Where am I?

Hello dears!

Just popping in to say I'm very sorry for not blogging a bunch on here this months--I am participating in NaNoWriMo, AND I'm doing a daily vlog over at my Youtube Channel that you can see HERE!

So that's where I am, folks, but I would like to give a quick update on more personal things here real quick:

I went back to Lebonheurs not too long ago and had to become a robot. Seriously.

There were so many wires hooked up to me I just couldn't even deal. It was like I was a walking machine.

THEN they had me stand up and they started up the TREADMILL. YES. UGH.

So this thing INCLINED WHILE it sped up, so that was ridiculous.

Guesstimate, I was supposed to be able to run for 15 minutes, because of my age, but NOPE. NOPPITY NOPE.

They didn't even let me run longer than six minutes. THE SQUIGGLY LINES WERE OFF THE CHARTS! Literally. Ha.

So that DIDN'T go very well. They put me on medicine immediately to help, and I take it once a day.

Truthfully it doesn't seemed to be helping much. I mean, it probably is, but I sure can't tell.

I've still gotten really out of breath, except it's almost worse than before. I notice it now. I could just be literally laying in bed half asleep or sitting there writing, and I notice it's hard for me to breathe.

Also, walking in general has become a big NO for me. I'm basically bed ridden, but whatever.

At Walmart, I HAVE to be in one of those wheelchairs. It's awful, having to have your family push you around everywhere, but I have to admit it is fun getting to push myself down the isles when they're not paying attention, yelling that "I'm independent!" when in reality I can't even clean my room on my own. Ha. Hilarious.

So I've gotten a bit pathetic, but we've got three appointments schedules.

One is just sort of a check in with my new Doctor, and then another for an MRI, and then one more for the EP study.

Can't say I'm not shaken, but I'm not really scared, believe it or not. Not very anxious or nervous, really. Just sort of mind blown.

Like, this is me. This is my life. This is happening to me. It's hard to comprehend.

It seems like something that I would read or see with someone else. Another life.

But, nope, it's just me, being incredibly careful with myself to keep myself from breaking.

It is a serious thing, and I'm feeling very "egg shell okay", but I'm thankful that it's getting checked so quickly. I can't imagine if we didn't discover this now.

So, that's about it. Feel free to go on my Youtube and check everything out, perhaps SUBSCRIBE AND LIKE THE VIDEOS MAYBE IF YOU WANT TO HA

And I hope you all have a wonderful day!



NaNoWriMo is upon us, fellow writers, and now we must buy all of the chocolate, apple cider, and tissues to catch our lonely little tears for this month.


Last night at Midnight, really exhausted, I managed to write 1,00 words, which I am just not happy with, but I simply passed out.


I'm writing this post to say that I PLAN to make and upload a video to my Youtube Channel every day throughout November talking about writing, my stats, my process, and a bunch of ridiculous ramblings because my brain is already overflowing and dead at the same time.


But so is writing 50k in one month, so.

First video will arrive late tonight!

HERE is the link to my Youtube page, and make sure to give me a follow to watch all of the upcoming videos, and have fun awatchin' all of my past videos!


What a Day...

Hello beautiful people!

It's been awhile again, but I'm here to give a quick update on me, and basically how today went down.

So as you might know I've been having some issues with my heart--very confusing stuff, lots of long words, I dunno.

But I've been waiting for this appointment at Lebonheurs for a long time now, marking down the days with anxiety, dread, maybe a bit of curiosity. I'd never imaged I would go to such a place, and I was very actually calm about it. Calmer than I thought I would be, anyway.

So, living two hours away, I had to wake up ridiculously early and get there on time. Of course I read Blood of Olympus by Rick Riordan the whole way there (I'm almost halfway through it!), and trying not to focus on anything at all.

We got there and HOLY CRAP that place is huge. Like, it was so great. There were rainbow colors that lit up as you walked down hallways and huge mosaic birds hanging from the ceiling and giant metallic flowers outside the windows. It was so distracting and pretty, their mission was accomplished--I simply couldn't focus on my nerves thanks to all of the colors!

At least, until we were waiting long after our scheduled time was gone and past and we still sat there. People came and went (some of the conversations we overheard, my GOODNESS), and a ton of adorable kids wandered around, along with some teenagers, including this one guy with incredibly beautiful bright blue eyes, but I'm getting off topic here.

We waited and waited and I was beginning to get shaky and cold and I had to pee like crazy, as per usual when I'm nervous. Ask anyone at the theater what I do right before a show. BATHROOM BREAK.

Finally we got called back there and of course mom came with me because I'm useless at talking and being a human being, and the nurse informed us that our appointment was pushed back because the doctor we were meeting got into a car wreck the day before. Oops. But she said she was more or less fine and that we would like her fill-in as well.

What a way to start the day.

Down halls, I got weighed, checked my height, all that stuff. Then we went into one of the rooms which ironically, had huge pictures of rubber ducks all around the walls.

It's like it was made for me.

Let me just tell you, I am getting real sick of Hospital gowns, but, alas, I seem to never be rid of them.

 They tried to get pictures of my heart, and had the hardest time ever (just as the person did the LAST time I had this done), and it took forever and was painful and I almost launched out of the room. Just. Nopenopenopenope.

Then they did another test, that I literally have no idea what it's even called, but I had also had this done before as well. It was a lot quicker and a lot less painful than the other test, thankfully.

So it's confirmed that I have an extra heartbeat where there shouldn't be one, and my heart is running too fast, but the Doctor said that this can sometimes happen in younger people and he has seen this before in his practice in other kids, and that perhaps it's nothing at all to worry about since there are two kinds of this and I could have the simple one or the complex one. One is treated with lifestyle choices, the other with meds.

There's only one way to tell for sure which type it is. I have to run for my life. Really.

We're scheduling a day to go back up there and have everybody force me onto a treadmill where they shall see whether the extra beat disappears, stays the same, or gets worse when I'm out of breath. Fun. The best thing for me is for it to disappear altogether! That means it's the simple, no-need-to-worry type of heart issues. If it stays the same or gets worse then that means I get to add a new pill to my daily routine!

Also, I am currently strapped up with wires and a blinking thing hooked to the hem of my pants that they gave me to wear for the next twenty four hours. Thank God I get to take it off tomorrow, because this thing is SO UNCOMFORTABLE AND WHEN I GET AN ITCH HA NO. THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF FUN.

This is for them to check and see how often the extra beat is over a longer stretch of time, since the tests today showed that it was constant for nearly two hours running with it thumping an extra thump after every second heartbeat.

So, anyway, after we got through the tough part of the day, we got on the the even tougher part of the day:

Going to the mall.

Three hats, a skirt, some shorts, Kindom Hearts pillow case
from my wonderful mom and sister, some Fall perfume,
Kitty ears, box set of Death Note CDs, Big Hero Six shirt,
some Hello Kitty Pocky, little adorable Dumbo and
the wonderful Prince Hans.
I mean, being there wasn't tough at all. I spent way too much money but I regret nothing. It was a wonderful time, overall, but....




People and noises and PEOPLE made it tougher than it should be. I had to interact with WAY too many strangers, and I was floundering and nervous and felt like fleeing, but ugh whatever.

Especially this one guy who decided to drag me over to his stand, sit me down, and proceeded to curl my hair with his stupid flat iron to show us how WELL it worked. FOR ONLY 299 DOLLARS. HA OKAY DUDE.

Like literally it's a miracle we ever got out of that place.  He was persistent and no matter how many times we said no thanks he just kept right on talking.

There is a line between being a good salesmen and just being rude! We are not going to spend a ton of money on something that will potentially destroy my hair--as if I would take the time to use it anyway! I appreciate the simply style, and spending three hours curling my hair is NOT it.

