1. I constantly lose important things and/or break them.
2. I miss points on problems because I don’t read directions or look over something significant.
3. I feel like I have to keep checking if I actually am an INTP.
4. I keep hurting other people’s feeling with meaning to.
5. I’m never completely confident about myself, even if other people tell me I have potential.
6. I feel so alone.
You know what actually I do want to say something
I am actually a human.
I’ve been posting on this blog consistently for over a year, even during some incredibly low points in my life
I have been doing this for free, and I basically get nothing in return which is fine by me because I do this for fun
But when people turn their back on me the moment I need a break, it’s really really disheartening
It kind of makes me feel like I’m letting people down and that I need to force myself to produce content
Just please remember that I am actually a person and there will be points when I need a breather from constant posting instead of going ‘oh well he’s done, time to go’
Hello friends! I am close to 7,000 followers which is absolutely amazing and I thank all of you. I thought I would get a little personal with you here tonight about why I love The Smiths and Morrissey’s music and what it means to me. I first found The Smiths music when I was at a very low point in my life, I was severely depressed and felt very alone. I was reckless and didn’t care much for myself or my own future. I remember one of the first nights I began truly listening to the lyrics within their music, I broke down in tears and cried for hours. I could hear pain and passion in Morrissey’s voice that I had never heard before and it spoke to me in so many ways. I was also a very strange and not very well liked child. I had learning disabilities that made me different and was made fun of them for years. I hated school for many years, so when I heard The Smiths and songs like The Headmaster Ritual they spoke so truly to much of the anxiety I had towards schooling. So many of The Smiths and Morrissey’s songs make me feel happy, even though they aren’t songs others would normally call happy, quite the opposite actually. The reason for this being that depression, in all of its many forms and facets, is something that when spoken about in a way that helps me emotionally embrace that part of myself that I may have to live with for the rest of my life, gives me hope. There are so many people in the world that suffer from depression and anything that can be used to comfort or ease the pain, very much like The Smiths and Morrissey are to me, are invaluable and amazing. Thank you if you stuck around to the end of this and I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, grammar never was my strongest subject. Please feel free to share with me why you love something or someone in your life that makes you happy or brings you comfort. Stay charming my followers!
One of the first things I ever stitched to completion was an 18x18 Israphel patch. Let’s be real. It was pretty bad. I had no idea what I was doing, and remember thinking that doing his snow-face texture would be too much work, so I went with just white, red, and black. Tonight, I decided to revisit Israphel. I probably should have done the edging with four strands, instead of two, but my fingers were already starting to fall off, and I was feeling lazy after two solid hours of stitching this bastard’s face.
I started stitching during a particularly low point in my life, just as something to do. A friend had turned me on to it, and I said, yeah, that looks fun. I want to do that. That was just a couple of years ago. Shadow of Israphel had been long-cancelled by that point already, but I was still in love with the series. Still am, actually.
That ugly, unskilled patch I did all that time ago is on the strap of my bag, and probably will be forever. But now I have a shiny new one to sew onto something else.
I've always reread your work at high and low points in my life. 2016 was more low points than anything else. What do you retreat to in low times? Also. What have you been doing since 2013?
2016 was a rough year. It was definitely the most challenging year of my life thus far. 2015 was better overall, but more volatile. Actually, now that I think about, 2014 sucked balls too.
I retreated a lot into simple pleasures. Sitting on the porch with my cats. The smell of fresh herbs simmering in a pot of pasta sauce. The still looking glass of the pond at Deibert Park on a morning where the air is cool enough you can taste the chill of it.
You know what, let’s talk about the last few years. I’ve never written the whole thing out, and it probably would be good for me to do so. This will be a little long. It’s been a busy couple of years. Just to give you all a heads up, the rest of this post contains some pretty frank discussion of mental health issues, including depression, anxiety, PTSD, self-destruction. There is also discussion of medical emergencies, death, and domestic disputes. Consider this a trigger warning.
I got married in August 2013, moved to a new town. I was very discouraged with poetry at the time, had been for several months. I was tired and burned out. I had exhausted myself churning out poem after poem, and more importantly, getting too caught up in things like website traffic numbers, juggling the logistics of selling my own products, becoming frustrated with copyright violations and people attempting to profit off my work without crediting or compensating me for it. So marriage and moving felt like a chance to put poetry away and focus on other things for a while.
I still wrote from time to time. I released a few new poems online in November 2013. My work appeared in a handful of poetry journals that year, some of which you may still be able to find, but I didn’t give it much fanfare.
