Saturday, September 16, 2017

Why Can't I Do Things Right?

I hate my luck

It constantly fucks me over and makes me look like an incompetent child.

I try so hard to do everything right.

My anxiety deems it necessary that I double

Triple check everything over in order to even have the possibility to get things right.

Just once

Just this time

This time it'll all go alright...

This time it'll all work out ok...


It's all bullshit anyway.

I don't know why I think it will work

I don't know why I think I should try

I try so hard

I work to be on time

I take the initiative

I volunteer to help

And something always screws me over

Why does something always have to go wrong?

I double and triple check everything!

And yet...

Maybe, maybe next time.

Maybe next time it'll be alright.

Probably Not.

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Thoughts #1

*makes a simple mistake that anyone could have made*

I am the worst person in the world. I deserve to die. I'm worthless and will never be good at anything.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Nights Like Tonight

Nights like tonight get to me

I am alone

The world is a dark void

This house is silent

My mind, a turbulent sea ready to swallow me whole

Unfinished thoughts and things needing to be forgotten cause a cacophony in my head

And beat against my chest

Squeezing my heart

Destroying my lungs

The world is so fucked up

Nazis. Literally fucking Nazis roam the streets

And I want to punch every goddamn one

What the fuck is happening.

What in the actual fuck is happening.

We are at war and I want to jump to aid those in need

But I feel as though I will fail

And never make a difference.

I guess what people don't realize is how little self preservation I posses.

Someone comes after me?

Cool beans, I deserve all things bad and negative why should I fight it.

Come after literally anyone else?

I will throw myself into your path like I am a fucking Captain America

But let's be real people, I'm really just pre-serum Steve Rogers.

I don't know where I'm going with this?

I guess my brain hurts

My stomach is sick

I see this hatred festering like a pulsating wound

Hot with infection and seeping with puss and disease

People want to heal it, but other just keep scratching at it

(get that image out of your brain, bleck)

It's fucked man.

So fucked.

And my brain can't handle it.

And my body hates it.

And my soul weeps over the lives lost

The lives that will be lost.

What the fuck you guys.

What the fuck.

Sunday, July 30, 2017

My Thoughts Continue to Taunt Me

I can not cry at work.

I can not cry at work.

I can not cry at work.

No matter how far my mental capacity has plummeted in the past, moving back into my parent's house was a horrendous decision and has caused so much mental stress.

I can not remember the last time I was this bad.

Before I returned, I convinced myself that the negative memories were all just in my head.

That I was just over exaggerating the situations and the way they went down. 

Being back in their environment has shown me I was not making shit up.

I was not blowing things out of proportion. 

My self-esteem is at an all time love.

I want to eat everything and nothing.

My default answer to everything negative is:

"I should just die."

I want to cut.

I want to drink and smoke and dissipate into the universe. 

Words keep running over and over in my head.

I am not okay and I want to die.

I am not okay and I want to die.

I am not okay and I want to die.

I am not okay and I want to die.

I am not okay and I want to die.

I refuse to let go.

I refuse to give in.

I refuse to allow the poison to soak through my veins and keep me drowning. 

I am realizing I can not heal in the environment that made me sick.

But I know I will get out.

I will get better.

I will not allow my demons to win.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

The Worst of Days (warning for suicidal thoughts)

I really feel like killing myself today. 

My chest is too tight, my heart is being crushed and I can't quite breathe right. 

My hands are shaking, my body's aches and I want nothing more than to cut the things from my soul that rip and shred and poison me. 

I hate this.

I hate myself. 

I hate the body I inhabit and the space I take up. 

I want to disappear or sleep for an eternity. 

I wish to be nothing.

I want to kill myself today.

Friday, June 23, 2017

It Must Be Me

It's been a while since I've written.

I graduated.

I got a job in my field (kinda).

And I moved home.
But it isn't home.

Where people love you unconditionally.

Where they do things for you because they love you.

Where they accept you for you and all your weird quirks.

Where they treat you like a member, not an outcast.

Where you don't have to hide.
This place is an asylum.

Where they love you if you fit their standards.

Where they do things for you, then lord it over you like you owe them for their gifts.

Where they make fun of everything, you like or enjoy.

Where they bully you, blame you for it and then laugh it off because "it was just a joke."

Where you have to hide part of yourself for fear of rejection.

I am suffocating.

I'm drowning.
I want to die.
I have gone from being (and I quote), "the happiest I've ever seen you, to back when you were in high school, and you told me you wanted to kill yourself."


It's probably my own fault anyway.

I'm the one who doesn't find their jokes funny.

I'm the one who reacts badly

I'm the one who doesn't fit.