Point is--no means no. Just say okay, dude. Stop.

And by the way, I think that when my hair starts SMOKING it's time to leave me the heck alone. I will murder you if you destroy my hair, guy.

I am not even remotely joking.

So that left me flustered and terrified the rest of the evening, being put on the spot and I felt like my face was going to burn off. Also I had a few random curls on one side because he said he wouldn't finish curling the rest unless we bought something. REALLY?

Okay guy. Whatever.

And, besides, your stupid curls fell out after I clawed at them for like thirty seconds. REALLY fine product you got there, especially after you claimed the curls would last for three days.



Anyway, today was overwhelming and great, if you can believe it.

I hope you're all having a great night, and I'll see you next time!

Do What You Hate for What You Love

I was trying to explain to my mom and my sister the other day something that I live by:

"Do what you love, or don't do it at all."

I realized that I was right, but still I was wrong.

My sister brought up the point that my dad has to leave for a month at a time for his work, and she was sure he didn't LOVE leaving us. She said that we have to do things that we don't love because that's just life.

And so I finally decided that, due to how life is, we must "do what we love, for what we love."

It's simple, really.

Sure, dad doesn't like leaving us. But he's working hard to earn money for our family. He's doing a job for people he loves.

My brother is having to study for hours at a time, and I'm SURE he doesn't love that, but he's doing it to become a Nurse, which is was drives him.

Point is we make sacrifices for things that we love.

I have to sit down and tear my novels apart piece by piece to edit them. I HATE this.

But why do I do it?

Because getting my books published is a dream of mine, and I will do all of the work I have to do make that reality.

You see?

So I was right in the sense that we don't have to do anything without a reason. Without doing it for someone and, sure, even doing it for yourself is a good enough reason.

If it will make yourself better, then do what it takes.

Whether you enjoy everything you do in life, make sure you or someone you love is gaining from it.

So there was just a thought.

Old Torture Devices and Anxiety

                Hello friends!

Been  awhile—or has it? 

Ha ha ha ha  I don't know what day it is.

Anyhow, this is just a quick update because, indeed, a bunch has happened.

After going back down to half the antidepressant pill once a day for quite a while, we noticed the awful, awful, awful dreams went away within days, but it seemed as if something was off.

In the morning and through half the day I was fine, but in the afternoons it seemed the Medicine was ‘wearing off’, and it was very inconsistent and unusual.

So back to the Doctors I went, telling them about what was happening. I told them that one day, worse than the rest (at night, of course), I had a total meltdown by feeling overwhelmed. And that’s okay. Except nothing happened in the first place to make me so upset.

I mean, I’m the kind of person that cries when something breaks and who used to refuse to throw away banana peels because it made me too sad. Yeah. I know.

But this was a whirlwind of emotions: first anxiety and fear, then sadness, then anger, mostly because I was feeling all of the previous emotions. I get angry at myself, you see, for crying over little things.

Children cry over the silliest things, don’t they? But at least they are true and honest with their emotions. I am a lot like a child, unable to think rationally about some things.

So the Doctor told me to take half a pill twice a day—one at night, and one halfway through the day.

We've only been trying this for a few days, and though it’s a bit more of a hassle, having to carry the pills with me and remembering to take them on time, I think it’ll be worth it. It’s hard to tell yet, but right now, whereas I would usually be feeling a bit out of sorts, I feel fine. Really really fine.

Also, while listening to my pulse, the Nurse said that she heard an extra beat.

And I was like.


She told me to cough really big and I tried to, but like my lungs are tiny and it turned out pathetic. So out of the room she went and came back with this huge, old machine thing.

Like oh crap.

I know that my heart already is screwed up, but this looks like a torture device.

Turned out it was nothing painful—no needles. Yay! My heartbeat made those little lines on paper, and sure enough the Nurse pointed out an extra beat where there shouldn't be one.


She said it was probably from anxiety.

Heck yeah. Obviously.

Truthfully, my depression is not so much the problem anymore—I have anxiety like no bodies business. In fact, that one night when I had the melt down, I figure I was actually having an anxiety attack. Of course I’ve never had one before, but I could very well imagine that was it.

She said it was nothing to be worried about, so at least that’s good.

I had some blood drawn to check something about my thyroid. YAY NEEDLES BLOOD PAIN I LOVE IT.


So all in all I’m doing okay. I’m a bit nervous about everything that’s happened and my mind hasn’t stood still in forever, but, hey, just keep going, right?

Thank you all for everything!

Change is Okay

Hello Lovelies!

I've been having good days, ultimately.

I've made a lot of changes in my life over such a short time, and it's sort of blown me away. Part of me wants to stay the same, hold onto things that hurt me just because they're familiar, and continue to be a part of things I don't have a passion for just for the sake of it. Just to make others happy. 

But that's no way to live.

I've chosen to live my life day by day--for me, for God.

I refuse to destroy myself. I refuse to make unimportant things priorities in my life when there is so much more that I am growing interested in. Things that will take me far in life. Things that I want to live with forever.

Safe to say--over the last few months, I've cut out many people that are poison to me, got rid of many things that are hurtful to me, and instead have found new friends, new things to call MINE. New things that are ME, not who I was.

I am not who I was a month ago. Not who I was even a week and a half ago.

I am new and I am better. I am someone I can be proud of. Not someone to be belittled or snuffed out.

I've written out my Kitten Calender, that I'd long since forgotten to keep up with, for this new month. I planned out my exercising and my Blog post days and I've been thinking about many NEW things.
Things that I would have never pursued, had it been before a few months ago. I would have been ashamed and embarrassed and would have thought I wasn't good enough or smart enough to manage it, but with my new found confidence, I couldn't care less if I'm simply doing it for ME.

 Since when was doing something for yourself not a good enough reason,  anyway?

I'm interested in new things--I listen to different music and wear different clothes and treat myself differently. I treat myself better. I've started finding new shows and trying new things.

 I wish to do different things with my future, with my life. 

I am, indeed, a different person, and that's okay.

That's great.

I was not me before. I am finally finding myself. Finally finding something REAL to grow on, to continue to make better.

I am focusing on me and how I can be absolutely the best I can be.

I'm trying--it's an effort, and it's scary sometimes, but it's all worth it.

I ache all over and I've been eating even when I don't feel like it. I fight away my thoughts constantly and it's a big struggle just being me, but I'll fight for it, because I'm worth the extra work.

Basically, I'm proud of myself. Sure, call me self-conceited, but it's actually self-confidence, and we could all use more of that.

Sharing your own opinion and sharing a picture of yourself  and being your own person is considered obnoxious and annoying.

Why the heck?

Just because someone is feeling good about themselves that one day? Just because someone is feeling brave and confident that day?

Does it really hurt you? Really think about it. Does it effect you in ANY WAY if someone makes a statement about their day, posts a picture of themself?

If someone's confidence really does offend you, you might need to sort out your own life.

There's nothing wrong with it. It's harmless. Yet society will tell us that it's wrong. That it's useless and should be hidden away.

And is that not reason enough for depression to strive in this world?

Stop being hateful. Stop hating others. Stop discouraging or stuffing down or making fun.

There's nothing wrong with change and there's nothing wrong with confidence and passion. Embrace it. Love it. And ignore anyone else who would try to pull you back down to their level.

Update on All of the Things

Hello Dears!

The Doctors told us news about the X-Rays: It is a mild case, but we're considering going to a Chiropractor to get a specific percentage.

I usually wouldn't be so insistent on figuring out the details of something that isn't that big of a deal right now, but my back does constantly ache and feels bruised half of the time, and I'd do anything to help it. I've recently been using a heating pad throughout the day, but I can't truly say how much it's helping just yet!

Also I've been doing okay, I guess.

