.

TW: mental illness, self harm, triggers, swear words, mention of therapy, mention of “mum” or mum figure.

Okay. Let’s stop right there. I don’t look mentally ill.... wh.... what does that even mean? I don’t.... what? I don’t look mentally ill. How is mentally ill supposed to look?

Because I didn’t brush my hair today and turned it into my aesthetic. My dress isn’t ironed and it’s only clean because my mum did my washing for me. I became hyper focused on my make up today.... again. It’s my newest “thing” and I’ve wasted money that I needed on it on an impulse buy where refunds aren’t accepted. I like shaving my legs, haven’t for..... ??? Same with arm pits. That pic is also the one I liked most from around 105 other pics, in different rooms.... with different lighting.... poses, smile, head tilt, slight.face.change.only.I.notice and tbh I really fucking hate myself while I go through 105 photos, some where I forgot the filter and I saw mirror me. Hate her.

Every time I walk across a bridge I want to throw my fucking phone off it. Typing that made me really angry. There is just something about walking over a bridge and smashing my phone off it. I think of it and my whole body gets agitated, I might even twitch. It’s now all I can think about. I want to do it. I love my phone! There’s so many precious photos on there (I don’t back up stuff, I want to though, promise....) and I don’t want to smash my phone but I really, really want to throw it off a bridge and smashing it. I think about this every day. I don’t know why I’m so passionate about it. This one I can trigger on purpose and I regret it every time because one day I think I’ll do it and then hate myself. All those f-bombs are totally impulsive by the way lol if I didn’t write those I was never gunna sleep until I did. That’s just the rules. I don’t make the rules but I do.

I have little impulse control, especially if I’m manic or psychotic at the time.... I do shit I regret CONSTANTLY. And I know it’s going to make a mess of my life but I do it anyway, come down after it and regret it.... then I bury it so deep until the next time I do said thing. Most of the time it’s for attention and most of the time I get it even if I manipulate it out of people. I will go to the kitchen, take my meds, walk over to my mum who’s in another room and tell her that I’m not taking them today or ever again.... ???? I just took them. I do the same the next day. It makes her mad. Make sense? Nope. But I can’t stop myself from doing this. I feel guilty every time I do it. There’s constant conflict in my head.

I test people to see how far I can push before they leave me and then I test that boundary for the rest of the time I know you. Don’t worry, it’s only if you’re in my close circle of people who might care for me, mum, FP, siblings, friends.... they cop it the most and I love them and they don’t deserve it but my golly gosh, sometimes I’m just that mad that everything inside me explodes out and I become a monster. I’ve said things I can never take back that make me want to die every day. Evil, evil things. I hate myself for it. I feel a lot of guilt and shame about this. I bet everyone is so done with my shit. Because same. Everyone else, I’m just adjusting myself to whatever social context I’ve found myself in. I’m good at adapting. You’ll like me, promise because I am you, pretty much.

I mask. Incredibly well. That’s not about my face. Next is about my face. I make it LOOK like I’m not mentally ill by literally ACTING LIKE IM NOT MENTALLY ILL. But I am, on the inside, like in my brain. Which you can’t see. Because it’s a MENTAL ILLSESS. Do umm... do we get it? I feel like we get it. I hope we get it. I’m also self aware, which took years of self reflection and therapies so I could learn about myself and try to “fix” it or at least just learn enough to do the opposite of some things. I’m mentally ill but I’m still a person, I’m still out here doing people stuff, doing the best I can.

Also, you may also notice I have a black eye. I was having a psychotic episode that was triggered because I argued with FP and they ignored me for what I see now was their own sanity. So I feel pretty rejected and abandoned. I just need to add that myself and FP have an extremely unhealthy relationship and I’m aware of this also. Erghhhhh. Anyway. While they were ignoring me, I called them as many times as I could. I also wanted to kill my self. I also told them this. Fucked up right? And I would never do this if I wasn’t in an episode. I then became frustrated and stressed and when that’s at max level I begin to punch myself in the head and the face.

This hurts, a lot. I’m often seen with a black eye, facial bruising, head lumps and split lips because I punch myself in the head. This is also new for me, maybe the last 12 months I’ve done this. One day I just couldn’t keep it in anymore and started punching myself in the head. I hate myself when I do this.

