Say It Louder

There’s something that’s been begging me to write about this, so here it is.

 

This is important.. 1 in 5 people suffer from a mental illness, that’s outstanding. There are so many people who refuse to get help. There are so many people that have no clue that what is “wrong” with them is due to a chemical imbalance.

We all know I’ve been very open on here about my life and my mental health struggles, at times too open. The sole purpose of my opening up was to get other people to realize that they aren’t alone in feeling a certain way and that there are actually people who understand. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for an anonymous twitter user who shared her story with mental illness. I remember reading her story almost four years ago, the tears poured out of me as I finally found that someone else felt the exact same way I did.. and my feelings didn’t make me crazy. I happened across her story and my only hope is that my story does the same for someone else.

I’d forgotten how good it felt to write. I’d forgotten how good it felt to let my feelings flow through my fingers.

My entire life, I thought I was crazy, granted everyone only ever called me crazy. I was labeled over emotional and absolutely insane by my family and peers. I didn’t grow up in a white picket fence house. I grew up in a damaging environment where everyone was more or less fucked up than I was. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have low self esteem. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t followed by a black cloud.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve battled depression and anxiety. Anxiety goes back as far as being 6, when I would hide in my room from my uncle and peel the wall because I was afraid of him. Depression has always been an uphill battle that I beat on most days, but when I was 8 I was sure I was insane for having thoughts of peaceful death. Events a few years later, led to self mutilation and reckless drinking at the bright age of 14. The older I got the more I realized that perhaps I truly did need help.

Having nowhere to turn I went to the internet, which led me to what I had thought.. Depression. I remember the day I had finally gotten the guts to tell  my mother I needed help, to which she replied, you’re crazy.  The words that I’d already heard from guys in school where now being used by my mother and I started believing them.  I labeled myself for years with the word crazy. Having so many tell me that I was, I no longer tried to fight it. With the label, low self esteem and stress from a less than pleasant home life lead to destroy myself with food. The depression lead me to food and I learned to eat my feelings instead of actually dealing with them. Weight gain, poor grades, low self esteem, anxiety and depression all surrounded me throughout high school but still.. everyone only saw crazy.

When I decided to get help four years ago, it was the best decision I’d made in my short life. It felt better to know that I wasn’t in fact, crazy. It was liberating to know that I wasn’t alone in fighting something I couldn’t control.. an illness. Getting help was never something that I was afraid of, I did have some reservations. I did wonder what people would think of me for going to therapy but that was my own ignorance; it was the stigma that encompasses mental health. Having someone listen to me and tell me that what I’m going through is normal and not in anyway my fault was liberating. I was able to realize and decipher why I was feeling a certain way. I was able to learn ways to cope with my depression and anxiety.

Nothing makes me feel better than hearing people say that they are getting help. Celebrities are coming out left and right encouraging people to speak up because not enough people do. We need to talk about it more. We need to do more so that people can start getting treated because it’s so hard to find good quality help and it’s even harder to find affordable help. It’s like taboo to speak of mental illness and no one likes to talk about it because it makes them uncomfortable. I’m tired of there being a stigma surrounding what it means to be mentally ill. I’m tired of people being okay with me breaking my arm but not with my mind being a little bit sick.

The problem is we all grow up thinking that our brain, the powerhouse, can’t breakdown. We grow up thinking that our brain is too strong. There’s this stigma and so much misinformation. I’ll admit I contributed to the stigma at one point… A few months ago, when I was diagnosed with PTSD, I looked at my psychiatrist as if she were insane. I heard her words but I didn’t believe that I had that. I think we all think this to an extent, we all think of a war hero when we think of someone who suffers from PTSD. We think of someone who’s seen some shit, who’s been through hell and back… Literally. I had this awful thought that PTSD was something you “earned” because you fought for something bigger than yourself. I had this mentality, and it’s hard to change because there’s so much we don’t know but it is possible to change it. We can end the stigma around mental illness. We just have to speak up .

 

I learned to take care of myself, mentally. I learned to be nice to myself and I learned to let go of people who just don’t want what’s best for me. Some days are still terrible. Truthfully, the past few weeks.. the past month, has been the absolute hardest I’ve had in a long while. I hadn’t been taking care of myself and it made the fall that much harder. I’ve been having a hard time.. and that’s okay because I know that tomorrow I can take care of myself and do better. Everyday is not going to be great and that’s okay, it’s perfectly normal. It’s okay to fall apart, as long as you remember that you have to get back up .

 

If you’re struggling and need someone to talk to, know that I’m always free to talk or listen. You’re welcome to message me anyway you please or reach out to someone.. You’re not alone in this.

