If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. There are many support services that are here to help.
If you are located in the United States, consider reaching out to the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine.
If you are located in the United Kingdom, The Mix is here to help you with any challenge you are facing. Reach out online, on social or through their free and confidential helpline.
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For more resources, please visit our Counseling & Prevention Resources page for a list of services that may be able to help.
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recently found out if u don’t have the latest iOS update one of the new emojis looks like this. going dark 😐
oh stars i fucking hate tinnitus. i have noise-induced tinnitus from listening to music WAYYYY to loudly (like i would have headphones on and someone 8ft away could hear it).
and i knew what i was doing, i knew that listening to music that loudly would have side effects. i just didn’t care. i didn’t think i’d be around long enough to care. i figured, if i’m stuck here for now, why not make my existence bearable? music is my coping mechanism and now i’m paying the price. but would i have done differently if i had the chance? i’m not sure. there are enough times that it takes two hands to count that i can guarantee that if i had not been in the process of permanently damaging my ears i would have left then and there.
but oh stars i fucking hate this so much.
My ads chose violence today, they have the audacity to promote cheap funerals 😳😳 bestie💥💥💥💥💳 imma need to buy that💥💥💥💥💳
@fluminas : “come on , take a deep breath . it’s gonna be alright.”
NO. NOT AGAIN. It’s unforgiving, the way it pounds in their skull, they way their hands can’t stop shaking and they can’t stand up, they way they can’t make their eyes focus. NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN. Sitting on their knees against the dirt where they’d collapsed, Barbara kneeling before them, saying something but they can’t hear it, it’s all white noise past the roaring in their ears. They stare through Barbara’s chest, can’t raise their eyes, can’t stop shaking. They taste salt and bile and blot. NO AGAIN I’D RATHER DIE I’D RATHER DIE I’D RATHER DIE.
“Come on, take a deep breath.” Barbara’s voice breaks past the haze of static, muffled and far away, and Piper flinches away from the girl, eyes finally darting to her face. NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN I’D RATHER DIE I’LL DIE I’LL DIE. The tears won’t slow. “It’s gonna be alright.”
IT’S NOT. I’D RATHER DIE. I’D RATHER DIE. Got hurt, a bad fight / a very bad fight / Piper started it, wanted it, wanted to get her teeth kicked in. But Barbara found them trying to stand and failing and and and and and and ———
THEIR BRUISES ARE STILL VISIBLE ON HER COLLARBONES.
Barbara reaches out, to touch, to heal, to help, and Piper’s eyes widen and they jerk back and hands fly too fast and grab Barbara’s wrist, grip tight / no, no, stop it, you know this, NOT AGAIN I’D RATHER DIE / and she gasps raggedly, “never fucking do that for me again.”
NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NO ONE GETS HURT FOR ME AGAIN NO ONE SUFFERS FOR ME AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT LIKE JEAN NOT AGAIN I’D RATHER DIE I SHOULD HAVE DIED.
Barbara looks scared / later, Piper will be sorry, will feel like a monster, but for now they’re drowning and they’re afraid and they’re a child again AND THEY’RE THE REASON SOMEONE THEY LOVE IS BLEEDING.
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT SHADOWY MEMORIES HAUNT THEM - completed
23k, part 2 of my demon series, Sciles friendship, Steo enemies to lovers prelude, Stydia pining, canon compliant psychological trauma, nightmares, demons, drugs, and disturbing themes.
Click to read on ao3
C'est trop flippant de parler de sa santé mental en français vu que c'est pas langue maternelle, t'es plus vulnérable.