I wouldn't call it a setback, of course, but I am recently more full of stress and anxiety, but this is just me, not really anything to do with depression exactly.

I am constantly trying to calm myself down, because feeling panicked won't help anything, but instead make things worse.

I did briefly want to hurt myself some time ago, and I did, I suppose, but not as bad as before.

This time it was more of an accident, constantly scratching at my wrist, and thankfully I caught myself and the urge went away soon after. I consider it a flare up, powered by strong emotions, mostly, of course, anger.

I've actually realized now, more than ever, that I really do have some anger problems.

This is something I've read in all of the "symptoms" of Aspergers, but never actually thought to apply it to me. I'm the person who will stand with a face of stone and a calm voice through anything. I hate shouting and I hate "explosions" of anger. It just doesn't happen for me.

It did, when I was younger. It was ridiculously bad. But now I don't act on it, so I thought I had no problem with anger.

But though I'm good at keeping my outward appearance calm, inside I realize I get furious quicker than I ought to. It's really a scary thing sometimes.

And especially now in my life I am reacting stronger than ever--with sadness, with anger. Things that I already had trouble with my whole life.

I've never felt weepy or sorrowful when I feel like hurting myself--and it's not even "myself" that I specifically want to hurt.

My first instinctive is to hurt SOMETHING. I feel like erupting right out of my skin, losing my mind. I feel like breaking something, throwing something, destroying something--and since I have enough sense not to do that to other things, I turn to myself, considering it seems to be the only remaining choice. Yes, this also has to do with low self esteem, but also the thought process of 'I'm the only thing I can destroy.'

I also seem to cry when I'm really angry--of course, because I hate the feeling. I hate feeling so out of control, so full of fire, and it just makes me sad. Sad to have to feel those things.

I obviously need to learn better, healthier ways to handle my anger, and to tone it down before it can even be a problem, which is easier said than done.

I fall asleep quickly and stay asleep the whole night, which is good--except the whole night is filled with dreams--or nightmares, more like.

I've been waking up usually the same time everyday now without an alarm, unable to fall asleep again, and when I do my stuffed animals have been kicked around, my sheet's untucked, and I'm dying of heat.

As odd as it is, it seems I've been having multiple nightmares a night, all vivid and all that make me wake up with my heart buried in the ground. One even had me waking up in tears.

I've always had nightmares--for years and years, and I've never had a single nightmare/dream that isn't realistic and strong.

I was thinking earlier how the things that used to scare me when I was little are not the same things that I fear today. Whereas I used to have these sorts of horrible dreams about strangers and monsters and being lost, I now fear people leaving me. I now have nightmares of memories or future events that leave me disoriented and trying to forget them when I wake up.

I'm a natural at active dreaming it seems, even in my sleep.

The genius must be a bit tortured, mustn't they?

We contacted the Doctor about these dreams after they didn't stop afterover a week, and it turns out that it's likely a side effect of the medicine--a not very good sign, it seems. So they told us to go back to half a pill and see if it goes away--we just started doing that last night, so it's hard to say for sure if it's helpful yet.

My cold is finally gone, which really helps things out a lot.

Another thought I had today: isn't it odd how when we are suffering from, say, a cold, we seem to forget what it feels like to be healthy? This may just be me, but it's as if when I'm sick, that's all there is, and I can't tell when I'm better or not.

Indeed it seems to be the same way with suffering from Depression, a just as real illness. I can't remember what "normal" is. What I was like before THIS. What my life was like before I was where I am. I don't remember what it feels like, what it looks like.

Just as with a cold, you get through it one day at a time--sometimes one hour at a time, most days--and you'll get through it in the end, and it feel great to be well again!

Please continue to Pray for me--it means so much to me to have friends and family that are thinking of me and caring about me! Thank you all so much!

A Post About... Love???

Aye, you heard it right.

That was weird I just sounded like a pirate.


Indeed, I'm going to talk about "love" for a little bit.

I recently stumbled upon someone sharing their opinion that unless you are 28 or older, you cannot experience love.

They said that they get sick seeing these young people getting married and claiming to be in love.

As if love is an emotion that gets "unlocked" after you turn 28?

As if, when you hit that age, this vital part of being a human being magically opens your eyes and you're like WOW. I CAN BE IN LOVE NOW.

Oh my gaaaawd I've never heard anything so stupid. Actually I have, but this is right up there with just the stupidest.

Sure, some people fake their love. Sure, some people may not understand the HUGENESS of what saying those words mean.

But don't you DARE say that teenagers and young people are not capable of true, deep love.

You may not see it often but it's still out there, and it's still very much real.

Personally, I encourage teenagers to fall in love. I encourage them to embrace it even if idiots say that they're "too young" to feel these things. Of course, don't go overboard with it, meaning don't be reckless about it, but you can be in a very happy, healthy relationship, and with enough communication and patience, you might just end up marrying that person.

Of course, it could also end in disaster, but could that not also happen after you turn 28? Yes. Yes it could. Being a certain age does not change that. It is all about the person and their maturity and their passion.

I, of course, was in a relationship for two years with someone that I loved with my whole heart. I was very much capable of it, and also capable of seeing my future with this person, and never once doubting if I was "old enough" to love to the extent of my heart.

What happened then? Well, obviously it ended, and I could never fully see just how much I loved until all of that love was broken.

But that's just life. You fall in love and sometimes it doesn't work out. I wouldn't change that time in my life for anything, because I learned so much about myself through it, and now I know who I am better, as odd as it is.

But there is that one person--that one beautiful, shining soul that fits with yours. You might meet them soon, and you might be waiting many years. Either way, it has nothing to do with how OLD you are.

For instance, I know that he's out there for me. The perfect person. I can't say who it is or when I'll find him, but I don't have a doubt in my mind that he's somewhere in the world right this minute.

And that's exciting to think about, don't you agree? Sure, it's a bit sappy and romantic, but what the heck is wrong with that?

I embrace my 'childish' side, considering I was the little girl dreaming of princes and carriages that took me to my big castle with my 'one true love'.

Call me naive, call me clueless, but this is something in my life that I've never given up, not even under my current circumstances.

I was broken, yes, badly. I'm still a little messed up and quite a bit disheveled, but I will never lose my certainty in falling in love again, and it will be just as real and just as beautiful as the first time.

Who knows, I may fall in love many times. I may fall in love just once more. I can't begin to say.

But I am content to wait as long as it takes.

Until the day I meet my own Prince Charming, I will continue to fall helplessly in love with fictional guys, and my own heroic characters who woo my girls in the story with fluffy cat ears or sword skills or endless secrets.

Thank you for reading!

I'm Not the Only One That's Sick

And I don't mean in the sense that there are other people out there that have Depression, because of course there are, but I mean I've found so many other people are sick with something far worse, believe it or not, and that something is


And Selfishness.

And idiocy, to put it bluntly.

We live in a world where we are fed lies and filth and told we are free, yet we are laughed at if we are to be ourselves.

We live in a world where being weak is considered 'cool' and where being lost is actually a location.

We live in a world where acts of kindness are shocking and admired yet we nod and shrug when we see death and murder and these horrible, disgusting things on the news.

Is the world really that much in flames today?

People are selfish and pathetic. People are either self-righteous or self-harming and it's hard to find an in between.

We are full of thoughts as fake as plastic and just as copied and pasted as the models nipped and tucked who we are supposed to look like. Who we are supposed to WANT to look like, because we ourselves are not good enough.

People are killing one another and everyone is fighting, all the time, all day--themselves or their peers or strangers.

It's hard to be good or want to be good in this world because of you, all of you--lying and cheating and stealing and DESTROYING. Your "not caring" is going to burn this world to the ground. All of the destruction makes it hard to see any way to be rebuilt.

Friendship means nothing today and strangers are something to be wary of because, who knows, they might stab you when you're not looking, and don't even get me started on how worthless love is to people.

