I Can’t be Alone

Over the last 3 weeks, I’ve been so busy. I went to Yorkshire to see my friend, who I call Rapunzel, at the end of July and had some of the best times in the last few months. I saw Heathers the Musical with one of my oldest internet friends. Another friend of mine, S, came to stay on the 5th and left yesterday. But now he’s gone, now that I’m alone, I remember just why I keep myself busy: to avoid this.

What is this? It’s the terrifying feeling of not wanting to be alone with your own thoughts. It’s doing anything possible to try and stop them from taking over. It’s not knowing whether today will be okay or not so just trying to hold off the flood but now that the flood has finally caught up, it’s fucking awful. How do I deal with these emotions when I don’t quite understand what they are?

Of course, that doesn’t mean I’ve been trying to frantically do things to stop feeling. Doing things, like seeing friends, just helps to not make the feelings overwhelming. For instance, seeing Rapunzel and then S gave me more freedom and it also meant that there was someone there who could help me or talk to me if things got really rough. I had an amazing time with them but as they’re two of my closest friends, now that they’re gone (although I’m seeing Rapunzel really soon), I just feel painfully lonely. Loneliness and being alone, whilst suffering from horrifying bouts of bad mental health, is not a good combination.

Part of me wants to write and write and write until it all just pours out. I cried about how bereft I felt last night, then cried further about how pathetic that made me feel. Apparently, I can’t cope if I don’t have someone around me. It’s not like I can be eternally around people – I do need time on my own sometimes – but people being here makes it easier to cope. People being here gives me an excuse to work through my feelings, if not for me then for them so that I don’t ruin anything for them. Being alone means that excuse shatters and I have no reason, meaning that I just… Don’t care.

Then there’s that part of me that is terrified and has no energy. I hate being alone, where I feel like I have nowhere to go and nothing to do and no-one to help me. Realistically, I know people are here but that doesn’t help when I can’t even convince myself that getting up is worth doing. The thought of doing anything much, from writing a blog post I need to do to eating lunch to texting people, makes me feel so sick that I don’t end up doing those things. I’ve constantly been wanting to cry all day and I’m exhausted. Everything feels hollow and I’m always thinking that everyone hates me, that I’m making the worst mistakes and that I shouldn’t speak in case I upset anyone. God, why is this so difficult?

The bottom line is, I’m scared of my thoughts. Sure, I’ve made progress towards recovering – I’m nowhere near as constantly unstable as I was during April or May. However, sometimes it still gets so bad that I can’t speak or move or do anything that doesn’t involve me wanting to run away or slip off into oblivion. I just wish I didn’t need external reassurance: I wish I could find it within myself to feel more whole.

I’ve had moments of clarity today. I got up this morning after a few hours of alternately doing nothing and then crying. I had a shower, got changed, brushed my hair (it calms me down for some reason) and then finally ate something. Then again, now, I don’t have much energy. Later, Kel is arriving and I’m so glad of that because I’ve been wanting to see him for ages and also, it’ll help me to pull myself back from whatever hell I’ve managed to stuff myself in this time.

Until this evening, where I’m required to move (and that’s a good thing), I think I’ll try and distract myself. Perhaps I’ll watch something on Netflix (I might watch Outnumbered or Brooklyn Nine-Nine because they remind me of people that I love), or listen to music. Reading, right now, takes up too much energy; I planned to write about how I was feeling but I’m way too drained for that or to even think. Usually, I wouldn’t suggest distractions for anyone because that’s avoiding feeling but I want this to get down to a manageable level. As of now, it’s so overwhelming that I want to scream.

I’m sorry for all this sporadic and negative posting. I want to write at my own pace but often I do feel guilty for putting people through all this undirected shrieking.

What do you do when you hate the idea of being alone with your own thoughts?

From Elm πŸ™‚


Pretty much constantly, I have this sense of never quite belonging anywhere and it makes me so desperately lonely that I draw away from people, lose all motivation to do anything and don’t know how to get out of it. I’m feeling this right now and instead of doing my recent thing where I write when I’m “out of feeling crap,” I’m going to write this in the moment, truthfully. Later, I’ll feel horribly guilty for posting negatively but for now, I need to express this because I feel hopeless as fuck and don’t know how to talk about it.

Where does this feeling come from? I’ve tried to answer this question by thinking, writing, talking, singing but nothing quite works. Nothing quite adds up to feeling like I’m truly “with something” and that’s the problem. I hear people talking about things they love, or things they’re part of and I wonder, “Do I love it that much? Am I just an empty shell because I feel so separated sometimes?” It terrifies me and as you can probably tell, it’s difficult to talk about.

I love music, sure, but I don’t get obsessed with bands. Individual songs are what are on my playlist; I don’t even particularly like a specific genre or style of music. Often I say my music taste is obscure but it’s not the obscure of other people’s; I like weird songs but not songs of a type or anything like that. I don’t vehemently hate many songs either. People talk about songs, artists or things I’ve barely heard of and sometimes, so I don’t look stupid, I pretend to know what it is and I listen to the songs afterwards, hating myself and wishing I was more open to music, just wishing I was able to join in. It’s not that “no one gets me” because I don’t have a love of punk rock or alternative music or heavy metal – it’s just that I don’t dedicate myself enough to listening.

I don’t watch enough movies, musicals or plays to be able to understand many references. As with music, I sometimes have to act as if I get it and it leaves me feeling hollow and like I’m wildly stupid because I just don’t understand. It’s not that I worry about people hating me (for once), it’s more that I feel, personally, like I never do enough and that if I tried to watch all these movies, I’d only be doing it to understand when really, I want to watch them so I’ll enjoy them. The movies I have watched, I howl about with enthusiasm because those are the ones I get and can confidently speak about. It’s not even the fact that I’m visually impaired – it’s just that I didn’t in the past and it’s catching up to me now.

