Self-Love

You say I am The Eiffel Tower but I want to be The Empire State Building.

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A little bit about my mental health…

Well I’m an anxiety fighter which to a lot of you probably means nothing because I often hear “everyone has anxiety though” well although yes everyone does experience moments of anxiety not every person has an anxiety disorder. My anxiety doesn’t let my go to class or leave my house with out my parents and even with my parents it can still be too hard, now before someone say well maybe you shouldn’t let it control you; I don’t. Me getting up everyday is me trying and me facing the fear of the front door is me trying so yes I’m struggling but no I do not let it control me.  I have been in therapy for 4 years and honestly it is shit although some strategies have worked, I have been on 200mg sertraline for over a year and since they believed that wasn’t working just a couple of weeks ago changed me to fluoxetine so I’m crossing my fingers it’ll work but so far i have had 4 panic attacks, I know it’ll take 4-7 weeks to start working so I’m going to continue to believe it’ll work. Anyway that’s the basics of my mental illness although there is so much more in-depth I’ll do some separate posts later on. If you’re thinking I’m way to ‘precious’ and need to suck it up, please go join the long line of people who obviously don’t understand.

I needed this

Dance on broken glass, build castles with shattered dreams and wear your tears like precious pearls. Proud. Strong. Unshakable.

– Anita Krizzan

Quote Of The Day:

“Put your thoughts to sleep, do not let them cast a shadow over the moon of your heart. Let go of thinking.

– Jalalludin Rumi

Quote Of The Day:

“Quite often, the only escape is sleep”

– Charles Bukowki

If I Could Breathe.

My throat feels tight and tears sting my eyes as my nose is tingling red. I feel like I’m suffocating, my neck is tangled with barbed wire; screaming for help does nothing but push the wire further into my already imperfect skin, what’s the harm of another scar? The points that stand sharply at the edge resemble everything I hate about myself, making sure I never forget them by digging themselves deeper beneath me. Itching at my skin to escape leaves red welts for everyone to see. The fear I feel now that people must be staring, why aren’t they helping? Can they not see I’m in pain? Please help me escape myself. Please…