I hate myself a lot and I hate that statement. Dw I do love myself too. Depends on the hour or the minute. I promise I’m not faking. This is just today. It’s 10:30 in the morning and I was trying to cover a black eye at around 5:30 because I had a dream that felt too real and I was really angry and couldn’t sleep and I kept getting brain zaps.

This is what it’s like in my head. I know you can’t see it, I know I don’t say it but trust me, my head is.... and the hating myself and being exhausted all the fucking time by everything because so difficult.

Please don’t tell people they don’t look mentally ill. This is also the only place where I can vent like this and people are like “same, just same” and we nod at each other and we carry on. It’s beautiful. Don’t ruin that for us! It feels like the world doesn’t get it as it is.

Also, I REALLY LOVE YOU LOVES! ❤️❤️ thanks for being there and listening to all my bullshit. Especially when I don’t proof read very often so idk if it even makes sense. I’m glad you guys support it though, you’ve been the best diary I’ve ever had 🥰

post/190414646571

I don’t know how to tell YOU this, anon, but Ecna isn’t mentally ill. She’s a spoiled, entitled brat running amok with her dad’s credit card, and is throwing a tantrum because she got caught doing shitty things and had to face consequences. And writing this as someone who IS mentally ill, the fact that you’d justify her bullshit with that excuse is nothing short of absolutely appalling. I’m disgusted.

This entire shit show started because she charged back on a completed custom design after some months, and also charged back on a design she resold prior, thus doubling her profit. This, along with her shitty attitude and extreme verbal abuse towards someone, drove an artist she had commissioned to refund her money and decline doing business with her. The artist also chose to publicly blacklist her after she started to harass said artist. And ever since then, she’s been: • threatening and harassing said artist • slandering the artist in multiple discord servers while painting herself as the poor innocent victim • trying to get people to obtain the artist’s IRL info • threatening fake lawsuits in the hopes of getting her custom slot returned for free as “compensation” for “emotional damages”

She has also: • willingly and casually admitted to ruining someone’s life some time back • made threats to track another artist and her family down IRL for harassment purposes/ill intent • threatened and harassed both artists and buyers/winners of auctions she failed to win until the design was handed over to her or both parties blocked her

She’s not mentally ill. She’s a raging psychopath with an overblown ego who thinks that, because she can dole out $3000+ on adopts, she’s entitled to everything she wants and can treat anyone however she pleases without consequence.

Her little stunt on Twitch was nothing more than a disgusting attempt to guilt trip the artist who refused her commission. She did this to herself, no one else is at fault and no one’s “bullying” her in the slightest. The only bully here is Ecna herself.

I really hope she gets institutionalized, because she needs to be removed from the internet as a whole, never mind the art and adoptable communities. She’s a legitimate hazard to the well-being of other people.

Where is My Mind?

Stress can make you feel like you're going crazy.

I cannot emphasize this enough. Long-term, persistent and intense stress well above your baseline levels can make you feel like you're losing your mind.

Life is stressful and when I think back to when the intense periods of stress started in mine it gets a bit ridiculous because I grew up in a domestically violent household with severely mentally ill parents in a country on the brink of civil war with one of the highest crime rates in the world. So I have been kinda stressed for a very long time. However, in more recent months, the level of acute stress I've been experiencing has made me feel disconnected from reality. I've experienced derealisation a number of times due to Lyrica withdrawal and accidental cannabis highs. But this one is different. The depersonalisation I’ve been experiencing is from pure, unrelenting stress. I really did question my sanity more than once.

 In July, I saw my psychologist to describe this feeling to her. She very helpfully drew a diagram which explained the neuroscience of why we feel this way when we've experienced high levels of stress for a long time. It was really helpful to see that because it reassured me that what I was feeling was, as much as this can be said, "normal", given the amount of strain I was under. But the stress hasn’t let up since then and I have been well above my baseline for much too long.

 Long story short, I haven't really recovered since my family visited me last year. 2018 was a year from hell. 2019 hasn’t been much better but for different reasons. Basically, the hardships I’ve endured being the leader of a non-profit all these years reached critical mass and finally, at long last, broke me. After 8 years of pouring all my heart, soul and every last spoon I had into it, I quit last month…and to very little fanfare at that. 3 people turned up for our final meeting, and only because we needed to hand them the organization’s physical assets. We had a little unplanned dinner out and that was that.

I'm grateful to the handful of people who have reassured me they will continue its legacy beyond my departure, genuinely I am, but overall I think I stayed in that position at least a year longer than I should have. I feel incredibly jaded and cynical about the whole thing.