With books, I feel a little more confident but still not “with a group”. I love young adult novels, strange feminist literature and some but I still haven’t read enough to be able to feel even a little bit comfortable when talking in class or even with some people I know. In the online world it’s easier; I don’t have the pressure to “READ THIS BOOK” or that. However, I often find myself shying away from conversations about books – even ones I’ve read – because I’m afraid of just not being “with it” enough. It holds me back but I don’t know how to stop myself.

When I say all this, I feel lazy. Surely it’d be easy for me to listen more, read more, watch more movies or just get involved? I get upset, overwhelmed and then entrench the belief that I’m no good to anyone in my mind, forcing myself to believe I’m the shadow of a person and then feeling intense disgust. That’s not healthy and I know that but when I never seem to put effort in, I make myself think I then deserve to feel this isolated. I hate that.

I don’t know, I just don’t feel like I belong in a specific group, community or fandom. It may seem pitiful and whining of me to say this but I feel on the fringes, too embarrassed to speak up because my voice won’t be loud enough, won’t be assured enough. When I talk to someone about a common interest, I feel one step behind because I like a specific part of that interest whereas many people like multiple parts. It confuses me because there are only a few times where I feel like I’m on an even footing and “with someone” when I discuss things.

Of course, there are exceptions to this pile of loneliness I feel. Blogging’s a big one; I feel at home here, with no push to fit with the mould of someone who reads a type of book or who can talk for hours about something with someone and feel comfortable. However, sometimes I find myself shoving my voice to the outskirts on purpose because I ask myself if it’s worth it, whether I should just give up or why people care. That’s why I write this, though; I write it to share my unfiltered thoughts when I need to. They may be negative, they may be confusing but they belong to me and people can’t diminish that by belittling them, even by accident. Volunteering is somewhere else where I express myself because there, it doesn’t matter what I like or don’t like – it just matters that I’m a person and that I can show that to people.

There are always places where you feel more at ease but at the moment, the feeling of loneliness that I tell myself is self-made is taking over my thoughts. Although I’ll talk about it in counselling on Wednesday, I needed an outlet where people don’t give a shit if I scream my thoughts onto a screen, if I’m momentarily selfish because the whole point of my blog is to help me and others, if and when they need the help.

I’m sorry that this post is so jumbled and rambling and, well, weird. I’m trying to get used to writing again; words are becoming difficult to get out sometimes and I want to talk about feeling alone in one of the only places I don’t.

Do you ever feel like this too?

From Elm πŸ™‚

Update: I wrote this on Friday and decided to leave it for a bit. Although I still feel like this, it’s not all-consuming right now but reading over it, I got a real sense of how unhappy I felt. Sometimes it’s good to look back on things.

An Update about Feelings, My Mind and Blogging

Heyy, for the first time in what feels like way too long. I really want to say some things and whether you get to the end of this or not, I really appreciate you reading even one sentence. This is long and not very positive; if you’re feeling especially negative at the moment, please don’t feel like you have to read this because feeling as positive as possible is the most important thing.

There are currently a few things which I know with all uncertainty and they are the only things which I can say I definitively know:
β€’ Things in my life are steadily becoming more and more hectic, including something which has flipped my life upside down and could potentially change a lot of things
β€’ Currently, I don’t know how to deal with these changes and I’m falling way, way behind in my subjects
β€’ Situations from the past keep on cropping up and I’m discovering a lot of new things that don’t sit well with me, so much so that I don’t know how to “get over” these situations
β€’ I have closed myself off to many, many people around me; I neither talk nor write any more like I used to
β€’ I desperately miss writing and the inability to express myself, my disappointment in myself and my fear that I’m somehow broken because I don’t feel invested in my own feelings is having a direct and unhealthy impact on how I feel on a day-to-day basis
β€’ I am deeply and worryingly unhappy which is not something I know how to write about or that I feel I can write about on here
β€’ If I tried to write about it on here, every single one of my posts would be negative and I really don’t want to spread negative energy – I want to do the opposite

Right now, I’ll hold up my hands and say I don’t know what to do. I’m telling you all this to be honest, to be as transparent as I can be because I feel like I’m slowly getting more and more unhappy, more and more blank and that’s not a mindset I like. I won’t romanticise this or overly complicate it: I am unhappy; I have been unhappy for a long time and I do think you need to know that. Maybe I can explain some of the things that I’ve been doing or not doing, to give you an idea of what I feel.

For the last few weeks, I’ve read no posts. None. The key to getting inspiration for my posts was always the world around me which included what other people had written. As I slowly realised my mental health may not be as great as I claimed and then I decided it would be a fucking great idea to ignore the problem, I stopped reading everything. I pretended to some people in real life that I was satisfied with this, that it was the best thing for me but really I was furious with myself and that mentality isn’t constructive because reading posts isn’t a chore. It should be fun and thought-provoking before anything else.

On the subject of talking, I’ve barely replied to messages, even worse than usual. This is most, well, noticeable on Twitter where things piled up and I thought that if I did reply, no one would even care and that I was pretty much a waste of space who just pretended to be funny or insightful. With some people, I put a lot of effort in to prove to myself I can because I love them; with others, I’m so terrified of putting effort in that I shut myself off even though I respect them so incredibly highly. If I haven’t replied to your messages or emails, please know it’s not because I dislike you – that couldn’t be further from the truth. I have barely enough energy to think properly or even create a plausible reason but I’m so, so sorry. I’m not making an excuse for my stupid thoughts because there isn’t one and I can’t just blame it all on the mental health.

