Silent Screaming

Suicide Trigger Warning

I never tell anyone when I'm suicidal. I know that I should, I just can't bring myself to do it. When I'm suicidal alone, I feel like that's an honest emotion. But when I tell people I'm suicidal, I feel silly like a child asking for attention, and I'm afraid that's how they see it. So I don't tell anyone. I can't. I keep it bottled in and try to self medicate with cannabis and alcohol or prescription painkillers, and I pretend that everything is okay. Or withdraw from people. Because "fake it till you make it" or "hide so they don't see" are what I was taught growing up. That to express your emotions was self absorbed because you'd ruin everyone else's good time.

It's hard to get out of that mindset that was drilled into you during your formative years. The famous saying goes, "Give me a boy until the age of twelve, and I will give you a man." That's because from the time your born until the time you're twelve (your formative years), you're learning things that will become the foundation of who you are. These years have the most impact on your life out of any. And what happened to me up until I was twelve? Let's just say I learned that the most valuable thing I could do in life is what I was told to do. Sit down, shut up, hide your emotions and bottle your feelings, don't have an ounce of extra body weight, obey what you're told, don't ask questions, grow up and graduate college to take care of everyone else, get married and have lots of children, and be a perfect ray of sunshine all the time.

Have I done that? Well. I got married. I've been a disappointment everywhere else. And normally, given that list, you'd think that was a good thing. But not when everyone around me says otherwise. I know I'm a failure. You don't have to say it. But they do. All the time. "Why aren't you in college? When are you going to have children? You need to get realistic about your life because you need to make real money and take care of me when I get old. You're getting fat, you need to diet. Stop with the tattoos, that's trashy and you look like trash." Etc.

And lately it's not just that. So many things are changing. My husband is away longer, my best friend is moving to the exact opposite side of the world, my other friends are still in the "single life, get drunk every weekend" phase. My nana is being condescending to me because I choose not to write my letters in cursive, even though my handwriting is super neat and professional looking. My uncle won't talk to me because my depression caught the best of me and I never cashed his wedding check before the six month cut off (to be fair though, my husband didn't know where he put it for the last four of those months). And even though I try to explain, I get no response. My dad keeps spending time with my brother and asking about me, trying to get back in my life. My mum's health is getting worse and her spine is pulling away from the muscle, so she's putting on so much pressure to move in with me - which I don't want to happen under any circumstance. My husband doesn't want it either but he offers me no alternative solution. It's just "I don't want her here, but I'm too nice to say it and will deny it if asked. She's your mother. You disappoint her." Which is fair to say that she's my mother and I should handle it, but he has to help me, right? As my husband, shouldn't he help me find a solution that I can present to her as an alternative other than leaving me with no other reason than "no way in hell"?

I'm just not happy anymore. I hate how I look, I hate how I'm going to look when I change my appearance the way my husband told me to. I hate my brain and everything else... I'm just not happy.

And I've stopped seeing my therapist. I ended it. I just can't go anymore because every time that I do, I keep hearing my ex friend saying "you have a therapist, I don't." And the more irrational (and unfortunately, the loudest) part of me says, "you don't deserve this; if you were suffering on your own, people would like you better." Every time I had a session, I kept hearing that over and over and all I could think was "I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve to be here." So I cut off the sessions and I stopped going to my support group. I told them I was done. I keep lying to my husband and friends and mum about it so that they think everything is just great, but instead I stay at home and cry and look at myself in the mirror while naming all the things I don't like about myself.

More than once, I've craved cutting myself again. I've craved the ease of physical pain. That I can deal with. That I can understand and fix. Honestly, I just wish that I can close my eyes and stop existing. But I'm afraid of what comes after that. Not the dying, but... the unknown. Is it blackness? Nothingness? A lot of people who've died for several minutes at a time say so. And I'm so terrified that there's nothing next, that I'm wrong about an afterlife. I've gotten a self help book on existential death anxiety, but it's only making it worse. I don't sleep anymore and my panic attacks have increased. I'm at my wit's end.

If I wasn't afraid of the nothingness after death, I would die.

Why I Don't Have Female Friends - And Why I Want To Keep This One

She was emotional, fragile, immature. She constantly made assumptions and picked fights when things didn't go her way. She demanded special treatment and pouted when refused. Somehow, through all of this, I had come to call her friend. But I was starting to wear thin. Everything was so dramatic with her. One small fracture in her perfect world and she was ready to end it all.