I'm the one who always cries.

It must be me.


Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Another Sleepless Night (AKA a tribute to Cecil Palmer)

"A friendly desert community where the sun is hot,
The moon is beautiful, 
And mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.
Welcome to Night Vale." 

Hello, listeners...

Or readers, I suppose.

Though if you caught the reference that's awesome.

And if you haven't listened to Welcome to Night Vale, you should seriously check it out.

I have not slept today. Which is good, cause I have to buckle down and start moving out of my apartment today.

Nicely done, Emily.

Putting this off to the last minute.


I don't really know what my deal is.

It's not that hard to do things right?

Like, say, just to get up and grab a glass of water.

Or actually, take a shower and brush my teeth.

Not complicated, right?
Wrong! Dead fucking wrong...
For some reason, even the most menial tasks seem to elude me, which is at least, annoying

And at most, a massive breakdown waiting to happen.

Ahh, don't you just love the sunrise?

The colors that burst forth, telling you a new day is here?

Or reminding you that your lack of sleep will result in horrible consequences?
Ya, we love that too!
I was supposed to have a job by today.

Or at least, an official offer letter for said job.

But alas, I have no such certainty and am beginning to wonder, dear readers, if I will even receive the job at all.
Isn't that great?!
I apologize to anyone reading this who has not heard the above-mentioned podcast.

This entire post was written in the format of that show because I have listened to it non-stop and don't have enough creativity at the moment to write without a guideline of some kind.

I have also had about 25 mistypes in the past three minutes.

So that's good.

I feel like everything is surreal.
Cause you know, sleep deprivation.
My brain is not functioning correctly and I feel as though my body is dying.

I think I might try to nap, then go get some coffee.

Wish me luck in my endeavors, Dear Readers.

Good Night, Night Vale,

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

I Can't Sleep (Trigger warning, suicidal thoughts)

So, I've basically driven back and forth from Tulsa the past 4 or 5 days.

For an excellent reason mind you and I will do it again in a heartbeat.

Devin got all his work done after we both haven't slept in several days.

I don't think this is making much sense, to be honest. My brain is literally fried right now.

Editing papers is hard.

I don't know how I'm feeling.

I feel ok. But my brain also keeps telling me to die.
Die, die, die you stupid bitch, you're not worth the space you're in. Die cunt, your life isn't worth anything. Die, you don't mean anything. Don't deserve anything. Won't get anywhere in life. You're a failure. Die, cut, bleed, release.
Tonight is hard.

But I got some of the poison out and written down.

Maybe I can sleep.

Probably not. 

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Today Should be a Good Day

I am so sick and tired of my brain.

Today should be a good day.

Today should be the best fucking day of my life so far.

I graduated from college yesterday.

I have my entire life ahead of me and all I feel like is dying.

Like the fuck is this shit?

I am smart, I am strong and I am confident.

I am good at what I know how to do and I can learn the things I don't know.

I am pretty without makeup and gorgeous with it.

I have a body some people would be over the moon to have.

And yet I feel trapped inside myself and like I am not worth the space I take up.

Honestly, it's relaly annoying when I feel like I have a million different personalities inside me and none of them can agree.

One wants me dead.

One wants me to run away.

One wants me to grow up.

One wants advenrute.

One wants me to stay young.

One is cool and just wants to be a dragon and I'm inclined to join her in her endeavors. lol.

But seriously, I don't know that to think of all these things I want to do. Some are, sadly, impossible. Other improbable or basically just not okay by any standards.

I don't know what the think. And I'm never sure what to do.

But what I am going to do it get up, shower, put on some makeup and go hang out with my family. Cause at least I know I can do that.

I'm Done

So I graduated yesterday.

And I'm going to pass all my classes.

At least four of them are A's. So that's pretty spectacular.

But today I just feel weird.


Like I made it but why am I so out of it and so confused and muddled in my mind.

My body is exhausted as is my mind.

I got a sunburn yesterday. Cause we were outside way longer than I thought we were going to be so that's fun.

Idk I think my head is off.

I need to do something. But I don't know what.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Down to the Wire

I have two weeks of school left.

Two weeks till I close this chapter on my life.
Holy hell, I'm scared.
The past 17 or so years has been spent doing some for of school.

Turning in assignments, meeting deadlines, doing homework, having extracurricular activities.

I have never once in my life not had some sort of schoolwork to do.

And in two weeks, I will never again have homework to turn in.
Holy shit, I'm excited.
Everyone kept telling me it was going to be okay.

And I finally believe them.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Almost There

So, been a while since I've blogged. Sorry about that.