 

Ellyx

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Never Going Back

When I was four, I watched my grandma hack a chickens head off; I didn’t eat that night. At age 8, I held a goats leg as my dad skinned it, I didn’t eat that night either. You would think I would have become vegan or vegetarian having seen those things since being so young, it didn’t.

So what made it click in my mind what I was doing every time I ate an animal?  I watched the awful truth that is the food industry. I watched everything until I was sick to my stomach and even then I kept watching. I had turned a blind eye because I wasn’t there to see the animal die.

Six weeks ago, I decided to stop adding to the death toll. I decided to stop being a hypocrite when it came to loving my pets but turning around and eating a different animal.

It was an ethical choice but it was also for environmental reasons. I’m not going to sit here and try to throw all the facts because the truth is there’s just too much information. I will however link where I found everything.

People love to ask what I’m doing when it comes to being healthy and happy. However, ever since my answer has been “veganism” they treat me as though I’ve insulted them.
My choices are just that, my choices. I do the things I do for my reasons.

I’ve felt the need to speak out and share what I know from my experiences with you all, because I know a lot of you care. The day I decided to go vegan was not planned, I had planned to watch documentaries but I hadn’t expected it to impact me the way it did.. I had always known that animals died whenever I ate meat but in a way I blocked it out of my head. I blocked it because honestly none of us want to think about the fact that the animals we are eating had a mom, a dad and even siblings.

After watching Earthlings, which you can find on YouTube for free, I couldn’t look at animals the same way. The way animals are treated and the way the video puts everything, it truly hits home. I was instantly changed by that one simple movie, but I didn’t stop there. I went on Netflix and watched Cowspiracy, which shows you the impacts the meat industry has on the environment. For those of you who have witty answers, watch Gary Yourofsky’s Greatest Speech Ever.  The day that I let all of this sink in, was the day I decided to never cause harm to any living being.

Since then, I have never felt better about who I am as a person. I have been happier than I have been in the longest time. My anxiety is little to none. I have started driving again. I have more energy. I am more of who I am supposed to be, without causing harm to anyone. You all who are avid readers of my blog, know about how much I’ve been through. You all know that I’ve been so ready to throw in the towel, so many times and while I still have bad days(because I am human) it’s no where near the magnitude that it used to be. I feel as though I have found my place in the world. I have found my purpose and my way of giving back to the world and that makes me extremely happy.

 

xo

E

Feel free to ask me any questions you may have

More videos:

Food, Inc. – Netflix

Stop Eating Your Friends!– YouTube

Forks Over Knives- Netflix

Blackfish – Netflix

Again and Again

She stared at the person in the mirror. She had wide hips, big arms, chubby cheeks, and big thighs. She couldn’t believe that she had let it happen again. Her collar bones weren’t as prominent anymore and her hip bones were once again hidden. Her arms had lost any amount of muscle it seemed and the definition of her obliques had disappeared. She couldn’t take it anymore and looked away.

She hadn’t been to the gym in a week, but it wasn’t like she was eating garbage everyday. She had watched what she ate, or so she thought. She hadn’t panicked like this in a while. She hadn’t worried so much about her weight, or what she looked like in what seemed forever. She had felt the difference, she had felt bigger that week. Perhaps it was all water weight, but even so she couldn’t deal with the four extra pounds. Somehow those four pounds were the end of the world.

All it took was one bad day, and she fell back to what she knew would make her feel better..

The empty feeling in her stomach.

Stop Hating Yourself

I have spent the past 22 years of my life hating myself, and I am tired. I’m tired of being so mean to myself. There are enough people out in this world that will be mean to you, you don’t need to add to that. Loving myself was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. You only have one life to live, don’t spend it’s entirety putting yourself down. You are good enough. You are pretty enough. You are enough, I promise.

I cannot say how many times I’ve said I wasn’t enough, the people closest to me know, it’s always been a thing with me. I’ve always had a complex of not being enough but I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. What matters is how you think about yourself. Be kind to yourself, always, because you’re always listening.

xo

Stay Blessed

Strength

I’ve made another stupid mistake, who would have thought? I’ve also repeated a mistake, which, lets face it happens way too often. However, I’ve caught myself before going too far.

About a month ago, I was sitting on my friends floor, while wine drunk, crying about the way his friend had treated me. About a month ago, I decided it was necessary to move on and pretend he had never happened. He hadn’t made it easy and to be honest, I thought it was going to be much simpler. I’d thought it was clear, I was done being mistreated and I was simply done with him. However, boys don’t always follow the rules. Sometimes they keep attempting to apologize so you let them say what they need to.

