Finding Safety In Illness


As I type these words, it is 1:56 AM. The latest I’ve stayed up in a very long time. The hum of the fan in the hallway outside my bedroom is the only thing breaking the stillness of the night.

Until now, I’ve been sitting at my desk, mindlessly removing the gaudy embroidery from a bag I bought years ago while The Office played in the background.

I’m not sad. Not happy. I’m in that weird limbo where you really don’t feel anything. And in that limbo, there’s a tinge of mysterious heartbreak and a bit of melancholy in the back of my throat, waiting for the right moment to unleash itself into my world.

I’ve started recovery for my mental illnesses. Well, I’ve started real recovery. I’m making strides in getting things back to the way they’re supposed to be. I’m starting to function above baseline. I started to function at all. And it’s been great and overall I’m proud of myself, really I am.

However, your brain doesn’t like to give up easily.

Since mine is programmed with these illnesses, they don’t just want to leave. And in a way, though I use my skills and try to keep the thoughts they bring in the back of my head, I don’t want them to leave either.

In a sick and twisted way, they have become Home. They have become safe. And it is easier not to fight. To let them have their way and for me to retreat to the comfort of my bed.

After so long of just letting these things exist in my head with no way of knowing what to do about them, they’ve tricked me into believing that they are what’s best.

“Don’t fight” they say. “You know us so well” they say. “After all of this time you really think you can just move on?”.

To be clear, I don’t actually have voices in my head. But I’ve found that it’s easier for people to understand what you mean if you personify the illnesses.

Maybe it’s an utterly ordinary part of the process, but the farther I move away from the lifestyle of someone with depression or anxiety or the many other things I have diagnoses for, the less I trust recovery. It all feels as though it could come crashing down at any moment. It could leave me at square one, stuck in one spot reaching for pieces of myself just outside my grasp.

And it’s all terrifying.

So wouldn’t it just be easier to keep things the way they’ve been? To let myself wallow and live in pajamas? Watch homework and laundry pile up until their piles topple over?

Maybe in times like these, late at night when I can’t sleep, that seems to be the answer. Because recovery is exhausting. It’s a lot of work. But in reality, when I step out of my head for a minute, I look at myself and see how far I’ve come. And if I look out into the distance, I can almost see the life of the girl I thought I’d be at 15.

I want that. I want my life.

My life. Not the life that these illnesses have laid out on the table for me. Not one ruled by an abstract Stockholm syndrome or fear of change and the unknown.

I’m tired of letting my illnesses be my defining characteristics. I am not them. They are not me. They are not Home. They are not safe. I know that I can get better. And I want a life where I am better.

Thank you for reading

See ya soon!!!




I’m Welcoming Change


I’ve always been scared of change. That classic “fear of the unknown”. But as I get older, I think I’m starting to recognize the difference between growth and change.

When we started this blog, I was 12. And this December I turn 16. So it’s safe to say I’m not the same person I was when I started writing here.

I’ve grown up a bit. Not all the way; I am most certainly not grown up, I’m still very much just a kid. But I’m different now.

And as of today, I welcome it. I am growing, changing, developing as a person. My writing style has changed. What I want to post about has changed. The frequency of my posts has changed…quite a bit.

Maybe I won’t post everyday anymore, about all the mundane little details about whatever test I’m stressed about, but that’s okay. It’s really a good thing.

Change, growth, they’ve brought me good things, and bad things for that matter, but all the bad has led to the good. Everything happens for a reason. I’ve always said that. But now, after everything, after all the stories that I could tell, I truly believe it.

Thank you for reading.

See ya soon!!!





My therapist used to say that things were “snowballing”. And I always kind of knew what she meant, but not really.

Snowballing always seemed bad. It always seemed like when things were “snowballing”, bad things kept happening.

Over and over and over.

But recently, as I’ve made my commitment to recovery and my final push to change my life for the better, I’ve learned that snowballing isn’t always bad.

Once I started doing things that were things someone in recovery would do, it kept getting better.

It started with small things. Wearing actual clothes instead of pajamas that could pass as clothes. Having a skincare routine. Making sure I took a shower every day, it only kept going.

And after the little things were in place, the bigger things started to fit back into the puzzle too. Education, family time, friendships, everything.

Slowly but surely, my life is snowballing it’s way back together. And I’m so sure that this blog, this piece of me, is very close to getting snowballed back in as well.

Thank you so much for reading.

See ya soon!!!



I Disappeared Again…oops


*For some reason this never went up on the day I meant it to but it’s here now*

Hey guys, welcome back. Boy, it’s been quite a while. And I have explanations for all of it. I promise.

But all the reasons that I stepped away, deserve their own posts. It took me a lot of wrestling around in my head to even decide that I wanted to share any of them with you. Because they’re heavy topics.

The stories I will share probably all require a trigger warning of some kind.

Nevertheless, I need to share them.

When I was blogging consistently, sharing things that I couldn’t share with anyone else, I felt better. Because things were out of my head. They made sense typed out. And I was doing a lot better.

I want that again.

Something came over me this evening where I just felt the need to open WordPress. And when I did, I read through some of my posts. Specifically, my New Years post.

And in that post, I made it my one and only resolution to make 2018 the best year possible. And I haven’t done that. I just simply haven’t tried.

But there’s still time. I still have more of 2018 to live. I will fill my resolution.

So consider this my return. The whole “site reconstruction project” is still underway. I’m about to plan all of that out, as well as brainstorm how I’d like to tell the stories I have to share.

And so I return to the blogosphere.

See ya soon!!!