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>> 4/14/2025
I want to make a more positive post today, because I should probably be at least trying
to change how I think, right? Gonna be hard, but I do have a topic for this that's gonna make it pretty easy.
I love my husband. I love him so much. This year, back in March, we hit our 10th anniversary of being together, and first year being married. I moved countries to be with this mf, he's my favorite person on the planet and I feel so lucky that he's mine.
Maybe some day I'll make a shrine page for him, but for now I'll just yap.
There's a lot I could point to and praise him for... He's back in school for the second time (he already has a liscense to be an RNA) and passing all of his classes, he treats my issues with repect and has no problems with accomodating me, he doesn't hold grudges, he's not resentful, he's got patience that rivals the gods. Or whatever's out there. It doesn't matter, he's just the best of the best and my chest aches just thinking about it.
He and I also share just about every interest, save for a few on either side. There are things we disagree on, things one of us likes that the other doesn't, but for the most part we match up. I've never met someone like this before. In fact, I think I'd be hard pressed to find anyone else out there I can even tolerate, but I'm obsessed with this man.
I think about him all the time and I miss him when he's gone for even just a little while. We were long distance for 6 years, and I never once stopped wanting him around. I never got bored. I never wanted anyone else.
I started writing this earlier in the day, but left it for a bit. We ended up going on a night walk that we just got back from, and while my mind was as busy as ever and my wariness of everyone around me persisted, I'm glad I went. We saw some really gorgeous night views, the lights of the city reflecting off of the lake was especially beautiful. And of course, despite my anticipating it, nothing even remotely bad happened.
I need to have more moments like this with him. I need to face all of my fears and get over this. I want more good memories with him. My everything.
I want to make a more positive post today, because I should probably be at least trying
to change how I think, right? Gonna be hard, but I do have a topic for this that's gonna make it pretty easy.
I love my husband. I love him so much. This year, back in March, we hit our 10th anniversary of being together, and first year being married. I moved countries to be with this mf, he's my favorite person on the planet and I feel so lucky that he's mine.
Maybe some day I'll make a shrine page for him, but for now I'll just yap.
There's a lot I could point to and praise him for... He's back in school for the second time (he already has a liscense to be an RNA) and passing all of his classes, he treats my issues with repect and has no problems with accomodating me, he doesn't hold grudges, he's not resentful, he's got patience that rivals the gods. Or whatever's out there. It doesn't matter, he's just the best of the best and my chest aches just thinking about it.
He and I also share just about every interest, save for a few on either side. There are things we disagree on, things one of us likes that the other doesn't, but for the most part we match up. I've never met someone like this before. In fact, I think I'd be hard pressed to find anyone else out there I can even tolerate, but I'm obsessed with this man.
I think about him all the time and I miss him when he's gone for even just a little while. We were long distance for 6 years, and I never once stopped wanting him around. I never got bored. I never wanted anyone else.
I started writing this earlier in the day, but left it for a bit. We ended up going on a night walk that we just got back from, and while my mind was as busy as ever and my wariness of everyone around me persisted, I'm glad I went. We saw some really gorgeous night views, the lights of the city reflecting off of the lake was especially beautiful. And of course, despite my anticipating it, nothing even remotely bad happened.
I need to have more moments like this with him. I need to face all of my fears and get over this. I want more good memories with him. My everything.
>> 4/12/2025
Yesterday was fucking horrible, and my journal entry on it is a little dramatic, but I'm going to leave it where it is. I
don't see any reason why I should be embarrassed of it or get rid of it, but I woke up today feeling different.
Maybe it's just resiliance slowly re-building up within me, or maybe having an insane moment like yesterday vented something off of me that's letting me see things with more clarity. I dunno. But today I feel more determined to fix my life than I have in ages.
It's really like some kind of fog lifted, I can see where so many of my own flaws lie, and I want to fix them and get better, but the trick now is finding out what exactly I'm capable of and if it will be enough to turn things around.
I keep thinking back to how I used to feel about the world. In fact, it kinda plagues me. But that was before the psychosis that brought in a kind of depression I've never encountered before. Not inside myself, at any rate. I've never been this suicidal and afraid of the world.
The obvious answer to anyone who finds this is that I need therapy, I'm sure, but that's a whole other can of worms. As things are now, it's pretty impossible for me to seek out that kind of help. I need to figure this shit out on my own, I need to deal with it myself as much as I can.
