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I dunno but i’m just going to write down everything that is running through my head right now. but I honestly do not understand any of this. It started with small argument between my parents in the past year or so, slowly building up getting more and more severe over small things neither would listen to the other because the other wouldn’t listen to them. Things got worse but they concealed it from me and my little sister who is still ignorant. Slowly my dad got more and more possessive and controlling, while my mother slowly ceased to really care. They got agitated over more and more trifling subjects. It took a while but things started to look up when it seemed like my sister had a shot at getting on the junior british squad for her sport. The pair of them went to the pub, it seemed like a normal evening of mid november, but when they came back they came back separately. My mum went to go back to bed and my dad smashed open the back door and started screaming at my mum, and my mother screamed back complaining that he had kicked her in the shin. (Her lower legs were swollen at the time due to “underlying” health issues according to the doctor. So i went down to mediate the situation and remind them that my sister was asleep. I left once the situation looked under control. A short while later the shouting started again, this time more serious than before. I didn’t intervene as my mother left the house. I found out later that evening my father had threatened to kill my mother. But before this i thought everything would calm down. But i could hear smashing and crashing so i thought perhaps he’d hurt himself. So i went to see what was happening to find my dad smashing everything up, from the kitchen to the front lounge. Only to end up haveing bit of the kitchen unit lobbed at me. So i swiftly left to my room. I sorted out my room with enough space for my little sister, I got her from her room and put her near me. Cause ever fiber of my mind had judged my dad as a threat to myself and my sister. I thought maybe he’ll calm down and go to sleep. Not too long later he stormed in screaming “I’ll kill her, if she’s not back in 10 minutes. I’ll kill her. Tell her that.” It took him awhile to realised he’d scared the shit out of my sister. As soon as it was quiet enough to leave, i took my sister and we left the house. I didn’t care that it was 4 am. All I knew is my dad wasn’t sane, sober or thinking straight and a danger to myself and my sisters well being. I walked down the road with my sister and across to the local shops planning to go to my friends. Yeah i was just going to waltz into my best friends house and sleep on the sofa with my sister. but my mums friend phoned me telling me she’d phoned the police and they were coming to drop us off at hers, which is where my mum had fled too. We waited for the police, until they came. My little sister rather panicked, over what had happened was occurring. My mum decided we were going to go stay with her parents for a while so we spent almost two months there. No college for me, no school for my sister. My mother she was and emotional wreck and still is. Well both me and my sister decided we’d see him on weekends eventually. But currently they’re both bitching about the other. neither has realised that they issues upstairs arn’t going to be solved like that. You know for a while I was the sane mind, in the family. Ha yeah me Who trusts almost no one. And certainly relies on no one. But in the end I became emotionless as i was over my nans death. Yeah i liked her. But for some reason I had still have no feeling on the event and what occurred. But you know its not just that, my mother is trying to be someone she’s not and is now seriously suffering from depression and barely getting anything done. My father he’s spinning a web of words into my little sister ear, he can try all he likes to spin his web with me but i know the trick as i taught it to myself to knock the bullies down in school. So now my father probably doesn’t realise he’s polluting my sisters mind and she is saying thoughtless things around my mother that is sinking her deeper into depression. What are my feeling on this, I think about what each of them has done to wrong me. Then tally them up. But for some reason on this whole matter i have no emotions, all I want to do is LEAVE. but i know i can’t leave my sister to sit there and be broken by both of my parents shattered emotions, words & deceit. But when it comes down to it both my parents have made me feel like i’m worthless, and never going to amount to anything. It is one thing to be told these words by your peers but when your own parents say the words, it becomes a part of you. That you never escape. And to be honest, ever since my father backed up the word of my peers. I’ve felt like even if i try i’m going to fail. So why bother smiling and trying and continueing if you're only going to fail and never amount to anything. I’ll tell you something if it wasn’t for my best friend who fell in to anxiety issues and depression. I wouldn’t be here. Cause everyday I wake up thinking how stupid I am how fat, worthless and how i’m never going to make it through life, every single Stupid, Dumb or things i’ve done wrong throughout my life flashes through my mind. And everytime I try to sleep the same things flash through my mind till i have to cry myself to sleep. But that one thing that keeps me going everyday, is that I care for my friends before I care for myself. So I try to forget, everything that makes me upset, feel worthless all for the sake of my friend I smile and pretend i’m okay. I have this issue that I can’t cry when people are around, because after all I can’t trust or rely on anyone but myself. So I try my best never to look like these are the thoughts running through my head. So in the end I just become numb, neutral. It looks like i don’t care but I care, I do. They think no matter what we say you’ll be fine, it won’t affect you. they’re words and actions sting more than anything else. In the end the person I can’t forgive the most is myself. So today I wrote this to tell you all, because you can’t alway not explain sometimes you need to explain it to another to explain it to yourself. When I was younger i wanted to kill myself. Today I just want to leave and start anew, somewhere away from where I grew up and different from how i’ve lived till now. If you read this thanks, just for reading it. Just knowing that someone had read about my situation from myself I hope it lift my burden slightly. Cause I know that just writing this has lifted it a lot.

