Inner Frustrations

Today’s prompt ** Yarn

  1. Lists are easy to handle when your brains are exhausted and sleep is coming for you very soon.
  2. I finally managed one make-up essay (I had to bullshit it) but feel like I should have managed more. 😦
  3. Oh you anxiety/procrastination…
  4. I’m still trying to convince my parents for us to get a dog. The efforts are mixed.
  5. I want to discuss mental health and dog (or pet in general) ownership. As well as household chores.
  6. Galaxy’s doing well, by the way.
  7. I finished another book.
  8. I’m participating in mental health awareness month 🙂 More on that tomorrow.
  9. I’m bringing my laptop to school tomorrow to aid in le posting.
  10. I wish I didn’t have to do a quiz still.
  11. My grades this semester are gonna be shit.
  12. I’m tired.
  13. I want to dye the ends of my hair a fancy color (like blue).
  14. I forgot I wanted to do #13 because everything is so complicated in this life.
  15. It doesn’t feel like anything is easy anymore.
  16. Was it ever?

About yarn? I have no idea. I’m too tired to formulate a comprehensive post, drowning away in disappointments and guilt. Sigh.

Oh, I made my first logo:

RtW Logo 1

And I did photos today. More on that later. 🙂

 

Thanks for reading this mundane list.

 

Skipped School Today

Just a quick zippity split update!

So, by the title, I did not go to school today. LEGASP! :O

You see, it was while I was sat on the toilet (it’s true, there’s no room for apologies HERE!) that I thought to myself: I really shouldn’t go to school today.

Or: That’s not a good idea (to go to school).

Or: I’m probably going to hurt myself if I go to school.

SO I intervened! I KNOW! And I told my parents and I stayed home and then I waited until I spoke with someone on the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline chat services (USA) and while I waited I read some fanfiction, which inspired me to WRITE some fanfiction and I pretty much skipped school and wrote FANFICTION today. LESSONS LEARNED.

 

It was some really good fanfic though. I updated one of my stories (which hasn’t been worked on since February/December and last updated in AUGUST last year) with a 9 pager. Fuck yeah.

And I started a new story (nothing new there) so that’s cool. :3

I also DANCED to music today. Cut out more magazine clippings for SCRAPBOOKING. ATE FOOD. NEVER NAPPED (grrr) and looked PRETTY.

It was actually a really good self-care day.

Now, Wednesday, I don’t know about, but tomorrow is therapy day and I’ll be with Elicia again in the afternoon for some movie and homework time (blegh homework) BUT there’s only TWO WEEKS left of school! So that’s something fun!

Sigh. Also I spoke with the crisis chat line on Saturday night too, and then did a video therapy thing online with not my therapist but an online guy on Sunday and that helped a lot. And I SAW DOGS on Sunday which was EPIC. So yeah.

Things are better. Pretty much.

Now I’m off to bed soon. 🙂 The last time I went out (Th) I got 9 more books from the library. *sly grin* You betcha there will be an influx soon (in the next couple of weeks) of you guessed it–BOOK REVIEWS.

I also still want to do some photo work for the Earth challenge tomorrow. So, keep your eyes PEELED BACK LIKE ORANGES.

(Shit, now I want an orange)

Thanks for reading and supporting!! ❤ ❤ ❤

PS: Psych Resource 1

MoodGYM Resource 2

 

Jolted

Today’s Prompt ^_^ Jolt

That moment where I totally forget what I was going to be writing about…gah. Any who, my friend Elicia is coming over today so I shall be away for most of the day. I wanted to make a couple of updates though, before then. 🙂

  1. Never explicitly said but I quit my job as the MHT.
  2. I will soon be re-writing my About page.
  3. I lost my job at the newspaper :/
  4. I’m tossing a throwback to apparently, 2013, when I used to where LOADS of bracelets I made on my right arm like a freakin’ sleeve. 🙂 *Pictures below*
  5. I’m going to write a novel. (And probably tell you about it. It’s called (thus far) “The Cards We’re Dealt”)
  6. Elicia and I may make SLIME today. FUCK YEAH
  7. I am behind in like 5-7 book reviews. YEAH. Gonna get on that shit over the summer.
  8. I have a year left of school still. SIGH. Twice a senior, counts right?
  9. #RecoveryHome, Recovery Restoration and #WWRRM, Recovery Bear.
  10. I finished reading a book this weekend — Saturday to be specific.
  11. Will be planning on more photography this week.
  12. Stationery updates, creative writing and art folders, and Youtube stuff. Yep.
  13. Next month, mid-month (NOT mid-moth), will be a year on this blog. GASP.
  14. Gift art. More of this. *nods*

That’s all I got.

