I still don’t know if I can believe what happened this evening. It’s going to make me reevaluate my core beliefs. It seems so silly to say, so basic to write. This is the hardest thing for me to even think into existence. 

I matter to this world. I am worthy of loving myself and of being loved. 

Last night I cut myself again. I hadn’t in months. I had blades and scissors all around me. After going through all the art boxes from my storage unit I found a bunch of straight edges. I let them sit in my room for over a week. Oh yeah, I’ll get rid of them I thought. No big deal. But it was a big deal and I knew it. I wasn’t fooling myself or anyone else. I said I’d throw them out or give them to a friend. 

Two things happened last night before I did anything positive with the blades. I decided to self sabotage and my emotions got to a level I thought I couldn’t handle. I have a pattern of self sabotaging after about a month of recovery. I’m not worthy of getting better, I’ve always thought. Also, my little brother went back up to school, so the focus was back on me. Not in a good way either. I needed to do this, go do that. Why can’t you be like blank? I felt I couldn’t take it. So rather than talking to my parents on how I felt they were treating me, or reaching out to a friend, I cut. Cutting feels so good. It’s almost orgasmic. A wave of endorphins wash over me. Everything is alright. 

Then, reality hits. Consequences fall. I had to tell my therapist today and be ready for what could happen. I could get kicked out of the program. Luckily I didn’t get kicked out. I haven’t heard what my doctor is going to say to me tomorrow, though. 

This evening I went to my friend’s house and gave her all my scissors and blades. I’m not going to lie and say I now feel so free because that would be a lie. My heart does feel love though. I texted this friend this afternoon and didn’t get a response for several hours. I figured she didn’t want to get involved. In actuality, she had a really busy day at work and hadn’t had time to look at her phone. Even though her husband wanted to spend the evening with her, she opened up her home to me. I went over and gave her the blades to dispose of. We talked for an hour, catching up on last week and getting deep and talking about why I cut. 

Before I left she looked me straight on and told me that I matter and that I am worthy of love. I’ve heard this from therapists before but never from someone with such raw emotions. I thank God for this friendship. 



I deactivated my Facebook account almost a year ago. The only social media I participate in is Instagram. I’m a photographer and like to get some of my work out there and such. 

I had to reactivate my Facebook account tonight to find out some details about a photo walk I want to go on. I just find it amusing that people who don’t even want to be fake friends on social media suddenly become “concerned” and want to be friends when I’m in the hospital, doing poorly, and so on. Isn’t it funny when you’re down so many people come out of the woodwork and want to know all about what’s going on. 

The thought just tickled me. If I’m your friend, I’m there through the good and bad. Wouldn’t it be nice if the world took on that mentality as well?


What’s killing me

I think my weight is killing me. Yesterday, I had to do things all over town and didn’t eat dinner until eight. Today, I slept the entire day and my body aches all over. Somehow this is what I feel I deserve. This is just another way I’m slowly killing myself. The binge eating (which has gotten tons better), not exercising enough, just overall not being as healthy as I can is my way of saying, “fuck you” to my body. 

It’s really pretty sad and pathetic. Tonight my mom told me that she and best friend will have been friends for 50 years in only three more years. I’m struggling to keep my friendship of two years to last. 

I don’t know if I am being extra hard on myself tonight or extra honest. Either way, it sucks. 


He’s alive. He answers his phone. Yet he’s never replied to my texts or calls. I miss him. Greatly miss him. I don’t know what happened. We were both sick at the time he stopped coming to group. I hadn’t been going for a while when he quit. I guess he quit. I don’t know. It seems like no one knows. Either that or they don’t want to tell me. But that’s silly. Why would they keep that from me?

Will he ever come back? Ever call or text me again? Is he in residential? Sitting at home? Back at school finishing up that last semester? Somewhere else? Will I ever know? I didn’t want to- haven’t been ready to turn the page and end this chapter. I have to in order to be healthy. I will mourn this loss and then move on. All friends current and past hold a spot in my heart. The past just have a smaller part. 

I shed some tears and then move on. It’s time to create room for new friends. 


People don’t understand what I’m trying to say when I say I hate people. “I find people incredibly interesting and I yearn for for close and intimate relationships.” That’s what I wish I could tell them. There’s just just one little problem. I don’t know what bizzare quirk there is about me but it just seems that no one likes me. I mean, yeah, I know I’m fat and am not the prettiest person. I’m definitely am not the smartest or funniest by far. But neither is almost all of the rest of the population. 

Last week I had a girl, whom I considered one of my closest friends, text me she doesn’t want to be my friend. It shocked me so much that I haven’t be able to really decompress from the text. I’ve just pushed it aside until I can dissect what I did to fuck another relationship up so bad. 

So, I guess I’m down to three friends. I highly suspect one of the three will dump me to the curb when another of his friends moves down here. That’s ok. I’m already preparing for this. One of the others I see once every month or so. We don’t expect anymore out of each other so that’s fine (of course I secretly wish we could be closer but it’s stupid to push and wind up with her gone). I’ve been friends with the third one for a couple of years now. We have dinner almost once a week before support group. It’s nothing too personal, but it’s nice nonetheless. 

I won’t even go into dating. It would require so many things to happen. I think world peace will happen before anyone could ever be the slightest interested in me. Romantic relationships and me are like oil and water. 


The cure

Why me? The question that everyone with a mental illness asks. What did I do to deserve this? Why God? What cosmic force is getting even with me?

I’ve been doing well, super well. Too well? It’s not like mania has reared its ugly head. Exercise, eat well, take my meds, go to support groups, hang out with friends. Check, check and more checks. Something I’m doing is wrong. 

My mind is plagued with suicidal thoughts and plans. I just want to cry out to someone, anyone to make it stop. A physical pain always rushes through my head, my heart, and down through my stomach. Is suicide the cure? 

Friendships fade. Family leaves. Everyone moves on while I’m still hurting.