What is love anyway? We sure as heck don't know as humans.

People call each other ugly and worthless and say hateful things because someone said the same things to them last week.

When you open your blind eyes are you really surprised that I'm depressed? Really? That anyone is? My gosh.

We live in a world where woman have to carry around pepper-spray or wear neck to ankle dresses or else it is 'our fault' that we are raped and beat and harassed and abused.

We live in a world where men believe girls are not people but objects to break or set on a shelf and those who don't think this way are ignored.

Men belittle women and women belittle men.

No. It doesn't matter WHAT gender you are--you should respect women whether you are one or not. You should respect men whether you are one or not.

Have we really become that hateful?

To not even respect our own? To not even respect ourselves?

I see people who believe in nothing and are living for nothing. They have no future nor determination. Nothing to carry them farther than that summer night where they're drunk or smoking or destroying their life all for temporary pleasures.

Well, there is more to your life than tonight, dear, so ask yourself what the heck will you do when it’s all faded? Will you look back on your bad choices and stupid decisions with pride when you are older?

Distractions are short-lived and your little friends want to use you. What about when you're older? What then? Good luck.

And too many adults act like brainless children--they reprimand teenagers when they don't even have their own lives figures out but yet they should take their own advice.

Divorce and betrayal and abuse and sheer stupidity. What the heck? What are you even doing?

Does no one have the decency? Does no one have the brains? Does no one have the heart?

To stand up and LIVE for something because you're all wasting away and one day you'll be dead and will you have anything to be proud of that you haven't destroyed?

Oh, there was that one night-

Oh, but I had so much fun when-

No. Stop. Stop it.

Who the heck cares how much FUN you're having?

Temptation preys on the weak, and all I'm seeing is weakness.

Why are you here? Why were you put on this Earth?

Heck if I know, but I do know it wasn't for you to have FUN for one night, one tiny blink that doesn't even matter, and then waste away. We're here to love each other and be there for one another, not write the word "enemy" on anyone who disagrees with you.

It's everywhere--it's on TV and on the news and in public and in my head.

Straighten up. Be a human being, not a spineless dog. Barking and biting at one another and cowering when someone tells them the truth.

Get over yourself. Love someone who makes you better, not someone who "pleases you". Gosh. Find friends who hang out with you not when you're the last resort, but who actually wants to because they see the good in you. Friends who encourage you and show you you can have fun without killing yourself in the process.

Listen to music that inspires and do things that are safe and healthy and if there is temptation in your life get rid of it. Spit on it and rip it apart, since you're all so angry all the time. Turn your anger away from other people and yourself and towards the negatives that are tearing you into pieces, alright?

And please live your life like you actually have a dang purpose, okay? Because you DO have a purpose.

It's two AM and I'm not even going to regret this tomorrow.


Hospital Gowns Are So Stylish

It rained today and it was lovely. Nothing like being cold and wet in a Hospital to brighten your day.

My Check-Up was today, after three weeks of being on my Antidepressant.

It went better than expected.

Granted, I know I haven't been doing as much stretching, eating as much as I should have, but I mean I'm not too worried about it considering I gained two pounds and the Doctor said she can clearly see an improvement just in the way I look.

So that was great.

We brought up my Scoliosis and she sent us over to the Hospital to get my spine X-Ray done and I was like: as long as there are no needles or pain I will go peacefully.

So after trailing through countless white hallways that all looked the same, I had to sit in a waiting room and be nervous because I'd never done this so of course I had to use the restroom because I have to pee when I'm nervous. Sorry if that's too much information but ask anyone at the Theater right before show-time.

Then I was called back and I had to sign my name which was like a lopsided C and a bunch of scribbles because I wasn't prepared for this. Then I had no idea what today's date was so I had to ask. Ha go me.

I got to change into two gowns--like, one on front and one on back. So fashionable.

This freaky machine did all the work and truthfully I almost fell asleep laying there--I didn't, though, we were already leaving.

We'll know hopefully by tomorrow what the percentage of the Scoliosis is, and I'll keep you all up-to-date, but when it comes to seeing the Doctor for my depression, my appointment isn't until two months from now, unless of course I need to see her sooner.

I've been sleeping in my Mom's room, in case you didn't know, since I went to the doctor the first time because I was not allowed to be alone and nights were the worse for me, but thanks to a good checkup I'll be able to sleep in my own bed again, under the strict promise that I'll wake Mom up if I don't feel safe.

I will, of course, but I really think I'm going to be okay, and if not then I just need more time, and that's alright, too.

Also I woke up to my throat scratching like crazy, so thanks to my Brother for "sharing the love" of his sickness. Though if anyone's sick, chances are I'll catch it shortly after. Egck.

I'm sleepy and achy and really can't make myself do anything but listen to Brian Crain's beautiful music, because it helps get me in a happy place.

So keep on keeping me in your Prayers! I love you all and thanks for reading!

Update: My Day

I go to the Doctor's this week for a checkup after three weeks of being on the Antidepressant, and I know that I have improved.

I know I have, but not as much as I could have, and I know that. It's just been hard to get into a whole new routine.

Today especially was very new and very exciting/disorienting because change is a very shaky thing for me.

My day roughly went like this:

First I woke up at, of course, 1:00 in the afternoon or so. This is an improvement compared to how late I've been sleeping these last few weeks, trust me. I woke up many times in the night, but that's nothing new. I had no vivid dreams this time or any level of sleep walking/moving/talking.

I woke up all on my own though, and I was so hungry I had to drag myself out of bed immediately.

I'm always starving when I wake up, so it's routine for me to drink a glass of chocolate milk literally every single day. Literally. For years now it's been my thing.

But this morning (Or should I say, morning for ME), I did something different. CHANGE, right?

Last night we went to the store and bought me some quick foods to encourage me eating more, because my usual is to eat once a day, and obviously that's not a good thing.

So I made myself a bowl of Strawberry Yogurt with chopped up Strawberries and sprinkled some Granola. It was absolutely beautiful.

Then I took like an hour long shower, as usual, and had to ignore the urge to scrub the top edge of the glass for dust or organize the Lotions and Perfume by height and color. It was very hard.

I washed my face with this fancy stuff that makes me want to pet my skin all day, put on my robe, fixed my hair then got dressed.

Today my family was tidying up the Kitchen and such so I did the chores (Boring, I know), and then I snacked on some Yogurt covered Raisins and tried the Chocolate flavor of my health drink and pet my cat as an excuse not to finish cleaning.

I watched some Twilight Zone with dinner while it stormed outside, and started painting on one of my plain shirts and set it out to dry.

And now I am writing this, listening to music, eating chocolate covered Raisins and all that's left to me to do is take my medicine and vitamins and clean my face, brush my teeth, and head to bed!

This doesn't seem very exciting, I know. But it is.

My day was completely different than usual. It felt brighter, somehow, or perhaps that was just my vision.

I got to light candles and listen to the thunder and eat foods that made me feel fancy and pet my animals and listen to good music.

I have a white glow around this day, and though it is a little dim, it's still a glow anyway.

I don't know what tomorrow will be like, but it's up to me if it's good, of course, and I hope I'll be able to put in the effort I did today!

Thanks for reading!

List of Goals:

Hello there!

I've decided to make a little list of simple, perhaps logically meaningless goals for the present future, but they are meaningful to me.

Due to my depression, I have been sleeping more than I would like, while also feeling incredibly tired during the day.

I haven't been eating very much.

I haven't been doing much of anything, really, being unable to find the determination to do them, so maybe this will help!

So on with the list!:

  • I would like to start getting up earlier. Now, I've never been an early bird--night owl all the way! For all my life it's been this way, so when I say early I don't mean anything crazy. I got into a habit, that has of course since crashed and burned, of waking up at nine. It was a start, and I found I really loved the quiet of the morning when I could write or listen to music. I'd really enjoy trying that again.