I've been so busy with school, I haven't really had a chance to slow down.

My new medicine seems to be working well. I feel more on top of things, more put together and I've had a lot easier time talking myself down out of a panic or anxiety attack. My brain is no longer fighting me. We've both agreed the future is beyond scary, but suicide is not the answer.

Working hard and improving myself are the best answer, even if it takes a while to get a job or find my way.
Not all those who wander are lost, right?
 Plus, I'm getting married to the best man I have ever met. Can't skip out on that. Our adventure is just beginning.

I finally got my final portfolio done. You guys, this photo series came out better than I ever could have hoped for!

Like, I can't believe I'm the one who shot it. And I know that sounds conceited but honestly, I could not care less, cause it's awesome!

I think I'm finally gonna get a tattoo. I've wanted one since I was 16, but my mom told me if I got one, they wouldn't help me pay for college.

Then, I keep thinking I should lose weight and look "pretty" before I get one.

However, I've come to the conclusion that I can be beautiful without being skinny, so I think I'm gonna get one.

A simple semi-colon on my wrist.

Nothing grand but incredibly special.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Today was a Good Day

I had my first good mental day in what seems like forever.

I got up on time.

I cleaned out my car.

Got it detailed.

Spent 4 hours in a bookstore. I swear bookstores are surreal places that breach the boundary of time and space.

Finished the first book in a series I've been trying to read since high school.

Cleaned my kitchen and did all my dishes.


Now, I'm making myself a fantastic dinner and I even cracked open a bottle of wine to celebrate.
(Just one glass, I am on anti-depressants and drinking a lot would be bad).

Today was a good day. I'm happy to have lived it.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

I Hate My Brain

I am currently stuck in class listening to people giving presentations on blogs and I want nothing more than to run away outside in the rain.

Well, sprinkle I guess? It's not raining hard yet.

I love the rain. I love standing in it and letting it wash away my thoughts.

I hate the way my brain works. I am fighting tooth and nail every day to try and make it through.

My thoughts latch on to the worst possible things and never let it go.

I pray for peace and my mind fights me even still.

I want to cut so fucking badly it's a physical itch under my skin.
Rage: Original Photography by Emily Smith
Supernatural/Mental Illness Photo Series

I want a cigarette to help me breathe, but I'm on birth control so that's a horrible idea.

I want to drink, but I just started antidepressants so that's an even worse idea.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I want to sit in the rain, not in this stupid class... ok class isn't stupid, I love this class, but I don't want to be here today.

But I'm here I guess. Fuck.

Please don't cry, you can't cry today, not here, not now, you don't have the time.

I'm losing my fucking mind y'all.

I am so anxious, so tired, so pissed off at myself and everyone else and I just want to slam my head into a wall. I hate it. I hate my thoughts and myself. I hate everything and I can only sit here in class and try not to let all my depression and rage spill out of me.

I just want to die. But I can't and I won't. I will crawl my way out of this pit, no matter how broken and mangled I become. I can not fall.

I refuse to fall.

Finally Seeking Help and the Fear of Repercussions

So, I went to a psychiatrist for the first time in my life. It was interesting to say the least.

Dr. Li is very eccentric and to the point and I thoroughly enjoyed meeting her.

She was very precise in her words and what she wanted to know about me. She asked me how long I had been feeling depressed, she asked about my anxiety and my inability to concentrate for longer than five seconds on anything. She asked for the facts, not the feelings and never once doubted what I was saying.
She took me at my word when I said that I was feeling depressed and did not ask me to justify my mental illness.
She was, however, appalled that I had not sought out professional help in the past.

 I honestly can't say that I haven't thought about it. I have, multiple times in fact. But I have always been scared because my parents have told me repeatedly that if I sought help, it would make an impact on my future, especially where medical insurance is concerned.

Now, as a child born into a medical family, I have been told that having good insurance is absolutely necessary to make it in life and anything that could affect my insurance in the future is a risk not worth taking.
Since insurance views people with mental illnesses as a risk, you are less likely to receive the insurance you want because they are afraid to take a chance on insuring you.
It's absolute bullshit, but that's the way it is.

I was so afraid of losing something in my future, that I refused to take action to help me in my present situation. That was until my fiancé stepped in and told me point blank that one, I needed to seek professional help and two, we would figure it out, together, in the future.
He doesn't care about things being harder for him as long as I receive the medical help I need.
Devin has helped me pushed through my fears and chooses to stand beside me no matter what the circumstances and I could not have dreamed the love of my life would be this wonderful and strong and always be there for me.

Between my fiancé's gentle pushes and my friends' unending encouragement, I am thankful I was brave enough to go see Dr. Li.

