Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Suicide Prevention Month

So, since I somehow cleared up space in my phone to be able to read my emails, Good Therapy tells me that September is Suicide Prevention Month and they gave me some articles (that I may or may not read at this point). I was just laying down thinking about everything and decided that I'm going to write it down for future references.

I don't like telling people about my mental illnesses because I feel like I'm seeking attention and trying to put myself in the spotlight, but I won't go ahead and lie about it. I'll probably admit that I have depression, but I won't elaborate much unless you're asking for it. And most people do, anyway. I think some people can read it on my face, because I'm so horrible at hiding my feelings all the time. I get asked many times on several occasions; "Are you okay?" or "Do you need help?" or "Do you want me to call the ambulance?" or "Do you want to talk about it?" and such and such. The list keeps going on. But I try to put on a mask anyway, because it gets tiring to get all these questions, and no, I don't want to talk about it. If I did want to talk about it, you're not the person I want to talk to. That's mean, though, but it's true.

I'd like to point out that I have decided to not talk to certain people for some period of time, since my condition is not getting better anytime soon and I don't like saying, "I'm getting progressively worse" every time that it just loses meaning, but it doesn't mean that it isn't true. So if you think I'm avoiding you, I probably am. Not even getting "progressively worse" because I stopped taking my medication and all that, it's just that I'm not even trying to get better anymore. I think I stopped for several months back, even though my doctor tells me that I'm doing a good job. No, I'm not. I'm not doing a good job. Because every time I have to see you for an appointment, I hyperventilate for a good half an hour in the toilet, trying to muster the courage to tell you what's really wrong. And I never do, because even after all this time, I still don't trust you with my condition. And it's silly, to not trust an expert, but I don't anyway. I have no explanation to this, and I don't want to talk about it further. Okay, I didn't want to get into this.


Suicide. It's pretty scary of a word. And it's still somehow so vaguely explained. I know a friend that had to deal with the death of a close friend, and he was pretty wrecked. I did as much as I could at the time, but it's really up to him to recover. Eventually, he did though. I think that's why people say suicide is a selfish thing to do, because of the emotional damage caused to everyone around. Selfish? Really? How about we take a moment to think about what the person is going through, so badly that they think suicide is the only answer? Also, the whole "Don't do something permanent to a temporary problem" is kind of stupid, I'm sorry to say. To a depressed person, the "problem" is not so temporary. It's pretty permanent in our heads. You can't just accuse people of things you can't possibly understand, until you're in their shoes. And it's the worst shoes anyone can wear. Because I've been around suicidal people almost all my life, and I've been too myself on several occasions, I can say that even the slightest thing can trigger the emotions. Usually you'd advise them to avoid these situations, but it's kind of hard when everything seems to be stuck together. I feel blessed that I at least grew up with a religion, that it limits my "options" to a certain point. But there are still things that I do. Sometimes it would get so hard that I would end up curled up on the floor, just trying to remember to breathe. Because when you're at that low point in your life, there are very little things that will make sense to you. My sole advise is to have at least one person that you can trust to be around for you when that happens. Fortunately, and unfortunately, for me, that person is my best friend. But even your friends lose words sometimes, and you have to understand it is hard for them too, because they don't want to trigger you further while trying to be there for you at the same time. And ultimately, you're left by yourself. With the voices in your head. And it could make or break you.

The voices though.

Monday, September 5, 2016

Stranger things have happened, my friend

So you may be wondering right now, Amira's blogging two times in a day?! Is she dying?? No, well- everybody's dying, so that argument is invalid.

On to other important things; I wanted to write this the other day but I dismissed it for some reason. So I'm back again, trying to put my thoughts into words. Basically the only reason why I write. Also because it's fun playing with words, especially when people keep misunderstanding and turning your words around. Fun fun fun.


I wanted to address this because it caught my attention. Like a million other things, but let's go through them one by one, hm? I've been talking to like.... probably more than 10 women in the course of one month. Which is a feat, considering that I struggle with keeping a conversation for more than a few hours. Let me just figure out a way how to get on to this topic.

It's interesting to observe how girls refer to themselves. I mean, like, not what they think of themselves, that's for another post, but at what stage they start referring to themselves as women. I wonder what roles play in this... reference? I don't know. Because I know 19 year old girls that refer to themselves as women, but 21 year old women that refer to themselves as girls. Personally, I didn't start referring to myself as a woman until I turned 21; 1. Because I was legal for some time, 2. Because at that age, I was able to do almost all adult stuff. Almost, because, I was, and still am, under the care of my father so that limits me to a point.

There should probably a study conducted on this. Maybe there already is one, I'm going to look it up later. But for now, can I just say that I find it attractive when girls refer to themselves as women? I do it for people as early as 18 years of age, mostly because it's formal and I don't want to seem off putting or anything. But if she thinks of herself as a girl, I'm going to go ahead and do the same thing. Because I don't want to overdo things when it comes to other people. At least I try not to. If you speak to me in a certain way, most likely I will respond to you in the same way. Maybe higher, but never less. A good example would be if you're bubbly around me, I will do my best to match my mood to yours, mostly because I don't like to ruin it for other people. But if I do it, I'm just being honest towards my feelings. And also because I trust you enough to let you see how I feel, so you should feel awesome about yourself.


I've been doing some painful waiting, and it has taught me so much and made me think of everything in a different light. Waiting for the right time, waiting for ideas, waiting for a chance and everything else that I am unable to mention as of right now. I've always been spontaneous and going after what I want as quickly as possible, and waiting has never did me right, but it's not so bad. I mean, it's not horrible. Just maybe a minor convenience, for my part. Because it's against what I really want to do, but I'm not exactly complaining. The fact that I can be forced to wait, means there's an endless possibility ahead. Maybe one day I'll learn the art of patience. *internal cringing* If I ever do, I'll definitely write it down in one way or another.


Weirdly enough, I got an offer to bring my dream to life. What dream was it? Ask me, maybe I'll answer. I guess dreams can come true.

Until then,
I'll take my leave.


Folders of My Heart

You can say that you've moved on. You can say that you don't think of them anymore. You can say that you don't replay the words they tell you every single second you're awake, that you don't dream of them anymore. Dream of holding on to them, begging and pleading them to stay. You can say that.

But I know that you still hurt over them. You're still bitter over it all. That's why you ran all those miles away at the mention of the person that came between you two. I know you still hope for them to reach out to you, even though you know the chances of you making the moon is substantially greater. I know you haven't let go of their heart.

And you've got this folder, named a single letter. 8 years of knowing, 4 years of unity and 2 years, 1 month and 3 days after their disappearance, all down to this one folder. You open it every now and then. You tell yourself not to, but you keep doing it. Over and over again, like a broken song on your music player.

But even though you choke slightly, you come back to your senses. Heartbreak heals, just like everything else. You've moved on, opened up your scarred heart to someone else, still hoping they'll take it. You've given your hands for that someone to hold, and you might be a little scared of them running away, but they haven't yet, so that's something, right?

And you go over that folder. You right click on it, you breathe in, you scroll over to that 'Delete' button, and it's gone, breathing out. All traces of them, physically and emotionally, gone.

And you're finally clean.