Getting Bullied

So I have a fucking bully.

She is pretty much a bitch and is always talking about me. She has said the following:

1) I am a horrible mom/wife/teacher.

2) I am fat and ugly.

3) I am worthless and stupid.

4) I have done nothing productive with my life.

5) I should go kill myself because I don’t matter to anyone.

You name it and she has said it. And what hurts the most is that this is someone that I thought I knew. Someone I thought I could depend on but in all honesty, she is a fucking bitch and I don’t know how to get rid of her.

She comes around often and she is constantly saying these mean and horrible things to me and the worst part is that I believe it.

If this was one of my friends telling me this same story, I would tell them to just get rid of this person and cut them out of their life. But hey, easier said than done, right?

We all have that one person that is impossible to get rid of. I always have good intentions that I will talk to her, sit her down and be honest with how much she is fucking hurting me but I never do.

I guess I am stuck and don’t know how to get out. I even tried to talk myself through a mock conversation in the mirror. But see, she was there, looking straight at me.

I’m the bully and I hate myself with so much anger and force that it hurts to be in my own skin.

If only someone would understand.

The pain is so awful that hurting myself feels like the only way out. It is the only way I could be away from her forever and she could never hurt me again.

Until next time,

The victim

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Trigger Warning: Suicide

I just wanted to give everyone a fair warning that this blog is going to be straight up honest and blunt.

I have a mental illness. I am not shy about sharing it because I hope that it will help others be brave enough to share or to get the help and support they need.

In case you are wondering, this is what I have: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). I basically am like a buffet of issues- a little of this and a little of that. It’s like going to a Chinese buffet that has pizza and chicken nuggets.

Either way, I have discovered something about mental illness that made me so angry that I can’t be silent anymore. I was asked today why I am on intermittent FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act).

I am on FMLA because of my PTSD which was a direct result of an active shooter drill that one of the high schools did where I used to work. The school I worked at brought in three men with assault rifles, shot up the school with blanks and they had people banging on the door screaming to let them in because the ‘shooter had a gun and we are going to fucking die.’

So yeah, getting up and going to work is hard because I am going to a place that doesn’t feel safe and although feelings can feel real, they are usually not true. And as much as my mind understands that, my PTSD and Trauma brain does not.

When I was questioned about it today, I was open and honest. I mean I write a blog for God’s sake. But then this person, who is extremely kind but I feel like doesn’t realize how they come off, said that they ‘understand people that are on FMLA because they need medical treatment but they…

And that’s when it hit me. I told this person that just because this other persons pain is physical and can be seen, doesn’t mean that my disability doesn’t exist because it can’t be seen.

And that’s when I realized, in order for people to believe that you are in fact sick, you have to have physical problems. So it makes me sad but I believe the only way people will know that I suffer and that I am sick is if I self-harm and develop physical scars or if I just can’t put up with life anymore and decide to kill myself.

So do all of us who have mental illness a favor and believe that we are suffering. Believe that we are hurting. Believe that we are scared. Believe that we are triggered. Believe us when we say that we are trying to get better.

We don’t ask someone with cancer to show the results of the tests that changed their lives forever. You don’t ask a diabetic to show their pricked finger or their empty needles. You don’t ask a person in a wheelchair to walk just to be sure that they would fall. Why is mental illness different? I am fighting battles that you will never know anything about and for that I am brave. For that, we are all brave.

Until next time,

Allison

If you are suicidal and need someone to talk to, contact the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

It’s a Wonderful Life

I went to an old movie theater with my mom to watch, It’s a Wonderful Life. 

If you hate spoilers and plan to watch the old classic, stop reading. 

If you already know the plot, then you know the main character, George, thinks everyone around him would be better off if he was never born.

It got me thinking because every year I watch this movie with my mom and every year I feel like George. I have been on the brink of rage only seeing that suicide is my only option. Praying to God that I was never born. Wishing that he would take me in the night.

Every year I watch this movie, I also notice a change within me. Last year, I wanted to self harm after the movie and this year I wanted to celebrate that the thoughts of self harm and suicide are not as frequent because of dialectical behavior therapy and my amazing therapist.

Although I can’t self validate yet, I thought it would be nice just to tell people what they mean to you now. Why wait till death? Enjoy this holiday season and tell people how thankful you are that they were born into your life.

Until next time,

Thanks Clarence

Watching the Clouds

I sit here and watch the clouds pass me by and wonder what it would be like to fly?

I wonder how clouds would feel in my hand. 

Would they brush through my fingertips the same way the cool ocean water slips through my fingers on a warm summer day or would the clouds feel soft like my favorite blanket that I wrap myself in by the fire while it snows?

If I try to hold them tight, would they disappear like the warm sun drifts off into the cool night?

If I hold them carefully, would they stay like a fragile piece of glass intact in my fingertips?

If I smell the clouds and inhale deeply, does it smell like clean cotton on laundry day?

And if I took a bite, a bite right out of the cloud, would it taste like cotton candy after a day at my hometown carnival?

I just don’t know but I hope one day to find out but it can’t be today.

Until next time,

Allison