 

PICTURES

IMG_6013bracelets_arm_by_h_everybody_lies__md-d6g46ldcreatively_overboard_by_h_everybody_lies__md-d6g45ft

YOU ARE WELCOME. FOR BEING SHOWN SUCH SNAZZINESS.

😀

Today’s look:

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Word bracelets: “Gets Better” “I believe” “Stay Safe”

🙂

PS As of my last #tag, yes, I am doing and feeling better. I went to the counseling center at school on emergency last Monday (and today’s a holiday so no school, whoop whoop) and have been doing a LOT BETTER since.

PPS I totes made another account on a dating site. 🙂

The Lost Art of My Photography Part I

Weekly Photo Challenge #1: Surprise & Daily Prompt ~ Climbing


Because I can’t be bothered to make two separate posts for the daily/weekly prompts.

I’m feeling off. And what do I do when I feel off? I guess I blog. I try to self-soothe. I listen to music on my iPod. I try to do something different. Or maybe I wallow in my gloom and doom, (just not with suicidal thoughts) remarkable, I know.

I think I may have lost the art of my photography. This coming from the person who just picked up the camera again today after at least two months away from it. And months previous had gone by, too. Well, maybe just a couple. And then a couple before that and before that…. sigh.

I did a small shoot with some cherry blossoms (or what I think are cherry blossoms, more accurately said) but wasn’t that into it (Easter Sunday fucked up my doggy day plans.) I did a larger shoot in the afternoon but I’m not that happy with it either. Some technical difficulties as in, I wanted a photo of my full body but in detail (and focused!) but it didn’t work out that way. So it was a lot of annoyance that I couldn’t get the ideas in my head out onto the camera.

But I have pictures to share anyways, a few of the gems that I think made it out from the shoot. I wore this fancy white dress I have with silver sequins on it, tried out my fancy lantern, and one of my masquerade masks. And pictures of my face. All of them. XD

I will also share some photos from long ago. And what the current theme of my blog belongs to as well. 🙂

Let’s get started!


IMG_1967 - Rocky 2

The current header of my new blog theme. 🙂 From Spring 2014

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What are the black&white curtains in the textual background. Thank you, thank you. From June 2014.

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The alleged ‘cherry blossoms’. A pretty generic and mundane photograph. If only I could actually wake up early in the AM to get the shots I want to get… April 2017

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This one is nice. April 2017

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Liked the lighting in this one. April 2017

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I really like the focus in this piece. April 2017

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The above slideshow is all photos I’ve taken today. Clearly, because I told you what I was wearing…geez, self, geez.

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The above slideshow from 2015.

I’d do more but it’s dragging on me at this point. I don’t know, maybe I’ll rediscover my photography art again, or maybe it was good while it lasted. I’m not sure how to move forward. Maybe for a while I will move backward, by uploading some of my favorite shoots and yes, I do take photos (that are artsy) of things other than myself. 😉 It’s hard to find models at times though, so I use myself in order to help out. However that also means some photos are emotion heavy due to emotionally tough times. That likely requires its very own section.

Any who, I’m going to try and read now.

Thanks for sticking around. ❤

The Walk (*TW*)

Trigger Warning: Suicidality, self-harm mentioned here.

The night sky was cloudy, hiding the moon so I was not guided by its light. I walked alone, on the empty road, only sometimes being illuminated by the bright white or blue headlights of the passing cars.

Jump in front of them, my mind whispered. But from behind, I did not wish to be hit. And from the front I did not wish my head to be injured.

So I continued walking.

Two and a half miles, for someone who doesn’t exercise at all, that’s a hefty distance.

But I had one destination in mind, just one: the ponds.

