journal

Rock Bottom

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For the last few months I’ve been stuck in this horrible limbo of giving up on life and not quite giving up on life. And I honestly thought that no one out there would be able to comprehend such a static way of living until I met my friends. And with these friends, I went out with during the entire weekend, drinking heavily, snorting a lot of cocaine and sleeping very little each night. Before finding myself in the exact same position on Monday morning, feeling much worse for it all. I was now broke, both financially and emotionally.

The days after was filled with avoiding my bank statements which continued to decline in 100s. I was minus 200 one week and then minus 500 the next. Emotionally, my depression was reaping havoc on my days and the sister of depression – suicidal ideation would pop it’s ugly head and whisper sweet nothings into my ears. And all the while, I saw nothing intrinsically wrong with my life.

But I do remember one morning telling my friends that maybe I was developing a terrible drug habit, that my bank account was empty and that I had accumulated this horrible debt that never stops hanging over me like a black cloud over my head. And what did they do? They laughed at it all as if I was insane. Saying that their addiction was worse than my own as I only went on a gram binge every weekend, that my 700 pound debt was nothing, I’ll eventually get out of it.

So, instead of feeling insulted, I just felt like I was going insane. That my method of getting out of rock bottom was working. To drink more, snort more, smoke more, sleep less, care less and strive for less. All of which was the perfect antidote.

But I’ll tell you something now, it never was.

Hitting rock bottom is this funny thing. I thought you’d know when you reached it. When you felt the fiery ground at your feet is when you went into a sudden but cleansing mental breakdown. Kind of like a volcanic eruption, that bathes the foundation in its destructive upbringing ready for something new.

But no, it can be quite different. Quite deliberate in its torture of you. You can feel the cold ground of the bottom glazing the soles of your feet, your entire body submerged in this icy water, your nose just sticking out slightly to sniff the snow. Your organs frozen, your heart gripped in a damaging growth and your brain deteriorating slowly but surely. You can be ready to cry for help but for what? How can you explain the numbness to another, how easily and ready you are to go into a slumber. That you haven’t been fully awake for days, for months. It’s horrible. It’s how my life has been.

And I don’t know how to get out.

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Flashback, journal, moments

Flashback: A letter to my brother

Dear Brother,

You had made all these cross-wired connections that were illogical in nature but made sense out of context. Like, I could understand what you were feeling but the why was so over the top that I couldn’t fully grasp.

However, in a position where I was so vulnerable, self-esteem so low it was drooling past the depths of hell, where the flashbacks were hitting me full force with their penetrative glares and living from day-to-day was becoming harder. Where I looked up to you so much and treasured and held true every word you said, I, for a minute, broke.

I broke down.

I cried. Wanting to kill myself. Believing the words you spoke – saying that I was selfish, that how dare I serve myself for a second instead of you, how dare I not sacrifice my wellbeing for your own, how dare I?
But, how dare you.

How dare you ask that of your little sister? No, of another human being, of any other person, to give up themselves so completely to serve your every whim and wish.

Especially when you treat them like the shit on your shoe, only to condescendingly pat them on the head for doing exactly what you feel you needed.

I, for months, despite everything you said, dismissed all those evils you committed onto me. I continued to believe that angels shone out of your arse, them being the ones blessed to touch you, that God worshiped you and Satan cowered in fear every time he heard your name. And, most importantly, that I was the one completely in the wrong. That everything that happened was my fault and only my fault when let’s be real here.

Let’s be real.

The more that I took the responsibility for the faults that happened on that day, the more I serve to negate from the fact that you are a flawed human being like the rest of us.

Because guess what? The sun does not shine to greet you every morning, nor does thunder and lightning boom and bend to your will. You are human. You deserve to take some fault of your own onto shoulders too proud to slump, onto the flattened circumference of your mind crushed away by your demons that you indulge yourself in. I’m just sick of it.

I’m sick of how you’re all too ready to announce to the world how you’ve had it harder than any mere mortal who has experienced pain or anguish. That you believe yourself bigger than what you are. More superior because you choose not to understand what others go through but instead enjoy swimming deep in a sea of your own self-pity.

It’s silly.

Can the idea that someone else may feel pain without you having to make it a competition exist? Because God knows that when I feel good and happy I don’t go comparing it and stopping myself because someone else may be happier than I.

I don’t make it a competition. I just feel happy. And have enough sense to respect other’s happiness, the same way you should respect other’s pain.

I wish you could just see the truth and grow up for once. Because it’s not grown up to give people the silent treatment, it’s not grown up to expect family to serve you unconditionally – love you unconditionally, yes, but not serve. And finally, it’s not grown up to push everyone in your life away just because they communicate with you they do not agree with the way you treat them.

Grow up.

Grow up before everyone that you still love grows up and away from you.