For now, all there is to do is see what tomorrow brings. Which is honestly so scary.
Yesterday was fucking horrible, and my journal entry on it is a little dramatic, but I'm going to leave it where it is. I
don't see any reason why I should be embarrassed of it or get rid of it, but I woke up today feeling different.
Maybe it's just resiliance slowly re-building up within me, or maybe having an insane moment like yesterday vented something off of me that's letting me see things with more clarity. I dunno. But today I feel more determined to fix my life than I have in ages.
It's really like some kind of fog lifted, I can see where so many of my own flaws lie, and I want to fix them and get better, but the trick now is finding out what exactly I'm capable of and if it will be enough to turn things around.
I keep thinking back to how I used to feel about the world. In fact, it kinda plagues me. But that was before the psychosis that brought in a kind of depression I've never encountered before. Not inside myself, at any rate. I've never been this suicidal and afraid of the world.
The obvious answer to anyone who finds this is that I need therapy, I'm sure, but that's a whole other can of worms. As things are now, it's pretty impossible for me to seek out that kind of help. I need to figure this shit out on my own, I need to deal with it myself as much as I can.
For now, all there is to do is see what tomorrow brings. Which is honestly so scary.
>> 4/11/2025
My skull's been buzzing lately. There's some kind of desire in the back of my head that keeps poking at me, wanting me
to be more. Wanting me to toughen up, roll with the punches and get the hell out of this emotional pit. But it doesn't feel like
the desire alone is quite enough.
How much bullshit can a person just roll with before they fucking kill themselves? I feel like I'm gonna find out the answer to that soon, if things don't change.
And it's not for my lack of trying that I'm stuck here. I have been fighting to stay alive for the past year and a half. I am pushing myself to do the hard thing, the thing I don't want to do but should for my own good, and it doesn't fucking matter.
You can try and you can try, but if there is something sucking all your energy and joy out, it will end up killing you. It doesn't matter how tough you think you are, either, because you won't be after dealing with it over and over and over again. The ultimatum always ends up being about whether you're going to leave it behind and live, or stay and let it end you.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I feel like I don't fucking exist. The world feels fake... and full of monsters. I don't know what's actually real. Every day I wake up in limbo. I miss who I used to be.
My skull's been buzzing lately. There's some kind of desire in the back of my head that keeps poking at me, wanting me
to be more. Wanting me to toughen up, roll with the punches and get the hell out of this emotional pit. But it doesn't feel like
the desire alone is quite enough.
How much bullshit can a person just roll with before they fucking kill themselves? I feel like I'm gonna find out the answer to that soon, if things don't change.
And it's not for my lack of trying that I'm stuck here. I have been fighting to stay alive for the past year and a half. I am pushing myself to do the hard thing, the thing I don't want to do but should for my own good, and it doesn't fucking matter.
You can try and you can try, but if there is something sucking all your energy and joy out, it will end up killing you. It doesn't matter how tough you think you are, either, because you won't be after dealing with it over and over and over again. The ultimatum always ends up being about whether you're going to leave it behind and live, or stay and let it end you.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I feel like I don't fucking exist. The world feels fake... and full of monsters. I don't know what's actually real. Every day I wake up in limbo. I miss who I used to be.
>> 4/8/2025
It's here. My least favorite day on the calendar... A day of misfortune and death and life changing tragedy. It doesn't
seem fair, but I guess that's because it isn't. I guess after so many years dealing with this, I feel like I should have gotten over it.
Truly, though, I don't think I ever will, no matter how many times I'm told to by myself and others.
I have vented about this before, but never at any real length. Social media doesn't really allow for in-depth explainations; It feels too immediate and raw. So, let's see if I can get my feelings out here where my words will be obscured by the dust in this corner of the web.
On April 8th of 2001, my dad was taken from me and my family suddenly and violently. I was 5 years old, three weeks away from turning 6. I vaguely remember my family's attempt at throwing me a happy birthday party that year despite it all, but what I remember more is reaching my little hand into his casket to touch his cold, waxy corpse.
I shouldn't have been allowed to do this, but every adult at the time was so distraught, I guess it was kind of inevitable. I remember how shocking it was to experience. I didn't expect him to feel solid like a stone, and just as cold as one, too. It freaked me out, I remember asking my aunt about it and she gave me some shitty, untrue answer. Not that I blame her, what was she going to do? Explain to a 6 year old that its dad had actually been drained of his blood and it was all replaced with a chemical compound known as Formaldehyde, which preserves the body and- Yeah. Get real.
