Can You Relate?

So as some of my cutting habits have crawled back into my life, my mother decided that it would be a good idea to send me to yet another therapist. I say it like that because I have gone through five different therapists, and the longest I have stayed with one was for two months.

I don't know why, but I honestly have just never liked therapy. I feel like it's so much time wasted. I would tell myself I could be doing other things, but honestly, other things are usually eating and sleeping.


                                                

When it's just me and the therapist in the room, I have no choice but to start talking. Otherwise, they stare at you like at hawk waiting to pounce on you. So I started off with things I liked, writing and reading. (I felt like such a boring person) Then I told her about my forever damaged leg, a story for another time. Eventually though I told her why I was actually there.

I started with 6th grade, then seventh, and ended where I am today. She asked my about the hospital. The mental hospital. Psychiatric hospital. I have been there 5 times, and I stared getting annoyed because I couldn't remember too much about my 2-4th stays. I used to dwell on my past.

Everyday I would force myself to think about the hospital, because even though it isn't supposed to be a happy place, I promise you, ask anyone who has been to one, you meet the best people you will ever know in those places. At least I did. I didn't want to forget about them. I can still see blurred pictured of there faces.

I got upset because I thought I forgot about them, but I really haven't, they have always been with me. That's when I realized that I had been holding all of my emotions in. All of my feelings. That's why talking about it was so hard, all of my words had been set free. I think I'm going to have to do that more often. Can any one relate?    

Update!

I'm not sad, I guess i'm just angry. Maybe i'm a little bit sad on the side. Nothing too new though. I'm in class writing this right now, afraid that people are looking over my shoulder, but honestly, what do I have to loose?

I'm sure you're probably lost right now, and I cant blame you, I haven't explained myself....School is one of my main stresses. On 9/11 two of my best friends turned 14 years old. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRYN AND JOSIE!) Anyways, just like almost all high schools with a football team, there are varsity games on Fridays. That's where they decided they wanted to go to to celebrate.

I boy I will not name kinda put me in a depressing mood while we were there. I'm gonna be completely honest with you. He had a picture of me that I absolutely hated. So some anxiety bugs crawled into my chest and hands and basically tried to eat away at my body. It sort of worked, but I told myself I had gotten to far to relapse. So, I excused my self from the obnoxious crowd, to breath. Said boy followed me, and something inside of me broke into pieces. I started yelling and screaming, trying to release the pain through my shaking lips.

I'm not going into graphics, but in the picture I was in a thin, deep cut shirt, with a bra under. So it wasn't exactly a nude, but my cleavage was there. I didn't send it to him, we were face timing, and I stupidly trusted that he wouldn't take a screen shot. What liking someone does to you.... I started calling myself a slut, pulling at my hair. I wanted nothing to do with him, I still don't really. Being around him makes the bugs come back, in a bad way.

The night ended finally, and I think the bugs ate away at my soul, because my body hurt, but at the same time I couldn't feel anything. I don't exactly know why it bothered me so much, but it did. Maybe its because it made me feel like trash, maybe its because I thought my reputation would be ruined. I had to keep telling myself that  i'm not dead, so you have to keep living,  I guess that's what i'm going to do.