I’ve said I’ll do things but haven’t. This includes posting guest posts for people that I’ve written, organising collabs or even emailing people back. In essence, I feel like a shit blogger and I wish I could be less honest with you and come up with some bullshit excuse but the truth is that I have no motivation to do anything, including schoolwork. Thinking of that, I still haven’t done an essay set 3 weeks ago and I feel so sick now at the thought of going into school that I shake violently and want to scream for hours. Again, that’s a poisonous attitude for me to have, blaming myself all the time for things I haven’t done. Yes, I should have done it all but sometimes I just can’t. At all.

One of the most unhealthy things I ever do to myself is to close myself off. LIKE ELM STOP YOU SHOULD TALK MORE!!! I’ve stopped talking to friends properly, have little desire to go out when before I would have jumped at the chance to do something different. Often, I feel apathetic to a lot of things and my love for company has both increased wildly and decreased, depending on who it is, how I’m feeling on a certain day and the context of the situation. I spoke to my Head of Year this morning and she said it was surprising to see me so composed but the reason for my calm was not because I felt any better. It was because I felt numb inside and 100% didn’t want to talk. Today, I don’t really feel entirely there – “spaced out”, as I call it. I’ve downplayed all of this to my friends, partly because I think they’ll get sick of it but also because I think I’m lying to myself and if I tell them the truth and then realise I was lying, it’ll be much harder to undo. That’s incredibly nonsensical but sometimes I genuinely feel like I’m faking stuff inside my head to make excuses for things.

Sometimes, I say positive things I don’t feel and pretend to feel fine like I did with my Head of Year today when really, I feel the opposite. I don’t feel awful every day but I do feel sad or disconnected a lot of the time. I went to see a counsellor on Saturday and though I didn’t cry, it was the least fake I’ve been in months, potentially years. I didn’t have to know how I felt and in school, I put such a mask on that I don’t know what’s me any more. Essentially, I’ve forgotten what I really feel, how I work and what I’m doing; I’ve lost sight of it – excuse the pun – so that on a day-to-day basis, if someone asked me how I felt I’d either give them opposing answers on different days or just say “I don’t know”. Mostly, though, I pretend I feel better than I do because going into depth exhausts and confuses me because I never know if what I’m saying is what I’m feeling.

I don’t like myself for all these things. It panics me; I feel like a failure – but that’s the problem. I shouldn’t feel like a failure because my mental health will always come first but I can’t help it; I can’t help screaming at myself and sinking further and further down into this well of negativity when in theory, I know how to change my mindset. I know that beginning to think more positively will start a chain reaction which will make things feel better but I can’t seem to stop hating myself and feeling miserable which is incredibly damaging to myself. People around me have tried to convince me I’m not affecting me and yet I won’t listen; I will directly say to people I have no idea what I’m doing or how I’m feeling and that I mistrust people I should love. I neither want pity nor sympathy and I’m deeply scared people will think I will and that I’m attention-seeking, which is another reason I no longer talk.

That’s why I’m writing this. To tell you I’m not coping and to explain to you the decision I may have to make, or the changes that might happen – especially here. The truth is that things are getting so overwhelming that if I tried to post about it all, this blog would be filled with rants and anger and fear. I don’t want that. That may be a thing that a lot of people say but I’ve become really aware, recently, of how my words can affect people.

I’ll continue writing but I’m not sure in what capacity. Writing was and is still my safe haven, where I go when I need help. However, it’s become something of an effort that is an unhealthy effort. My entire mindset, focused on negativity that I don’t need, might just be made worse by constantly writing about that negativity. I DON’t WANT TO BE NEGATIVE.

I always tell people, “If you start to feel like writing is too much, that you feel like you have to continue it for other people and to make sure people read it, stop doing it for a while or cut it down a little.” I think I have to take my own advice. I may not want to but it might be what is best for me and I want to show you that things won’t be great all the time and sometimes you have to make shitty decisions that make you unhappy but that might make things more bearable in the future.

I have too much to say and so that’s why this is so long. I know that you’ll understand because if you’ve got this far then I know you care in the slightest bit and I appreciate that so, so much. This isn’t a goodbye or even a temporary farewell. It’s an explanation of how I’ve been feeling, why all of it is unhealthy and the steps I may have to take to make myself feel more like myself. Does that make any sense?

There isn’t a conclusion to this post. I’ve come to no realisation except that I’ve missed writing and that telling you things have lifted a bit of the weight off, for a while. At some point, I’ll update you on what’s been happening event-wise as opposed to feelings-wise and so things might make a little more sense then. I needed to say all this, even though I’m really afraid of what people may say and the advice they may give because of how right they will probably be. I trust you though: people here have helped me through so much shit and I forgot just how much writing does help, despite my worry.

No matter how much I write or how little, I’ll still be here. I’m here to support anybody that needs it, regardless of how I feel, because at the core of it all I want to help people. That’s not just a bullshit phrase; I really mean that. Never be afraid to talk or do what will make things easier for you because your life is about you. It’s not about the wishes of others.

Love from Elm πŸ™‚

I’m a Little Bit of a Mess

One thing that people start to realise about me very quickly is that I hardly ever do something someone tells me to straight away. It’s taken me months, for example, to be able to understand I need help and to properly implement that, with the encouragement, logic and screaming of my friends. It takes me a while to do absolutely anything because I try and reason why it would be a bad idea but finally, finally I did something.

This is a really quick post to just say, well, sorry for vanishing off the blogosphere for a few days. I know that this is my blog but I care about you guys and so not reading your blogs or not having the motivation to do it has wrecked my mind a little.