It's been difficult lately for tim, and frustrating for me. Depression is such a hard thing to live with, both for the one that suffers through it and the people around them. Try as he might, and I am not surprised by it, tim tries to push away the bad things he feels. It is a constant fight for him. People say he's a man, he should put the past behind him. Move on, fuhgeddaboudit! he does, a lot, but with his dad's passing, well, I wish the brain had real door that can be locked. It doesn't and it's the same for all of us I think. If your past wants to catch up with you, you rarely can out run it. Yesterday it caught up with him. Like a runaway train, it caught him, and flattened him. he is okay ... but my frustration brought out some words: Darkened Days I know that he suffers I know his world is grey Nothing that I can do, Will take his pain away I can love him with my body I can kiss away the tears But I will never be man enough To banish forever, his fears I try and show him life is good I try and point out sunny skies But it's life that's done this to him And it's that I cannot disguise He clings to me on darkened days He clings to the light I offer All I can do is hold him tight And whisper: I always be your harbour I love you, boy xo

Many of you suffer from depression, like i do. it's a daily fight, a life filled with cycles of sadness, blackness, like carrying sandbags when it is at it's worst. usually i shut down, don't talk, don't work, the real me is flattened under the living darkness. Michael, my husband, said, as does my shrink, to try writing about it, speaking out, though writing is the last thing i really want to do. sleep. sleep is what i want to do, only that. But i can't, there is work, right? and Michael and home. shit still needs doing no matter how you feel, right? that's what drugs are for!! a nice anti depressant for breakfast! i take it, the pill. along with my regular meds. i resent them you know.. i really do. the small handful of pills i am given daily. Michael doles them out like a nurse on the psych ward. That sounds mean. i mean He does it for me, cuz he loves me, he cares and he knows ignoring the pills is how i cope with the medical issues i have. i take them. but i still hate them. maybe that's a good thing. the hate. means i'm still alive and fighting, right? somewhere in this long, dark, tunnel i am still fighting

Living with mental illness and depression is difficult. Having a partner who suffers, is also challenging, but I will not let him down. I am proud of him and he is worth all my love and effort. I watch the ghosts of your past Swamp and overwhelm you Though I intervene, too often Their pull is greater than my power But always I will be your tether And safety net, I will not let you fall

Had my second counseling session yesterday. Honestly not sure how effective they are. Things are, ever so very slowly, getting better. Getting easier to think of the good times and the memories without hyperventilating or collapsing into a pile of tears. Doesn't look that professional when it happens at work. Biggest hurdles for me are still the guilt of not having told him that I loved him -- even though I know he knew I did, and I know he felt the same way about me; and letting go of the idealized version of our next date, which would have been so very soon, when we had so many firsts planned. The feeling of having waited too long for those things -- even though I know that if I had pushed him too fast he would have bolted and ran. He was so afraid of being hurt again. A special place in hells for someone who hurts someone else that badly. Still odd random things that will trigger a wave of pain and grief. I love you my baby - you will always be your daddy's boy. 💗

My friend S had me call the cemetery yesterday, to check to see if C's family had ordered a headstone yet, or if they needed more cash -- those things are expensive. The cemetery sent a letter to his father, but I think they have the wrong address (they sent it within this state but last I knew, from not too many month's ago, his father lived one state over); but you'd think they would have confirmed the address they have on file??? They'll send another letter (to the same, possibly incorrect, address) saying that there is an anonymous person willing to assist with the funds needed for the headstone. S said I should just call his sister. I don't think she understands why I can't do that -- not now at least. I know - at least I think I know - the most likely reason why she didn't call me, but...... it still hurts that she didn't. And due to living with depression my entire life, there's this little voice whispering in the back of my mind that says maybe she didn't call because in spite of everything we talked about and everything we said through txt, C really didn't feel about me the way I think, the way I know, he did. We didn't discuss his family much. I'd have to hunt up her number online, but I could find her if I tried. A final reason is when we visited his grave, there was nothing there -- no other flowers, nothing; just bare dirt. It hurt so much to see that. I had expected to have to have found at least one small group of artificial flowers at least. I just don't think I could talk to C's sis without either breaking down or loosing my temper - or doing both. I hate feeling like an outsider intruding into "their business" That was at 3pm. Off and on throughout the rest of last night I had waves of crushing grief slam into me. Grief I haven't felt since the night I found his obit online. Surprised my blood pressure is still stable. Going to stop typing now. There seems to be water falling from my eyes.