I was alone. So utterly and physically and completely alone. I cried. I cried when I walked down the road, in the middle of it, on the side of it. I cried when I couldn’t see my footfalls in front of me. I cried wearing all black at eight o’clock at night.

I cried when I saw the pale white glimmer of the water from the top of the road. By then, I was talking to myself aloud, for no one else was around.

I had no cell phone–it was taken.

I had my car keys, the lot that would help without a car.

I knew only one phone number from the outside world–the others being my own and emergency lines–and I didn’t have a list of numbers elsewhere to call, even if I could think of the friends faces to match the illusive numbers.

I approached a stranger’s home for my one phone call. They let me use their phone, but the call didn’t go through.

So again, I walked.

I remember even telling the stranger what I was about to go do, and just being met with the flattest, “Okay.”

Yeah, okay!

By the time I reached the pond, my suicidality had faded away. What had upset me, triggered me, seemed so insignificant. And still, I walked.

I cried when I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach out for help. That this was my final sight. My final words circling in my mind, never to be met to the keyboard or the paper to be finalized.

I thought of final articles, posts, letters.

I thought of how alone I was, no one knowing.

 

…The wind was cool. The water not as cold as I expected.

But I had to pee.

And I have high standards: I didn’t want to pee myself while I drown.

So I walked back up, turned around, walked back down, turned around and did that a few times before I decided I didn’t want to sit in the sand before the lapping shoreline. But then the wind was brisker and I was cold, the lack of a jacket settling into my bones as the wind slipped between my layers.

I sat on a rock for a while.

Watched with suspicion as cars slowly crawled by. Planned out my next moves: would I walk up to the nursing home to use their phone or would I walk to the other pond on the other side of town? Would I walk back home or wait a while longer as a punishment to my parents for triggering me?

I went for a walk, just as they suggested, just not where they had in mind.

At twenty-three I had run away from home. I considered my options.

 

As the moonlight poked through the clouds, I rejoiced aloud. Finally, more light to guide me back home. For now, I had decided not to drown. For the moment, I knew I’d need a double method in my next suicide plan.

 

The headlights soon pulled up, it was one of my parents. “Get in,” was all that was said. With a shiver, I did as I was told; I sat in the car on the easy ride back that would have taken me another hour to walk.

9:30p is when I returned…but it was only part of me.

The damage had been done. I had been shoved two car lengths backwards. I had had my fourth crisis of the week, as of being out of my eighth hospitalization that week’s very Monday. I was ready to act again. Plans of suicide bubbled up in my vision. I don’t even remember now what I did–other than get some hot clam chowder, mention the walk “somewhat” helped (even though the majority of it was not), and crawled into bed with my phone again in my clutches.

It wasn’t the way I expected my Friday night to go. All because it felt like my parents were taking everything away from me that I had left. My perspective collapsed as my dreams sounded so far away, distant. A year? Two? Four? That would be like oblivion.

I might as well end my life now, had been my thoughts. This life just wasn’t cut out for me. I can’t handle this, not after everything else. There’s only one way this can end.

So I had walked away, drifting out of the conversation to enter the mess of my room. And the door was threatened to be taken away, the phone was grabbed, the car inaccessible, so outside in the rural town I call home, I walked. And walked. And walked.

 

At 1:00a I awoke, disappointed that I had once again, because of extenuating circumstances, missed my article deadlines. I am no longer even a staff writer for the newspaper, another loss of job that I am harboring within myself, something that had angrily triggered me earlier that day (crisis #3). I can still write for the paper and my work can still be published, but what a loss I felt. It all seemed so meaningless again, and I had let myself and my readers down. For two papers no articles, maybe even three papers, no articles came out of mine.

I had let them down. Was my story even worth telling anymore?

I set my dying phone aside to charge, and used up the battery power of my iPod to bring me some comfort as I sobbed for an hour and a half.

I scratched myself to keep something at bay. I thought about calling a hotline, I nearly did, but then I scratched myself and there didn’t seem to be a point anymore. I planned suicide. Over and over and over. The tears came and the snot with them, and over and over I cried. Eventually I fell back to sleep.