So you let them swirl the “sorry’s” and “I miss you’s” at you and in that moment, you don’t believe them. You don’t believe them because you know better.Why believe someone who has already proven they don’t care about you? How can sorry’s fix anything? Except then you let their words swirl around in your head when you’re alone. You let them sink in a little bit and you start believing them. You start to believe that maybe, they aren’t that shitty of a person.

Convincing yourself that apologizing takes a lot of nerve, to acknowledge that they were wrong is an immense step; completely forgetting that there are people who would never need a second chance. That’s how these guys work, though, they know how to plant little seeds in the form of words. They say everything they need to, because they know we have a heart that will forgive.

We have an unfortunate hope that some guys really do need a second chance. We have hope that maybe, he’s different. Guys like that don’t have hearts, and they couldn’t care less about anyone else’s feelings. They’ll do what they need to go get their power back and then, sometimes, you end up stuck.

And sometimes, you realize that they will never be who they pretend to be. Sometimes, you remind yourself that you are stronger than to let any stupid boy drag you back down. Sometimes you realize you’re too good to be with someone who can’t even respect you. Sometimes, you’re stronger. So you move on..

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

 

xo

Serendipitous Coincidences

As I sit here, alone at my kitchen table eating left over pad Thai, on Valentine’s Day, I can tell you all I[m perfectly content. While that hasn’t been the case the last few days, I think it safe to say I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to rash decisions and not thinking things thoroughly. I could sit here and psychoanalyze myself until I end up crying in the fetal position but it’s just not worth talking about and  I don’t feel like crying today. Okay, so cut to the chase already, Elly. 

As our twisted friendship thing would have it, Mr. Wrong called me. The same Mr.wrong that I’ve been writing about for far too long. The same one I said to goodbye to “for good”. In my defense, he reached out to me and I never would have thought he’d be contacting me, especially not after the ugly message I sent him just before the New Year.

However, I had been thinking about him the past few weeks, but I had remained strong and brushed it off every time he crossed my mind. Truthfully, I really needed him this past week, not only for some sound third party advice, and a lecture but I needed him to make me laugh. For me there was really no way to come back after what I’d said and while I always say that, just know that the message was one of no return once it was out into the internet.

So how was it that I ended up with a  missed call from Mr. Wrong? Telepathy. aliens

Hear me out, I had been thinking of him since I had a mega meltdown on my friend’s floor, while wine drunk. And while I’d stopped thinking about him when I was drunk, I hadn’t stopped wishing I hadn’t blown up at him. Like always. As I wallowed in my self pity and slew of bad decisions I’d made recently, I came across a Facebook post of him and his friends. Needless to say they were girls and it reminded me that he was living his life and not missing me. “Normal” me would have been jealous, and would have compared herself to the girls in the picture but the current me is on a new level. Therefore, jealousy was just beneath me, especially if he was happy which meant the only thing left to do was to stop missing him.

Which was way easier said than done but I’d stopped checking to see if he was online a long time ago, the only thing left was to stop thinking about him. Which again, would have been easier had I not been needing my all time favorite person to cheer me up. But I managed to put him out of my mind and in typical Mr. Wrong fashion, he knew. Perhaps because he could potentially have the douche bag gene or perhaps because he just knows when I’m cutting ties. Or as he’s put it, we are one which means we connect on some weird telepathic wavelength. So maybe he knows when I need him and maybe he knows when I’m steps away from never looking back.

One thing I know though, it’s possible to find people who you mean something to and some people are just meant to be in your life, no matter how many times you blow up on them.

Happy Valentine’s Day

xo

E

Second Hand Love

I’m Attracted To Fuckboys: A Memoir 

 

 I used to know that I had pretty bad taste in men, in the sense that I always picked the “bad boys”. I always had a habit of picking the guys who I knew were no good for me. I think every girl goes through that phase in her life.

We like to trick ourselves into thinking we can change these guys because, well, we want our fairy tale love story. We grow up in this world of fairy tales and we grow up thinking the real world is like that, when in actuality, it’s really hard to find a prince charming. When I was younger, I had that fairy tale idea in my head but as I got older, my mind started changing. At one point, I honestly didn’t believe love was real and I was completely over trying to find it.

Which only lead to me falling for guys who weren’t worth the time. If I’m completely honest, a part of me liked the heartbreak, mostly because I knew that it wouldn’t be much worse when the relationship was finally over. It was another thing I grew up with, believe that boys are mean to you because they like you.  The worst thing to ever tell a girl. Of course, having such a messed up sense of love and self esteem issues landed me in relationships that caused permanent damage but at the end of the day showed me what I want out of a partner.