Truth be told, I don’t feel great and I’ve been ignoring it, yet again. I’m still unsure as to exactly why; it’s partly stress and partly that overwhelming terror you get when everything’s too much and you feel cold; you can’t breathe from it. I don’t know. I’m sad when there’s no logical reason why I should be.

Last week, I spoke to my Head of Year and cried my eyes out for 20 minutes. I wasted a bunch of tissues, sobbed, shook so hard that I violently panicked and was utterly unable to articulate what was wrong. We eventually came to the conclusion that I was sad, it was okay but that I was thoroughly unused to not coping publically. I’m going to see her this week too; I’m scared because I know I’ll panic and repeat the words “I don’t know,” “I can’t” and “I have no idea” a lot. I don’t like it. Not having a proper channel for my worries is making me skittish.

I hide things. On the surface, I tell people I’m not feeling good, I’m tired and that I’m not okay but I don’t often say why. It’s a coping mechanism because if I start talking, I won’t be able to stop but it’s also because sometimes it’s effort to trawl through my mind’s complicated maze-like thoughts. I never know what I feel or don’t feel and I’m so desperately sad sometimes that I want to scream, so lonely with no explanation that everything feels hazy.

Everything with which I used to gain enjoyment is now less fun; it’s worrying. I still sing, write, blog, talk to people but it doesn’t have the same fire for me. In my mind, I know it’s temporary, that it will pass and I’ll get that spark of life but for now, I don’t feel happy and I don’t feel like I have a purpose with it. It makes me sad as I want to truly love the things I do.

Luckily, I have something now with which to get this out. My head of year isn’t the perfect solution – she’d tell my parents if she started to worry a lot, which she inevitably will. My dad knowing about my fears is okay but with my mum, she treats it like it’s nothing and like it’s normal, like it’s your average teenage phase. Is it? Am I making this all up? Am I just being an overdramatic lazy bitch? I hope not.

I told her about my blog. I felt like I had to: as it’s a huge part of my life, it’s something that will come up in conversation in order to let her properly understand what’s been happening. As well as that, she’s emailed all my teachers to tell them I’m feeling anxious, all the time because as I said to her, “I feel sad every day.” For now, I’m going to talk about the shallower things to her but when I feel a little more comfortable, I may get onto the paranoia, self-hatred, anger and insecurity. That is, if she’ll properly listen and not brush things off – she has never done that, though, so it’ll be okay.

There are still things I’m happy about, like my friends and the laughter that still comes easily. I’m going to write about the open day I went to on Saturday which made me feel more connected to everything. It’s not all ‘doom and gloom’, as my mother likes to say. It’s just that at the moment, I’m trembling, my eyes are watering and I feel freezing.

If this is the first thing you’ve ever read from me, I’m not even going to apologise and say ‘this is not the usual me’. It is the usual me sometimes and that’s alright. To know a person, you have to know all their parts: good, bad and things in between.

Never apologise for feeling how you do and expressing those feelings; I feel more free and liberated. I didn’t plan this and haven’t thought much about what I want to write. I’m writing this at night, meaning that all my filters are down and I can post this tomorrow without feeling intensely guilty. What is there to feel guilty about, though? There isn’t a thing wrong with helping yourself by telling the people who mean the most to you a little of what’s really wrong.

I still don’t know how I properly feel. Sometimes, you don’t have to know. However, I’m on my way to analysing those feelings. Even though my friends forced me into it, going to see my head of year might just be the thing that forces me to acknowledge that I do have feelings and that I should deal with them, rather than pushing them aside and running.

You’re human. A human can only take so much until they break from the strain of trying to keep things together. Breaking is okay and natural; you aren’t pathetic for it. Telling people you’re an unexplained mess is something you can do. You don’t have to have reasons; you just have to feel. Remember that.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Afraid Of School

It’s safe to say that I really didn’t put enough effort into my schoolwork this year, or my exams in general. I say this to people and they act as if I’m joking when in actuality, I couldn’t be more serious. I screwed up work-wise and also emotionally, was sad, upset and angry at myself the majority of the time and I was the reason I had a shit time.

Writing this the night before school starts, I’m feeling especially scared. I don’t want to get into the motivational decline of AS-Levels, especially after all the shit which kicked off at the start of it. I blame myself – not for instigating it – but for letting it affect me and letting it carry on. This will be a rambling post, by the way, but I need to get my anxious feelings out because otherwise I never will.

I need sleep but I’m sat here worrying about the state of my thoughts. I need to pick myself up but I don’t know how; it’s got to the point where I genuinely don’t know how I’m going to be or feel when I return from school. It concerns me to note that I may either feel relieved and motivated or utterly shit, wanting to sob and just fix all of the things that have gone wrong.

Simultaneously, I want to get tomorrow over with and also I want to stay home. Exciting things may be coming up work-wise and in terms of school but I can’t bring myself to be happy about that because I need to cross the hurdle of not doing work first. If I never get motivated, I’ll never do work and that’s the crux of it. It’s not that I don’t do the work to a worrying degree; it’s that I don’t know if I’ll care enough to get stuff done.

When did this all start? Was it at the start of year 12 when French and personal things were affecting me? Was it around December when I realised that nothing was making me happy and that all the work I was doing was pointless? Was it before that when I had the habit of procrastinating and being lazy or was it before any of my exams, when I was so convinced I’d fail that I didn’t do enough revision?

I know that I can do this but I’m terrified, scared, paranoid and I want everything to go away whilst also wanting to be surrounded by happy things to forget about me. I have no idea what (i>exactly is getting me so worked up. I’m shaking, feel cold all over and my eyes are too widened to cry at the minute.