Yours truthfully,

Your excommunicated sister

Continue reading “Flashback: A letter to my brother”

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Suicide: A short but needed reflction

I messed up.

I messed up big time.

Two months ago, I got the exceedingly strong impulse to kill myself. This was all after spending a horrendously long time consumed by depression, anger and self-hatred. After overhearing an attack on my personality I was no longer being able to keep all of these feelngs contained in a tight bubble and it all burst open.

The thought, like a cancer, by that point had metastasised in my mind to just kill myself. My reasoning? It was the only way to be kind to those around me and to my future self.

But, I obviously didn’t and here’s why:

I realised that the way I was feeling was temporary. Powerful, all-consuming, suffocating but ultimately, temporary.

And even though my brother calls me weak and selfish for wanting to kill myself, I know that his stance on suicide is ruled by his own unresolved past suicidal ideation. 

The reason I have messed up?

Because I think that explaining myself to him will solve something. It won’t. He has his own issues and I have mine. The truth is we both have entirely different experiences despite co-existing in the same orbit for so long.

At this point I need to take a step back, be selfish in the right way and work on myself. I need to be a little more self-compassionate, learn to manage my fluctuating emotions and stop isolating myself so much.

I just need to grow.

And I’ll be damned if that’s not what I do for the rest of the year.

I’ll be damned.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Moving out and everything in between

Hi guys, it has been quite a while since I’ve written a blog post which is so odd because I usually have so much to say in general. However, for quite a while I withdrew from everything and everyone and just didn’t feel like writing because I no longer had the energy for it.

I have been through a lot over the past few weeks. Perhaps not a lot relative to other people but a lot for me. I essentially fell out with my brother and because of that, I became suicidal all over again. Thankfully, my mum caught me before I did anything fatal and she gave me the option to take myself out of the situation and housesit for my grandmother for a day or two. It has now been about 5 weeks and I haven’t yet moved back in. And I don’t think I’m going to.

In fact, the only reason I go “home” is to have my daily showers and catch up with my sisters if I see them, but that’s it. I think I’m going to stay there for the entirety of the Summer and then go straight to university and never have to go “home” again.

And I know this all seems rediculous and so outrageously childish but I cannot continue to put myself in a situation that contantly triggers me to feel so suicidal.

I’m not saying that underlying issues have been resolved and me moving out has allieviated the pressure from any of them. However, the situation that puts me the most in danger of doing fatal harm to myself has been temporarily eliminated. And if that is the best I can do for right now, then I’m going to do it.

I’m so incredibly aware of how chunky and distorted this post is but I’m trying to just throw all of my thoughts out there before I chicken out from writing again.

Also, just so you know, I have reached out for support from a psychologist and that should start just before the end of my exams.

Listening to: Cold Arms by Mumford and Sons

Nakedstreetkid out xx

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Updates and all

I think that I should finally explain what this blog is after owning it for over a year.

This blog is a space where I, Regina, can freely rant and rave about anything that is troubling me. Equally, it is a place where I can choose to discuss with others about the trials and tribulations of being a 19 year old teenager, living in England. And yes, I have a history of abuse of every kind, so at times, I may write about that, if only to make sense of it.

Right now in my life, I am actually taking a gap year. And during this gap year, instead of the normal and very understandable need to travel the world, I have decided to stay at home and really work on myself. How have I done that? Well, for starters, I have decided to start therapy and actually work through things that are troubling me. Which has been somewhat successful. However, as of last week, I have actually completed my allotted amount of 12 sessions that the NHS provided free of charge with my very lovely therapist who (for privacy sake) I shall name FeeFee.

But, all is good, I am actually being referred for long-term therapy at my local hospital. And if everything goes to plan, the wait for that should only last less than 3 months and they accept me into their care. Yay! In the meantime, I am on a round of anti-depressants, the infamous Sertraline or better known in the world of crazy as Zoloft. Which I am loving right now, so all is good on that.

Finally, I should explain that because of my crippling depression of last year and my ongoing anxiety, I was unable to reach my full potential last year. Hence, I only achieve relatively low grades (CCC) in my A-levels last year when in reality to get into university, I needed to achieve ABB. So, I have entered myself to actually retake my A-level exams at the end of the year. But again, because of my depression and anxiety for last few months, I have been doing nothing to prepare for that.

But now, I am determined to actually beat this anxiety and depression and actually achieve what I set out to achieve. So, I am beginning to study again (hurrah) and will continue to up until the beginning of my exams in May and June (which is frightingly close).

And that is it.

That is my life at the moment in a few paragraphs.

So, I hope you enjoy my blog and discover things about me (and hopefully about yourself too) that you would like to discuss. If so, feel free to message me. If not, feel free to message me regardless.

Right now, I feel like I am becoming an open book, so do talk to me, I don’t mind talking. At all. Or at least for the moment.

Alrighty then!