Now, let's see how this medication treats me...

Thursday, March 30, 2017

I Don't Know

How am I holding it together?

Today was the worst possible day to find out the worst possible things.

I will likely not be able to get a job in my field because I don't have any experience in smaller job markets. But in order to be in a smaller job market, I must move at least two hours away from where I live, my fiancé lives and where my friends and family live.

I am exhausted. I make backup plans for my backup plans and I do everything within my power to set myself up for success and yet something always goes wrong and pulls the bottom out from under me.

Think I'm exaggerating? Believe me, I wish I was, but ask anyone and they will tell you I have shitty luck. Like something from a movie bad luck. And I'm getting really tired of fighting the universe to catch a break.

My head has decided suicide is the answer and I am fighting myself every day not to give into the temptation. My body is shaking from lack of sleep and my arm itches to be cut, while my lungs want a cigarette so I can just breath.

My body is exhausted and my mind is more so and I just have to fight to get out of bed every day. I am terrified and angry and bitter and in so much pain I wish I could just explode already so I can get it over with.

I have so much work to do tonight and I am already exhausted just thinking about how late I will be up. I'm scared to be alone.

I don't want to keep fighting. It's just so hard.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017


Most days I'm barely holding it together, but I don't have the luxury to fall apart.

My brain has decided that suicide is a better option than trying to finish school or basically change or do anything better. However, I am not controlled by my thoughts and I refuse to succumb to them. 

Everything hurts and I feel like I'm drowning most days. I'm slow to get up and being a person is complicated most days. Being a responsible adult is hard all on its own.

I'm tired even when I sleep and all I want to do is drink and smoke cigarettes and cut. 

My thoughts hate me y'all. But I guess what doesn't kill you, makes you want to kill yourself, so I guess I'm getting stronger?

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Anxiety and the Impossible Standards of the Unsatisfied

I grew up as your standard happy go lucky kid with a heart too big for my small chest and love spilling out of every part of me. I was always cared for, I was always loved and I was always told I could do anything with a little hard work. Then high school came.

For those of you who read my past blog posts, you'll know my depression first surfaced my junior year of high school. My work ethic dropped, my grades slipped and no one helped, they just judged.

I was the perfect child, the perfect student and the perfect friend for years and then when I tried to reach out, people just let me fall while expecting me to maintain the same high level of achievement I had always met.

It was so painful, I thought I might die from the sheer overpowering emptiness and abandonment I felt when no one was there.

Years later, I have come to realize a sad but honest truth:
People often do not know how to help, so the choose to not acknowledge those struggling around them. 
I have assumed for years that no one helped because of the stigma surrounding mental illness. Or because my grandmother committed suicide, I couldn't be suffering as badly as she had.

You're okay, it's just a phase, you'll grow out of it, it's all in your head.
No. Fucking. Shit it's all in my head.
As I reached the end of my senior year, the expectations reached daunting heights and I had no energy to meet them.

I passed, barely, with straight A's and went on to college where I hoped to exceed the things set before me.
I did not. 
Not the way I expected to anyway. And I think that made it all the better.

Monday, March 27, 2017

I Feel Like I'm the Annoying Friend

Basically, I feel like no one wants me around.

On some level I know I am not. I am a good friend. I'm loyal, steadfast and I am the "mom" of my friend group. I'm always there to give advice, a hug or cook dinner. My door is always open and my couch is super comfy.

Despite all my good qualities, I still feel like my flaws overshadow my strengths.

I'm loud, I take up too much space and I can accidentally dominate a conversation. I put my foot in my mouth a lot and I've never quite figured out when I'm being too weird.

I feel like I embarrass the people around me. I'll straight up tell you I am not normal. I'm a little off and I am a huge fangirl, so I definitely stray into the "who's that weirdo?" category.

I know my friends like me. I mean, I hope they do, since we hang out all the time. And they come to me with important questions, so they must think I'm trust-worthy.

But I still worry I bug them or they just tolerate me. I don't know. I wish I could just hang out with people and not make myself sick with worry once we're done hanging out.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Domestic Disturbances are Terrifying and Infuriating

March 21

It's been 23 minutes since I've phoned the police for the second domestic disturbance call.

23 fucking minutes where anything could have happened to the sobbing woman upstairs who's been being screamed at by an angry man.

I can hear the woman sobbing and screaming "get the fuck away from me," and the man yelling "I'll do.... what.... fucking want!"

I could try to fill in the gaps, but it's hard to understand everything they're saying.

All the banging and scraping and space in between us muffles things a bit.

