Update

Hi all,

I just wanted to make a follow up post on my neighbor. She’s been sober for a few days now and is attending her AA meetings. She has a worker and is figuring things out. She wants to get her shit together and be able to care for her dog again.

I really hope she manages to stay sober this time, losing her mom was really tough on her. She was in a very controlling and abusive relationship, too. Now that it’s over I hope she recovers well. She’s a really nice person and she deserves to be happy.

Please send her good thoughts ❤

xoxo

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Dark thoughts on death and dying

Content warning: Discussion of  drug abuse, detox, rehab, sexual assault, depression and suicide. Please consider reading a different post if these topics can be triggering for you.

I recently had an experience that brought out a lot of feelings and thoughts I’ve had throughout my life. It wasn’t something I had experienced before and I found it was quite traumatic for I had nightmares and I haven’t stopped thinking about it yet. It’s been four days.

Here’s what happened:

A neighbour came to my door to ask if I wanted some dog food since her dog was with her father and she would be going to rehab. Let’s call her M. She looked quite distressed and I had prior knowledge of her drug addiction. M sat down on the doorway and started chatting with me. She said she was stupid because she used right after leaving detox. I invited her in so she could be more comfortable and have more privacy. She was happy to see Luna, my dog, as it turned out she really needed the puppy love. M had some large bruises on her legs and I asked if she was in an accident. She said she was raped, it had been the third time in the past month and a half. I was at a loss for words, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it and kept talking about other things. M was jumping from topic to topic and would never finish her thoughts, she also repeated herself multiple times throughout the day.

She mentioned her hair was a mess because she hadn’t brushed it out for four days and asked if I could help her. She didn’t want to use my brush so we went to her apartment to use hers. Luna went with us. M’s place was littered in clothes and there was a huge hole in the wall. Later she explained that she had done it herself during an episode and that she was facing eviction due to that. She offered me drinks and I stupidly accepted it. I asked if that was a good idea since she wanted to be sober but she assured me that that was her last day before going to rehab, so a drink wouldn’t hurt. I’ll forever regret that decision. I should have known better, but at the same time this was my first time in a situation like that and I didn’t really know M, we had only spoken before because of our dogs. I’m very shy and quiet, so I just politely greet my neighbours – I don’t know them.

M made herself three drinks in total because she kept losing them around the house. She asked if I did lines – I’ve never even smoked pot – so she went to the bathroom to do it. She was even more electric after that. Her speech went in loops about her mother’s death, her father taking her dog away, her being raped, her ending up in jail because she wanted to “show her ex” how broken up they were, her wanting to call said ex, and how stupid she was for drinking and doing drugs. She called about five different friends, two of them multiple times. I managed to brush her hair while she prayed. She wanted me to help her get ready to go to the AA meeting that afternoon. M was hungry, so she popped some food in the microwave. Eating was a task because she was so out of control and couldn’t stick to eating no matter how hungry she was. She asked if I’d dump her coke with her and I gladly did so, but she did another line bofore throwing the rest out… I also dumped all the drinks and what was left of the bottle without her noticing. M started saying that she was “too fucked up” to go to the meeting, but I assured her she needed to go and that she needed help. Her friend was kind enough to pick her up for the AA meeting, and M said she would text me when she got back.

She never did.

I’ve honestly been too scared to  message her or knock on her door. I don’t know what to say or what to expect. I feel like I’m a horrible person for not checking in on her, but at the same time I have my own issues that keep me emotionally exhausted most days, so I know for a fact I don’t have the energy to be there for her. As I said in the beginning of the post, I’ve had nightmares about it. I dreamed I was going to be raped. I’ve been sad and moody these past days and I just feel like there’s this heavy cloud hovering me at all times. I’m glad Luna was with us, she made me feel safe.

M mentioned at some point that she tried to commit suicide recently. Her mom was the only one who understood her and she died of cancer a year and a half ago. M is also HIV+.

What I’m going to say will sound horrible, but I’ve felt like this for as long as I can remember:

Why do people try so hard to live?

I really don’t understand it. Living is such a chore.  The majority of the population has to work a job they hate just so they can pay bills. We’re all depressed and anxious. There’s so much hate in the world, so much pain. Humankind is making the world unlivable. Everything sucks. Even if there are beautiful places to see, good food to eat, people and animals to love, I really don’t think it’s worth it. I mean, I wouldn’t kill myself because that would destroy my mom and my brother. I also have a husband and dog to think of now. But If I was diagnosed with a deadly disease I wouldn’t try that hard to live. I know I’ll never live my dream of being a singer. I’ll never have a job I actually enjoy. There’s too much to do, too many steps to take, so why fight to live? Specially when I see terminal patients who can’t get assisted death. Just. Let. Them. Go. Let them be free of this suffering.

I don’t even know if I feel this way because I’m depressed or if I’m depressed because I’ve always felt this way.

I needed to get it out of my chest so that maybe I can process this and finally have a good night of sleep. I apologize for the depressive post. I feel like this blog just makes people disappointed in me because they only know “nice”, “loving” and “compassionate” Fay. Keeping the sad and pessimistic Fay hidden away is exhausting, so she comes out here…

Frappuccinos are 50% off at Starbucks today if you have the app.