Nakedstreetkid out 😉

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Why 2015 was a terrible year for me

Funny thing is, a lot of people I have talked to have said to me that 2015 was not their year either. That it was filled to the brim with mishaps and regrets and they just hated the year in general.

2015 was a rubbish year for me.

It’s probably why I’ve been so pessimistic for the last few months. I can’t even say realistic anymore like I used to, I’ve just been marinating in plain old pessimism. And it has got to stop, but first of all, I’ve just got to get a lot off my chest before I am able to move on from it.

First off, at the beginning of 2015’s academic year, I found out that I didn’t get into university. Which was heart breaking for me because I have always idealised getting into university as a milestone that I must reach otherwise I amounted to nothing. So, you can understand the heartbreak, right? But then, a university actually called me up and told me they could offer me place.

And this is something I haven’t really told anyone because what I did next was just… Unthinkable.

I refused the offer.

And I know, I know how silly that may seem given the obvious heart break and melancholy that had followed not being offered a place. I know that it seems unthinkable. But really, that choice was made because I actually thought about it. Was the course I picked really the right one for me? And guess what I concluded (which really should be obvious from the way this is going), I concluded no. No the course that I had thought I wanted to do, did not encompass the elements of enjoyment that I needed.

So, yes, I rejected the offer.

And that should of made me far more determined and hard working come September, but it didn’t. The damage had already been done, my depression set in motion. I was officially on the brink of destruction.

I was completely distraught from the whole situation that the thought of living became unbearable. That was, unless I found something productive with my days to do. So, I signed up to a volunteering programme in a rush without really thinking about whether it was what I wanted to do. I passed the interview, passed the training and was on my way to better things. Or, so I thought. Until I decided to leave about a week into it because it hadn’t been what I wanted to do. I didn’t like the hours, I didn’t like the challenge despite loving the people and so left.

And this… this had set me back about a month at this point. I was dwaddling half way through September and for some reason, not doing anything seemed to make me feel worse. So, I did what I did best, walked around the City of London that day. I walked until my feet were sore, rode bus after bus until every time I closed my eyes I saw red and listened to people’s conversations until they became a mild amusement to my spiralling thoughts.

That day was a strange one.

I was crying in the middle of the street without a care in the world. I was making plan after goddamn plan on what to do. I was planning if I wanted to go to university the next year, what steps I needed to take. If I didn’t want to do anything, what steps I needed to take.

I mean, this was mainly around the time I was seriously contemplating suicide. It had, at the time, seemed like the only viable option and I was quite frankly exhausted of putting on a smile for my friends. I was exhausted of pretending to everyone that everything was alright and I just wanted to exit this world in a quite permanent matter.

But I didn’t.

You see, the months before, I’d had a mental health assessment because I was not in too good a place in April. Because they hadn’t any spaces at the time, in true British fashion, I was put into a cue and told to wait. And, even though this was at the back of my mind, I never thought it would come to fruition because it had been months since I had last heard of them.

But I had gotten a phone call saying that they could now offer me therapy. So, I had another option. I could either live in depression for the next year and go to university, kill myself (this was something I had made a plan and set a date to) or try and get better and if I really wanted to, go to university.

I ended up choosing the third option (obviously). I changed the content of my blog so I could start writing how I felt more freely, I went to weekly therapy sessions, I got a job (that I deeply enjoy), I visited my friends in uni as to not feel as alone and I am now applying to university.

I should place a disclaimer right here, right now, I am not at all healed by a long shot. In fact, my allotted number of therapy sessions are coming to an end (I’m on 10 out of 12) and I actually started a club that I’m not interested in. I still have flashbacks, bouts of depression, my anxiety is a weird thing that has sky rocketed and I still go through spells of suicidal ideation. But, I am getting better.

I am getting better.

And I’ll tell you how and why in the next blog post.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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My Future

It is six in the morning. I have only had two, maybe three hours sleep. No matter, I wanted to say this somewhere, to someone.

I don’t think I’m going to university next year. Even though I desperately want to, I need to take my time with this because I am just not ready. I am so emotionally unstable, my depression and my anxiety is just overtaking my life right now. Especially if I want to go into the healthcare profession, I need to prioritise my own wellbeing. And right now, I am not ready.

I go through significant and life threatening bouts of suicidal ideation, my depression has isolated me so completely from myself and the world, my forearm is scarred to the high heavens and my body is suffering from my compulsions to pull out my hair. My life is not looking good right now.

But I don’t think I should be ashamed about that. The mere fact that I have finally allowed myself to recognise it shows that I’m finally trying to face it. I’m finally trying to face it. I really am. And that makes me kind of happy.

So, for now, I shall focus on retaking my A-level exams and worry about everything else later. I mean, I’ll give a brief thought to the future, but really, I know that will stifle my motivation.

Maybe I can finally go to sleep, so I’ll talk to you guys later.

Nakedstreetkid out xx