  • I would like to start exercising. Because of my Heart Condition, I can't go for runs or do any ridiculously tiring exercises as I originally would have liked, though I can start doing Yoga and going on walks and one day perhaps build up to that. So I need to start building!

  • I would like to start learning French. This has been a dream of mine for a very long time, and I started the first lesson a long time ago only to have it pushed to the back when life got incredibly busy. No more! I'd really love to get started on it!

  • I would like to start looking better. And by this I mean I've been wearing really lazy clothes, even out in public, and I've not even bothered to brush my hair half the time. So I'd like to start wearing more of my dresses, actually doing something with my hair.

  • I would like to start taking better care of myself. This is one of the things the Doctor told me to do, and it's been hard for me. I realized that it was hard to list off things I liked about myself, and that I was not gentle with myself. I am not careful when I'm brushing my hair or washing my face or brushing my teeth, I am actually quite the opposite. I don't take the time to treat myself correctly. I also would like to start eating healthier, such as fruits and vegetables, because I like them just fine, I just don't eat them. 

  • I would like to start doing more of what I love. Yesterday I painted for the first time in quite a long time. Granted, I only used my fingers, but I listened to a song that reminded me of a sunset, and sure enough that's what appeared in front of me. I didn't actually know what I was painting--I just saw pinks and reds and oranges and I was so happy that I actually could imagine it in my head. It's been some time since I've been able to do that. So I would like to continue painting, sketching, writing. I have this new idea for a story, but haven't started it yet because I'm still brainstorming. Perhaps I'm just procrastinating?

  • I would really like to Pray more often. I do Pray, but of course this has been a trying time in my life and it was very difficult at times, and still is. Not that I am angry at God, or I am stubborn--it just seems to slip my mind, and I absolutely hate it. So I'd like to start reading my Bible more, Praying more, ect.

  •  I would like to embrace life more. Clearly, I haven't been doing that, nor had the will to do that. But I would like to. I have a wonderful life with wonderful opportunities and experiences yet to be had, and I would like to be brave and excited through it all. I don't know at all what my future holds, but it's up to me how I handle it!

  • I would really like to love myself more. I don't often. Sometimes I numbly think my hair looks pretty, or my eyes, or those freckles on my hands. But often I forget who I am, what I look like, how I am special. Anyone can write or paint or draw, right? 
True, but no one can possibly do it how I can.

Besides, no one can think how I think, imagine what I imagine, or act how I act. No one can be me, so why shouldn't I?

Maybe I wish I wasn't so thin and maybe I wish my nose wasn't as round as it is and maybe I wish my teeth weren't quite so crooked. But none of this matters if my soul shines brightly enough.

And it hasn't been, so I've noticed these things. I've obsessed over these stupid, meaningless things like they were actually important to anyone. It was just me--just me focusing on the bad, unable to see the point of it all, of myself.

But the point of me is simply me. There doesn't have to be anything more. Nothing more important or meaningful.

And that's all it takes for me to love myself, take care of myself, live my life like everything is beautiful, everything is something to laugh with and smile at. Because, geez, it is. It's wonderful.

There is bad and there are terrible things and I am not flawless, but choosing to concentrate on the good is a choice and it's a choice I am going to make.

I am not perfect, but I am perfectly made by God, so nothing else matters.

Thank you for reading, and thank you everyone who has been so kind and caring towards me--you don't understand how much it means. I am grateful for you all. 

Day at the Fair

Just as the title implies: yesterday I spent my evening at the Fair, and it was quite an adventure.

I went with my family--meaning my mom, sister, brother, his girlfriend, and both of my grandparents--but ended up finding a group of my lovely friends and exploring with them for a time.

Really the only reason I went was to take pictures.

The last thing I wanted to do was to get out into a huge crowd of people, surrounded by ridiculously loud noises and movements and lights and total chaos and basically the thought was nightmarish to my Asperger's brain.

And indeed it was tough--I didn't ride any rides besides the Ferris Wheel, and that was only to take pictures of all the lights at night from above. You see, I'm also afraid of heights. Extremely so.

I am glad I went, though. It was fun to wander around with my friends, taking pictures of them and I did get a lot of good photographs, I think. If you want to check them out, you may do so at my DeviantArt HERE.

I did get a ton of attention because of my newly dyed hair, including people screaming and shouting to me from across the grounds, and even some people wanting to touch it.

I won a few Ribbons for the Art I
submitted in the Fair!
No, humans of the Earth. It is not a wig. It was not "professionally done" . Basically I wanted a change and my mom spent nearly six hours to get it to look like this.

I don't mind people liking it, obviously. It was just surprising to me to have to talk and interact with so many strangers. Yeah, I know. I sound like such a sheltered little Homeschooler.

But Homeschooling has nothing to do with it. My personality wanted to hide underneath a table and hiss if anyone got too close, but of course that's not socially acceptable, so I had to smile and not flee the scene.

It was all very overwhelming and disorienting and I had to take deep breaths many times, but I made it through the day in one piece, and I'm glad that I did go.

I felt as if I overcame something, though I'm not quite sure what.

I absolutely fell in love with this
little guy! He was the sweetest thing!
I was afraid to go. I've felt like a fragile bit of glass that could break at any minute, so the thought of being around people, having to smile and not promptly lay down and cry was a terrifying one, but I went anyway, and there were no huge episodes.

I kept myself calm, as if I were two people. One part of me was like: "People! Bright lights! Loud noises! I just want to go home! I just want to fall apart!"

But then there was that little shred of the sensible part of me, and I'm not sure how it's still intact, but that was the part that comforted my other half. That said: "It's okay, just a few more hours. Look, the bright lights can be pretty, if you look at them like this. And the loud noises start and stop! The people aren't here to make you uncomfortable. Hold yourself together just a little bit longer!"

And sure enough I did, and I actually enjoyed myself sometimes. I couldn't eat much of anything, sadly, even though the food is one of the greatest things about the Fair. My stomach has been pathetic ever since I started taking that medicine.

I can go an entire day without eating anything, my stomach just numb, no food sounding remotely good at all.

And then that night I will literally eat anything that is around me. I ate two entire chocolate bars and a huge bowl of pasta and it was amazing. I've sort of learned to eat as much as I can when I actually CAN eat, because chances are I won't be able to get myself to eat anything for the rest of the night.

And a quick update on something: whereas last week I was taking half a pill, we've just recently started the whole thing. This means that things are still out of whack, but should hopefully be evening out soon?

I'm not sure. I dunno. Depression sucks, basically.

But, something good that's coming out of the medicine--it's actually sort of doing what it's supposed to be doing!

I've recently gotten a new idea for a story, and the idea of it is actually very exciting to me. I haven't been able to plan much for it, because I haven't been able to sit still and concentrate on one thing for very long, but I have drawn a few sketches of the characters and came up with a basic plot-line.

This may not seem like something special, but considering I went from the girl who created constantly in her mind to the girl who couldn't find motivation to create a single thing, this is something great.

I still haven't been able to read a lot--I've started at least three books and had to set them all down again after a few chapters because I just can't make myself pick them up again.

I've wanted to paint again, and this is rare. My mom bought me a few new canvases and I just haven't found the time to sit down and make something yet, but it's definitively at the top of my list.

I've also been listening to a ridiculous amount of music. I've just created the playlist for this new story filled with my favorite songs, and it ended up being 7 hours long. As you can imagine, I've put it on Shuffle and let it play on repeat more times than I can count.

Music is really something that's helped me. Not in the sense that I relate to songs whose lyrics have inspired me and helped me through hard times, though that has happened sometimes.

