#depressive episode
me, at work: yeah, i guess i’m kinda depressed, but i’m pushing through it and trying my best! need any help? let me take care of you :)
me, the second i come home: i wonder how much of this bathtub i can fill with my blood before i die
been away for a while but now i’m back because i’m drunk and listening to mama mia on repeat while depressed as shit laying on the floor so like if you’d wanna knife fight me in a parking lot i’d let you win
me depressed: maybe i’ll just cut myself so i’m not sad anymore and because who cares
me manic: Maybe!!! i’ll cut myself so thaaaaat i can prove I Am Alive and do some homemade scarification tattoos!! that’ll keep the demons away!! i hope my Friends think i’m Cool and not Crazy bc im for sure Both!!!!!
I have no idea where else to vent. This is going to be long. I don’t care if no one reads it, I just want to let things out of my chest. You see, I’ve been feeling stressed and empty, I have so much work I cannot get myself to do, my memory is getting worse, I’m losing my appetite, I haven’t eaten anything in two days, and I’m losing interest in things I loved doing. I want to take a moment to relax or find a healthy way to cope, five minutes to cry even, but I can’t. It’s not that I don’t have the time; no, I have plenty of free time. I don’t know how to manage it. I can never stay calm because there’s always a responsibility that needs to be taken care of, and it will keep wondering around my head, even when I go to sleep. My nightmares are realistic everyday scenarios that almost cause me paranoia and I do anything to prevent them from coming to life because I view them as warnings. I can’t cope in any way: I don’t have enough privacy to cry, I don’t have the time to sit down and split my subpersonalities, so I can talk to the “caregiver” which usually helps, without someone coming in and asking “Have you done____?”. I am trying to avoid talking about feelings to my family as that makes me very uncomfortable. But what the hell am I supposed to do, nothing is getting better
Bottle up as a religion
ALTAt first sight, Tree Roots appears as a jumble of bright colors and wild abstract shapes. Powerful strokes and thickly applied paint mark the canvas. The subject only becomes apparent when you look more closely: tree roots, plants, leaves, with the brown and yellow of a sandy woodland floor under them. Van Gogh painted other scenes of trees and woods. He often cut off his compositions in an unusual fashion, often painting trees without their tops, or a piece of woodland showing only undergrowth and flowers - or, as here, only the roots of the trees.
Vincent van Gogh spent the last few months of his life in Auvers-sur-Oise, a small town just north of Paris, after he left an asylum at Saint-Rémy in May 1890. Tree Roots is considered by many scholars to be Van Gogh’s last painting before his death late July 1890.
In 2020, with the help of a postcard from 1905, the exact location where Vincent van Gogh painted his last work has been pinpointed after being hidden in plain view for years among a tangle of roots next to a rural lane near Paris. Experts say the discovery sheds new light on the anguished painter’s mental state on the day he is widely believed to have fatally shot himself.
Researchers believe that the composition and execution of Tree Roots - a tight focus on gnarled roots on a hillside - have led to it being seen as a “harbinger of abstraction”.
cw abuse mention, depression/anxiety spiralling
What if I really am just an ugly, lazy female with no self esteem like I assumed I was for 31 years? What if I’m not nb at all and I’m just making the nb community look bad by appropriating the label? What if for me it’s never really been about “not feeling female” and instead I’ve used that as an excuse to avoid admitting to myself that I’m simply Not Attractive and that being unattractive (as a female in particular) makes me feel worthless?
What if I never stop having nightmares about my abuser? What if the abuse was the one and only time in my life that any person would or will ever want to touch me? What if my nightmares are the closest I’ll ever get to “romance” for the rest of my life?
What if my parents both die tomorrow, or next week, or next year, and I’m left with no more excuses, motivation, or means to continue living?
Me: “Wow I’ve been pretty mentally stable lately!”
My brain: “Go to waffle house at 3am.”
Me: “Oh no it’s the first sign of distress.”
I don’t wanna be me anymore
It never lasts
After it took so long to get a piece of happiness
For eternity
I really wish I didnt feel this empty, I dont even have the freaking energy to post memes cos I cant tell if they’re shit or I’m just too depressed to care