Writer’s block

writersblockI’m sure everyone’s heard of writer’s block. Some of my fellow bloggers have talked about it in the past and many book authors have talked about it as well. But I feel like for me this was different. I did know what to write about – I mean, I had just gotten married and had amazing pictures to share! I wanted to write the blog post as soon as I got the pictures, but I felt the weight of my self-imposed rule that I had to watermark all the pictures before posting them and I just kept dreading the work it was gonna take me to do that…

I think that’s under the category of procrastination which is something I’m really good at, but also under perfectionism. You see, I used to blog when I was young and had no responsibilities other than school. I grew up in Brazil where school is usually from 7am-12pm, so I had pretty much the whole afternoon and evening to be on my pc blogging away. I learned to code and to edit my templates on Photoshop, so my blog was very personalized (on a side note, I’m actually very sad that wordpress won’t let me edit my blog to look however I want it to…). So at that time everything I posted was beautifully edited and always had my name and blog written on it. Nowadays I mostly post from my phone or from a pc without Photoshop, and the free apps for editing are just garbage very poor at editing pictures.

So I found myself stuck in the predicament that I had to do it before being able to post, but that doing it would require way more energy than I had available. Dealing with a mental illness is pretty draining, especially when you’re unhappy about other aspects of your life (which then feed the mental illness and makes it even more difficult and the snowball effect starts…).

This is not a new experience to me, it actually happens quite frequently and I feel like it prevents me from achieving so much in life… I find that the only thing that helps is to acknowledge what is happening and just do it. I know that’s not the most helpful advice, but it’s the only way I’ve personally found to help me in this situation.

Did you ever experience something like this? Do you have a way of dealing with it? I’d love to hear your thoughts! I really want to overcome this, not only in blogging but also in all other aspects of my life. I really feels like it hold me back sooo much and I want to change that.

I feel like this was a very poorly written post. I hope it at least conveyed the message I wanted it to…

I’ll try to write a better one for next time!

 

Xoxo

The Art Of Being Skinny

Image links to source

I was commenting on an ED recovery post and realized that my comment would probably be somewhat triggering for people. So I decided to make it a blog post instead. Trigger warning: discussion of body size, body image, and eating disorders.


People in recovery talk about how accepting their bodies helped them recover. “Body positive” is the new thing everyone is talking about everywhere and don’t get me wrong – I want people to love themselves – I just can’t love my body until I get my flat stomach back.

The thing is, I always was one of those “naturally skinny” people. I lived my whole life receiving compliments for being so small. “Anything looks good on you because you’re so skinny!” “Omg, you’re so skinny! I wish I looked like you” “When I think of skinny, I think of Fay”. People were always talking about “impossible beauty standards” and I felt special because I fit into that “impossible” standard. Until I turned 25 and my body betrayed me. So when I gained weight I broke down. Who am I if I’m not skinny? What worth do I have if I’m not skinny? Other people age and remain skinny, so I can’t accept that it’s juts my “woman body”. I don’t want this “woman body”, I want MY body. That’s why it’s so hard for me to accept gaining weight. I used to love my body until it changed. I was skinny, so why couldn’t I become skinny again? I had no idea losing weight was this hard. I always hated exercises and I never had to watch what I eat. Calorie counting was something that “only fat people do”. My BMI was always one point away from “underweight” and I loved it.

I just wanna love myself again.

I know these are all bad thoughts. I know my mind was shaped by a sick, fat-shaming society. But I don’t know how to change that, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to change it. At this point I feel like accepting my body is just an excuse because I’m lazy and don’t want to put in the work. Exercising is hard. It sucks. But it’s healthy and the ED gives me a reason to do it. Rationally I know I’m sick and I. Need. Help. But I don’t want help if it’s gonna make me gain weight.

I’m really scared of sharing these thoughts. I know they’re awful and they make me an awful person. But I’m tired of hiding. I am awful and I deserve any and all backlash I receive for it.


I really didn’t want this blog to be so sad, but I guess that’s all I have to offer right now. I’m sorry.

I hope you’re doing better than I am.

-Fay

Hello again, old friend

Having depression sucks.

I feel like I’ve had mild depression for years, but because it’s mild and I’m a “functional” human being I never got diagnosed so I never got help.

I’ve been able to notice things that make it worse, but some days I’m just sad and there’s nothing I can do about it. Having an eating disorder doesn’t help. I deprive my body of food so I’m always tired and have no energy. If I don’t get a lot of sleep I wake up really wishing I were dead. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t hurt myself, but if I just happened to die I wouldn’t really mind it. And that’s just sad. I know I’ve accomplished so much, but it’s like nothing is enough and I’m really running out of energy to keep moving towards my goals.

When is it that I live a happy life with a job I enjoy and being paid a decent salary? How much longer will I have to keep doing things I hate just to survive? How long will I have to restrict myself from doing the things I want because I can’t afford them? How long?

I can’t even afford therapy.

I’m also on a work visa, so I have no help from the government whatsoever. My partner is recovering from an injury and has been receiving assistance for a while, so he also can’t help me financially – although he does help me mentally and emotionally – so I just really feel like I’m stuck. My mom spent all her savings helping me to come to Canada. My father demanded we sold our condo during the divorce because he wanted the money. He had to get an expensive surgery to fix his hip joint. So everyone is financially strained. And I know a lot of people around the world are in ever worse situations. No one should have to live like this. What’s wrong with the world? Where’s humanity?

Image links to source
“I see humans but no humanity”

It’s no wonder mental illness is so rampant nowadays. The demand is too high, the competitions is too much, community is virtually inexistent. And I honestly don’t know how to make anything better.

I’m just one more depressed millennial.