Mais bon, je suis en depression depuis la primaire, j'ai été ultra toxique, je suis suicidaire, je me fait du mal mais je m'en fou. Je suis une merde mais je fais avec.
it’s almost been a year and i’m still suicidal over losing my best friend to a random guy she met on the internet.
and what’s she doing?
moving into a house with her shitbag boyfriend and not even caring about how much she hurt me and doesn’t even care that i’m out of her life.
i wonder if she’ll miss me when i kill myself
TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL IDEATION/DEPRESSION/CHILD ABUSE/EATING DISORDERS/SELF HARM
Im just worried. I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to heal. I’m worried that I’m not strong enough. I’m worried that I’ll never stop hating myself. I’m so worried that I might do it someday. My whole life has been horrific with depression. I was abused as a child. And I’ve only recently come to terms with that. I’ve been diagnosed with multiple mental illnesses including anorexia at one point in my life and bulimia currently. And I’ve had several suicide attempts and have been in the ER and the ICU multiple times. I think this was a direct result of the abuse of my parents. I wasn’t able to fully understand this until very recently. It’s been... difficult. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I am alone. It really feel like no one cares about me. And I don’t want to be a burden to anyone by just dumping all my shit on them. But sometimes it’s just so bad and I feel so alone and so unloved that I honestly just don’t seem to see the point anymore. Like.. not in a bad negative way,ore of a freeing way. Like I could end this pain. But like I could just put it off more and just cut myself in a place where no one will see. I haven’t self harmed in a long time but I feel like this is good right? If I do this instead of
If the therapy and psychiatric appointments doesn't work I know I will kms. I'm fine with that, I'm just to tired to fight anymore and I deserve to die. I deserve it. I deserve it so much.
i’m so close to going to my counselor and straight up being like „i want to kill myself“ and if they don’t believe im i will literally show them my sh wounds. like im so fucking close, because i honestly can’t anymore.
...but i wouldn’t be able to hide my ed which is my worst fear. i don’t want to get help for my anorexic tendencies, i just want help for my bulimic tendencies ya know? like if i told a professional my symptoms they’d tell me i have bulimia and i definitely want help with this, but then my parents and friends and shit would be aware of my eating habits so i would never be able to restrict/fast like ever again and i need to be thin so bad.
so rn internally im just battling with „do i expose all my secrets and get help and hopefully get put on some random antidepressant?“, „do i somehow only reveal small parts and hopefully somehow get meds for my adhd and go on prozac which is supposed to help with bulimia?“ or „do i just keep it all in and try to keep losing weight until somebody notices and all my problems get revealed anyway?“
i don’t know what to do anymore man
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the PROBLEM with being fixated on one thing is that i’ve seen FUCKING 90% OF THE CONTENT
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rant/vent below, feel free to skip.
me: *been dissociated since the beginning of april, struggling with my traumaversary and abandonment issues harder than i ever have, reverting back to dangerous habits to cope, doing all i can to keep myself distracted and calm so i don’t do something permanent, while being semi-regularly threatened by two men*
my mum: you never call me or your dad and i know that dad never calls you but it’s up to you to stop focusing on yourself and call him.
You know it's bad when you get on tumblr again
People really think it's easy to not think about suicide when you suffer from severe depression. "Stop talking like that" No. I seriously cannot when I believe the world is against me and that everything would be better if I was actually gone.
I'd kill myself already if I wasn't scared of how much it'd hurt. I think of suicide every day
Kurwa, tak bardzo się boję, ale nie mogę zrobić nic. I choć wkładam mnóstwo siły w to, by poczuć spokój przez chwilę, w każdej pierdolonej sekundzie, minucie, godzinie dzieje się coś, co wywołuje we mnie ponowny lęk i ból. Zaczęłam się łamać i płaczę coraz więcej. W ciągu doby smutek dopada mnie po kilkanaście razy, zaledwie tylko kilka z nich jestem w stanie utrzymać tak, by nie płakać. Znów tracę kontrolę, tracę grunt, tracę wszystko. "Stoję na ruinach swojego nieba."
Moje myśli są tak głośne, że już nie zagłusza ich muzyka. Mój krzyk jest tak cichy, że nie da się go usłyszeć stojąc obok. Moje łzy są tak ciężkie, że zrobiłyby dziurę w parkiecie, na którym zaczynam niebezpieczny taniec, dance macabre.
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I said when I got down to 145lbs I’d stop
But I’ll never be satisfied will I? I can never stop