latest ink

last week, i arrived at my new favourite tattoo parlour for my appointment and sat comfortably for the afternoon while my artist artist and i made each other laugh, and ponder v deep thoughts while singing along to an extremely diverse playlist. i almost cried when he finished. i had gone in a few days before to brainstorm and am perfectly pleased w the outcome. 


it has always amazed me how differently mental and physical are treated. okay, long story short (bc i am already tired of the oncoming rant that usually follows this), i got a tattoo of a bouquet w ribbon saying “get well soon” around it. bc why the fuck can’t us mental illness sufferers get flowers or even balloons brought to cheer us up? i would settle for a card. i am realising that i have never gotten a card, not even during my darkest days. i hope i will someday, so until then, i will admire the bouquet from myself


the four flowers that i have and the meanings behind them (i know the symbolism in the floral language differs but these are the ones that i chose to focus on):

peonies for prosperity 

lillies of the valleys for increased happiness

gladioluses for strength of character 

queen anne’s lace for sanctuary 

and that about does it for my latest addition to my body. can’t stop staring. 

get well soon and don’t forget to send a card to your favourite person struggling w mental/invisible illnesses,

xo

bee

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things i should get done today

or a to-do list that will intimidate me until my Anxiety forces me to complete it/ what i should be doing instead of netflix

i should get out of bed

i should get in the shower

i should get out of the shower

stop picking at my nails

get off of the bathroom floor

i should stop tearing my room apart looking for ants

stop thinking about ants

soothe my skin w lotion and not dwell on how much i hate my body

i should text my friend back

stop refreshing instagram

breathe deeply

i should gently let my coworker know that no, i cannot come in early to work his shift, bc i can hardly picture dragging myself in for my miniscule shift tonight, let alone getting myself dressed.

i should make some attempt at feeding myself something other than coffee

i should grade those tests

i should make my way to the store to buy basics

(i should realise that there’s no way in hell that’s happening today)

takeoutthegarbagedomylaundrycleanmyroommakemybedtextmymumcheckmyemailthinkabout-wherei’mgoingtolivethisfallseewhatbillsareduecallmylandladyaboutascarynoticeforaprevious-ownerishould-

i should do so many things but all i can do is sit in bed, covered in blankets and be overwhelmed. my Anxiety hates putting things off but my Depression is moaning “tomorrow” over and over in a steady monotone stream.

tomorrow it is bc holy shit you guys was today hard. still here. still breathing. 

xo,

bee

tug of war 

i am Depressed.

not the tumblr kind of depressed, though; i don’t cry into the shoulder of a cute, sweater-wearing boy while he holds me, surprising me w flowers while the smiths are softly moaning in the background and suddenly i am better after a few minutes or so after he looks deep into my eyes and says, “cheer up!” or “just don’t think about it”. there is no snapping out of it, no way to switch it off. sometimes i can hardly  talk w my closest friends. i cannot get a date because the thought of someone putting up w me is so unbelievable. this is a gross kind of Depressed, a sick sort of Depressed. the one we should talk about more. i am just one person dealing w this Sadness out of millions. i am nobody but somebody w things to say about the feelings that eat me up. and it’s hard and messy but here i am anyway.

i am Depressed. there are days when i cannot get out of bed or even manage to shower, let alone properly feed myself. i’ve wished i could slip into a coma so i wouldn’t have to deal w myself or my thoughts more than once. i am also Anxious. i have to finish my assignments the moment i receive them. i question every move i make and every word i get out. i’m even Anxious that i’ve used the word “i” so many times that you think i’m self absorbed. i’m (there it is again) really the opposite. Sad. Anxious. i keep those two words capitalized bc, for now, they are bigger than me. i have been diagnosed; these are more than average, my abnormal feelings.  these emotions  wrap their poisonous words around me and won’t let go. they choke me with their false truths and i believe them. i know i’m not alone in my struggles but the fact that i can hardly put one foot in front of the other makes me think otherwise.

why are you reading this? why am i pretending it’s worth writing?

Anxious. Sad.

i’m writing so i can be louder than my Generalised Anxiety Disorder. so i can be louder than my Major Depressive Disorder. maybe you are stuck on the same see saw as i am. maybe someone you care for is. maybe they are but you don’t know. (we are good at hiding so we don’t have to bother you). suffering from these two monstrous illnesses is like they are playing tug of war with me. i’ve being thinking about it lately (lately aka twenty years).

what it’s like when Anxiety and Depression play tug of war w you:

it’s Depression begging you to do nothing while Anxiety lists off everything you need to get done.

it’s laying in bed before work, or anything you committed to as long as possible, unmotivated and borderline comatose while you scream at yourself that you will lose your job/friends unless you move. right.  now.

it’s never wanting to make plans but being scared that none of your friends will like you if you keep avoiding them like this.

it’s wanting to take a day off from your dream job(s), just one day so you can rest because every muscle is sleeping but convincing yourself your employer(s) will think you are a lazy, untrustworthy person. obviously, they will fire you. so, go to work. you’ll sleep when you’re dead.

it’s wanting to die. it’s choosing to live simply because funeral costs are too high (seriously though why). and if you fail at dying? hospital bills. don’t do that to your family.

what is it like?