 And I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but screw Sydney’s activists. The vast majority of them can barely call themselves that. I have never been in such an apathetic, vain, self-centered and lazy city when it comes to political activism. This migrant has had enough of trying to get Australians to care about their own issues. (And yeah, the people I handed the non-profit over to? Also migrants).

It is telling that the final meeting was also the night before we moved house (because we always had to wrap our own lives around the goings on of that organisation, not the other way around, which is another major reason we quit). So after an hour and a half’s drive into the city, we had to get home late to get up early the next day to start that fun process.

 But I am getting ahead of myself. Before we ever got to moving day, we first had to find a house. If you haven’t done it before, let me tell you, the process of house hunting on a tight budget in a hostile market is disgustingly stressful.

We were looking from June. The property market in Sydney is unbelievably expensive and even though it experienced a so-called "correction" for a year, (meaning that house prices stabilized instead of continuing to rise), that ended just as we entered into the property hunt. I am extremely grateful that we got the house we did at the price we did, but my God, getting to that point nearly killed me. I keep explaining to people that it felt as if my partner and I ran full blast over broken glass to the edge of a dock, leapt several metres and grabbed onto the barnacles of a departing ship by our fingernails. I really do think we may have been among the last millennials that got on that “property” ship, and it was only because, at long last, we had help from my partner's extremely wealthy parents. After shaming us for a decade for not being able to afford impossible house prices (“ok boomer…”), he finally relented and helped us out. Again, I'm grateful, but also disgusted that this is the world we live in. Housing should be a human right and we shouldn't have this intergenerational greed and infighting over something so basic. Forgive my inner socialist. 

Finding the house was only the first part of the equation; moving into it was the next step.

 The moving process was incredibly arduous. At the time we should have been packing up the house, my partner's work decided to send him interstate for business on multiple occasions. By the time moving day came round, we were not ready and we couldn't afford to pay removalists. We enlisted the help of two amazing friends and Joe's brother-in-law. Again, super grateful that I had their help, but my God, was it intense. It took the better part of four days to move everything. We had to pay off the mortgage and the rent for the previous place for a two-week period, putting considerable strain on our savings. At the same time, we needed to get some work done in the new house so that was being done while we were trying to sort out the old house. The rental laws in this country are a joke and are widely considered to be abusive to renters, including by many of my American friends who now live here. I doubt we will ever see our bond returned, even though we were treated like crap living there for three years in a house that was not sealed, had no insulation or air conditioning, leaked and was draughty, didn't have proper doors et cetera et cetera. I mean, we had maggots falling from the ceiling… twice. The place was rotting and rotten but because my partner couldn't completely colour match the paint when he tried to cover up what was absolutely reasonable wear and tear on one of the walls, I'm sure we will lose all that. As usual, the landlord will claim it costs our entire $1800 bond to get a $50 an hour painter in to patch up one wall.  They always do this. In your contract it says reasonable wear and tear are a few knocks and dings on the wall and that the tenant is not expected to pay for that. In reality, in every rental we have ever lived in,  the landlord has refused to refund the bond when there’s been even the slightest bit of damage, even if we had a record of being model tenants. It was almost comical how hard my partner was trying in the middle of the move to cover up a few scrapes on the walls from moving furniture in and out. It all came to nothing because for love nor money he couldn't find the correct match of paint. And then of course he had to mow the entire grounds of the last rental when he really wanted to be using his weekends to sort out and unpack the new house. Good God, it was awful.

 My partner and I barely spent any quality time together during this period and he was extremely stressed out and distant from me. I totally understand why but the whole thing flared every single one of my conditions and I needed him as my carer. But he couldn’t really do that, as he was trying to do literally everything else. Moving house is hard on a healthy body, never mind one with two chronic pain disorders, irritable bowel and generalised anxiety disorder. And then (because of course), a family member of mine (one of the abusers) picked that moment in time to start harassing me, thereby triggering my PTSD which led to a nervous breakdown which led to intense depersonalisation, insomnia and nausea. Everyone and everything seemed unfamiliar to me, even my partner. I started to doubt whether or not I loved myself or anyone else anymore. I just felt so completely and utterly disconnected from the world. I began to lie awake at night terrified that I was fading away, that I could no longer feel anything other than fear. All the time, people kept saying, “congratulations on the new house! You must be so excited!” But all I could feel was sickness and dread.

