The Acceptance Project (Part 2)

My thoughts are still jumbled but I’m accepting the fact that I’m Bipolar. At least now I know why I act the way I do. I’m not good with this but here’s some more of my self-portraits.  I want to spread the good instead of the bad parts of having a mental illness. My whole life I just thought I had anxiety/depression. Now I understand better. Now I know.

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Fuck the Stigma
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No more Scars to hide
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The Acceptance Project (Part 1)

Trigger warning: Self-harm talk.

I was a cutter since middle school. This project is helping me get through my recent mental health issues. I’m Bipolar  and these past few weeks were pretty good so i’m getting better.

I will always miss cutting myself. That’s just how it’s going to be. I  don’t miss hiding my body, spewing lies about it just being a “Cat scratch” and hurrying to clean up before someone needs the bathroom.

I relapsed once but I’m getting through all of this day by day.

I sure hope you enjoy my photos. Mental illness is real and the fucking stigma around it needs to die. I’m tired of people being so judgemental.  Stop being fuck wads! Anyway, here’s some of the photos.


 Raw. My makeup is what keeps me happy and comfortable. I’m without makeup in these photos.

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Have you ever felt imaginary hands around your neck? The empty stomach that somehow is filled with pure adrenaline or anxiety. I will always hate that feeling.

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Stay away, there’s not anything you can do. You can’t love or wish a mental illness away.

1/9/17 Strangers

She falls in love with strangers

She feels lost and vulnerable

As her coping mechanisms try to catch up to her

Older men and women take advantage

But what did you expect?

She falls in love with strangers

Strangers aren’t scary if they mind their own

 

She feels lost and broken but she’s none of those things

She’s strong –  just sometimes too hard

For her own good

She falls in love with strangers

Strangers with beautiful

Smiles

lies

eyes

12/31/16 – Room 33

I never make personal posts because I don’t feel like they matter or that what I have to say matters. I need to write though. I need to indulge in positive things or everything will completely go to shit.

I was committed for almost a week so everything is completely surreal to me. I thought I’d never go home. I’m lucky that I got to go home and I miss J so very much but I don’t think we’ll ever talk again.

Her smile was so beautiful it made my heart melt. Somehow I was able to talk to her like she was a long-lost best friend. We both have the same issues.

She probably forgot about me already but I miss her so much.

I saw her crying looking at a picture of her children. I asked her if she was okay and used corny pick-up lines to cheer her up.

Then we were friends just like that.

She said, “You look so sad when you laugh” or something like that, and that really hit me hard because it’s true. She was able to see through my facade.

She heated blankets in the dryer and gave one to me. We snuggled close by each other in the chairs in the Commons area. We watched TV, late night food bingeing and there was so much laughter I almost forgot that we were in a psych hospital.

I was discharged and they wouldn’t let me tell her goodbye. I was going to give her a stupid adult coloring book page, with my favorite song on the back. Of course the fucking cunts wouldn’t let me say goodbye.

Room 27 was mine and her room was Room 33. I saw her room and she barricaded herself in. She was worried that her ex-husband was after her and I thought that was a reasonable thing to do. We’ve both went through a lot of abuse and stalking.

I miss you, J. I wish you well and I love you.