I mean that when I'm trying not to think, music is my go-to thing. It fills my head with something other than my own thoughts that have a tendency to stray to places they shouldn't. I hum sometimes if I don't have access to my music and think the lyrics in my head to give me words to focus on that aren't my own.

Safe to say, I've gotten a lot better, but I go back and forth within hours at least ten times. There is no: 'Today was a good day!' or 'Today was a bad day!'

I can go from great to horrible in a matter of seconds, or I can be feeling great for half the day. I'm doing my best to keep it all in the good, but it sways every now and then.

I've wanted to write on here many different times about many different things, so I'll hopefully be getting the determination to write those other posts, but for now:

Thanks for reading!


So, I've been sick.

But this isn't the kind of illness that causes me to cough and sneeze. My hair isn't unbrushed. I'm not shivering from a cold.

I've been mentally ill, which actually sounds like I should be a character in some crazy YA novel, and indeed I feel like I could be.

I've been on my own little roller coaster these last few weeks, but it's not the adventure I would have preferred. It's been dark and scary and something I wouldn't wish on anybody, and wished I didn't have to be at this place, myself.

Now, before I go on further: I understand that talking about these sorts of things is not something a lot of people do, and you might not understand why I am.

Sure, talking about these personal and secret things may open me up to bullying, teasing, and perhaps cause people to look at me a certain way, but I don't care.

These are not things that are accepted and spoken of in today's society easily, and that's stupid, because I've been lucky enough to be surrounded by wise people to explain things to me, but most people don't, and are taught that speaking of tough matters is a crime.

That's idiotic, so I'm going to share my experiences in hope that it might help someone else, because staying silent and unnecessarily secretive about these things isn't going to do much of anything at all.

Alright, now that that's through:

I do indeed suffer from depression, and indeed 'suffering' is the right term for it.

It started a month or so ago, and it was simply a deep painful sadness. I was probably depressed then, too, but it had a cause so there's really nothing I could have done for it besides wait it out.

Though it started from a specific trauma, it has been one thing after another and it's spiraled out of control and  since then I've been somewhere I never even knew existed for me.

Depression runs in my family, so I really can't say I'm surprised, but I always thought I'd be strong enough to handle it, you know? I think we all do. We think "if it were me, I would handle it differently."

But in these crucial, life-changing moments, you seem to forget all the promises you make yourself.

So, I never understood why people would cut themselves. I didn't judge people who did, but I simply was confused by it. I figure it was to get attention? To distract themselves? And I was sort of right about the second one.

But it happened one night, in one second, and the next morning I couldn't remember if it was a nightmare or not. I suppose it was a nightmare, anyway, even if I wasn't asleep.

I assure you, it wasn't something I could wrap my mind around, let alone do myself.

But that's just the thing--it didn't have to make sense.

I'm sure everyone's reasons are different, but for me it was almost like an instinct.

It was like an out of body experience--as if I were watching myself, detached, numb. I didn't care about what I was doing or what would happen afterwards. In that moment I could not sit still unless I acted, rash or not.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am logical. Painfully so. I like to get lost in dreams and stories, but when it comes to life and situations and problems, I am almost robotically realistic about things.

So I was more shocked than anyone when this occurred.

Though, once I did it, I really had to look back at my past to figure out why this would ever became an option, whether I was in my right mind while doing it or not. And it did make some sense.

I remember many times when I was really angry when I was little when I would pull at my hair or hit myself, and maybe this isn't so rare for young children, but I remember it hurting. A lot. And I didn't care, because I was angry.

I told my Mom and family the next day.

This may be surprising for some people, too. When kids do this the typical thing is for them to be silent and brooding--maybe try to handle it themselves, be ashamed or silent about it, and that's when it gets really bad.

But, considering depression runs seriously in my family, my Mom always talked about it very openly and told us that it was something to tell her about and not hide away, no matter how hard it is to say.

And it was incredibly hard to talk about, but I'm still glad I did.

It was good to have support--to not be alone in it, though I can't say that I didn't feel lonely some of the time.

It was better to have someone holding me accountable, in a way--someone to ask "Have you done it again?", and someone that I could say "No," to.

I stopped cutting and when I did get the urge to do it each time I marked myself with a red marker instead of hurting myself. I'd read it online somewhere and honestly never thought much more about it, because at the time I thought I would never be in the situation of needing it, but it really helped when I got that desperate. It might sound stupid, but it's honestly not something that can be explained.

And then it got worse.

I can't exactly say what changed, but it turned into the thought process of "If killing myself didn't go against my beliefs, I would have done it already."

Now this seems like a huge jump from hurting myself just because I was angry or sad to wishing the whole entire world away. Not everyone who cuts themselves is suicidal, believe it or not.

But my reasons aren't: "The world would be better off without me! I don't make a difference! I don't matter!".

I understand that I matter and I understand that I am important to some people. But none of this matters in the least bit when I'm in one of those moods and get to thinking a lot. Nothing at all matters, to be honest.

My reasons aren't "The world doesn't want me", it's "I don't want the world."

Because of my Aspergers, I've always seen the world differently. I see all of the good vividly and sunrises in bright colors and dust floating through the air turns into something beautiful to me and raindrops are like sunshine. But I also see the bad vividly, and of course this is a time when it seems the bad often wins out.

Recently all I see is bad, and all I want is to get away. In these times, it's easy to believe that peace can only come with death. It's simple, you see--living is hard, so stop doing it. All I want is to be rid of my thoughts and what's happening inside my mind, and the scariest part is that this is all something inside of me.

There is no physical evidence of what I'm going through--yes, scars that no one can see, but that's not what I am referring to--there are no wounds from an accident or current events that I can point to and say "this is the cause".

It's literally in my head, and I could think of nothing more fitting for the girl who can't stop thinking.

I stopped marking myself with a red marker when I got the urge to cut myself because if I still did it I would be covered in the marks from head to toe--it was all the time, a constant lingering, and I asked my family to not let me be alone for longer than 10-20 minutes, because if I did I would get to thinking, and that's a very dangerous thing for me right now.

So, obviously, this line of thought is highly alarming and threatening, so Mom called a doctor the next day.

I went and it was really hard, again, to talk about something that was so close to me. Actually I felt absolutely insane. I explained that at first my mood made sense: I would think of some things that had happened and get sad, but they had reasons. I understood this.

But then I explained that something changed. I would watch people walk along the sidewalks and try not to cry. I would stand in the middle of one of the Birthday parties my family hosts at our store, and tell myself to hold it together. To breathe deeply.

Basically, the tiniest, most innocent little things just made me so sad, and I had no idea why.

So two days ago, I was prescribed some medicine to take once a day that should help.

My mom and the doctor discussed this option thoroughly because, of course, it's very dangerous for younger people to be on such serious pills, but it's starting out at an incredibly low dose because of my size, and I'm grateful it's not a huge risk.

Though the medicine does have a few side effects: the actual good part should start after this week or so hopefully, but for now I'm left with a slew of ridiculous things to put up with.

Like tiredness. Oh my GOODNESS, I am so sleepy all the time. It's like the kind of tired when you are trying to stay up all night, and at five in the morning your eyes are literally dropping shut without your permission. It's like that, except all the time. And I'm already a tired person, naturally, so this is just insane.

Also, I've never sleep walked or sleep talked or anything, so last night when I sat up, took a drink of water, laid back down, and woke up, I was officially freaked out. It must be the most disorienting thing I've ever experienced, because I was only watching myself, still basically asleep, as my body moved on its own, and couldn't actually move on my own until I'd laid down again.

There is also a side-effect of suicidal thoughts, much like I've already experienced, so I am under "contract" to tell my mom anytime I find myself going out of my mind like that.