 Two weeks after moving in, I had to drop my Lyrica one more time. This drop has been very difficult. All of the stress has led to some dark thoughts in the back of my mind which of course Lyrica then co-opts and exaggerates. I have had a more than a few moments of suicidal ideation. Everything in my life on paper has improved. We are now homeowners, we live in a beautiful part of the world, we've made some new friends lately, things are settling down et cetera et cetera. But I feel like I'm in shell shock after this year and last year. I haven't even had time to process that I am no longer the president of the not-for-profit I founded and formulated an identity around. I just haven't had the time to process literally anything. I've been more exhausted that I have ever felt. Oh, I'm sure everyone will say, “this too shall pass”. But I do not believe that bullshit. Yes, this individual stressor will pass but more horror will come and I know that makes me sound super negative but I just cannot remember a period of time when things were calm for… I can't remember. I just feel like I've been in a hurricane forever.

 So yeah, I'm writing this post while experiencing Lyrica withdrawal which makes me depressed and anxious. It's probably colouring my vision on everything. Fine. But I have been going through Lyrica withdrawal for two years, so it’s kinda become my normal. My final drop is on 26 December after which I will experience two more months of withdrawal and hopefully, after that, some semblance of sanity again. In the midst of all this I have to study for my citizenship test which is at the end of this month. I don't get any government support for my disability until I have been a citizen of this country for eight years, and as I’d like to survive my 40s, I need to get citizenship now. But yeah… studying an eighty-page textbook with an addled brain is just so much fun.

 Of course, during this time we haven’t have Internet because we had to disconnect the old place and it takes an age for it to get reconnected at the new place. We only recently acquired it at the new house. So there are piles of emails waiting for me. Many of them are from friends and I'm glad for that. But there is also a lot of life admin I now need to do. I have to change my address on every account I hold, which is really tedious. We have also had to organise time with family. Because my partner's family helped us get this house, we feel especially obliged to go to every single one of the family events, of which there are many. He comes from a big Catholic family so every relative who comes to visit, every party that's being held, every birthday, wedding, funeral and religious holiday, we’re now expect to attend. We have several in the next few weekends, taking up most of the time we *needed* to be unpacking the house. We’re obligated now.

 In all this negativity, though, I want to say that I am genuinely grateful to be one of the lucky ones to have a house. I know it sounds like I am whining about a good thing. It's not that I'm not glad for this (I know how ridiculously privileged we are). I just haven't been able to really feel it yet. I think that regardless of what happened this year, I’d be feeling this way. Something broke in me last year and just hasn't really come back. I feel shattered.

 And all my chronic pain conditions have been wearing me down too. I found out this year that the operation that cost me and my friends so much money (to remove that nerve in my foot) had failed. Or rather, the surgeon had completely botched it up. I have PTSD from that surgery. Just the thought of going back to have it done again fills me with heart racing terror and cold sweats. I’ve had numerous surgeries before that one and been fine, but the reaction I had from the anesthetic last time was so severe, and the recovery so long, that I genuinely fear it more than almost anything else. And yet I need to go in for that nightmare all over again in 2020. I'm going to be asked to trust a different surgeon to do the same so-called “simple operation” to restore some functionality to my left foot. My right knee is probably also going to need surgery since it has been resistant to any physiotherapy rehabilitation. And on top of all this, my poor partner's health has also taken a hit this year from the stress which is worrying me. Because I can always do with some more worry…

 But hey! This too shall pass! You should be happy! Life is great now! Yay yay yay!

Fuck, sometimes it just want to be allowed to feel shit and to have other people say “okay you can feel shit now. Yes, some good things have happened but right now you need to process the bad and that's okay too”. My lord, if people could just do that for me. If they could just let me feel what the fuck I need to feel.

 What I feel is exhausted, scared, freaked out, traumatized, weird, sick, angry, overwhelmed and fed up. And I need to feel those things before I can feel anything else.

Ok so this is not the first time I’ve seen this girl have a full blown break down. At one point she posted a whole ass post having a serious break down. (I think it’s the same girl, correct me if I’m wrong)

She thinks she’s in the right but she’s fucking not, my dude TONS of fucking littles have mental illness, some more severe than others however blaming your mental illness on basically taking money from people and taking almost a year to get them the item they paid for is fucking bullshit.