I'm terrified because this shouldn't be normal. I'm angry because I am weak. I am pained because I cannot serve some kind of justice. I am but an observer and I have done the best I can.

27 minutes. I am beginning to wonder if they will actually come. I am sitting awake on my porch hoping to get a call or to hear something, anything and there is nothing.

I hope everything is okay. I hope everyone is okay. I'm so fucking scared and yet I can do nothing other than what I have done. I want to do more, but I am taking the advice of someone who has lived through the violence and come out on top. I will continue to wait for law enforcement to make an appearance.

I hope they come soon.

It's been an hour and 47 minutes since I phoned to police. I left my apartment soon after the officers arrived and went to get an energy drink as I need to be up in less than 5 hours.

When I came back they were searching the street for something the man had thrown off his balcony. From what I can see it appears to be a bottle of liquid. My guess, of course, is alcohol.

Everything is quiet for the moment, but I doubt there is peace.

March 23

So, I have gotten about two hours of sleep and I feel like shit. I slept Tuesday night, after my classes, but then found out that I slept through another fight between my neighbors and that freaked me out a lot.

So last night, I was like "what if something happens? I need to be awake!"

However, I realized that I do in fact, need to sleep in oder to function, so I took a melatonin and drank some wine in hopes of sleeping through the night.
However, my anxiety is a bitch who likes to make me feel like shit.
So, I am now basically hung over due to a lack of sleep and melatonin. This is my life.

Thankfully, there was no fighting last night, but I am still so worried about the people above me. I hope they're okay, but I highly doubt it.

According to the apartment manager, it's apparently just getting worse.

I'm scared for my neighbors and I can't do shit. I hate that. More than anything.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Self-Expression through Forced Work

Writing a blog is something I've always wanted to do, but never actually accomplished.

See, I've made blogs before, with the full intent of keeping them updated and interesting and yet I have never been able to keep up my work for any period of time. Taking a blogging class really forces you to write.

But not only to write.

While all my work is for a grade, it is also, in fact, one of the best forms of self-expression I have ever experienced. Having to keep up with posts in order to complete the class, has me to do more self inspection and produce higher quality work to go on my blog.

It has pushed me back into old habits that I never should have broken. 

I have read more and written more this semester than I have my entire college career. It has reminded me of the daily journals I used to keep and helped me begin to pick up important work again.

My posts are becoming more uniform as the time goes on.

I started with the idea of using poems as a way to write out my thoughts. However, I was using the poems as a guideline or something to hide behind. I often times feel like what I have to say is unimportant or not worth communicating.

Now, I realize my thoughts are my own and they are just as important as anyone else's. 
Blogging is setting me up for a more successful career because it is increasing my writing and editing abilities by the day.

Since my majors are Professional Media and Photographic Arts, writing everyday increases my chances of doing well in my chosen fields.

I have heard many professionals say you can be good at what you do, but if you can write it makes all the difference. 
Blogging has pushed me to be a better me. It has raised my confidence in myself and my skills as a whole. By getting the my thoughts out into the open, I have released negativity that I seem to always hold onto.

Blogging has forced me to look at myself and the things around me and made me examine the things I do not like or choose to ignore and need to change.  
It's funny what I little soul-searching will turn up in your everyday life.

I feel I have covered everything, but since this is an assignment and I must cover all the criteria I have one final question to answer.

The most important thing I have learned from this class is that when one looks within, even when they have to be forced to consider oneself, one will always find what they are looking for and more. 

Sunday, March 19, 2017

My Thoughts are Keeping me Restless

I can't sleep tonight.

It's kind of strange. I haven't had a night like this in a while.

I've tried drinking it off but alcohol just kind of goes through me like water. As someone who used to drink to sleep, I can't decide if my now high tolerance is a gift or a curse.

My thoughts are scattered to the winds this early morning.

I've watched about four animated movies, as well as a Disney movie. I would recommend Pete's Dragon if you want a cute, kinda action-y movie or The Little Prince if you want to cry. but like, the good kind of cry.

I notice I go back to the same music over and over again. I have certain songs that stick with me like gum to my shoes and others that always seem to sneak back up on me like money in your coat pocket.

It's not that I fear change or hate it. In fact, I greet change with, undoubtedly shaky, but welcome arms.

However, the constants in my life keep me from going insane. 
Well, sometimes. Tonight I am a bit insane.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Tips for Those Unable to Seek Professional Help

So, I don’t know if I have mentioned this yet on my blog, but I am in college and I started this blog because of a class. And honestly? I should’ve done it sooner. This blog has been an incredible relief for me and a place to get my thoughts out on a public platform.