Meanwhile, I had to sit there and comfort her. I had to make her feel better because I was her friend and I cared. On the inside: I have never had an easy day in my life. Abuse. Neglect. Being moved from place to place, school to school, home to home. Crumbling, infested buildings where I didn't even have a bedroom. Where I kept my things in my mum's room and slept in the hallway or on the couch. Being beaten up daily by my sibling and kids from school. More suicide attempts than I'll ever admit, starting as young as when I was eight. Anorexia. Self harm. Drugs. Anything to make it stop. Sneaking out, being reckless, moving from boyfriend to boyfriend in a desperate search for love and worth. Being beaten by some boyfriends. Cutting myself in concealed places so no one would notice: my stomach, my thighs, ribs, chest. Crying myself to sleep every single night for years. Friends telling my secrets to the whole school. Being blackmailed by them. My closest friend lying to my brother by saying I was a lesbian (among many other false claims), which resulted in a huge family fight that almost got me given up for adoption. And here you are. You can't go somewhere you want? The world suddenly isn't worth living in. Your mum can't give you something you wanted? She must not love you. A friend didn't want to put up with you for one measly day because they are having a hard enough day without your mood swings? You go full emo and talk about how the world is cruel and unloving.

I was angry. I tried to reason that to someone with a life such as hers, these must seem like terrible hardships. Perhaps there was more to it than I was told. But with each of these episodes, it became harder and harder to find some sort of explanation in my mind. I tried to be good. I did. I tried to listen and help, to put things into realistic perspective, to give her a dose of tough love or reality for her own good - because one day, she would be out in the world and see how things really are. And because I love her like a sister, I wanted to make the transition into a real and hard life as smooth as possible. I even offered to let her come live with me. To help her pursue her dreams, whatever they may be. I gave what little I had so that she could feel loved.

But no.

Today, I was having one of the hardest in a while. Several small, but important issues merged into one gigantic "fuck you." I was caught in the middle. They all wanted me to take sides, but at the same time they were sure to get pissed with any decision I made - even if it was on their side. They demanded I mediate. I couldn't turn my back. Family is family, blood or no. And she chooses today to get short tempered. I accidentally sent one harmless message to her instead of someone else, and it offended her. "Done. Bye." An agreement to do something and quick parting for someone else turned into "I hate you" to her.

She makes assumptions all the time. About everything. Instead of asking for clarity to make sure that something is intended the way she took it, she immediately pulls out the guns and starts firing. So when that simple message was accidentally sent to her (while I was typing a long message in a notepad, explaining something she was asking about), she asked what the hell my problem was and told me to stop freaking the hell out on her. This was the last straw for me. She already knew I was feeling ill. That alone should have (in my mind) made her a little bit kinder. I lost my temper and snapped back that I meant to send the message in another chat and that I was tired of her making assumptions and shitting all over me about it.

"Likewise." Really? I have never been unreasonable. If I did something out of anger, it was always justified. I even asked three or four people that always tell me the truth, even if the truth is "you're an asshole." They thought it was justified. But that's beside the point. I don't need to go down that road right now.

"I'm just tired of getting stomped over most of the time." This really upset me. Everything I've done, I've done to help her. Whether to make her into a more well-rounded and grounded person, to tell her the truth even if it's not what she wants to hear, to be honest always, to take into consideration the situation. She appreciates nothing. I wonder if I should even let her move here. On the one hand, for some reason she matters to me - more than most. She's the complete opposite of me and sometimes I want to hit her over the head with a brick, but in her own way she does try to help - sometimes. On the other hand, she's emotional and moody, unrealistic, quick to jump to conclusions, dramatic, holds grudges... I could find a million things to complain about. But for some reason, even looking at all of that, I still care. I still want the best for her. I still want to see her happy.

And I really fucking hate that.

I hate that I should have every reason to walk away by my standards, but for some reason I can't. I think about all the times she's made my life stressful and made me scream into a pillow until I couldn't speak... and all I want is to make up with her.

My point is, I don't like being friends with 99.8% of the female population. They're hormonal, irrational, frustrating, tedious, and I just hate them. But for some reason, she seems to be the only female friend that I just can't let go of. That (for some confusing and frustrating reason) I don't want to let go of. 

