Who put that curb there

She/Her | Queer/Demi | Happily taken

Mental health/“whatever I want this to be” side blog so my main blog doesn’t get clogged.

tw in advance for suicide, self harm, etc etc.

cw: suicide cw: eating disorder

I want to write but it's either

A: too su*c*dal sounding... which I guess makes sense because I am su*c*dal right now

or

B: no one ever cares what I have to say

It's such a stupid double edged sword of "I have things to say" and "my voice matters too" but "no one gives a single fuck what I have to say" and "feelings matter but not my own".

Everything in my life feels broken with no way to repair them. And it's either I want to repair them but it's not mutual or other people want to repair them but it's not mutual.

I feel like it's another "I'll just leave quietly and then let people forget me" type thing. What the hell do I contribute to this world that isn't bleak and tragic and full of anxiety and worry.

Am I tired or am I coming to my senses and it's depleting me of everything I've ever loved?

Was doing all of this the biggest mistake of my life?

Is going out with red eyes and tear streaks worth any of this? Is it worth having silent panic attacks and feeling like death is near when you're browsing through the fucking laundry hampers at the department store?

When does life come back into my eyes? When do I start eating food again and enjoying it? What happens when an XS shirt and 00 jeans are too big for me? Do I start wearing a size 20 in girls' shorts? Girls as in kids? What happens if I can't fit in those but not clothes that are made for adult women like me? Is that when I finally starve myself to death for real?

I'm so tired.

What are days like when I don't have pounding migraines. What are days like when my legs actually want to to work. What are days like when hallucinations take over your life.

People say all the time "wow I could never live like that" as if people aren't living like that all the time.

I understand why assisted su*c*de exists but maybe I want to help myself for fucking once.

I don't want to feel a pounding sensation in my chest. I don't want to feel the sinking in my stomach that I can only describe as "gut wrenching". I don't want to be a burden to anyone anymore.

Part of me will always want to delete every single piece of social media I have and become a ghost. It's not like I'm some memorable big hero, I'm just another girl in the world who blends in.

A girl who cries all the time. A girl who misses all that she loves. A girl who collects dust in the corner. A girl who wishes to leave this world. A girl who is so stupid.

I'm Catholic, and I take religion pretty seriously... except when I don't. But I do take a lot of things about my religion seriously, and participating in Lent is one of those things.

I've sacrificed many things in the past, but this year is a whole new level.

My favorite place in the world is Idaho. I love living here, I love the nature, I love the lake that I live across the street from. I love everything about it (minus the horrific racism and white supremacists). Northern Idaho and I are like this 🤞🏻

Sometimes, though, the burnout is real. Enough is enough sometimes.

So, on Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent (next week), I'm leaving.

I'm giving up my town for Lent.

And I'm just... going.

I love the Mountain West part of the country, and I love the Southwest for its beauty, art, culture, and aesthetics. And I want to see it.

I haven't been properly traveling in a minute, unless you count when I went to Utah for a few days last year. But now I will get to experience Utah properly, and with my cousin.

I'm going to the southeastern portion of Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico, all in my car. Living in hotels or Airbnb's or my tent and I absolutely cannot wait to do this. It's been high time I do something like this and I'm in a place, financially, where I can (although the reason why I'm able to financially isn't super great). I've felt so trapped and suffocated by this place for some time now, and I know the comfort zone is comfortable, but I let it get too comfortable.

So from February 18 to (roughly) April 2, I won't be in the place I call home. And I'm so excited. I've been wanting to thru hike some long distance trails lately, and while I cannot physically hike all of the Continental Divide Trail or the Pacific Crest Trail, I can hike bits and pieces of the Arizona Trail and/or the Grand Enchantment Trail. Who knows. If I like it enough, maybe that means I can try doing the Wonderland Trail or the John Muir Trail next year, and maybe hit the CDT or PCT the year after.

I know I'm serious about that because the other day I spent $1700 on gear at REI; tent, backpack, shoes, safety gear, etc.

This afternoon, I was kind of smirking/giggling about something. I don't really know why I suddenly thought to giggle about the topic, but I was giggling loud enough for my brother to hear from the other side of the room.

He goes, "what're you laughing about?"

And I reply: "dad died".

And I kept on giggling.

At first my brother was really skeptical because I do not laugh about this topic at all, but I was genuinely giggling about it this time. And I saw his face kind of break out into a small smile, then a proper smile, then he started giggling too.

And then we started to laugh about it.

Grief is so strange. Sometimes you need to laugh about your dad dying with your brother.

My dad passed away on the 27th of December. Not many people know about it because I kept it from... basically everyone. I'm getting more and more brave enough to tell people, but I was at the point in my grief today where I chose dark humor.