That being said, I have to write a short essay for this class. Below is the essay and I hope that you will read it. I think it contains good information for those who are looking for some.

This is an essay about tips for people who cannot receive therapy for depression and it is interesting because I feel like it can help others who are struggling.

First and in my opinion, most important is self-care. Self-care is taking the time away from things that are stressful in your life to recover your mental well-being. Everyone’s version of self-care is a little different. What works for one person may not work for another. But the most important things to remember is that you need to do it even if you think you don’t have the time.
I had to take time for self-care yesterday.

 I am, at the moment, so terrified of graduating that it is affecting even the smallest things I try to do. I had to write an article for my college’s newspaper and I could barely concentrate. Writing is normally something I excel at, so naturally, I was upset I couldn’t sit and write a simple 500-word story. With my deadline ticking in the background, I forced myself to stop and take a nap. Emily from a few years ago would have been screaming at me for being out of my mind.

“You have an f-ing deadline you stupid bitch! You can’t sleep now!”

This is the exact attitude that would eventually cause me to lose my mind at the end of every semester. The “sleep when I’m dead” attitude did not help me. Instead, taking the time to take care of myself, allowed me to finish the article in about 45 minutes vs. struggling to write it for several hours.

Now, will taking a nap help everyone? No, but something else might. Maybe a jog outside, a video game break or a warm bath.

Just do what you need to do to recover. Don’t stress about how you could use that time for something “more important.” You and your mental stability are incredibly important. Never forget that.

Second is research. Knowing what you are dealing with is incredibly helpful. Information can win wars, why would a real war be any different than the one inside your head?

When you arm yourself with information, you are setting yourself up for success. 

For me, I knew I had a history of mental help problems in my family. I knew some symptoms to be on the lookout for. However, the internet has a plethora of information you can feast upon to beef yourself up for dealing with the things you struggle with.

Third, talk to someone about how you’re feeling.

“Wait,” you might be wondering, “I thought this about if you couldn’t speak to a therapist?” This is, but never doubt that talking to someone can help. Maybe they know someone who can connect you to a professional or at the very least, they can be a shoulder to lean on when the days get hard.

Talking about what you’re going through, even if it’s just with a trusted friend will help you feel better.

Bottling it up will only make the situation worse. I would know, when you can’t take it anymore and you finally burst, it’s fire and brimstone and tears and pain and it is not worth trying to shoulder the burden all by yourself.

While all these things can help maintain your mental stability, they can never replace speaking to a professional. There are resources available for cheap and sometimes free.

There are online therapists waiting to talk to you. Suicide hotlines are free and are a good outlet when you’re looking for someone to talk to. If you’re in college, there may even be a free clinic on campus you can visit.

Please never forget, you are not alone. There are others struggling right along with you and you often times can reach out to them for advice or just a simple shoulder to cry on. You are loved, you are important. Never forget that.

My Thoughts are Wrong and I Can't Fix It

If my boyfriend didn't study people's psychological behavior for a living, he would probably assume I'm crazy.

I mean, I am off my rocker, but he knows I'm not that crazy.

Man, that sounds bad. Let me explain.

I was driving up to Tulsa late one night when some stupid bastard decided it would be a good idea to throw a large, heavy object off a bridge at someone's car. I happened to be driving under said bridge when said boy threw said object.

I don't know whether to be thankful or angry that it didn't go through my windshield. 

I probably would have died if it had. 

Almost dying makes you think about a lot of things I'm sure.

Apparently, one thing you should not think is: 

"I wish I had died because me as I am now is a waste of space and energy and if I would have died my energy would have been converted to something more useful."

Also, most people don't consider how it would have felt and whether or not it would have been enjoyable.

Or how inconvenient your existence must be that even a stupid kid couldn't get the job done.

And apparently, you're not supposed to think things like this on a regular basis.

My brain is weird.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Galaxies Within, Yearning to Be Free

I was 16 the first time I cut.

I had stolen some alcohol from my parents in an attempt to fall asleep, to shut up the constant stream of negative thoughts that bombarded me at night.
It didn't help.
I lay in my bed, the world spiraling around me and the voices still whispered, vile words dripping with poison.

I tried everything to sleep through the thoughts that pounded against my skull like too many stars trapped in a vacuum.

Self Harm: Original Photography by Emily Smith
My thoughts drifted to a conversation I had had a week before. My best friend had explained to me  how cutting helped her cope with the things she couldn't control.

She said being able to silence the mental pain with physical pain was fascinating and that it gave her a peace about the world around her.

So I got up. I was sluggish from the liquor, floundering in my mind, but I trudged to the kitchen looking for my dad's medical supplies. I found some small, at home surgery kits and I took one hoping he wouldn't notice.

