Adventures In… Mental Illness pt II

I honestly don’t know where to go with this next section, this is the part where everything just starts to blur together. And where breaking it apart is going to get harder because from this block of time and into 11 years later was kind of all the same, in a sense.

There were still some pretty significant moments but I’ll try to break it up and keep it in order the best I can.

I wanted to go a little more into the previous abusive relationship though I don’t remember MUCH and I can’t look back on it because the blogs I had back then have all been long deleted since those servers aren’t around anymore. I guess I should had somehow kept a backup somewhere but you don’t think of that shit back then.

I do remember my ex didn’t like that I blogging, he said my blogs all “made him look bad” when he gave me more bad days than good and back then I only wrote about HOW MY DAY WENT, there weren’t many people who knew about blogs back then so you were able to write whatever you wanted without having to censor yourself. The ironic part was that he seemed to only read my blog or remembered it even existed when I had written “something bad” about him. When I’d write happy things about him and I’d even link him he’d tell me I’m lying or some other discouraging shit. He didn’t have a LiveJournal so a lot of times I was able to “friends only” my posts and he wouldn’t had known the difference.

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Adventures In… Mental Illness…

Bubba asked me to write a blog post on what it’s like living with anxiety and what it’s like being in a relationship when you have anxiety.

In the last 24 hours I have heavily debated on quitting blogging; something that has been ME, my LIFE since I was 5. I haven’t beenĀ blogging since I was 5 but I started keeping a journal since I was 5. I wasn’t introduced to blogging itself until I was 14. And I’ve been blogging, or trying to, ever since.

The reason for the debate was… is… a trigger. A trigger that causes me a great deal of anxiety and pain. Emotionally and physically. And a pretty heavy type of depression that sometimes likes to stay around… for weeks. Or months. Do you know how hard it is to tell depression to get the fuck out?

People will tell you thatĀ you’re not your mental illness. But if you ask me, I AM my mental illness.

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