Like do you even think about the fuck shit you say sometimes? Nope clearly not, that customer had EVERY right to be pissed that you took over 7 months to finish a custom. Then in the end of your ridiculous ass rant about how everyone should wait around for you to get better in order to get what THEY PAID FOR. You tried saying you had to wait for Black rhinestones to come in anyways because they were popular. It does not fucking take 7 months for you to get some damn black rhinestone, and if you knew they needed to be used for that custom why didn’t you save them anyways?

Also you have no fucking right to tell people they need to die just because no ones babying your fucking mental illness and doing everything you want them to do, like idk sit around and wait for you to get your own shit together while they spent tons of money on something from your shop.

In your other breakdown post you made a reallllly terrible comment saying how your mom should of died instead of your father…that is fucking disgusting and you’re fucking disgusting, just because you don’t fucking like your mom and she doesn’t understand your struggle doesn’t mean you need to wish death on her, i mean didn’t you finish saying how she’s the only reason you even have food in your stomach and a roof over your head? Yet you want her dead? Oh ok. Bitch not everyone even has that luxury so be more grateful.

You’re honestly a very disgusting and toxic human being and you definitely need to refund EVERYONE, delete all social media and check yourself into a damn hospital until your chemicals are balanced properly. Your entire rant was upsetting to someone else with mental illness because all you fucking did was throw yourself a damn pity party, and talk about how you were so busy doing everything but the orders.

Just stop it. Cause you triggered the living fuck out of me, and anyone in your comment section is a fucking kiss ass. You should be a damn shamed to sit there and support someone who wishes death to others and blames everything on her mental illness.

oh, no, that’s not something she would do. she would just go behind the person’s back and call them every name in the book to every other human being she knows. what is wrong with some people’s brains that they don’t understand that: just because someone doesn’t hear or see the bad things you say about them doesn’t make it okay for you to say whatever you want. it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt them. no fucking morals. and she did say that shit! it was her! just because someone else told me doesn’t mean she wasn’t the culprit. it’s so irritating that she did a 180 and acted like she’s this nice person when she’s been mercilessly angry, rude, and hateful when talking about me all this time.

narcissistic bullshit. and “i’m an adult” is something only immature teens or middle schoolers say, trying to make it a true statement when it isn’t.

lol she was literally talking about me and, therefore, thinking about me THE DAY BEFORE. and she’s said bitchy, angry stuff.

literally less than 24 hours before the above post:

“stalker” “crazy” and laughing about it. she also called me “psycho”. this coming from someone who struggles daily with a huge mental illness and takes multiple medications for it. she would be crying if someone said that stuff about her. and she was NOT being stalked by me or anyone else! playing the victim like that is sick. and she honestly believes many people in her life over the years were “very manipulative” when they probably had no clue they were affecting her and meant no harm, like i didn’t.

AND, less than a week before that:

i sent her a total of 2 things over a 5 month period. the first were things i already had for her bday/christmas with a letter asking why, basically, (since she gave no warning or explanation when she cut me off as a friend) and apologizing a lot and asking for forgiveness. nothing creepy or threatening. the 2nd was just these tickets they didn’t send me until last week that were also for her bday. i don’t like Beruit enough to go to their concert and there was no way to sell them or get a refund, so i sent them thinking at least they wouldn’t go to waste. i enclosed a handwritten note saying that and not much more except “i’m sorry”. in both cases, i clearly identified myself and said nothing harmful, threatening or ominous. i also said clearly that i would not be sending her anything else, and that i would not be looking for her or approaching her if i saw her out somewhere. like at a concert. the opposite of creepy / stalkerish.

and i didn’t even include things people have told me / showed me through screenshots from twitter. she talked about me often. and 2 days ago, she made up some elaborate thing about how she was being stalked and i was some crazy person who was out to get her because i was obsessed with her. and “i don’t know what to do.. i’m genuinely afraid” and bullshit like that. which is conceited and delusional as fuck. she mentioned stuff she’s received from an admirer in the mail, idk what she’s talking about and i didn’t send those, but she has decided they were from me? i would love to know what these things were that made her think it was me. anyway, i never realized how fucked up her mind is with paranoia and invasive untrue thoughts until i read this movie-style scenario she dreamed up.

this is a fucking nightmare. i can’t believe i gave this fucked up person my trust. i feel so sorry for whoever gets close to her next; be it a friend or a lover. because she’s done this before and will probably do it again.