"I was on my hands and knees. I was crippled and everyone was telling me to walk. But there was no remembering how. There was no getting up."
Her: A Memoir, Christa Parravani
Come on, skinny love, what happened here?
Her: A Memoir, Christa Parravani
Gah, Samantha Barks was given the opportunity to meet Idina Menzel when she was 17 years old on ‘I’d Do Anything’. Fucking lucky duck, and I don’t mean that in a harsh way to anyone in particular except myself.TWICE, I’ve had the opportunity to at least see Idina Menzel in concert. The first time was in December 2010. I was admitted into a hospital against my will. My mom and sister went without me.
The second time I’d planned early last year, stupidly letting myself get excited for the opportunity to see her again. Even when I was admitted into the Center, I was told it might just be for a month, so I didn’t let myself get upset until the date of the concert had passed.
And I used to have this Japanese kanji necklace, you see? It read ‘hope’. I used to think that if I saw Idina one day, I would do what I could to give it to her because of the hope she gave to me - and since she has a single titled ‘Hope’.
What’s the use in getting excited about anything? Something always seems to manage to get in the way, and unfortunately, for me it seems that it’s only one thing that’s acting as the wretched blockade.
Though it probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, I decided to read through one of the journals I wrote in when I was in Utah, and I came across something that I hadn’t really thought of in a while, and it made me really sad. For a social studies field trip, those of us that had earned the privilege to go outings, went to see Lincoln in theaters. I remember that I cried twice: the first time after I saw the preview for Les Miserables because I knew I probably wasn’t going to be out in time to see it in theaters with my musical-pal/sister; the second time I cried was during the movie, not because of the actual movie, but because I remembered that I was going to have to go back to the Center afterwards.
It felt so normal being out of the Center that I almost forgot why I was in Utah in the first place. I whispered to one of my friends how much it sucked that we had to go back. It was hard going on outings and having a good time with the reminder that we were going to go back into a locked building after. (Though sometimes being out in a social environment was stressful, making anxiety skyrocket and such.)
I cried because I felt so trapped, and I knew I was under others’ control. And I’m a minor, so there’s nothing I could have done about it. That’s a plus of turning 18 this year, though I’d rather just, like, not.
Have you imagined that one of your suicidal friends actually killed themselves and started crying? This shouldn’t happen to me as much as it does.
I Can’t Escape - A Vain Attempt
Whoa. This brings me back to….eh, 2009 or 2010. I was utterly obsessed with this song and “I Saw Her Face” by the same band. Despite the lyrics, I can’t stop smiling because I just automatically picture my horribly teased hair from my scenebean days. I’m so condescending to my younger self, haha.
I keep getting asked the question: what makes you so undeserving? Why do you deserve to be punished?
And I really don’t have an answer. I mean, I do, but I can predict their comebacks for each and every reason I have. Ex - I’ve hurt my family too much; I’m a bad person.
Uno, perpetuating my illness will only hurt my family more, and so would suicide. Dos, my therapist tells me he’s met evil people in his life, and I’m not one of them.
Truth is, I’ve been pounding that concept into my brain for years (‘you’re a bad person, Mckenna. You’re better off dead, you deserve to die’) so hard that whether it’s the actual truth or not, it’s become MY truth. If you tell yourself something long enough, it will become your truth; it doesn’t mean it’s the truth, but it’s your truth, and the only way your perception can change is if you let it.
Trip down memory lane. Sometimes I just look through the stuff in my room and I find things that remind me of memories I had forgotten. (if you want to just read the main point of this post, skip the italicized)
I was at an awards ceremony (private school) in 3rd grade. I was one of maybe ten kids that had been called up for ‘Most improved student’ award.That in itself made me blush really red with excitement. But when I was walking back to my seat in the bleachers, just as I was about to sit back down, another award was called. For Mckenna ______. I was a little frozen for a second, and I was a little out of sorts while I was walking back up - I couldn’t keep this big grin off my face - but I just couldn’t believe it. It was one of - if not the most - prestigious awards for Elementary school students. I was the one out of all kids from pre-K to 5th grade. Granted there were probably less than 300 kids in that age group.I was so proud of myself…
A lot of people saw potential in me when I was younger. And yet here I am.
Back in June, I was in an adolescent psych unit at ________ Hospital for a day and a half. Short time, I know. Among others, there was this one girl there that seemed kind of off, but she was nevertheless kind. One time when I was heading into the bathroom, just as I was closing the door, she opened it a little, looked at me directly and whispered,
“Please don’t kill yourself.”
I remember these things sometimes and it baffles me.
Kind of weird that my mom and therapist talk about me outside of sessions - while I’m in school no less. Oh well, things have been tough lately; important decisions need to be made. Talking about how a lot of my anxiety is probably due to the low weight and me being in that incessant starvation mode (I disagree because I’m not eating that little), like how people get shaky when they get extremely hungry. A lot of things are being talked about right now, and it’s really stressful. Last night was…I don’t even know what to say, but if my mom hadn’t confiscated my s/h “tool”, a lot of damage would have been done. It’s hard to go to school after that, and I almost didn’t.
But so far I’ve survived the day alright, but it gets harder as the day wears on. I’m not busy with classes, so my mind is free to wander - and that never leads to good things/good thoughts. I hope you all are having a good day.
Do you ever see people or pass by them, and just want to ask them if they’re okay? I saw this boy walking past a crowd in the opposite direction in the hall today, and he just had this expression on his face that made me terribly sad.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t know if that’d be rude, or if someone like him would actually appreciate the concern. It’s hard to tell with kids my age nowadays. I could get punched in the face, or…I don’t know, it’s sort of nice to know that someone cares, you know?
So, I didn’t say anything. He was gone in a second anyway because, as I said, he was headed in the opposite direction. It’s probably best that I didn’t say anything, but I still kind of wish I had.
Ironically, I was in Psychology today, and I was bored, so I counted all the meds I’ve been on in the past two years.
Eleven medications, and that’s just what I can remember. I feel like that’s kind of sad. We watched a video about anti-Ds and how they ‘don’t really help’ because a placebo usually has the same effect. Bullshit. Made me really mad actually, though they did say that with severe cases of depression, anti-Ds do have a little bit of an effect. Either way, it also made me paranoid because what if I’ve been given placebos all along, or even just with my most recent med change? To be manipulated like that…I don’t know whether I would want to punch a wall for a few hours (violence towards others is not a good answer) or just wallow.
It’s so natural for me to give out smiley faces on here, but it’s really not fair to anyone because I’m more than likely not smiling on this side of the computer screen. I care about a lot of you guys, but sometimes I feel like I’m just putting on a facade, even on here.