Sparse

The past 12 months I took my life into my own hands and really focused on my healing. Weekly therapy, daily medicine, a support system, alternative healing options, such as herbs, Marijuana and mushrooms, other supplements. Another summer full of travel, live music and the ocean. So how do I once again find myself hating life so much. Where am I falling short? I know I'm doing something wrong. Something is wrong.

I dislike my life so much that for the past 2 months I have been just trying to keep myself from another hospitalization or suicide attempt. I sedate with large doses of benadyll or hydroxizine to keep myself safe.

Yup. Things are bad again. And the only thing that has changed in my life in that time period was me ending a romantic relationship, that was mostly one-sided anyways... So no sex/ intimacy in the past 2 months. Boo-hoo, right? RIGHT! while my mood was dipping before we offically broke it off me not getting laid surely isn't a "healthy" reason to kill oneself. Surely pysch medications don't stop working because you stopped having sex? Maybe they just work the bst when partnered with oxytocine, the love chemicals? I don't know. I don't fucking know.

It's like: Someone gave you a present.(life) One that you didn't want.(a life you didn't want) What about the person who didn't want or need your "Gift". Also, why do so many people say "life is gift?" What about the people who don't want "the gift"? I guess we are less important?

Honestly I'm so grateful for this platform, my own blog, that I can say whatever the fuck I want. Other social platforms don't like mention of depression, suicide and even sexual assault and rape. They get flagged. They are sensitive topics. This is the one place I can be me, with little to no trigger warnings or censorship.

I'm told emotions fade with time. Especially for things traumatic, like loosing a friend, spouse or child. Doctors, therapists, other naturalpathic healers I have worked with have come to the conclusions that something in my up bringing, my trauma/patterns are keeping me from happiness. (That and poverty. But doctors can't help me there) But what I know about healing from trauma is that it could take decades. It took decades of trauma to get here where I am at, hating life, healing from it may take just as long if not longer. (also possibly *less time*, but for the sake of this blog and my efforts and experiences, full healing or being comfortable is not in my near future.) *hits vape pen*

I think my biggest struggle is not having people who understand me. And feeling alone. I know there are people like me but they also have no answers. No Solutions, just love and empathy. But if this is life; the one I'm living right now, has to constantly feel this heavy and depressed, this frequently? I don't want to be here. I don't know how many times I have left saying or typing those words because my treatment plan is failing me. I don't know if my treatment plan was ever a success. Medications gives me mania, "brief moments of joy." A release from the crippling depression. I had 5 good months this year. In a row. This year! That's fucking massive. Its never happen like this before.

This discussion is about quality of life. So what about my life is so bad? There are other people in other countries dying of starvation/ poverty/ government influence, war/ crimes? I don't think empathy or even gratitude will heal my mental health. It too is just a band-aid. Back to the gift scenario above. Someone gave you a gift that you don't like, why do I have to be grateful for a life I never wanted? These words are hard to type through the foggy brained half high Kirsten's mind here at 9:17pm on Monday September 12th.

I just want to feel better, more frequently. I understand life isn't perfect. That not what I'm talking about. Life is so hard. And this life is so hard even if you don't have mental illness. The good 5 months was several weeks in a row of stability. Several weeks in a row of happiness. But it's gone now. And I don't know how or why.

Poverty- Let's talk about it.

I grew up Mormon. My parents divorced when I was 9 years old. We went from a "happy family" stable home owners/ yearly vacation go-ers..... To my mom asking us to take quarters out of our piggy banks for laundry at the laundry matt and the free (or reduced) school-lunch-program at our public primary schools. We weren't always poor but I remember struggling often. For several years we did our Christmas shopping at the dollar store. My mom asked me when I as 17 if I wanted a Christmas gift or to take drivers ed that year? Or if I wanted both, that I had to pay for my own drivers ed. I can't remember if I paid for it or pushed it to the following year, but to this day I still hate driving. I am grateful, I feel it was one of the few things my mom did right. Made sure I could drive before I left her house. Anyways, I still remember months of ramen oodles and peanut butter sandwiches. I remember electric being turned off from unpaid bills. I remember heating the kitchen with the oven door open because we couldn't afford the oil bill. I remember missing *fun* opportunities my peers had like school trips, year books, class rings, (who needs one anyways) school pictures and other nice things. I applied to (1) one school only, (all I could honestly afford to apply to) for cheap tuition all the way across the country in Rexburg Idaho. BYU. I got in! So I didn't have it the worst, but I didn't have it the best either.

Unhealthy parts of me wants to so say that my upbringing wasn't that bad. But I know truth in how bad it was and I know how to live on next to nothing because a few months after I turned 18 I became homeless. An outcast from my family for having sex before marriage and being dropped out/kicked out of the private college I was attending. I learned to shower in gas station sinks, sleep in my car, and to keep my phone service on for emergencies.

Bla Bla Bla Bla Bla if you want to know more about the 3 years of homelessness I had maybe Ill write a mini chronicles later, let me know?

So trust me, I am grateful that my rent is based on a percentage % my low income. I am grateful for my 1bdrm appartment.. For the air conditioner my best friend let me buy from her for cheap. I am grateful for the help I get with food stamps. I'm grateful for my disability benefits. That cover the bare minimum of my monthly bills now with other assistance (rent/food).

I'm trying to show my gratitude of these things by trying to get off of the help system I am in. Than maybe, help others? But that's for future, not for now. Because despite all the good things and people in my life that I have, I still feel like absolute SHIT. But if I'm staying alive I still need these benefits to get by. To heal.

I love the texting feature my Med-managements office has! Melissa makes things much easier for me.

But listen to me... what if they just offered a way out? a peaceful way to end my life. my struggle. Why is this so morbid? So drab? Why isn't this beautiful?

Religion. Religious people including my acupuncturist who thinks my mood about life lately is "bratty".... for hating the suffering that humanity is. People like him make up up a majority of the population of the world who thinks leaving this earth by death, especially by your own hand is not the end of our journey- and that I could "end up in places much worse".

These people fear monger me into a life I don't want. One I refuse to accept. It's hard receiving help from people who don't have the same values/beliefs as you, but I appreciate all that Nick has done for me. I'm just striking out again. I thought shrooms were the answer. *hits vape pen* I thought EMDR therapy was the answer. I thought weed helped my nightmares. (it does) But its still not enough. My chest is so heavy, so tired of fighting.

I recently told a friend that I keep a noose premade, ready to go at any given time under my bed. I have now for the past 3 years. Because I hate life that much. Its ready when I am.

I hate this for me. I hate this for you, my readers, but that's where I am. This is me. Struggling, again.

Relief? Sparse.

*hits vape pen*