And yet, after writing so many posts about loving myself and knowing what I deserve, I still landed myself in the dumbest situation. It was one of those hook up type things that only end up distorting your thoughts. The kind I  should know better than to even look it at for half a second. The thing is, I am very susceptible to people’s influences. Yeah girl, just do it, who cares. Stop thinking about people think, no one’s going to care. Against my better judgement I did decide to jump into something I’d never thought I’d be in. The more I talked about it, the less I cared about what people thought but there was still one thing; I cared.

I cared about what I was doing, it was seriously messing with my head. The only thoughts I had running through my head were, what are you doing with your life, why do do you keep doing this to yourself?  I was frustrated with myself. I couldn’t comprehend how it was that every day I would wake up and tell myself I was done and then with one beer too many I’d end up back in the same damn situation.

I wasn’t doing it out of loneliness. I had learned to be alone and I was perfectly fine with not having someone because I knew that I would find the right person for me.  However, I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t put an end to something that me feel worthless.

I forgot one key thing about me, I overthink. I overthink to the point of blinding myself. I overthink to the point where I end up glamorizing something that isn’t there, not in the way I think anyway. I have a habit of getting my hopes up. I have an even bigger habit of believing the things that come out fuckboy’s mouths.

We get our hopes up for the “bad boy” because we see the potential he has, we see what we want. We see the way he acts sometimes and we let that over power our thoughts about him. We fall for the guy we imagine he could be instead of the guy he is.

For me anyway, I tend to take the good I see in someone and I believe they can change, not that they will but I see the potential. I see how good they are sometimes, I see the whole picture but I only take the parts I like. Which leaves me with unrealistic expectations that that person will never be able to meet. I’m blinded with potential and sometimes it’s hard to walk away, especially when you have such a strong need to help people better themselves. However, we can’t spend our lives trying to show people the potential we see in them. We can’t stick around and waste time on people who are perfectly fine being the way they are. So we move on and find someone who is just like us, someone who knows what they want, and can see their potential for themselves.

xo

E

No Senses (cont)

Part 1: Unspoken

She ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Her back against the door as if she could stop him from tearing it down. Don’t make me tear this door down. The way his voice sounded when he was angry was terrifying. It was demonic almost. He threw a fist at the door, almost tearing it down with one blow. She knew he was going to get in, it wasn’t the first time she tired running from him. Open the Goddamn door or it’s going to get much worse. She was sitting in the bathtub, terrified, waiting for inevitable to happen. Just as he burst through the door, she woke up..

•••

Her face had healed, the bruises were gone and it should have all just been nothing but a bad experience. Except that she kept having nightmares. She kept reliving their past relationship in her dreams. She hadn’t had a peaceful night of sleep since that night, three weeks ago. His face was engraved under her eyelids or so it seemed to her. Closing her eyes for a split second was too much because he was there with a smirk on his face. He loved to mock her and he was doing it now, and yet he wasn’t even around.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because he was around, she just never actually saw him. Her house had been filled with peonies since that night. That had always been his favorite way of apologizing but they weren’t apology flowers. They were promise flowers, a promise that he’d be seeing her soon. In all the time she’d known him, he never broke a promise. The flowers were his way of getting into her head, so she’d be looking over her shoulder at every moment of the day. So she’d flinch every time she heard a man’s voice. He knew her better than her own mother. He knew she was locked in her house wishing she could be anywhere but there. He knew she’d try to fly off somewhere. He knew that in the end, she’d sit at home and wait for it to be over, like she always did.

She sat there thinking about the only thing that had been on her mind. She wondered when he;d finally show up so it could all be over. Then she wondered why she got the shitty end of the deal. How was it that she was destined to meet this low type of human before she met anyone better. How was that she could meet nice guys now, only after having to go through something so devastating.  And the age old questions, she’d ask herself every time he hit her.. Did she ask for this? Did she deserve it? And just like always she answered;  of course she did, it wouldn’t be happening if she didn’t. 

Unspoken

She stepped into the elevator, happy as ever. It was her birthday, she had been celebrating with her best friends and she was having the time of her life. It’s funny how fast things can change, as she looked up from pushing the button to the ground floor she locked eyes with someone she thought she’d never see again.

It had been almost three years since her heart froze in that way. It was a different kind of freezing, a freezing that made you wish you were dead. She had forgotten what it was like to feel that again. She’d spent so long believing that feeling was nothing more than her own stupidity. She had spent so long forgetting that feeling.. and those eyes. It had been so long since she’d stopped having nightmares about those eyes but there he was, in the elevator staring at her.