I'd almost forgotten I even had this blog. Figure, since I'm back, it's time I post something again, so I thought I might talk a bit about why I've been gone for so long and what's up with my mental health situation, which is a lot, actually. First of all, I've been on some medication for the past five years that eventually sapped me of all my creativity. I've been virtually unable to write for over two years, only managing to pen the odd scene or jot down a plot idea here and there, which is really fucking inconvenient for me, because writing is such a big part of who I am. I quit taking those meds this summer, and immediately, the ideas began to flow, and I got the urge to write, and I literally couldn't help but do so. Add to that my current hypomania, and this explains why I just wrote a 60k word novel in three weeks. I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder back in January. For years, I've been carrying around a major depressive disorder diagnosis, and though I've been in constant therapy during that time, it took them that long to realise what was actually wrong with me. Having the correct diagnosis is a blessing. Finally, I understand why I am the way I am. I can look back at things I've done and understand why I did them (such as the time I decided out of the blue that, to hell with the music and the writing, I want to be an astrophysicist! It was a resounding failure, obviously, as I don't even know maths). I now recognise hypomania. I understand that my depressive episodes are triggered by stress (as are my hypomanic ones). I understand what's going on in my brain and my body when I feel a certain way. And I'm on the right medication, finally. One that doesn't utterly murder my creativity. I was gone for such a long time because I couldn't write, and being here reminded me that I couldn't write. It reminded me of how shitty I felt about that, and I felt ashamed and embarrassed for not managing to finish my stories. Now, that's no longer the case. Now, I'm finishing everything. And I feel so good about it. I know I might crash at any time. Hopefully when I do, my medication will prevent me from crashing too hard. And hopefully, as has been the case during depressive episodes before I started on those fucking meds, I will be able to continue to write through it. I really hope I will. And I want to make myself stick around here, too, no matter my mental state, because honestly, I've really missed this place, and all the people here, and some of them have even disappeared while I've been gone and that breaks my heart. Still, I'm here now. And I'm not planning on going anywhere.

Warning: This is me whining, but trying to get my thoughts in order by writing them out. I left work early today not knowing if I was going to start screaming or crying; or just start doing both. This week has not been a good one. The weather keeps shifting back and forth by large jumps so the joints can't get back in balance before the next front hits. This is keeping my pain level above normal, and that is increasing my depression, and that is increasing my level of irritation. Partly because of this and partly -- I think -- because of the increased feelings for SP, C has been on my mind a lot the last few days. SP knows something is up because he reminded me he was there if I needed to talk. I wasn't going to because I don't want him to think he's competing for my love with a ghost, but I'm finding that to be deceitful; lies of omission. So I've decided I need to talk to him about C being in my dreams and how that relates to our beginnings. I'm pretty sure that SP will understand where these things are coming from. I've already said that my love for C will always be there. That won't fade as my love for SP grows, and he is aware of that. He actually brought up polyamory, and that is what led to that conversation. It's nice to be dating someone who is open to the idea of polyamory and the possibility of finding a third -- for the long term -- once our foundation is set. I Will Love You by Gin Wigmore came on this morning and I thought I was going to break down in my office - "So if you die before I do, I know the heartache will kill me too. So if I ever live again, It will be to find you." My brother sent a txt this afternoon telling me to call him when I had a chance. He never does that so I knew it wasn't good news. They brought dad from Skilled Nursing back to where he's been living for the last 9 years. Both my brother and I thought his memory would be better once he was back in familiar surroundings, but... doesn't look like it's going to be. He really didn't remember the building. He remembered the tractor in front of his door and a few other things but asked if he had lived there before. He didn't quite remember the person who's been cleaning his room for the last several years (who was sweet enough to come see him when he was in the hospital). Dad's also lost weight (11 pounds), which isn't good, and he's not as strong walking as he has been just a few days ago. Something is still wrong with his back. Nothing is broken but there's still too much pain for there to be nothing wrong. He did ask my sister in law if "this place can take care of my needs" so there is some self-recognition that he is going to need help. A good chance he'll be moved either to Assisted Living or Nursing Home in the morning. I know my brother is bothered by this, as am I; but it's the best thing for him. I need to try to call my brother back and get more info. He had to hang up when we were talking this afternoon because dad needed something. I hope to see SP tonight, but it probably won't be until tomorrow. I know I'm a mental mess at the moment. I need him but, at the same time, am afraid of letting him see me in this mental state.