I can succeed in my subjects but that might be at the cost of my feelings and creative mind; I don’t want that. I want to sing, write, have fun and laugh but now, it feels quite far off. If I can balance work and a social life, everything will be okay but I don’t want to screw up again and make people unhappy.

Tomorrow, one of three things will happen: I will panic and lock myself into a work-mindset at the expense of talking to people; I will have a terrible attitude to work but revel in the fact that my friends are there or I’ll find a balance. I’m hoping it’s the last of these three but who knows?

I’m scared but I can’t let it rule me. I’m going to go to sleep but the thought of waking up tomorrow to face a day of self-induced fear is making me procrastinate sleep.

Sorry for the disjointed and fragile nature of this post. Inspiration can strike me at the strangest of times and I needed to get this written before the thoughts disappeared into a flurry of confusion inside my head. In the morning, I’ll look back on this and frown but for now, it’s the best I can do and that best will be enough.

If you’re returning to school now or did last week, I hope everything goes well! Remember that even if you feel a certain way now, it won’t last forever. You still have time to let yourself be happy: there will always be time for that. Being happy can be better than getting top grades in every single subject.

From Elm πŸ™‚

I’m Scared of You

This will make literally no sense but I’m writing it anyway.

Sometimes I just don’t understand how people can affect other people so much. Couldn’t you just get away? It’s only when I’m in that situation that I realise: no. You can’t.

When you’re in that situation too, you feel like you can’t get out. You’re constantly at the whim of how another person feels – it takes over your whole body and mind. It’s terrifying because you think you’re strong; you think you can just walk away: no, you can’t. Not at the flick of a switch.

My thoughts are in a bit of a tangle right now; I’m struggling between what’s morally “right” and what’s right for me. It makes me sad that this has even happened: it further makes me angry that I can’t talk about it on my blog: the one place where you’d think I could.

I almost want to cry. I’ve almost become addicted to worrying – worrying if I’ll upset someone, worrying that they’re not okay and then shouting at myself for doing one tiny thing that might screw everything up. I was given a reality check two or three days ago and here’s what somebody said in regards to it:

“I can’t do anything else – I’ve done my best. You need to do your best too, Elm; you can’t keep saying you’re going to get yourself away and going back. You’re going to make it so much worse for yourself – and if you’re really sick of it, then do something about it.”

I’ll speak as plainly as I can: I’m fucking done. I’m done with being controlled by other people’s emotions. I’m sick of being subject to my fear and I’m so tired of dancing around people to check that I’m not telling lies. I’m tired, sad, furious and most of all? I want to be free of it.

What I do in the next few days will make me seem like a terrible person to a few people but I can no longer care. It’ll seem callous of me to say that because to all intents and purposes, nobody has actually done anything recently to elicit this behaviour. They haven’t done anything to upset me: it’s what they did say before that made me feel so guilty which has set this off. It’s how I reacted to it; it’s controlling me and I hate that.

Situations are never as they seem at first glance. If people tell others how I’m acting now – how cruel I seem – they’d believe them as they have no other evidence to negate it. Perhaps I am that cruel but there are so many sides to it: I don’t know if people would ask “But why would she do that?” I don’t know if I would, if I was in their shoes. Here, it’s about making myself better – for once – and finally letting go of something I should have let go so long ago.

You never think that you’ll feel a certain way until you do. After how Ash affected my self worth, I thought I was done with always being obsessed with not upsetting people or being emotionally manipulated by guilt to act how I thought I needed to. I wasn’t – I’m not – and that’s a huge slap in the face. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know whether to get the entire situation away from me, whether that’s acting like a coward or whether I should just keep at a safe distance. Ugh.

I’m sorry that you can’t understand this because I can’t explain it but you guys listening and reading means the world. Remember that if something like this happens to you, don’t let it consume you. Get away – remove yourself from it – before you start walking down the spiral of “But I am guilty of hurting them; I’m awful.”

You’re stronger than this. I’m stronger than this but I’m scared of becoming so strong that I hurt people.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Small Confessions I Want to Make

Sometimes, all it takes to say something is a sentence; that’s okay because having short little thought explosions can help get my mind in order. Here are a few things I want to get off my chest, but writing a post about each one is too exhausting.

I feel like I don’t fit in anywhere and that nobody wants me in a group enough for me to stick with it.

I’m really bad at talking to people one-on-one, because I think I’m not interesting enough and that I have no real personality.

I’m terrified of being left behind and whenever someone becomes great friends with one of my best friends, I’m scared they’ll forget about me and I’ll be nothing to them.

I’m just scared in general that I was never enough for a person, that replacing me wouldn’t even be replacing to them because I don’t cross their mind enough times for me to be worth replacing.

I don’t eat enough and I’m hungry a lot of the time but sometimes, I don’t want to put the effort in to eat something.

I have a friend or two that I think I have feelings for, but I’m refusing to admit it because it might hurt me in the long run.

Being swept up in someone from my past is probably a bad idea, but I don’t know if I can help it or if I want to.

I’ve had feelings for a blogger – I suppose you’d call it that – and no one knew, knows or will know because it’s too embarrassing, stupid and would cause a whole lot of shit.

I’m paranoid that said blogger thinks I’m weird or hates me, but I’m illogically paranoid that many people do.

The most alive I’ve ever felt is when I’m disconnected from anyone that hurt me, but the happiest I’ve ever felt is being with someone that then did.

I’m known for accidentally spreading stuff I shouldn’t and I’m petrified that if I get too close to people, I’ll find things out and hurt them by accident, or cause a cycle of lies.