She will probably read this and we'll probably get into another horrible fight. But in the end, I'll still try to find a way to fix it, even though I will be positive I'm not in the wrong. I will still make myself sick and lose sleep, allow my depression to creep up and medicate with alcohol, become moody and withdrawn until things are back to normal between us. I will still write hundreds of passive aggressive statuses and delete them before even posting them. I will still complain to my guy friends about "women." I will still rant and rave to the empty house... I will still exercise until I vomit, "accidentally" cut or scrape myself on surfaces to feel calm when I get angry over it, still obsess about every single syllable, still type out countless messages that will never be sent - angry, sad, sorry, begging, raging, and nonchalant. And in the end, I will still need her in my life.

Because God knows why. And it's either a sick joke He's playing on me, or she's here for a reason. I'm betting on the latter, and I intend to stick with her until she is sick of me. Which, based on our recent argument, is likely to be soon.

And I'll still be wondering why.

Gender Fluid and Asexual

I've been studying myself for a long time and I've just recently made a great breakthrough. With the help of online communities, I've come to realize that I'm what people call a gender-fluid and asexual person. When people hear this, they cringe, embarrassed and awkward. They think of cross-dressing or some sexual deviation from the every day heteronormativity. However, this is not the case. In this post, I will share what both terms really mean (it's a safe-for-work topic, actually), why this is an important discovery in terms of myself, and what discovering more about yourself could mean for you.

Gender-Fluidity is More Normal than You Think
Every girl has a day where she feels more like a tomboy or more feminine than usual. This is the same for those of us who are gender fluid. Being gender fluid does not mean one is a boy and a girl. It simply means that we don't feel like any particular gender. Some days, I go all out - dress, manicure, makeup, styled hair, heels... Other days I wear an over-sized shirt, jeans, and converse. My hair? Tangled. One day, I may feel really feminine and the next feel rather the opposite. But 99% of the time, I don't feel like I have a gender. I don't see it as relevant. I'm simply a neutral, and this makes perfect sense, seeing as I'm also asexual.

Don't misunderstand. I am a girl. I know I'm a girl. I like being a girl and I wouldn't rather be any other way. I'm have a fiance, a very understanding and patient man. (This is not to say that anyone different is wrong. I'm a huge supporter of the LBGT community; I'm simply trying to put my situation into perspective.) It's simply that the labels of "man" and "woman" don't really have any relevance in my personal life. I like dresses, but I also like boxer shorts. I read the occasional sappy romance novel, but enjoy hardcore action films with blood and gore. I will wear lipstick and a suit and tie - it makes no difference to me. I don't feel like a man or a woman. I simply feel like me.

Asexuality and Relationships
Asexuality. It's not a deviation. It's not something kinky to be hidden in the dark recesses of a dungeon. Asexuality is defined as the lack of sexual attraction to anyone or low or absent interest in sexual activity. It doesn't mean that we don't get aroused sometimes, or that we don't have sex at all. It simply means that (depending on the person) 51% to 99% of the time, we don't feel aroused, feel sexually attracted to people of any gender, or see sex as something we want. To an asexual person, what we want - above all - is companionship. A deep connection with another soul, a little romance, trust, and steadfast companionship. Basically, a romantic coupling with a lot less sex than the average relationship. Again, that's not to say that asexuals never have sex and never get aroused. No matter who you are, there is still an inborn desire for coupling. It's true that some may never feel it because they never come across the right situation or person - but they do have the ability to feel it. Every person does.

It's Important to Know Who You Are
Again, it is important to know who you are. Repeat that to yourself and commit it to memory. Whether it's about your sexuality, your flaws and vices, your likes and dislikes, your morals, your boundaries, or how far you can bend until you break (metaphorically), knowing who you are is a vital part of your life. By knowing yourself - all of yourself - and learning to accept it, you can start to become comfortable in your own skin. And when you're comfortable, when you know where you stand, you can more easily accept others for who they are and find your own happiness in life. Be open to the world and new ideas. Branch out, learn new things. You may find that what you thought you wanted isn't what you need. 

I always thought that I would grow up, get married, have children, and work at a hospital. It wasn't until I started questioning myself and examining the triggers of my clinical depression that I realized... that's not what I wanted. That wasn't what I needed. In trying new things (hobbies, studies, subcultures, and so on), I began to find my own life - not the life that I had been pushed to accept by others. I'm a million miles from where I started just four years ago, when I graduated high school. I've found out a lot about myself - good and bad. The point is this: if you're unhappy, you don't have to be. If you think you're happy, test that theory. Try new things. Be brave. Don't be afraid to give yourself an honest look. Life's too short.

“When asked “What thing about humanity surprises you the most?”, the Dalai Lama answered:

“Man…. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

How to Interact with the Introverted: Part 2

How to Interact with the Introverted: Part 1