For a time after that I thought you turned to stone when you slept. Dumbass kid.
I do not remember his funeral in the least, and that is by far the most unnerving thing I deal with in relation to his death now. There is nothing there. No inklings of music that was played, no spotty memories of the church, nothing. It is truly as if it never happened. Especially since I can't get anyone who was an adult at the time to explain anything to me. I want the memory back, but there's no way for me to reach it. Dad's death is like some unspeakable thing. No one ever wants to think about how he was taken from us. It makes it difficult to remember him at all.
Fairly often I wonder what life would have been like had he not been killed. I wonder if I would even like him, or if I would find him overbearing and impossible. Maybe some of the terrible shit that's happened since his death could have been avoided, maybe my family wouldn't have broken into a bunch of tiny little pieces. Maybe we would have been normal, you know? Funny thought.
I don't know what to do with myself. Every time this day rolls around it's a toss-up on if I'll blissfully forget what day it is, or take a look at the calendar. Either way, a crushing wave of depression never fails to meet me here. I feel numb to the world, emotionally and physically. There is nothing on this planet that I want to do. Depression at its finest, y'know.
Well, anyway. Here's to another year without him, somehow still alive. It's been 24 years now, and soon I'll be the age he was when he passed. There's only a little time left. I don't know what to fucking do. What a horrible thought.
And of course I haven't forgotten about Pelle; he shares a death day with my dad with exactly 10 years in between them. He is also very important to me. I'll have to plant some flowers for them both in the memory garden down at the local cemetary. Then drink myself fucking blind.
It's here. My least favorite day on the calendar... A day of misfortune and death and life changing tragedy. It doesn't
seem fair, but I guess that's because it isn't. I guess after so many years dealing with this, I feel like I should have gotten over it.
Truly, though, I don't think I ever will, no matter how many times I'm told to by myself and others.
I have vented about this before, but never at any real length. Social media doesn't really allow for in-depth explainations; It feels too immediate and raw. So, let's see if I can get my feelings out here where my words will be obscured by the dust in this corner of the web.
On April 8th of 2001, my dad was taken from me and my family suddenly and violently. I was 5 years old, three weeks away from turning 6. I vaguely remember my family's attempt at throwing me a happy birthday party that year despite it all, but what I remember more is reaching my little hand into his casket to touch his cold, waxy corpse.
I shouldn't have been allowed to do this, but every adult at the time was so distraught, I guess it was kind of inevitable. I remember how shocking it was to experience. I didn't expect him to feel solid like a stone, and just as cold as one, too. It freaked me out, I remember asking my aunt about it and she gave me some shitty, untrue answer. Not that I blame her, what was she going to do? Explain to a 6 year old that its dad had actually been drained of his blood and it was all replaced with a chemical compound known as Formaldehyde, which preserves the body and- Yeah. Get real.
For a time after that I thought you turned to stone when you slept. Dumbass kid.
I do not remember his funeral in the least, and that is by far the most unnerving thing I deal with in relation to his death now. There is nothing there. No inklings of music that was played, no spotty memories of the church, nothing. It is truly as if it never happened. Especially since I can't get anyone who was an adult at the time to explain anything to me. I want the memory back, but there's no way for me to reach it. Dad's death is like some unspeakable thing. No one ever wants to think about how he was taken from us. It makes it difficult to remember him at all.
Fairly often I wonder what life would have been like had he not been killed. I wonder if I would even like him, or if I would find him overbearing and impossible. Maybe some of the terrible shit that's happened since his death could have been avoided, maybe my family wouldn't have broken into a bunch of tiny little pieces. Maybe we would have been normal, you know? Funny thought.
I don't know what to do with myself. Every time this day rolls around it's a toss-up on if I'll blissfully forget what day it is, or take a look at the calendar. Either way, a crushing wave of depression never fails to meet me here. I feel numb to the world, emotionally and physically. There is nothing on this planet that I want to do. Depression at its finest, y'know.
Well, anyway. Here's to another year without him, somehow still alive. It's been 24 years now, and soon I'll be the age he was when he passed. There's only a little time left. I don't know what to fucking do. What a horrible thought.
And of course I haven't forgotten about Pelle; he shares a death day with my dad with exactly 10 years in between them. He is also very important to me. I'll have to plant some flowers for them both in the memory garden down at the local cemetary. Then drink myself fucking blind.