Once back in my room I pulled the sterilized scalpel from its crisp, clean wrappings. I studied it for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes.

Then I slid up my sleeve and made a single cut along the upper part of my left arm.

The pain wasn't immense, honestly, I'm so clumsy I've had worse falling down the stairs. But it was instantaneous and unexpected and that made all the difference.

I cut several lines all over my arm to see if different places hurt more or less. I crisscrossed lines, making a tic-tac-toe effect. I didn't cut deep. I didn't want people to realize.

I made it look like a scrape from falling instead of intentionally, inflicted incisions.

The pounding in my head resided as red galaxies dripped out of my veins. It was like the solar systems that had been burning bright behind my eyes had found a source to escape the black hole they were constantly being sucked into.

I breathed more easily than I had in what felt like forever.

I sterilized the scalpel and wound with alcohol, washed up the blood and wrapped my arm in gauze. I hid the evidence and fell into the deepest sleep, flying through the solar system unhindered by the things in my head.

Thursday, February 9, 2017

It's a Struggle, but I'm Still Here

Warning: This post features talk about suicide

I'm 23 years old today and four years ago, I didn't think I would make it to 20.

I was 19. I was lost, devastated, drowning in toxic thoughts that refused to relent.

I was cutting almost every day, smoking cigarettes to help me breathe, taking shots to sleep at night and just begging to not wake up in the morning.
Cool steel against my skull.
I don't remember the exact thought that triggered me into action. I know I had considered this act many times. I had picked up the gun too many times to count actually. Cool steel against my skull. I had always stopped. I had always set it back down and walked away.

I don't remember what had left me so vulnerable to those thoughts that night. I don't even remember what day. I remember taking a couple shots, cutting and lying on my bathroom floor, silently sobbing. I remember wanting things to stop, for me to stop.

I couldn't use the gun. Everyone was asleep. I didn't want to make a mess. I was already an inconvenience, I just wanted to leave and not bother anyone anymore. A mess would just cause more problems.

Pills. My parents were medical, maybe they had something stronger, something that would let me sleep. Let me leave without causing problems. I stumbled to the medicine cabinet. I just started grabbing bottles. I don't remember what. I picked random numbers from each till I had a handful of colors. I put everything back in its place perfectly. I grabbed a beer and trudged back to my room.

I wrote a note. I honestly don't remember what it said. I just know I wrote something. I remember I wanted them to know it wasn't their fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. It was me, I was the problem. They had to know it was all me not them.

I took the pills, a rainbow falling down my throat. Washed it with alcohol and prayed God would forgive me and still let me into heaven.

I woke up to my mom yelling at me that I would be late for school. Everything spun, my vision swam, my head felt like it would split open and I ran to the bathroom and puked till all I could taste was acid. my throat burned, my skin felt like ice, everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong.
"I wasn't supposed to wake up"
"I wasn't supposed to wake up, it was supposed to be over, I was supposed to be over." Sobbing overtook me and I couldn't breathe.

"I'm supposed to be gone! I'm not supposed to be here!" I silently screamed. I was angry, I was in so much pain. "It was supposed to end. Why didn't it end? Why didn't I die?"

I felt more helpless and alone than I ever had before. I didn't want to move, didn't want to think.

But I got up. I showered. I pulled myself sluggishly through my morning and to school.

I passed through school in a toxic haze, running to the bathroom to puke every hour till all I could do was dry heave. I was miserable. I was exhausted. I ended up hiding from my classes that afternoon by crashing in my acting teacher's room. He didn't ask me for an explanation. He just patted me on the shoulder and let me sleep in the practice room. I was so grateful I cried.

I didn't go home that night. I spent the night at a friend's house where I would be relatively safe from myself.

Then I woke up the next day and kept going.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Beaten Down Feelings and Invalidated Pain

Depression doesn't care about your social standing, your grades, your home life or how well off you are.

Depression can surface unexpectedly and without warning to those it decides to infect.

And yet, people have the audacity to believe it can only be present in a certain type of people. If you don't fit the bill, you must be lying or going through a "phase."

I'm here to tell you that's total bullshit.

I was always the perfect child. I have a loving family and a good home life.
Family Portrait by Leah Dile
Never did drugs, always on time, never skipped class, stayed out of trouble and tried to be a good influence. I was the "goody two shoes" and proud of that title. I passed my classes with flying colors, had the voice of an angel and I knew exactly where I was going and how I was gonna get there.

Then my junior year of high school came and everything changed.