I don’t know what to do that will make me feel happier, or more connected with my emotions, that won’t result in confusion and pain.

I want to be happy, and I’m willing to try and let myself.

I haven’t had a real “crush” since July and I’ve forgotten what feelings without a dash of worry and pain feel like.

I want to fall in love but I’m trying to not hate myself first.

I’m worried that if I make people wait for me to be okay, they won’t move on and I’ll feel terrible and break people’s hearts.

I’m insecure about my appearance; I can become aggressive and I don’t know how to take compliments.

This is the most honest I’ve been on my blog for months, because right now I have no filter and I like it.

I feel like if I meet too many new people, I’ll be overwhelmed and forget about the old, but I want to get to know people and make as many people happy as possible.

I’m starting to help and care about myself, but in the process I think I’m neglecting everyone else.

There’s not one person who knows every single thing I’ve done because if there were, I’d end up hurting people by the things I say.

I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve ever physically done (if you catch my drift WOW).

However, if people knew everything they might be ashamed of me which is why I don’t tell them.

I love so many people – platonically – and I want them to know that.

To be honest, I overthink.

From Elm πŸ™‚

I Cry for What We Had

I sat down to write this post and just burst into tears.

It’s partly because I don’t know how to express the depth of awful feelings I’m holding, because I shut myself off from it. It feels like it’s too much, so that I have no idea where to start. It’s also because of relief: I can finally release them – not that I’ve held myself back before, but over the last week, it’s been ripping at a wall inside my mind, and I’m crying because I’m letting myself talk about it.

There was this time in Thailand where I was kind of scared because it was late, my dad and stepmother had gone out and I was in a village on my own with people I didn’t know very well. S – my ex-boyfriend – stayed on the phone with me for 2 hours. He was there, all throughout it, listening to me get slightly hysterical. That was before we properly went out, but it was a possibility then; it was before he cheated on me, and the one thing that has emained constant is that I don’t blame him for anything. He was always there and the thing that kills me is that I felt like I took him for granted, took it all for granted, and now that I don’t have it any more I’m realising how incredibly happy I was. Despite my stress at the beginning of the school year, despite my paranoia, I was happy.

All of the late night conversations are replaying in my mind: the laughter, the way he understood me, and it’s making my tears fall faster than they have in a while. There were just little things: me jokingly referring to myself as his “bitch”, the way he spoke, the knowledge that we’d still be there despite anything, his reassurances that Pansy was a good friend of his and that was it – which was true up until the day we broke up. I remember our first kiss – I suppose the pain made it come to the forefront of my mind. God, that was well over a year ago.

After I bailed on him, back in October of last year, I’d contacted him and he (rightly) hadn’t had the best response because I broke stuff off with no explanation. Then, we started speaking again and it was beautiful because I could confide in him, and he’s known me for so long that it didn’t feel forced. That simple reality – that I’ve lost that, too, though god knows if he meant for it to be lost or not – makes me remember how it was after Ash and I broke friends. I hate losing people; I hate having my trust destroyed, and I also hate not being able to blame anything. I don’t want him to feel guilty, because if he felt what I was feeling now he wouldn’t be able to be happy with Pansy and that would be awful.

In the summer, it seemed so lovely, and it was. After a year of me being a dick, I’d finally come to my senses – because he’d been there, through so much, supporting me as I did him. But like with every fairytale, this one shattered, sooner than I thought. But it’s fucking over and yes, I’m sobbing, so that I can barely breathe, but what’s the point in hoping?

The thing is, I regret none of it. I’m cherishing the good memories we had, locking them away and holding them close, not revealing what exactly happened as I did with Ash. I learned my lesson there, but still, the sharp and raw sting of rejection of worn out promises burns.

At the heart of it, I miss what we had. I don’t care when people say that one day it’ll stop hurting, because that day is not today and I want to feel this utter misery for now, because it reminds me I’m human and I’m able to deal with it. Everything has accumulated itself: I heard a song earlier that we both love, and saw his name on Facebook, and saw her name too and it just killed. Because right now, I guarantee, they are laughing with each other, or will have today. Me? I’m crying. How stupid is that?

I feel wounded, is the best description for it, because they have forgotten. For good reason: I wanted them to; they should be happy, and not worry about me because I’m a bitter little snowflake. Nobody should have to deal with my tears, the pathetic ones I cry in the dark, because I’m becoming furious with my own mind. In the end, who cares? There are much more important things to deal with, and I’ll just exist until it all passes, until I can love without wanting to die.

It is just not fucking fair. All of it. The fact that I got cheated on, that I’m so unhappy, that I’m unmotivated. The fact that it was so nice before, that I felt secure because he’s a wonderful person, whereas now I’m a wreck in a storm with an ocean that could break me into tiny pieces. Whenever I feel sad, I feel guilty and even worse because of it, because I remember our conversation when he told me they were officially together, nearly 2 weeks ago. Ever since then, I’ve been disgustingly clingy, feeling terrible when I both don’t receive replies from people and don’t reply to them myself.

I sounded so awful. He seemed exasperated, but perhaps that was my mind recreating emotions that weren’t there. I have a habit of doing that. I told him that my thoughts were “irritating”, because if I’d told him the truth – which I then did – I would cry for hours – which I then did. Come to think of it, I think that everyone is irritated with me. Either that or they’ve had enough, as I’ve had enough with myself. My pain’s getting old, and I don’t want people to have time for me because they need to move on with their lives.