 

Around 8:45a I awoke again. And curled into a cocoon I went. Followed by listening to more music on a charging iPod. I sent a message to three friends, and idled by the phone, holding on to it so no one would take it away, until I’d get a response. Two friends were busy, so it wasn’t the right time to speak. I couldn’t speak anyways, going in and out of crying spells.

Details of plans formulated in my mind. Efforts were made to get me out of my room, but still I refused. I was ‘angry’ at them, depressed more so for putting me back in this hellhole.

I was as suicidal as I had been when I overdosed those two weeks before.

I had a high amount of intent. I began planning and writing more goodbye posts, alternating between curled up in the fetal position, scratching myself through the tears and more.

When they went for a walk, I got a higher response from Craig.

Wailing, I sobbed hysterically. I was not a safe vessel, I was NOT a safe vessel. Through my tears I pulled out the only blade in our house and attempted to cut myself. I didn’t think I was all that effective (I was wrong as I’d find the angry red line later). I turned back to the phone and read the messages coming quickly at me.

Continuing to wail I stumbled up to my room, curling into a seated position.

“Life wasn’t cut out for me… It’s better this way.”

>> “It isn’t better that way! You have a voice to share with the world and if you’re gone, it won’t exist to help others. You have a gift to share. [ridiculous Craig voice] DONT TAKE THAT GIFT AWAY FROM THE WORLD RAQUEL!”

 

*snaps fingers* Like that, clarity (or calm, still not sure which) came to me. My crying ceased. The crisis ebbed away. Maybe it was the all caps. Either way, it was gone, I was out, I was free.

>> “…I wouldn’t be able to intervene. Please take some breaths, find a space where you think of anything but harming yourself. You’ll be more pissed if you act on it again. Remember what you wrote me.”

The first sign of help working, even as I struggled to remember what it was I had written out, I knew inherently about it. Even though it’d be different this next time, still, it wouldn’t be.

 

I told my parents what went down, later on. We patched things up. I still cried again another time, and I don’t know how I didn’t wind up with a headache, but I got a massage later that day, and that helped, too.

 

Now? I don’t know where I lie. The suicidality is still present, just softer. The plans not quite…abandoned. I don’t know where I go from here.

 

But maybe that’s all that healing ever is.

 

❤ ❤ ❤

Thank you for your support.

Remedy the Wound | Avengers Fanfiction

Remedy the Wound

Summary: A one-shot that explores the depth of Loki’s character and all the dismissive practices he engages in to keep himself separate from Thor’s unconditional love. These are the lies Loki tells himself and still, the two share a moment together.

Word prompt: Blur from WordPress. Written February 19th 2017.


Nails: Clipped, borrowed, burrowed

Hands: Fisted, angered, sore.

Eyes: Green, emotional, blurred

Mind: Lost, misunderstood, damaged.

Heart: Beating, alive, desperately seeking to be loved.

His soul: Together, yet crinkled around the edges.

 

Who is he? No one: nothing–and everything.

 

Identity: Murky, unknown, once a whole–now, glued together with separation.

 

Where does he belong? Uncertainty laces through his veins, he does not know; once with Asgardians, then with Jotuns, now with…no one?

 

Amongst the mortals he walks. He strides forward with purpose, although unsolidified worry halts his progression. Where is he going? What is his purpose?

 

He fears, deep down, that there is not one.

 

Again, he walks: eyes darting down the alleyways, analyzing for a threat that never comes. Without purpose, he shrivels inside. His broken spirit leaks out into his relationships…the few he even has.

 

His “brother” seeks him. His “brother” wanders through the realms, day and night, looking for his lost sibling.

 

He guffaws. He is not “lost”, he is “better”, “stronger”, “incomprehensible.” He is everything to these mortals–everything they fear so dearly. Trudge through him they will not, for they know his power over their puny lives.

 

Even though he fails to use it, powerlessness creeps over his shoulders, dragging them into poor posture. Hopelessness crowds his vision, despair lingering on the words half-formed on his tongue, but his mouth does not produce them. Talk is cheap; he has nothing left to say, with nothing of importance.

 

He is not of importance. Why his elder bothers to pursue him, he feigns ignorance.

