Hiddleston Anonymous

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Sep 2

I feel nothing
or
I feel everything.
I don’t know which is worse.

- 2 am thoughts (via timid)

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.

- Jess C. Scott, The Intern (via kushandwizdom)

Descent

My descent into darkness was slow, unobtrusive, and almost unnoticeable. Almost.

It was the luster fading with things I used to enjoy doing. It was the way food didn’t taste the same and lost it’s appeal. It was the numbness I felt at what would normally cause joy. It was the darkness that filled me, permeating every single part of me and turning it to shadow. It was the disconnect from those I loved. It was the inability to be who I am. It was the incapability to manage my life. It was the fear, the pain, the shame, the guilt, the gut wrenching, stomach knotting, heart tearing sorrow that became the only thing I could see and feel. It was my life falling to pieces around me, crumbling at my feet, and me standing there, silently screaming with my entire being while I clawed at the edge, trying to hold on. But I couldn’t.

My fingernails snapped, fingers broke, and I slipped into the abyss. It enveloped me, cradled me in it’s dark, cold arms, and welcomed me with it’s black kiss, sucking my soul from me, cutting every fiber of the human I used to be and turning me into nothing. Absolutely nothing. A shell, a husk, empty and shattered. Broken beyond repair, my fingers sticky and grimed with glue while I fumbled to put the pieces back together. Needle and bloody thread, dripping red at my feel as I attempted to sew myself whole. Nothing worked. Nothing could save me.

There I was, soulless, dehumanized, nothing, letter written, hidden, sobbing, shaking, knife to my throat, pressing in, a hairsbreadth from splitting my skin, and I stopped.

Could I do it? Could I abandon my family, my husband, my friends? Yes. But, my children. That…..that I could not do. Leave them pondering their value. Questioning why they weren’t loveable enough for me to stick around? Know that I had left them, walked away, knowingly abandoned them and spending their entire lives wondering why? Deal with the questions, the ridicule, the trauma? Fuck, no, I wasn’t about to do to my kids what had, in a different way, been done to me. I would walk through fire, drink acid, throw myself in front of a train for my kids, and it occurred to me that this, living, was quite literally, and absolutely, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face. But, for my girls, I will do it.

So this is me, doing what it takes to survive. Checking myself into a mental hospital to keep me from killing myself. Spending four days there, learning how to cope with being alive. Taking six different medications to keep me ‘stable’. Committing myself to six hours of therapy a day for the next two weeks, and three a day for two weeks after that, so I can get ‘well’. Knowing that ‘well’ isn’t ‘cured’. That this is a struggle I will be dealing with for the rest of my life. Accepting that. Knowing it as I take my first step forward. Sitting here tonight, writing this, spewing my sad, painful truth for those who give a fuck. All so I can give my kids a motherfucking chance. Knowing that every day will be a different struggle and hoping I have the balls to ask for help when I need it.

Death is easy.

Life, acceptance, change- that’s what’s hard.

kushandwizdom:

More good vibes here

kushandwizdom:

More good vibes here

(Source: weheartit.com)

Until we have seen someone’s darkness we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.

- Marianne Williamson (via nevesnevele)

My pain was never beautiful or poetic. It was answering the phone mid breakdown and laughing like I was fine.

- Unknown (via perfect)

Reality Check

Three days ago I nearly died. I sat on the floor, hiding in my favorite room at doctor’s office, sobbing, suicide note written, knife to my throat……

God, I’d planned so many ways to die. Pills, gun, driving into a pilon, slitting my wrists…… Had accepted it as my ‘fate’ for the past three weeks, and as I sat there, resolute and ready, I realized something……I was making a mistake. I looked at what I’d written- a short letter to my husband and children on the ‘notes’ of my iphone and thought; That is so utterly shitty. That, that, is what I’m going to leave my daughters? A three line note telling them how important they were to me right before I killed myself? No. No way.- So, I dropped the knife and lost my shit and was about committed. Therapists, doctors, all forcing me to go to the hospital, I managed to ‘escape’ by having my hubby and good friend take the responsibility of ‘Suicide Watch’, in essence tying the hands of the nurse doing my assessment. So I came home, somewhat stunned, and realized I had to figure out how to live. Break myself apart, pull out the bad stuff, and sew myself back together if I’m to survive the next 40+ years. It’s a daunting task, and I found myself more depressed today than I have ever been, realizing the enormity of my undertaking.

So, I start tomorrow, being ‘partially hospitalized’, again, and it marks the beginning of my ‘new’ life.I foresee stormy skies and bleak weather for a while, and I’m okay with that. Better that than the alternative. So, wish me luck all my lovelies and I promise, I will return when I can.

Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.

- Sylvia Plath, 3 months before her suicide. (via bl-ossomed)

(Source: isobutane)

Treading Water

I’m supposed to write. Write, and not hurt myself. Not entertain those life ending thoughts. Ha. So here I am, writing about it instead of doing it. I suppose that works. However, I can’t think of a damn thing to say. What is there to say when you are this hopeless and lost? It’s hysterical really. Talk about it, release it, get it out- they say. Um, alright, but you won’t let me cope when I do. How do I pull myself together when my usual needle and thread have been forbidden? Tell me to dive into the mess, but don’t throw me a life vest. Perfect. I’ll just tread water here a bit and hope the undertow won’t take me down.

 

2am

Just the musings of my disturbed mind……..

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