I began feelings things I had never experienced before. Feelings of regret over nothing at all. Anxiety over every situation. No confidence in the things I excelled at. Lose of enjoyment in the things I loved. Exhaustion, but sleep eluded me as my mind overflowed with negative thoughts. All of this built up to an intense pain, always just behind my eyes, right where I couldn't fix it.

I tried to hide it. I tried to pretend like I was fine, it would go away on its own, it was just a fluke. 

"Are you okay?" "I'm fine just tired."

I spent months like this, secluded in my own mind trying to figure out what I had done to bring myself to this mental low. When I couldn't come to any conclusion, I turned to the internet and my school's counselor. 

Original Photography by Emily Smith
I realized I was showing signs of depression and I approached my mom. My mom who had always loved me, always told me my feelings were valid and always would discuss things even if she didn't agree with me. I knew I could turn to her and she would help me.

She told me that I was fine.

"You're in high school, it's just a phase." "You don't have depression." "Counselors and therapist and psychiatrists just blow things out of proportion you're fine." "You just need to sleep more." "You just need to lose weight." "You just need to exercise more."

Having the person who had always cared before refusing to listen to you is one of the hardest things to ever happen.

I turned to friends next. Many of them said it was hormones, others became angry saying I had it too good to be depressed. Others just laughed it off like it was an awkward conversation they didn't want to have.

There were a few who tried to help and I am so thankful for those teachers, friends and my boyfriend at the time for listening to me, even if they weren't sure how to help. The fact that you cared carried me through to graduation.

However I mostly suffered in silence, too beaten down and broken to reach out. It took me three years after high school to even consider therapy.

I know this seems like a long, meaningless story, but all of that goes to say please, do not, for the love of everything that is pure and good in this world ever invalidate the things people are feeling. If they reach out to you there's a reason. Don't brush them off, you're impacting them more than you could ever know.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Beating the Terror of Writing for Others

I’m gonna be real honest with y’all:

Writing this blog freaks me the fuck out.

When I think of posting my words my body begins to panic. Stomach churning, hands shaking, heart speeding, queasiness, nausea, short breath. The fear of judgment can be absolutely overwhelming. 

The judgement and invalidation I have received over the years makes me hesitant to tell others of my mental illness. It makes me cringe, because I know most people don’t see my depression and anxiety. I’m what some people would call high functioning.

I constantly worry about others opinions, but upon meeting me you would never know. I am an incredible confident person in public. I have no worries about the words others say. I smile. I am in control. I am strong. I'm the person you come to when you have a problem, need advice or just a shoulder to lean on.

In reality, I am a nervous wreck. I will sit and stare off into space for hours on end, unable to force my body to obey my mind. Getting out of my car in the mornings is a struggle and in the evenings, I hide there, reveling in the safety of a place I've known for years. I play on my phone so I don't have to think and forget even the most important things as I panic over the list of goals I feel I cannot achieve.

I have so many drafts for this blog and I cannot force myself to post them. I worry they are not perfect, that they won't convince you to believe me, to be interested.

I hope I don't bore you. I hope you find some comfort in my words. I hope you know I care. I hope you can learn something of others or about yourself through me. I hope my words are enough. 

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Floundering in the What If's

There is freedom waiting for you...

I'm having a strangely hard time dealing with life right now. I graduate in May and so I feel like every tiny decision will have a huge impact on what I do next.

On the breezes of the sky... 

What if I say the wrong thing to the right person? What if I burn bridges before I even know there is a bridge to burn? What if my inability to concentrate causes me to miss the opportunity of a life time? What if my forgetfulness lands me somewhere I don't want to be? What if I mess up? What if I fail? What if I disappoint?

And you ask "what if I fall?"

Oh how I loathe those two words! What if? Always bouncing around in my head like a childhood bully high on sugar! What if? Taunting and goading me into feeling the worst kind of unease, like something prickling under your skin. What if? Itches and grates behind my eyes right where I can't touch it.

Oh but my darling...

What if I need to stop asking? What if I need to just let it happen? What if I allow myself to break through the boundaries? What if I let myself try?

What if you FLY?
-Eric Hansen

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Introductions Make Me Nervous

Honestly, I'm kind of nervous to be making this blog.

I'm definitely awkward and always a little anxious, but this will probably be good for me. To get my thoughts out of my head and onto something a little more tangible.

Okay, deep breath...

My name is Emily.

I'm 22 years old and a senior in college. I stress out easily and really hate mornings.

I suffer from depression and general anxiety. That's basically what this blog will be about. My inner thoughts, fears, anxiety, some tips on getting out of low places and how to cope when things get rough.

I pray this blog will be as helpful to others as I hope it will be to me.