 

Caught in a whirlwind of emotion, tumbling with expectation, he had embraced his exile. No more “family” to pretend he belonged to, no more of a “culture” in his life that he could never measure up to, no more “greed” and “mead” and “crystallized brute strength.”

 

No, instead he could wander the realms, although he always managed to be pulled back to this one. There was something about Midgard that got under his skin. Maybe it was the almost victory, the almost ruling he would have had had the Chitauri stepped up their game, had the loathed “Avengers” been weaker and broken–his lips curl in distaste, he spits to the concrete at the memory–just as they were meant to be…

 

Maybe, but maybe’s were for fools wishing for a yesterday that never comes.

 

He is “better” he reasons. He is “more”–more than the nothingness, the shadows that reign about him.

 

But he knows better. He knows he is the opposite–a sliver of the would-be king he once was. The void had done him ill. The Other had crippled his mind. Thanos had ruined him. Or was it that Thanos ruled him? The distinction seemed to matter, for the exhale came out long and hard, annoyance seeping into his betrayed soul.

 

Oh, how he had been betrayed! Lied to, disowned, unaware of his true heritage, lost to the void, mourned by his brethren, but did they ever search for him? He chortled on his spit. Of course not! What type of “family” did he truly grow up with? So quick to accept his fate that they didn’t even bother to search for him!

 

But how could they? A thought sneaks its way into his peripheral vision.

 

How could they have known?

 

He bites his pink flesh, swallowing hard and attempting to ignore the kindness, the compassion, his mind is so readily available to give to him.

 

Maybe they didn’t know…Maybe it was impossible for them to know…

 

“But if they truly loved, they would have known!”

 

Again, the rage inside dissipated. They would have known, if they loved him, they would have known he was alive. They wouldn’t have given up hope, they wouldn’t have surrendered to the thought that he was taken by Valhalla. They would have searched for him, day in and night out; they would have LOVED him enough to believe in him, to believe in his strengths, his mind, his magic–HIM!

 

He saw it often enough with the mortals! How–no, WHY–was he any different? When one of their kin, often the younger children, disappeared, they searched endlessly for them. They put up these pathetic slices of paper with a photo of their missing ones, and they went into the square shaped black box, speaking out about their loved one, casting hope into the abyss, sharing a light through the bleak darkness.

 

Where was his light when he required it? Where was his lighthouse when he was caught in the void?

 

Because he never saw it, he never tasted freedom, he never wished for his “brother” more than ever before.

 

But no one came.

 

They all just accepted the fates of the nine realms: Loki was gone and he would never come back.

 

Well, he had shown them. He had shown that they were wrong, that he had RETURNED, that he was alive and he could not be vanquished. He was “better”, “stronger”, and it would take more to get rid of his spirit.

 

The trickster kicked at a clump of white snow. It knocked into the side of a gray Sedan, promptly leaving an indent and serving him with its high pitched howl.

 

Dragging in a breath, he rolled his eyes. The mortals needed to invest in better security measures.

 

If he had smiled then at the proud sticker boasting about its love for the Man of Iron plastered onto the Sedan, he would fervently deny it.

 

….A flicker in the window above him caught his green eyes. He looked up, shoulders squaring back, and mischief glinting in his teeth.

 

There he stood: Thor.

 

Thor with his blue eyes of shock and confusion, Thor who had just ravished Vanaheim searching for his brother, only to find him mischievously staring back at him a thousand yards below.

 

If Thor noticed the dent in Mr. Stark’s newly replaced vehicle, it never passed his facial expressions. If Thor had heard the grating noise of the alarm system accosting his ears, he didn’t bat an eye at it.

 

All he saw was the one he never gave up on. All he saw was his little brother, looking up at him with barely concealed contempt.

 

They shared that moment together.

 

Until Loki gave a curt nod, and spun on his heel. A lyric from a passing car cementing the moment into his brain:

 

“And if my blue skies fade to black, and if there is no turning back, you’re gonna see me standing tall, ‘cause you know that I’m a warrior.”