I dislike myself, and you may be asking “What’s there to dislike – this isn’t your fault!” It isn’t my fault, or his or hers, because life happens and someone was going to get hurt anyway: better me than her and I still stand by that. As with everything, I’ve somehow convinced myself that I’m not good enough in the slightest. I feel worthless, so much less than second best; if he liked me so much, then why did he cheat on me, and so that means that he didn’t like me much after all. That, coupled with the memories and together with my general feeling that people shouldn’t bother with me as all I’ll do is become possessive and sad, has grown into a terrifying blend of shit.

What’s holding me together? I don’t know. If he talks to me about my emotions again, it’ll probably make him feel bad or tired or guilty, and I don’t want that. I hope he uses the logic of his own mental well-being as to why he realistically shouldn’t talk to me because I care about him and I don’t want to ruin anything. But I hate things coming to an end, knowing that there’s nothing I can do.

I’m hurt. I’m so damn hurt and the worst thing is that this will happen over and over, to me and to everyone else. That brings me back: what makes me so special? What makes me worthy of any attention besides the average? Nothing because I’m just one broken girl in a sky of millions.

Breakdowns are going to happen to me for a long while, but the likelihood is I won’t advertise them. If I pretend to be okay, maybe I will be; if I tell myself that people are tired of my shit, perhaps that’ll make me stop feeling like this. I can’t, though. I have no energy.

I miss him, and I miss Pansy. I want to know how they are, but at the same time I want to scream and tear at myself, to cry but to not worry anybody. However, the sheer fact that I’m posting this shows me that I want people to notice, which is so screwed up.

This is the most disjointed thing I’ve written; I’m sorry for the nonsensical ramblings. I’m extremely done with myself, so drained, and all I want is for me to care about me. I know that a lot of you care about me, which is one of the things that helps.

No more hoping, or wishing, or thinking “What if…?” Because the what ifs are smashed and the hopes burned and the wishes were all wasted on a star that is no longer in my galaxy.

From Elm πŸ™‚

1 Month and I’m No Better

Around this exact time, it’s a month since everything officially went to hell with my love life. A month. Admittedly to my surprise, I feel no better: in fact, cumulitively over the past few weeks, it’s all been screaming inside my mind.

If you don’t know what’s been happening, it’d be good to read this post and if you have time, posts relating to that situation, but that’s the starting point.

Oh my god; it actually happened. They kissed, a month ago, and even though there had been little breaks in my heart in the week before that, that night was when it finally shattered.

It’s a month since I told someone that I wanted to die, pacing up and down my room and gasping like I was choking, unable to comprehend truly how fragile I felt. How everything – not just this – had built up, into an unbearable chasm that tore itself around the edges. That feeling of wanting to die has surfaced more, emphasised by the fact that I haven’t properly spoken about this in a while except to two people (who helped me).

I am horrified. Silent tears in Paris are invading my mind, an embrace I wish meant more, but could never again. All of the negativity over the last year has roared into a crescendo. It’s almost too much, so I’m dealing with it all now.

Last night, and the night before, I cried so hard that my heart felt like it was bursting. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why this had to happen to me, why he couldn’t be a shittier person – because that would make it easier. Why now, I’m being ignored and why I feel so fucking lonely.

When I think about it, I’m terrified of my mind. There’s a history of bad mental health in my family, and I’ve been known to get violent towards myself and I don’t want that to turn into anything serious. At the moment, I can barely write through a haze of worry and panic and half-numbness.

I am not okay. I’m not alright; I sobbed a few minutes ago until I didn’t feel like me any more. Remembering everything, drowning in memories that were half-lovely and half-shards of pain, because how am I supposed to pick myself up? I’m wishing for something long gone and god, I want these awful attention-seeking tears to stop.

My hands clenched into fists, trying to reconcile with myself that this wasn’t even a noteworthy or serious thing. That really, being alone where I could let tears slide down my face was preferrable to anyone seeing me that way.

The heart of the matter is that I want the people that are involved with this situation to care, but at the same time, I want them to forget about me so that they can find happiness. I want them to know I’m sad, but i don’t because they don’t deserve to and I’m just one person. S and Pansy are wonderful people, and it’s just me here bitter and so miserable that I want to tear out my hair.

How did it come to this? When I thought I would be okay, in the days after, I envisioned me in a month’s time finding it easy to smile. I knew that it would take time, but I didn’t expect me to still be crying now.

What burns is that he’s moved on and I haven’t. I can’t. I still have feelings, stupid illogical feelings, and it hurts when my friends tell me he’s nothing but a dick because he isn’t. He has always told me the truth, and I’m not deluded into thinking like I did with Ash because I know the signs of that.

I’m not naive about THIS. I know exactly what messaging him and receiving no reply does to me; I know what it’s like when I think of them together, because they’re travelling with each other this weekend. When I realised that, I knew that my mind would invent scenarios of them being happier that I could ever be, and that started the cycle of me remembering I’d been replaced with a girl who’s a brilliant person.

The laughter. The good memories. They’ll have it, and I had it and I don’t any more. That simple reality is choking me, because I miss him and I miss it and I miss my easy smiles. Simple, solitary things remind me of it all: a certain phrase, someone talking a little like him, anything: it sets me off into a spiral of sadness that I can’t stop.

At school, I pretend to be at least semi-fine. Otherwise, I’ll break down, and never be able to get up again. My work’s okay, but I can’t pretend to be great any more. Not when I feel like the people that matter don’t care, when deep down, I know they do. It’s just everything in my mind telling me that when I cry, people are only pretending to help. That if I stop, nobody will remember.

I don’t blame myself for this, but I still hate myself. My clinginess, the fact that I’ve completely neglected my friends; I’ve shut myself off. It’s high time I realised that it’s over, get the hell over it, and stop my heart from feeling so incredibly void of love.

