This hit me…… hard
It’s been two years. I still think of you everyday when I see children or babies. I never really got over it. It hurt too much for me to explain how I really felt, thus no one could really talk to me about it. Losing you was probably the most soul killing thing I’ve ever experienced. No type of physical or sexual abuse I’ve ever endured quite measured up to the pain of losing a child.
I wish I had known I was pregnant. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Maybe I would’ve taken care of myself for your safety. So you didn’t die inside me. I think of how different my life would’ve been and here I might be if you had been born. I try to picture your face in my head. Sometimes I can see you, a little boy or girl laughing, jumping from her father’s bed down to the floor or playing your father’s video games while I cooked you something to eat and yelled at you in Spanish to stop whatever silliness you were doing that might be dangerous. I imagine taking you to the mall with me and putting you in little outfits and shoes to make you look cute.
I know you were never really here but I miss you so much. I loved you. Whether I knew about you or not, you were mine and just knowing that I lost you hurts me every single day. I love you, my miracle. I don’t know how you came about nor why you had to leave me so soon without so much of a goodbye but I love you. I will remember you or the rest of my days. Goodbye, baby. I hope heaven is treating you right. Lord knows I would’ve loved you more than anything in this world, but also that I wasn’t ready. I accept that, but I will forever regret losing you.
I love you.
I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about mental health and the symptoms and all the shit like that lately and every time I see one, I feel like I’m going to cry. I’ve known something has been wrong with me for years now with all my self harm and moods swings and indecisiveness but I just thought it would go away. Now, here I am, 5 almost 6 years later, 18 years old going into my freshman year of college, petrified that I’ll fail and afraid that if get myself analyzed by a professional that they’ll put me on medications and people will look at me like I’m crazy.
My family is one of those “mental illness doesn’t exist, it’s just a phase” and “suicide is the coward’s way out, you shouldn’t feel sorry for them” type of people. I think this is because they never had someone close to them die through self harm. When they found out about my cutting, they never let it go. To this day my mother (every month or so) says “I really hope you’re not cutting” or she checks my arms. Yes, she cares, but I don’t think she really understands. My brothers understand less of it. They compared their life to mine and say that I have nothing to be angry or upset about. That just drives me more down the drain.
As all of this comes down to a boil, I realize that I need to make the decision to continue living in fear that I might hurt myself or finally get the courage to get my ass up and stand up for myself and my mental health and go get examined. But, to be honest, I’ve been weighing all these options and asking my friends what they feel I should do and although I understand that this is my mental health and they agree that I should go get examined, I feel that it isn’t going to happen. I’m afraid of everything that could go wrong. Like, what if I am just over exaggerating? What if there’s nothing wrong? What if I’ve been going around making people feel sorry for me for no reason and I’m just a fucked up person? Yes, I am afraid that I’m going to kill myself or cut so deep that I end up killing myself BUT I don’t want to look stupid. I don’t want to be the girl who was a burden to everyone because she THOUGHT there was something wrong. That’s what scares me the most.
That’s why I don’t think I’m getting checked out anymore….
I recently moved to North Carolina. I’m having separation issues from my friends and the rush of the city. Everything being so busy. I can’t take the calmness. I don’t want to be here. On top of that, my family doesn’t seem to make anything better. I feel unwanted and mocked and now my iPhone charger is missing and I’m actually about to cry because I feel like I have no control over anything anymore. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to harm myself again. I’ve been really good. I don’t even remember the last time i cut. Like, I’ve been really good. But I cant bear not being in control anymore. In New York, I substituted my cutting with marijuana. It was great. But now I have nothing. I’m alone. I need an escape. Fast.
Happy Mother’s Day to me.
There is no worse pain than the one I’ve had for the past week. I haven’t slept and I’ve been blasting the same two songs over and over and over again. I haven’t cried nor have I cut and I feel that makes it so much worse. It won’t come out and I don’t know what to do. I’m stuck in this infinite pain that feels like somebody took a sword and shoved it down my throat, through my heart and into my stomach. I don’t know. I guess that’s the best way to describe what it physically feels like. Mentally and emotionally, there are no words to describe how it feels. It just sucks.
Relapse. Awesome. Just. Fucking. Awesome.
I’m sick of feeling so fucking empty all the fucking time. Maybe my ex should’ve fucked a less important friend of mine instead of my best fucking friend. That would’ve been really fucking great. Maybe if my fucking ex didn’t fucking stab me in the heart with his fucking actions, I would fucking be okay. BUT NO my fucking ex had to be a lying, cheating, best friend fucker. Fuck that guy. Fuck her. Fuck my new guy that doesn’t want to fucking acknowledge the fact that I’m fucking dying inside and fuck the entire New York State. Fuck everything. I’d kill myself but I don’t want to give anybody that satisfaction over because of my actions. Fuck that,
It feels like yesterday but it happened so long ago. I was going to take a picture of the day and I was off by a year. An entire year. God, it feels like just yesterday. The emotional and physical pain of my unborn child exiting my body. The days pass and the memory doesn’t go away. Nor do the thoughts of what life would’ve been with her/him. I miss her/him so much. I wish I would’ve known, maybe then I would’ve taken proper precautions and taken care of it instead of not knowig for almost two months to be surprised by the worse fear a woman can have. God, I can’t even type it yet.
It’s been almost 2 years and I cannot get over the death of my unborn child. I failed you, my beautiful spawn baby. I may not have known you but I will always love you.