They were seventy-two stores up in the air, alone. She hadn’t realized she had forgotten to breathe until he stepped in front of the button panel. She stepped back and fumbled for her phone, all the while knowing she’d left it in the hotel room. She knew better than to show him fear, if there was one thing he loved in the world it was the look of fear in her eyes.

He grabbed her arm, attempting to calm her and suddenly they went back three years. She stood there, her eyes locked on his, begging him not to do it; not with actual words, he hated begging but her eyes said it all. She knew it was coming no matter what she did or tried to say. He let go and proceeded to push numbers she didn’t see. She had been slightly drunk seconds before but she was completely sober now.

She started to blame herself, she always blamed herself. She knew better than to be on that side of town. She had avoided it for so long, why didn’t she keep doing it? She thought that somehow she was stronger now, she thought that somehow she’d be able to look him in his face as if nothing had happened between them. But there she stood, in an elevator, terrified. It stopped on the 50th floor but as she let out a sigh of relief he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to his room.

She sat on the bed, stunned. He stared for moment before beginning the speech she’d heard one time too many. She could have repeated what he said, word for word but that would have made him angrier. Anger, there was anger in his eyes. He began his speech like always, the back to back apologies and promises of change, as if it wasn’t the first time they’d seen each other in years. The more she refused to the angrier he became, only to turn right around and put her down.  It was his way of making her lower herself to his standards and it worked every time, he knew it did. She sat on the bed frozen, seemingly unfazed by his cruel words. Only to make him angrier.

As he continued to throw daggers at her verbally at her, she stood calmly as ever, and attempted to make her way to the door. She must have been more inebriated than she had thought to make such a move. The moment she was in arms reach his hand was around her throat, a place she’d been all too often during their relationship. She stared into his eyes as he continued to yell at her. Her attempts to fight back were useless, he’d always been strong. There was only one way out and she knew it. She had to fight back, it was the only chance she had of him letting her go. As his grip got tighter around her throat, she choked out the words, I never loved you. 

She had expected him to get angry and continue his rant but she had expected him to let go. After all, he couldn’t possibly be the same guy she had known so long ago. She was always so naive. The second the last syllable was out of her mouth, his fist met her face. The sound of her bones cracking under his fist rang in her head but that wasn’t the only thing. She gasped for air as he stepped away from her. It wasn’t the first time he’d broken her nose but there was something in him that loved and hated to see what he’d done with his own hands.

Instantly, he dropped his head in his hands and once again began apologizing. She grabbed her bag off the floor and stumbled her way to the door, dizzy from the pain and alcohol. She opened the door and there he was, her knight in shinning armor. He may have just been delivering room service to someone down the hall but he saved her that night, he was at the right place at the right time. He helped her back to her room and cleaned her face up, as much as he could anyway.

•••

She woke up shivering from the awful nightmare she thought she had that night and with a migraine from her hangover. She walked to the bathroom in search of some Advil but instead she found the mirror. She stared at herself, shocked. Panic ran through her entire body and her stomach turned, it had happened again.

To be continued…

Say Love

The thing with him is that whenever he asks me to hang out, I get this unbearable anxiety that runs through my entire body. An anxiety that I don’t know how to explain but it makes me want to crawl right out of my own skin. But then he’s there outside my house and so I reluctantly walk out there and get in the car and the anxiety is gone.

It’s gone but only for a moment because the second I step a foot in his house, I’m numb. As I sit there, watching him smoke whatever it is that’s bothering him away, I feel myself slip right into the numbness. I feel the emptiness take over because I know what’s coming next, one too many beers and his room.

The beers are only to numb me further because to him I am no more than a booty call. That’s all I’ll ever be to him because I have somehow found myself in a situation where I don’t feel I have any power.

As morning comes, I am slowly drowned in the fact that I let it happen again. I am drowned in my embarrassment and emptiness. That’s the only thing that comes from nights like these, emptiness. An unbearable emptiness that consumes me and leaves me wanting nothing but sleep so I don’t have to deal with the pain of feeling so hollow. But the moment I feel free to by myself, my phone lights up and it’s him and that’s how it starts over everyday. I let myself lower my expectations and forget about my values for absolutely no other reason than the fact that I am self destructive. The self destructiveness and the idea that maybe staying longer won’t make me look so bad.

Self destructiveness comes from being numb. We as humans can only numb ourselves to a certain point. Somehow we only realize that we’re wrong until it’s just too late.