Nothing too serious has happened, thankfully, though I can't say there's been a lot of time for it. I am basically under 24/7 supervision by my family--not because they don't trust me, but because this medicine is doing crazy things to my already twisted brain, and I already know what it feels like to act without fully being there. I'm thankful for this. I can't say I trust my brain, myself.

I've been constantly keeping busy, as I've been told to do--literally I am not allowing myself to sit still and silent for longer than ten minutes. I need to be doing something. Be distracted by something.

But that's just the problem. It's so hard for me to focus on anything. It's hard for me to say stuff properly sometimes and It's impossible for me to read, write, draw... I'm so numb to everything.

At night right before I go to sleep is the worse, which is why I've been watching "My Little Pony" until I literally can't keep my eyes open.

As I said: thinking is dangerous for me, so I am avoiding it at all costs.

Some times are better than others. Sometimes I feel fine--or, close to fine. Something is off, but I'm still able to laugh and such, but then a second later I'll be incredibly fragile, as if I'll fall apart if you speak too loudly. It's a fine line but I think I'm doing good at walking it so far.

The doctor also told me to point out at least ten things that I like about myself everyday, no matter how small, because my self-esteem is like so low it's practically at the center of the world.

I'm supposed to start exercising--anything to get my up and moving. I have to drink these really thick smoothie things to keep me healthy, at least one a day, and I've started filling out this Depression workbook that the Therapist suggested, and it's helped to write out a plan for if I feel the urge to hurt myself.

So that's what I've been doing--keeping busy, though I don't feel like it. Doing simple things that make me happy like watching Teen Wolf, Shugo Chara, listening to Steam Powered Giraffe, playing Kingdom Hearts 2 (except I sobbed when I finished it last week because MY BABIES!), and trying my best to keep a positive spirit.

Today is my fourth day on the medicine, and I'll be sure to keep this blog up-to-date with my process.

So keep me in your thoughts and prayers, because, clearly, I've been more than a little messed up, and I'm just doing my best to get through!

Thanks for reading! (And I'm sorry this post is so long!)

Small Problems are Still Problems

Have you ever heard the quote "Someone's got it worse than you"?

You see, I think this saying is supposed to make me feel better about my own life.  To think "Eh, things are not as bad as they could be."

And indeed I know they can be worse, and maybe that makes it some-what better.  But that doesn't mean that things still aren't bad.

I understand in stepping back and getting a bit of perspective on your own life.  Sure, maybe something horribly tragic happened,  but at least you have some good still left, right? Maybe you're completely stressed out or anxious or upset, but someone out there has it rougher. I agree that things can always get worse,  but that doesn't mean I believe in the quote stated above.

If a someone is talking to you about their lifes troubles: if they just lost someone,  if they suffer from depression, if they open up to you in any way at all about their dark feelings, it is in no way okay to tell them:

"Straighten up.  Someone's got it way worse than you,  so stop pitying yourself."

Oh my goodness.

Please don't do this.

Sure someone has it way worse than you, and they should be in our Prayers daily,  but that doesn't mean your own problems and struggles and trials aren't just as real and important as theirs. 

We all suffer and we all feel like it's impossible to just stand up in the mornings sometimes, but because our problems aren't GROUND BREAKING CALL THE NEWS problems,  does not mean that they do not matter.

This does not mean that YOU do not matter.

Sometimes I tell myself to get a grip: 

"Why are you still crying?  Why do you still feel this way? Why are you still so upset when there are people out there witnessing death and destruction and perhaps fighting not to die themselves?"

And that works, to a degree. But sadness is selfish, and even if the whole world is ending it still finds the time to remind me of my little troubles in my little world.

I Pray for others everyday--for the people who are fighting for themselves, whether their enemy is big or small, because we all matter and maybe this problem won't kill you, but at the time it sure feels like it will, doesn't it?

It seems like if you aren't about to kill yourself, or about to kill someone else, no one cares.  As long as you aren't pushed that far to the edge, you should be fine, right?  You can get over it on your own.

But this isn't true and it's stupid to think it is.  

Speaking from my personal experience, handling it on your own is the hardest thing to do.  Thankfully I have wonderful people on my life who are supportive and caring towards me,  but I know that I'm lucky when it comes to this.  I know that most people don't, and that breaks my heart.

Don't let anyone belittle you and your sadness and your loss or your heartbreak or your trauma. 

I believe in understanding.  That's it.  I believe in listening to others and even if a struggle seems petty and useless, know that it's not. 

Like depression, for example.  Many people misunderstand it. 

You don't have to be on medicine or in therapy to be depressed.  To be 'Clinically Depressed' you do, but that's not the only form of depression.

But people think:

 "Are you tempted to kill yourself?  Have you stopped eating? No?  Then you can handle handle this.  You're fine."

No, because depression doesn't have to be so bad as to take you're own life for it to be real.

I am depressed,  for reference. I have no doubt about it.  It's better some days and worse others,  but more on that in a later post.

Take your own problems and other people's problems seriously, please, because they all are, yes, serious, big or small.

Ugh, just 'share the love', you know? 

Would you want to be ignored? Would you want to be shut down or not taken honestly and openly?


Okay then, get a grip and help out others, because that's literally one of the things you where put on this earth to do.

Thanks and have a great day.

Two People

Hello Dears!

Today has been pretty empty, meaning my mind has had a lot of time to wander freely and without stop. This isn't a bad thing. Well, at least today it isn't.

But it got me thinking:

There are, basically, two types of people in this world.

Both of these kinds are very troubled people.

Stay with me here:

Now, both of these people have suffered. They are both distraught, or have been, or are sometimes. Both of these people have had terrible and wonderful things happen to them.

What I'm trying to say is; everyone on Earth has gone through stuff. Everyone has lived a tragedy at one point or another. This might be abuse or bullying or trauma. You might have had to bury a parent or a pet or might have had a house fire or were made fun of in school.

Whatever the specific case is--the world is full of horror.

Allow me to explain: One of these types of people take these horrible things that have happened to them, and simply simmer in it. These are, generally, the people who cause more violence and hate in the world.

These are the people who use their past or present struggles as fuel and as an excuse to mistreat and belittle other people. These are the bullies in school. These are the people who love to make you feel worthless. These are life's conflicts, who feel strong by teasing and feel powerful by beating others down--mentally or emotionally or physically. These are not necessarily bad people, but good people that were infected by the world and drug down with it, who handle everything in all the wrong ways.

Think of a villain in a storybook, basically.

They have their own story, and their own problems, and their own heartbreak, yet they are the hero that simply fell apart and is eaten up with desperation and hopelessness, which often causes people to act out and be someone they aren't.

And, sure, it's easier to put up a front. To be uncaring, to be heartless, but this is all an act. It's hard to be vulnerable and open and honest, because when you let people know your heart then they know exactly how to attempt to crush it.

Then you have the other type of people--the people who have gone through horrors big and small, some even bigger than the other type of people have gone through.

But these are the greatest people in the world.

These are the brilliant lights that I talk about so often. The kind of people that have gone through Hell yet shine with the light of Heaven.

These are the people of strength--who may fall and break but stay standing through it all. This is that one person that happened to smile at you when you were having a bad day--when maybe even they were having a bad day, too, yet smiled anyway! The person who holds the door for you whenever they certainly didn't have to--when many others wouldn't.

The people who live their life through art or performing and love and freedom. The people who are tortured geniuses. Beautiful scars walking the earth overcoming fear one day to the next, but that refuse to give up. Refuse to give in.

This is who I am--who I constantly strive to be.

I will never be mean. I will never purposefully insult someone or hurt someone. I will never be the kind of person to suffer and think that because I've had a hard time, it's my job to make sure everyone else does, too.