March 2014, I was hospitalized. My gallbladder essentially began to poison my body, but I didn’t experience any typical warning symptoms until it had gone septic and gangrenous. I spent a weekend thinking I had a bad stomach virus until I started experiencing the worst pain of my life and nonstop vomiting and went to the ER. My doctor said if I’d waited longer, the infection might have killed me. I spent the better part of a week in the hospital, and the better part of a month in bed. I was an uninsured, unemployed young American. You can imagine the medical bills.
I was unemployed for the next five months. There is nothing that will crush your soul and numb your mind like having thousands upon thousands of dollars of debt looming over your head, and to put in application after application with nothing to show for it. That was when my depression really started rearing its head. Aside from looking for work, I didn’t do much but play video games, mostly Minecraft. I didn’t write. I didn’t go out. My wife and I fought a lot.
I finally landed a job with a company providing residential services to adults with intellectual disability. Many of you know that my sister has moderate intellectual disability; that population is one dear to my heart and one I’ve always tried to advocate for and serve. I was hired to work with an individual with some extremely severe violence issues, which was stressful, but I loved it.
Less than two months later, I was promoted to a supervisory position. Over the next couple years, I supervised as many as nine group homes across the county, housing some 20+ individuals and roughly 30-40 staff. I was on call 24/7 for 21 days at a time. Most of my residents had multiple challenges – mental illness, history of abuse, complex medical issues. Most of my staff were paid minimum wage, few had more than a high school diploma. Most of them had a heart for the work.
October 2015, I experienced several bad panic attacks. I went to the doctor, got a prescription for some anxiety meds, and took a few days off work to rest and unwind. The panic attacks stopped, I felt somewhat refreshed, and I went back to work, but I’d picked up a lot of bad habits around here. I was bitter and jaded and exhausted with the company I was working for, having be burned again and again by incompetence and negligence. I started taking muscle relaxers from time to time, because they numbed things out a bit. I’d go days without eating or sleeping. In retrospect, these should have been the warning signs of where I was heading, but I ignored them.
November 2015, my father-in-law passed away from cancer that devoured his jaw and neck. It wasn’t an easy passing. He was terrified of dying, and he was in a lot of pain and there was a lot of blood and pus and little we could do to make him more comfortable. He died at home.
April 2016, a resident of mine passed away. I can’t discuss the details of her death here, but I struggled with a lot of personal guilt, a lot of guilt that I and the organization I worked for could not avert her death. Some of that guilt, rational or otherwise, is because I was off work when she passed; the first day off I’d had in 33 days.
May 2016, I broke. There is no better word for it. After a week of trying desperately to solve highly volatile issues with two of my most difficult residents, after day after day of little to no sleep, my panic attacks rushed back. I don’t remember most of that night. I do remember at one point feeling this totally surprising unnatural and irrational rage at my wife. I left my apartment and walked for two hours at midnight to keep myself from striking her, and slept that night on the couch.
The next morning, I had a complete sobbing breakdown in a Panera Bread, and had to get my wife to come get me and take me to the ER. Over the next several days, I experienced the worst things I have ever felt. Nonstop clusters of panic attacks lasting as long as six hours. I spent an entire day in bed, fully dressed, just staring at a wall. I suffered visual delusions, like objects appearing larger or smaller than I knew they were, or like the walls were swirling or the carpet was crawling with ants. I felt like I wanted to claw the skin off my arms, like I was ice cold, like the brain in my head was burning holes in my skull.
I’d wake in the middle of the night, screaming or howling like some wounded animal, tearing myself out of nightmares.
I took a little over a month of medical leave from work, began therapy and medication, and focused solely on recovery. I meditated every day. I wrote in a journal, and practiced the coping skills I was learning with my therapist. I improved my diet and focused on getting more sunlight and exercise, even when the world was terrifying or pointless or when I hated myself. One of the most surprisingly therapeutic things I discovered was a color-by-numbers book. Once I was healthy enough to go out in public again, I’d sit at a coffee shop for an hour or more, just coloring.
I officially left my job at the end of June 2016. The time since then has mostly been spent reassembling the pieces of myself.
November, 2016, I left my marriage. I won’t go into the reasons why here, save to say that I was and had been unhappy for a very long time. I moved back into the house I grew up in, living for the first time in ten years near my family.
Somewhere over the last couple of months, I made up with poetry. I started by reading some of my favorite poetry books, and then reading back over some of my own words. I pulled out the box of letters some of you have sent me, the art and photos of tattoos you’ve honored me with. And I started writing again.