A/N: It’s been a long while since I wrote any type of fanfic, and I have a lot of unseen works behind the scenes, so I thought I’d pick up this prompt and write for a while. This is what came out. I’d like to think it’s more complex and unique than it may actually be. Song lyrics/background song used: “Warrior” by Trisha Paytas. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review! Thank you for visiting! ❤

 

Recovery Restoration Volume #1 | Project Day #1

Today’s Prompt ~^~ Invitation

….That moment when you’re clocked in for work but cannot form any of the words to either write your article or your blog post (to invoke some creativity and words). *sigh* It’s that pal, writer’s block again!

As I switch back and forth between writing this post and writing the article, I want to invite you to a new project I am working on now! 😀

I am gearing up to pitch the idea to every connection I have, and of course, I’m broadcasting it onto my social media accounts (i.e. here, DA and YouTube).

The concept is pretty simple (and quite creative!).

I’m calling the project: Recovery Restoration (because alliteration is my new thing for now).

The concept is to create positive, hopeful and pro-recovery artwork (including but not limited to drawings, coloring, photography, writing, etc.) that can be not only inspirational to you but to others as well! On the back of the pictures we discuss what the artwork means to us, what we may have been doing creating it, and where we are in our recovery journey when we made it. Then, we place photographs of the artwork into some type of scrapbook, photo album or binder (depending on individual program’s protocols) and donate the works of art to nearby inpatient units!

This way it is a creative and positive experience for those creating their mental health story, and then giving back to others in their own recovery journeys to help convey hope and the idea that we are NOT alone, and that there is peer support available to them that they can hold on for. 🙂

I’d love to know what you guys think of it!! I think it could be a wicked idea. I’m having the place I was at hopefully think it over and consider it and I’m gearing up to propose the idea to another sister program and to NAMI and so on and so forth. I’m thinking the sister program would be good about it, as I’ve seen similar artwork sharing already on the TVs they have (on the campus at least).


To further begin this project, I am submitting each day for the next 24 days, a picture of my own Recovery Restoration Volume #1 photo album. This is especially nice as I’m using a selected amount of my artwork from my first round of my recovery journey from my first and second sketchbook up until “The End Of the Line” drawing (which you saw a few days back). I can probably include some more when I give away my work to the units, but for now this is my start up version and something I can use to show after IOOV presentations 🙂 Also it’s 24 because that’s how much space I have in my album.

So, this is what the album looks like!! The dimensions are 4×6.

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And in no particular order, this is Day #1’s submission:

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With this description on the back: ( that does NOT want to be sent…. grrr.)

For this one (my computer wasn’t working at home) I hand wrote the description and may either have this as the option or use my initial idea to have typed print on the back as the description. Any who, it says:

(never mind it’s worked)

img_00003737

THUS CONCLUDES DAY #1!

Come back tomorrow for Day #2!! 😀 And let me know what you think of this idea in the comments 😀 😀 ❤ ❤ ❤

 

 

 

The Denial Marathon

Today’s Prompt =~= Marathon

Denial: a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of the problem or reality.

Marathon: a long-lasting or difficult task or operation of a specified kind.


{This would be better if I had written it in the morning as I began it, but alas, it’s evening now but this post is in my way before I can make other ones… sooooo, without  further ado…}

Do I have to write this post? I ponder. Do I really?

It’s embarrassing to admit that I’ve been continuing to self-harm in that form of bruising that isn’t bruising. It’s embarrassing to say I’ve been looking up videos about cardiac related topics and there is a MASSIVE causative link between my doing that and then acting on this annoyingly budding form of self-harm.

I don’t want to talk about it on the blog, let alone to a large audience of people in real life, but I know that I have to. The more I talk about it the more I pull it away from an action dealt with in the shadows and the more I rub off all the swirling clouds of denial that encompass it.

Because, I have to say: Hi, hello, I’m still hurting myself, just in an invisible way.

It leaves no traces of my actions, not outwardly physical at least. I don’t have a clue if it’s making changes internally, but my newest theory is that what I’m doing is cutting off some circulation of my bloodstream and that is dropping my BP, raising my HR and causing me to get dizzy and nearly pass out (only nearly though). I’m probably losing brain cells I can’t afford to lose. It might be like playing Russian roulette, or it may not be “that serious”. Either way, even if my intention isn’t necessarily or always self-harm, the consequence is that it’s self-harm.