I know a ton of BOTH of these people. The one's who would love to make fun of me, try and tear me down. Sure, maybe they've succeeded at one point or another, but I'm done with that. I refuse to budge anymore and lower myself to their standards of pathetic thoughts and brainless acts that society tells us is the right thing. The thing to make you last in this world.

Well, I'll tell you, I've never seen a jerk happy in their life. They may get awards, get money, get popularity, but are these really things that we should care about? No.

I don't care about how many friends you have. I don't care about how much fun you have. I feel sorry for you, and nothing you say will make me feel any other way.

I also know people who are like me. People who can, no, not point to a crowd of people and say, "These are my friends!", while they don't even know half of them. I mean people who can hold out their cupped palms and say, "This is all, but they mean the world to me.". Find quality friends, not a large quantity of idiots.

Surround yourself with people who will lift you higher. Who will encourage you to think and try your best and live for what makes you happy.

When I was little, I used to think that bad things only happened to bad people. I thought that this was true.

But now I know that bad things happen to everyone, especially good people, yet they just have a way of turning pain into something amazing. 'Smiling through the tears', if you will.

Yes, I have been emotionally and mentally abused. Most of this is done by myself, to myself.

I tell myself so many things, think so many things, and hardly any of them are good.

Again, enough of that.

I don't mean to get up on my high horse and look down upon everyone else, but I refuse to continue to mistreat myself and allow myself to be mistreated by others.

If words intend to hurt me, I refuse to listen. Again, I won't stoop down to the floor and take in those words full of lies and filth. I did before. I have been. 

The world is full of fear and horrible, terrible things, and we must do the hard thing--smile anyway.

We Are Stories

Hello Dears!

It's been incredibly long since I've written a Blog Post due to my habit of making a bunch of crazy videos about writing/reading, which can be found HERE at my Youtube Channel!

I've been having a blast filming and editing those videos, and I've met many great people through it so far, and I can't wait to see where the future of it goes!

But, of course, I've begun to miss expression through the written word, so I decided to write more Blog Posts.

A quick disclaimer: majority of these posts will not be about reading. Or writing. Or books. These are about me and my own story, so if that doesn't suite you feel free to follow the link above and explore all I have to offer on reading and writing and books and such!

Talking about stories is great, don't get me wrong--it's one of my favorite things to do. But this blog is about all aspects of stories, and that includes my own, so I feel no guilt in shaking things up a little bit.

So, I'm going to be real with you. In two different ways.

I'm going to be real meaning out of fiction--out of fantasy and books and all of the magic that comes with it.

I am also going to be real meaning I am going to be... Brutally honest about things.

I have a lot to say, to put it simply. I over-think which means I have heaps and piles of unpoken and unwritten opinions and thoughts that I have never allowed myself to share for many reasons.

The biggest reason is that I consider this a 'Reading/Writing' Blog, and straying from that isn't allowed, but that's just, frankly, stupid.

I made this blog for me. I made this blog to talk about whatever I wanted to, because writing down events and thoughts helps me cope with things.

But I haven't been doing that, because I was so caught up on labeling things. But, basically, forget it. I'm going to talk about what I want to.

So when I first started out this blog, it was to help me express things properly--write them down, store them away, and forget about them.

And now I am writing here because I've gone through crap, and I think a lot, and if I'm keeping the stories of my life to myself then how do I expect to help others?

I hide a lot, basically. And I'm done with that. I keep my problems and my thoughts and my personality and my life to myself, and I'm tired of it. Tired of hiding.

I was put on this Earth to share my experiences, good and bad, great and terrible, to help others and learn from them myself. It's selfish of me to keep hiding, and ultimately I'm just done pretending.

I hate pretending. I hate people who do it, and I hate to think that I do it myself, so I declare: enough.

I have stuff to say, and I am done staying silent.

So I'm going to be honest. Honest about everything. About me and life and who I am and I am doing this for multiple different reasons that will become clear in later Posts.

I admire people who are open and honest. I admire people who understand that, no, their life and their past is not just for themselves to bear and to keep in secret. I firmly believe that God continues to put me through these things so that I may be a living, breathing story, one interesting to read, one that might break your heart, maybe make you laugh. We are all stories and if we are silent, then your just the cover. Not much to look at, right?

And I realized that I am never open. I am never truly honest about who I am.

And, again, I am done pretending.

I've felt fake. I've felt like I'm focusing on my writing and my painting and my drawing that I haven't even stopped to actually think about myself and who I am.

I discovered that I am not the best I can be. Of course I'm not--we as humans should be constantly striving to be greater, make better choices, think wiser.

But right here where I am, I have gone halfway. I have been half a person. I have ignored myself and mistreated myself and basically just destroyed myself without even realizing it.

So that's enough of that.

I tried to describe myself and had a very hard time.

I often do not see myself as exciting or interesting. I am not funny or witty or clever. Perhaps I'm not an entertainer--not someone to want to be around, not someone to admire, not someone that is inspirational.

But, gosh dang it, I can be.

Who we are is %90 up to us, you know that? And I have let myself go. I have not tried to be anyone, let alone a good version of myself, whoever that may be. I can be whoever I want, and I choose to be greater than this, than the silent, distraught person I am now.

And you bet I'm going to share it all with you. With the world. I've hidden myself so much that I lost sight of who I am myself.

I've tried so hard to be people I'm not. I've tried on many hats over the last few months, few weeks, even, countless masks that turned me into different people, none of them that I quite fit into.

Despite this, I've tried to make my writing interesting--my painting, my drawing, my books--I tried to make them all great. Maybe if they are then I am too, right?


So incredibly wrong.

I am going to focus on making myself brilliant--with a personality and traits and quirks that I can be proud of and embrace, not try to snuff out and hide. And, through being a good person, my talents, such as writing and drawing and painting, will become good, too.

I've gotten caught up in every single thing except for the right thing.

I told myself I wanted to do amazing things. But my priority now is to be an amazing person.

At my Funeral when I die in 300 years (Yes this just got morbid fast.), I don't want people to say:
"She accomplished many great things. Published many novels. Was very successful in her wishes."

I want people to say, maybe with a little smile:

"She touched so many hearts with her gentle fingers, and inspired so many souls with her words. She was beautiful not because of any color of her eyes or any curl of her hair--it was like light shone through her everyday, and she never let it dim, not ever. She told stories as if they were real, and like magic she made you believe they were, too!"

I'm not going to do and create great things for other people. I'm going to be great for myself.

Because God doesn't care one bit about how many Followers I have on Youtube, or how many paintings I sell, or what awards I accomplish in my life.

He cares about how bright my light is. And I'm not going to do that through an impressive wall of sketches hidden away in my room. I'm going to do that by being open and honest.

I do not live my life for me. I live my life for Him, and I strongly feel as though I have been called to finally speak.

And it feels so good.

Just writing this, just not caring, just not telling myself 'no one will care' or 'that's too personal!'.

So I hope you don't mind this, but if you do, I, to put it bluntly, don't honestly care.

I'm not being rude. I'm being honest. I will keep my videos on topic of Reading and Writing and such, but I am me and I can't pretend to not be and I will not apologize for it.

Thanks for reading, if you've actually stuck to it this far in, and expect more posts in the near future!

Writing Class: Day Four (And other such things!)

Day Four's video include many things because I am literally so scatter brained.

Writing Class: Day One, Two, and Three!


As you can read on the descriptions to my videos over at my Youtube Channel, I had some major technical issues, so I have three videos from the last three days for you guys!

I have now solved the problem, and we are all caught up and back to normal!

                  Writing Class: Day One!:

                  Writing Class: Day Two!:

                  Writing Class: Day Three!:

So, I'll be posting one more Video later tonight, Day Four, which is actually what is SUPPOSED to happen!

So sorry about the huge dump of videos, and thank you guys so much for hanging in there!

Thanks for reading/watching!