it’s thinking “staying up all night wouldn’t be the worst” soon followed by panicking that you won’t be able to function the next day, and obviously fail at any attempted task. there have been countless nights of me staying up all night in order to avoid sleeping through my alarm. Anxiety logic !!!

it’s wanting to go to sleep at seven. it’s staying up well past midnight because what if the house burns down or someone breaks in or that radical  group was right about the rapture today or is my heartbeat supposed to be like that or what if i have an undiagnosed brain tumour that decides to burst any minute now. i can feel it if i lie very still oh and what if-

literally anything.

it’s not wanting to change out of your robe and into party clothes but somehow you manage. then, it’s waiting by the clock, trying to pinpoint the most practical, perfect time to leave. too early and you’re desperate. on time and you’re boring. late and you cannot be depended on. ever. kiss invitations goodbye, whatever time you arrive.

it’s not wanting to take your meds (“what’s the point?”) but fearing the side effects if you miss a dose.

it’s when you can’t even reply to a text but when someone doesn’t text you back, the thought that they died in the most gruesome way ever won’t leave your poor head.

it’s not caring what people think yet questioning your every move and the reactions they prompt from others.

it’s not being motivated to date but staying up late, crying at the fact you’ll most likely die alone.

it’s wanting to die one minute while having a panic attack over whether or not there is life after death the next.

it’s not caring about anything. it’s caring too much.

it’s not wanting to do anything, thinking what’s the use in getting help, but worrying that you’ll never get better and always be at war with yourself. so you bite the bullet and call the doctors from under your comforter.

asking for help is difficult and maybe one of the hardest things a person can do. i barely manage it. don’t see it as admitting defeat; Depression and Anxiety fight dirty. putting yourself first is such a simple notion, yet we rarely do it. we encourage those close to us to do so, but tend to save it for “later” when it comes to ourselves. why is that? why is someone caring about themselves seen as trailblazing ? let’s normalize self-care and start with the well-being of our minds. let’s normalize the fact that brains get sick just as frequently as bodies do and require the same amount of dedicated treatment (and get well soon cards, teddy bears, balloons and fresh bouquets).

sending you all lots of balloons,

xo,

bee

 

 

first impressions are the worst

and yet here we are. i don’t see a way out of this. it’s v late (or early, depending on how you see it) and i’ve just come home from work (one of three jobs; barista, baking sous chef at a culinary college and assistant to the master baker at said culinary college). this seemed like the reasonable thing to do. i am sending all these raw emotions out into the world, naked for you to see. and i don’t think i mind, i like hearing what people say, knowing their opinions on everything so maybe someone else does, too. writing comes naturally to me, and by that i mean i enjoy it until writer’s block hits and i want to never see the alphabet again. let’s clear the air. i suffer from Major Depression, Anxiety, and OCD tendencies. that is the list i will share, for now. i am still valid, even though my Depression tells me otherwise. i want to be able to coexist w these illnesses, acknowledge them but not let them control me. this is me writing about things i feel (how original!!) and whatever the hell i am doing w my life.

there is more to me besides my lovely bouquet of mental illnesses (this is worse than any first date i’ve been on, too, so bear w me. and i’ve been on some terrible ones), so have some more information that you never asked for: i don’t have blood in m veins! it’s all coffee! shhh. i’ve been writing poetry since the third grade. maybe if you’re lucky, i’ll feel especially like punishing myself and share a piece! i always wear lipstick, to distract people from the ugly f*cking words that come out of my mouth (lips of a flapper, mouth of a sailor). i bake when i am bored, so recipes may pop up (a lifestyle, recipe inclusive blog that talks about mental health? the future is now). i am a vegan (oh no, there goes the one reader i had), but by no means healthy (depression meals will be a common feature. bag of popcorn? personal favourite. nothing besides lattes for 36 hours followed by just oatmeal? check. feel free to send me yours!). i am the person who drinks coconut water after smoking a third of a box of cigarettes (oh no, she smokes? those are so bad for you. i know this, and that’s honestly an appealing aspect for me). you know, to take care of my body. i never grew out of the goth phase i went through when i was fourteen. i still wake up and outline my eyes in black, and dress in black (if i am feeling daring, i will shock everyone and don grey. maybe one piece of mustard yellow clothing but probably not). i am twenty. i do not care (my lipstick is the exception of my colour hatred, but don’t think i exclude black from my collection). . i have seven tattoos (that number will go up at least twice in the next few months. i say the word “like” too much. people watching is my passion. it always amazes me that every single person on earth is as complex and thorough and emotional as i am (maybe not the emotional part but you get it). crazy. life is weird. life is short (or long, bc usually i really don’t understand time). why spend it angry at other people (be angry at yourself! i do it!).

honestly, this feels like too much, my only consoling thought is that noone is reading this. maybe i want it to stay that way. all in all, nothing matters. i don’t 100% mean it in that dismal way, but, think about it. noone knows what they’re truly doing. don’t take things too seriously. do that thing that you love. love who you love. who knows how long we have.

if you’ve made it through all of my two a.m thoughts, good for you! you can probably stomach anything else i write. thank you for being here, and for my Depression survivors (that’s what we do, survive. we are living w something that wants to kill us. celebrate yourself), thank you for being, here and now. i mean it, that’s obviously why i used italics.

i am taking a leap, i am trying something new. i am holding my breath and sharing my thoughts. thank you.

xo,

bee