Sure, yeah, other people can do it and video record it and put that shit up on the Internet, but that doesn’t mean I can, should or that it’s okay if I do. They are also often advised to be careful because again, this isn’t exactly a studied phenomenon so who knows what damage or not damage is transpiring.

So here I am, many breaks and avoidance minutes later, as I don’t inherently want to be talking about this subject matter.

 

I know in order for me to get over this, I’m going to have to continue going up higher on the accountability mountain to tell my story and my struggles. I’m vowing to myself to face the music tomorrow by telling Craig (and later with my therapist). It’s gotta end somewhere.

So far, I’m nearly two weeks clean from scratching and 1 day clean from bruising.

That’s all I’ve really got now, I’m exhausted and need to sleep to prepare for tomorrow.

 

Thanks for all your support, peeps! ❤ ❤ ❤

“It’s The End of the Line”

Today’s Prompt <-> Unseen

 

“Have a hard time letting go…

It’s the end of the line for you and I…

Was lost in limbo long enough for two,

But my Identity was Wasted on You”

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This is my new theme song for the second part of my recovery. Be prepared, for we are going on an unseen mission, from one pole of recovery to the next pole of wellness.

It will be a rocky journey, and I can only promise that I will strive to balance my unhelpful pleas for help with actual sayings of help in real life. I can only promise that while I may-no, will-struggle, that I’ll do my best to go down fighting. I’ll be spitting in the face of my adversaries and I’ll be gathering all my strength and wisdom to keep plowing on.

I will not do this alone, I understand, and I too, hope you know that as well. We ARE all in this alone, TOGETHER. We are on separate paths able to see each other from afar. The fog may be strong at times, and we WILL persevere.

Here is one of my newest hallmark drawings for this new journey. Consider this my Volume 2 of Recovery to Wellness.

The drawing is very conceptual in nature. It was heavily inspired (thank god I was able to use my iPod eventually while inside!!) by the song above, “The Line” by The Dear Hunter. Some of the lyrics I’ve highlighted especially in the quote box. (I’m actually planning on doing another drawing inspired by the second part of the lyrics in that box).

The concept came to me when I spoke to a nurse for a lengthy (impressively) amount of time while I was in the hospital (I got out on Wed). He advised me on many things, some involving working hard in school and making that my number one priority (which I slightly disagree with as my health and wellness should be number one but same difference) while I’m there as it won’t be forever and people listen more to peeps with degrees. XD

He also spoke with me about mindfulness and self-disclosed his own struggles with anxiety and such.

Any who, the point I’m trying to get at (and I’ll get back to that other stuff in the future, someday, trust me) is this person conveyed the idea that if I am to move on into mental wellness from my mental illness, I am ought to move on entirely. That means no keeping any little boxes of mental illness in my life. It means getting rid of it ALL.

Which is…daunting and intimidating and necessary. Because only when it is all gone can moving forward occur. There can’t be any left for you to ride on as a crutch (“I’m too depressed, I can’t go out today”) or for you to keep for shits and giggles. It’s ALL gotta go.

So that made me link up to this song. So, it’s hard to let go of what I’ve used as an escapism of twisted sorts for the last couple of years. It’s not happening over night, but it’s a process. The self-harm, suicidality, OCD and depression have run their course, is what he advised me. I needed them then, and now I do not. They served their purpose and now it’s time for me to move on without them.

It’s just like what I said about a month ago, I’ve got to move 11 blocks up the street. I can’t spend the next five years or more years stuck in this rut.

It’s time I dig my way out again.

It’s time for the wall to come down.

It’s time I start shining and start thriving. And to help inspire you all out there, who read my ramblings, to do the same. ‘Cause we can do this!! I’m with you til the end of the line 😉

So back to the drawing!! (And may I interrupt myself to say I don’t believe there’s a version of recovery that’s a cure all for mental health conditions, however, if you read on my explanation of the drawing you may see what I mean when I say getting rid of ALL of it.)

The balloon is meant to signify the mental illness or whatever it is that afflicts you (the stick figure).

The collar is where the balloon is attached (save from the last frame) at the neck because that’s your life source (and it has taken over your life).