‘Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times. If one only remembers to turn on the light.’ -Albus Dumbledore
My names Genevieve and I’m 18 years old. I was firstly introduced to the power of the law of attraction and positive thinking by my mother in 2012. I was 15 years old and I was at a extremely low point of my life. My mother had gotten into a fatal car accident, my life at home was miserable and I was bullied at school as a result of my low self esteem.
My brother had read a book called 'The Secret’ and passed it into my mum. My sister and I noticed my mother was basically high on life and was walking as if she was the queen of the universe, which was rather old considering she had been on antidepressants after she her car accident. I had asked my mum why her attitude had taken a complete 180 turn and she simply said she had learned the secret of life. She told me that everything I want in the world can materialise if you can paint a vivid picture of it in your mind. She said that the most important thing is to believe that your desires are already in the palm of your hand.
From that day forward with the little knowledge I had on the law of attraction, I began to manifest the grades I desired as a starting point. The following year I started becoming obsessed with self help books and that incredible feeling being on a high frequency. I then moved on to manifest bigger and better things and my life began to change. The girls who bullied me actually became close friends of mine. I started manifesting money, jobs, stronger friendships, relationships, meeting my favourite artists, free concert tickets, a trip to my favourite city in the world and the list goes on and on.
I’m feeling the best I’ve felt in my entire life regardless of my tough upbringing and instilled negative outlook on life. I feel incredibly grateful for all my blessings and i am thrilled to be alive. The most important thing in life is to love yourself because life definitely loves you back, all you have to do is turn on the light.
Summary: Taemin had saved Jonghyun without even meaning to
Notes: I listened to Jonghyun’s album and wrote this agiuehohe i’m just so proud of him and I have a lot of feelings. so this was inspired by jonghyuns new mv and also i was thinking a lot about that time that jonghyun said that taemin inspires him soooo here ya go.
Sometimes, things just went inherently wrong in Jonghyun’s life. He had woken up late because his phone had died in the middle of the night. He had forgotten to eat breakfast. He had missed the bus to “work”. His guitar string had snapped in the middle of a song and the little old lady who had been listening to him lay out his life story with chords and half notes suddenly walked away, shaking her head. Realizing that he didn’t have a real job.
Sometimes, when Jonghyun was sitting on a street corner, the morning mist clinging to the sidewalk and soaking through the thick denim of his jeans and the passing stares of business men and women who have no time for a boy with bleached blonde hair and a beat up guitar, he wondered if he had made the right decision. If dropping out of high school to follow his dreams had been the correct thing to do. If maybe he should have been one of those business people who stomped by with one hand warmed by a cup of coffee and the other gripping a cellphone close to their ear.
Most of you have probably noticed by now that we’ve all entered the year of 2017. The most noticeable change is that the crap year also referred to as 2016 is now finally over. “Finally” with a heavy underline.
I’ve started out this year with the best sentence I could’ve gotten. An inspirational one that didn’t seem to even be possible considering how bad my depression was during the end of 2016. It was so bad I was watched over by another shrink during the holidays because mine was gone until the start of January.
I had been told already in Oktober to start on my medication again. I didn’t, and it was stupid of me to not do that. I was though at such a low point in my life that it was mostly out of “self-harm” that I didn’t take that proactive step. I didn’t care about myself and my life. I thought that if I stayed off the medication I’d manage to get to such a low point I’d finally get rid of myself. As I told my second shrink this she had me talk to a psychiatrist about my suicidal tendencies and staying off my medication. I was in such a bad place it made no sense for me to do anything helpful for myself.
I wanted to be a shadow. To be no one. Even as my shrink would compliment me I’d look away because I’d hate hearing any good. Nothing of it was true in my head. It was just out of pure pity I’d tell myself. It was just because they felt sorry for me. She pointed my behaviour out and she noticed my thought pattern.
I started on my medication again because after all I was willing to get better but just too alone with my awful thoughts to take that step. And my medication has helped a lot. I was fascinated by the effects of them. I was scared I’d end up like an emotionless zombie but in stead they took away the hole in my chest that would grow so big as I went through sad emotions. They’ve lightened my mind and they’ve taken away the heavy burdens that I was carrying for no reason. I was scared I’d lose myself because during the two years of heavy depression my illness was starting to define me and i thought that this is who I am. I was wrong.
The 3rd of January my shrink told me “you’re almost symptom-free” and I smiled as I heard this. I was feeling so much better, my sadness was so much more shallow and my mind much clearer. I liked not being touched by all the things that could set of a fire inside me and I liked the calmness in my mind and body.