Why did I have to get cheated on? Why am I left behind; why do I still want to disappear? Only for a second – not permanently – but it’s still there. It’s not healthy and I want to get help. In fact, that’s something I will definitely do, because at the moment I need it.

I can’t be expected to let go right now. I’m too utterly screwed over from everything, and I almost don’t want to lose feelings for him yet because I’d be forcing it, and that would be worse. It’s important that I give myself time, that I ldon’t make myself do anything, because time heals all wounds.

I wish I could tell you that I’ll be happy soon, but I won’t. I’m just going to hold on and I know you’ll be here, as you have been for everything.

I’m sick of it. Sick of feeling broken, sick of being broken, and sick of feeling like everything I say is so melodramatic and over-the-top. Without me there, without even the thought of me, they’ll forget and move on and that’s good. I don’t want to taint anything, because at the root of it, I just want them to live and smile and love. If I’m just a speck on the indefinable horizon for them, it’s just life, and it will be okay.

There’s no conclusion to this. No “don’t worry about me” because as much as I believe you shouldn’t, I couldn’t change your mind if you are. No “this is what I’m going to do”, because right now I don’t care; maybe soon I can figure it out but all I want to do is cry.

No “I’ll find someone else” because I don’t want to. I can’t move on at the flick of a switch, and I’ve suppressed so many emotions over the last few months that they’re all going to come back and overload me.

I’m just going to be, and not pretend I’m doing good. I’m not – not yet, though I know I will be. Showing that to you will help me, in the end.

Love from Elm πŸ™‚

If I Shout Loud Enough

For the past hour, I’ve been on the edge of a complete emotional breakdown. Crying, sobbing, overwhelming pain – I can feel it just behind my eyes and in my heart, but it hasn’t broken out yet.

I suppose a total breakdown is overdue. I haven’t had one in two weeks – not since I saw S last – and that has made it so that now, I feel empty and numb. God knows how I’ll write this post, because earlier I was burning up with such sadness that I could barely breathe.

As stupid as this sounds, I feel like not many people properly care about me. That’s the root of the problem, isn’t it? But it’s not even that.

I know that people care about me. When it comes to the S situation, though, I feel as if I’m shouting into a void where no one’s listening. You guys listen, and about three of my friends, but apart from that? I don’t know who to turn to. In short, I don’t know what to do.

Two nights ago, I cried. Pitiful sobs, tears sliding down my face and onto my pillow, and it was the most awful feeling in the world. Then and now, I felt hollow and like my heart was bursting. It’s rare that I cry on my own, but there was an exception for that night; nobody knew about it because I was ashamed.

It hit me earlier that I feel attention-seeking. I am lonely, even when surrounded by people, but I feel like if I say something, people will laugh at me and not do anything about it. That goes for everything else – when does my pain get “old”? When do people no longer want to hear about it, when do they get sick of me constantly going on about it?

This specific worry has caused me to shut myself off a little. At the moment, I genuinely don’t think I’m worth the effort of having people ask me if I’m okay, yet still my little heart begs for it. I find that awful, but what else can I do?

“You alright?”
“Yep, I’m fine!” but they see the slight not-fine on my face. I’ve managed to hide most of it, so that people don’t see the true extent of how I feel inadequate, like I’m nothing. It’s payed off, because I can distract myself, but on days like these I can’t hold the raw hurt back.

It’s not that I blame S or Pansy – though I was cheated on, it wasn’t them that created this chaos in my head. Rather, it’s the situation plus all of the things that have happened over the past year, building up into a crescendo of god-awful mental health. If this carries on, I’ll become much more concerned, and I’ll get help for it even if I don’t think I deserve it.

Why I’m Feeling Awful
β€’ I’m pretty sure I’m being ignored by a fair few people and I can’t deal with that because I’m pathetic
β€’ I can’t move on at all
β€’ Every day they’ll be making happy and funny memories with each other and I won’t be
β€’ I miss multiple people so much that I feel cold
β€’ I tried to finish a song that I’m performing tomorrow and I couldn’t and now I feel disgusting
β€’ I know that I’m overreacting
β€’ I’m scared that I’m going to scratch at myself
β€’ I’m scared that I want to

One day, I’ll be okay but I’m so far from that now that I can’t kid myself that it’ll be soon. All of this has had far-reaching consequences on my mental state, such as the growing fear that I’ll never be enough for anyone and that I should give the fuck up. I’m half-laughing because never would I have thought this would be how I’d be feeling.

Why is it like this? Why do I feel so helpless, and why do I want to show people that? I shouldn’t, because that’s manipulative and cruel, but I suppose that’s human nature.

I’m shaking; tears are finally spilling over. Good. Maybe if I cry, it can get the misery out a bit. All I can feel is this dull pain whenever I think of them together, because I’m so drained. I’m not happy and they are and hell, the reality of that feels like a mark on my skin.

Replacement makes you feel shit. I want to be enough, to be held and loved but I can’t deal with that. My thoughts are ragged and alone and huddled in a corner because I’ve let them out. Not being able to write that song today caused the most accute feeling of self-hatred, further amplified by the knowledge that how I spoke to him before will never happen again.

I don’t know how to explain how truly bad I feel, but I hope I’ve shown you a little. It’s good that you can get inside my head, that you respect me enough to read my posts.

Perhaps if I scream loud enough, someone will hear. Perhaps if I stay silent, people can move on with their lives and love who they want to love without feeling guilty because of me. Because really, am I worth anything? I was a first, and the first is never usually the last.

I have no clue.

From Elm πŸ™‚