you want to do right now, stop hurting stop cutting, whatever it is, you can. Even if that something is just keep breathing for one more minute. You can.
I’m just. I don’t even know how to respond. My mind just keeps spinning the same things around. The same things I keep saying over and over. I’m not strong. I’m not worth it. Why would anyone care? I just don’t even. No one IRL shows the slightest amount of concern about it, so I guess I just have a difficult time believing anyone on the internet would care, either.
Are you able to tell me the reasons why no one would care? I’m not very good at this; all I can do is say the things I know I would want to hear, the things I think would help me.
Does it help to know that in an upsidedown way you are stronger than I? I’ve never been able to actually cut myself. I would hold the blade to my wrist, and press it, but never break the skin. I couldn’t face the pain. I wasn’t strong enough that way.
I’m stuck staring at the screen, because even though I want to say the right thing, what would that be for you? I have to repeat myself, I think: I’m here. I care. I won’t stop caring. I know it’s hard to believe, so just keep reading it. Over and over.
Find a thing to hold on to. A thing that makes you feel good. Hold on to me if you need to; I’ve been there. I believe in you.
Same person, Summer. I just…I actually have a blog for this stuff. There are people who follow me on my main blog who don’t know, and I don’t want them to know. I honestly didn’t expect anyone to see this, or take it seriously.
It seems like everyone’s been there and believes in me and cares about me. But no one’s still there. Or there again, like I am. How am I supposed to be convinced that I’m strong if everyone I know has moved on from this and I still haven’t?
Shhh. Shhhhh. I don’t know about moving on. I haven’t ‘moved on’. I’m still depressed. I’ll be this way for as long as I live, and that’s a terrible thing to face. Especially at your age. Or my age, for that matter.
I don’t know enough about what is going on right now for you to be able to say words that might really be able to help. From here, right now, all I can do is continue to say, I see. I see you, I see your struggle, even if I don’t always have the chance to say it I believe in you. I’m here. I’m thinking of you.
I’m there, in that dark place, with you. It’s hard to get out of bed; it’s hard to face the world.
I — in text, it’s really hard for me to be able to persuade you. Even a little. That I have, and I do, walk that path. Every day, the medicines. Every week, every month, the therapist.
Two years and two months ago, I tried to kill myself. Tried hard enough that I spent four days in a mental hospital. I KNOW where you are.
Don’t let people tell you that because you aren’t ‘better’, by their definition, that you aren’t strong. Strong is the simple act, in our cases, of getting up at all. Of putting clothes on. Of typing even a short message, good or bad, anywhere. You are strong, because you posted that at all, and because you picked up my reply. Because you were willing to even say to me, whom you know so little about, that you were hurting.
That IS strength. Don’t let people tell you differently. They haven’t been here, they can’t know. No matter how much they might want to, even.
You hold to me. I can’t promise to /always/ always be right here, but I can promise that I will always look for you, and if I don’t see you in a few days, I’ll check. And I’ll be thinking of you.