Those words have set me of to a good start this year and were exactly what I needed to hear. To finally feel better and to be better. To be who I want to be and set my goal to reach that. It was motivating and good and it has helped me to have some hope in this year. 2017 is my year and it’s the year for change and for progress and for doing the things I’ve set my mind to do throughout 2015-2016.
I thought it would be a year without you, 2017, my year, and I was trying to be ok with that. I was trying to convince myself that you had moved on and that you were with someone else now. But then you come sneaking in, and I have all these feelings for you. All these feelings that you are so aware of because to me you were my one. I’ve also tried to accept that, that I as early as 20 years old loved and lost my one person and my heart asks for you constantly and I can’t give it no answer but to say that you’re gone and I lost you.
I lost you and I accepted it. But my feelings still linger and my heart still hopes for your returning. I have accepted that as well. Though I love you I still need to live my life and to do the things I want to do but the future is no guarantee and I know that you did what you did and I had to follow along but I was set on something completely different. It didn’t happen and so I have to make things happen for myself, without you. Maybe one day we meet again but maybe not.
The Hawaiian American Japanese market Marukai is gone, largely as they were bought by a company better known for their Mexican markets but they are doing pretty well. 140 of these, and they went quick. Most years, I can get back in line for a second one…no such luck this year.
High points: more energy drinks than I have ever bought in my life. Also, Thunderbirds.
Low points: that has to be the smallest bag of Nishiki rice I have ever seen.
△ + the closest you've come to crying, recently? what was the reason?
“What an idiotic question!” He scoffed, crossing his arms in anger. “If you must know, it was several days ago. I had a nightmare about all of the low points in my life…my father’s dying words, my own failure to save my people’s planet, me watching helplessly as Gohan fought cell, everything I’d ever failed at flashed before my eyes and I felt helpless. Like when I was first hatched.”
DANIIIIIIIIII happy birthday sweet baby!!! Your present is a little late cause I'm a bit sick but it's coming!! I just wanted to let you know that youre so incredibly kind and good and I'm so happy to be your friend 😭! Talking with you is always delightful and your friendship helped me pull through an incredibly low point in my life a year ago. I hope this year you smile a lot more and you make beautiful memories!!! I'm so lucky to call you my friend! 💕💕💕
Jimmedny Crickerrts I dpnt think you knoq how much you’ve done for me this year I’m crying like you dont even know im just. I dobt even know thank you
I know you probably don't care, but my name is Cris and I am the spanish anon. Given that I am going to ask you this question, I think it is appropriate for me to introduce myself. I was wondering, what made you stop writing? It's ok if you don't want to talk about this or even publish this :-)
Of course I care :)
It’s nice to meet you, Cris.
I stopped writing for a variety of reasons, actually. A big one was the negative atmosphere of FF.net. It’s a decent site for the most part, but sometimes, the hate can be quite bad. Another reason was a friendship that deteriorated so badly that I didn’t manage to recover it from for some time.
The main problem though, occurred when I was really struggling with some unhealthy coping mechanisms at the time, and I reached a really low point in my life where writing was pretty much my lifeline. But my writing drew some unnecessary attention from the school, and I ended up getting treated pretty terribly by the authorities at my school. They forced me into mandatory therapy for the rest of my time there, meeting with a crisis counselor on a weekly basis. Needless to say, it didn’t help. At all. They were no longer treating me like a person, honestly.
Therapy can be extremely beneficial, but not for me, at least, not in those particular circumstances. Not when I was being forced into it under threat of being sent for psychological tests and inpatient treatment. (That’s not to say that therapy is a bad thing- if I feel as though I need it, I will seek professional help, and so should anyone else who feels similarly. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.) I was constantly being pulled out of class for wellness checks, embarrassed in front of my peers, and once forced to strip off my shirt when a school gossip decided to spread some rumors that I had cut myself somewhere on my abdomen.
My writing was turned against me. And I just shut down. I couldn’t pick up a pen without the irrational fear of someone reporting my work to the school, even if it was recreational writing done at home, under lock and key, never to be submitted for a class.
It remains one of the worst periods of time in my life. I lost all confidence in myself and swore never to write creatively again. Fast-forward a few years, and Lena Luthor pulled me out of my shell, much to my surprise.
So my fiance and I awkwardly enough met via 4chan because I made a sad post on /b/ once when I was at a very low point in my life.
Awkwardly enough, everyone was very nice and the guy who I’m now engaged to actually talked me through a lot of issues I was going through at the time.
He was my best friend for the longest time and I ended up making the below comic as a Valentine’s Day gift sort of years later. I kind of lost it for a bit and just refound it and thought I’d share ^^;