There are chained hands at the beginning but those fall away.

A happy mask that also leaves next.

The collar breaks (changing from gray to blue dotted to blue).

And the end of the line comes, where it’s time to let go of the mental health conditions and live YOUR life again. The balloon, as you can see, is still present. It is shriveled and broken down, yet still it exists. This is to convey that mental health conditions will still be there in your life, YET the shining power and inner strength and beauty of RECOVERY will OUTSHINE THEM.

Here are these elements in closer forecast:

img_00003713img_00003708img_00003711img_00003720img_00003714img_00003715

Also, you may have noticed, I’m changing my artistry signature!! I am moving on from HMD (in reference to my DA page) to RtW! For RecoverytoWellness, of course!!

I also made two other WIP’s during this hospitalization. I am behind on uploading artwork for you peeps, so you can see that changing in the future. I finished reading “The Shadowkiller” tonight which is awesome and got in more orders of mental wellness books as well as my DBT workbook!! 😀

All of this and more will be shared with you all soon.

I have to be writing my returning article of the semester soon, and with that essay I want to finish it up tomorrow to send it off for the deadline.

I’m also discovering, just before the semester, that the Internet has become unfulfilling for me. I think I will be narrowing the time I spend online in response, as reading books feels fulfilling and working on myself feels fulfilling too.

I’ll figure out the details later though. That’s all I have for now, folks!!

I have another fabulous art idea that I can’t wait to share with you all, and see if it’s possible we can all make it happen!! I think you’ll all like it, too. 🙂 I just gotta come up with a catchy name for it….

OH! And I have a NAMI presentation on Wed. And going up to school on Tuesday for a Mass Media meeting and Monday hanging with friends AND DOGGGGSSS TOMORROWW!!!

I also have incentive for the next 4 months to self-care and manage well on in life, because then my Mom may consider us getting another doggo! 😀 But, I’m getting all a bit ahead of myself… 😉

This is enough for one evening.

Thank you ALL for your kind support and amazing, compassionate selves!! ❤ ❤ ❤ I’ll see you in the next one.

Changes that Last?

Today’s Prompt ~~ Crossing

How do we make changes in our lives that last?

How do we go from mere survival to thriving and striving forwards?

How do we grow out from the potted plant we are into the roaring, amazing jungle that we know we can be?

I don’t know these answers. But I would like to. It just takes time, maybe even, the answers themselves take time for us to truly see.

Maybe it’s not only about the path we’re on at the moment but the crossroads that we linger at that allow us to see the vital things we were missing out on before.

Maybe it’s not about journeying alone down one path but remembering that all paths are connected. We are human beings, social creatures in which we have the ability to impact one another’s lives. Maybe it is time for us to stop seeing our journeys as lonesome and cumbersome and more as the gifts of finite time in an unpredictable universe.

Sometimes I think the sunlight shining through the branches is the same sunlight shining through the branches we saw back in our journey five miles prior. It’s just that now that we’re at a different place in our journey, that we may either notice it more, or maybe not even at all.

“Everything changes,” is something I’ve said before. I believe in that.

 

So if I were to truly believe in the idea that everything changes, I’d have to recognize that this moment in time, too, shall change.

 

I feel uneasiness about that. But change is not necessarily for the worst. It’s scary, yeah, but it doesn’t have to be bad.

 

This evening I am pondering what makes a good hospitalization experience for me. What is it that I am seeking and not attaining? What is it that I am lacking in and not maintaining? What is it about my recovery journey that’s different now than it was before?

Am I seeing the sunlight through the branches or are there too many other doorways open before my very wall?

These are the tough questions. It feels to me, at this moment in time, that maintaining is harder than getting out of and through the acute crisis. Maybe that’s me saying that because I haven’t had a traditional crisis in a while. Or that I’ve been scratching my way towards one and not receiving one.

 

For now, I have to think of that answer about the hospital experience, about what I think I’d like to get out of my next one and how reasonable those expectations may be. Maybe the crisis chat online will actually go through as well *rolls eyes* I suppose until it works I can continue pondering that more, maybe even writing it out itself.

At a crossroads again, this time safer but a crossroad nonetheless.

 

Thanks for reading. ❤