Stayed home today to, as the boss said, try to "reset" myself. Work has been stressful recently, but it always is this time of year; just seems extra stressful this year. I know part of that of loss -- of my love, of my aunt -- and part of that the weather, which has been keeping my pain level much higher than normal. Consistent high pain makes it difficult to deal with the stress and increases my depression; increased depression makes it harder to deal with the pain; and soon I'm "circling the drain" so to speak. I know my coworkers are concerned about me.

Life's curves I don't know, I get so confused sometimes. I listen to people talk, read stories (fiction, i know) and like all stories there's usually a grain of truth in them. They do came from someone's experiences. Like it's been said, there's nothing new under the sun. Years ago I admitted to a friend that being gay scared me not because of what other people thought, since I had been through so much already by the age of 27 to worry with opinions not my own. It scared me because I never saw any older gay couples and I didn't want to die alone. I think the fear of dying alone made me reach out through the internet to feel close to more people since I was limited at home. Through all the chemo, radiation, and other crap I had to deal with, I was always scared of dying alone. I mean I knew my parents would always be there for me, but I mean that someone, that special someone. Yet the more I learn about life, the more I feel alone. I don't even know why I'm writing this. I'm not in remission yet, but I should be soon. So, I guess I'm getting better. There's still the bone marrow transplant donor to find and do. But, things are looking better again. Yet, I also see now that I missed out on so much as a teenager. I think I would trade my life today to have had a normal life as a teenager. Making all the mistakes and finding the new experiences. I guess I'm making a fool of myself. Tonight I set up most of the night reading a long story on nifty and envied the characters, even the sad ones. At least they got to experience life. I guess after so many years of battling my battles, I'm starting to become a little bitter over it. I do treasure my online friends, even some of the old guys that pretended to be teens before they either literally died from old age or disappeared. Life isn't always fair, in fact, it rarely is. But, I have to have the hope and belief that if you pour yourself into life, in the long run, it's all worth it. I am however real enough to know that's not always true. And it saddens me to see people have to deal with the worst life can throw at you. I wish the world wasn't like that. And like I said earlier, I dunno why I'm writing this, but here it is, raw, unedited me. Please, if you feel you can't take anymore, it will get better. There's nothing life can throw at us that we can't over come or find a way around it, it will get better. Nothing last forever, including the bad times, it will get better. Reach out to someone, talk to someone, share your feelings, it will get better. Never ever give up, it will get better. There are organizations that are there to help us through the bad times, it will get better. The Trevor Project is just one of those, reach out to them, support their work, it will get better. The Trevor Project

I’ve always been undergoing psychotherapy since I was 11 or 12, now I’m 26, due to depression, anxiety, among other things. I’ve had lots of psychotherapists, most were women, two therapists were man, one of them is my current therapist. He’s my therapist for about 5 months give or take. I don’t know why but I feel more comfortable having a male therapist. My first and last male therapist was really good and handsome, he was way older than me and married, also I was in a steady relationship at that time, so I didn’t feel anything special other for him on the personal side, though I had to stop my sessions due to some financial problems back then. However, my current therapist… I don’t know how to convey what I feel for him, so I’m just going to say that I’m really, really into him. My current therapist is very nice, thoughtful, kind, helpful and has always been there for me during my worst moments, a really good professional. Since the beginning of our sessions I started to feel something for him and this feeling has been growing bigger and bigger, I don’t think it’s love, maybe it is, but I really feel like I’d want to be with him all day long. Sometimes I believe I don’t want to date him or have a relationship, but I’d just like to make out with him. I know that it’s not possible because he’s my therapist and I don’t even know whether he’s gay and I think he’s not. One day, during a session, I was feeling that I wanted to hold him and kiss him so badly that I had to tell him and I did it right away, that day, like three months ago, I told him that I was into him and I kept thinking about it all the time. He was very kind and said it was natural due to our bond that was built during the sessions, but things couldn’t go beyond the professional relationship, like therapist and patient. Well, I didn’t get over it. Today I had another session and I can’t stop thinking of him. I’ve already hung out with other men, but my therapist is still inside my mind and it’s consuming me to the point of hindering my attention during the sessions. I don’t know what to do. I’m thinking about talking to him about it again, but I believe it won’t be a solution. I’ve already told some friends about this situation, but I got the same advice. But, again, I just can’t stop this feeling. I also think about giving up on him and look for another therapist, but he’s a good professional and I really like his work, also it’s really difficult to find good therapists, I know, I’ve had many. I’m really confused, kind of distraught right now. I don’t want to give up on a great professional, but I can’t get over these feelings. Have you ever gone through this kind of situation or something similar? What did you do? If you haven’t, what would you do? Thank you, guys. PS: I’m not a native English speaker, so please go easy on my mistakes, but feel free to kindly correct me if you like, I’d be happy to improve.