I'm not depressed because..

I'm not depressed because I spent two days in bed. I got up today, wrote an exam, socialized with three friends, took a train to go home, watched a comedy, knit and played guitar. But at the end of the day, I'm back in bed wanting to die.

I'm not depressed because I don't know what I want to do with my life. I know exactly what I want to do with my life. I have plans upon plans of all the things I want to accomplish. I know which courses I'll take at which grad schools and which condo I'd like to live in in 5, 10 and 15 years. I will have three cats named Ana, Maleficent, and Pixie.

I'm not depressed because it's winter. Yes I am affected by S.A.D. I also attempted suicide in June.

I'm not depressed because school is too much. Yes university courses can trigger my anxiety. But some days the only reason I got out of bed is because I really really like linear algebra class.

I'm not depressed because of a certain reason. There isn't one thing you can change in my life that will make me happy. There are things that give me a reason to not die, until the chemical imbalances in my brain are changed. My meds are still being sorted out. My therapy is still being sorted out. I'm depressed because I am one of the unlucky ones with Major Depressive Disorder. You can't just 'fix' me. Please just stick with me.

-Niqi
xoxo

Questions questions questions

... I know I'm going to have to answer all of these the second I see my parents:

• How is school?
• How is treatment?
• How is recovery? 
• How much are you purging? 
• How much are you restricting? 
• Why do you care so much about your weight? 
• Why do you care so much about your grades?
• What are your grades like?
• How did exams go?
• How was the semester?
• Did you get to know any of your profs?
• Why did you spend so much money? 
• Why is there an ambulance charge on your credit card? 
• Can't you see how much your hurting us? 
• Does your eyeliner have some sort of deep meaning? 
• Why don't you want to talk to us? 
• Why don't you want to play with your siblings?
• Why don't you want to go see your highschool friends? 
• Did you lose weight? 
• Did you gain weight? 
• Do you know how much we love you?
• Are you still trying to lose weight? 
• Are you going to get a scholorship? 
• How much are your books going to cost next year?
• What are your new years resolutions? 
• Do you still like your therapist?
• Why aren't you ding treatment at the hospital?
• Why don't you want to stay longer? 
• What meds are you on now?
• Why do you need blood work done so often? 
• Is it safe for you to have meds in your room? 
• Why are you taking so many vitamins? 
• Is that enough food for breakfast/lunch/dinner?
• Isn't that a lot of food?
• Are you going to purge that? 
• Where did all our alcohol go? 

-Niqi

xoxo

Romanticizing vs glorifying

If you search mia, ana, depression, anxiety, suicide, self harm or any other related word into tumblr, you will find a load of black and white pictures of sad teenagers, and depressing quotes.

You will also find a bunch of people ranting about how terrible it is to romanticize mental illnesses.

Here is my unpopular opinion: Romanticizing mental illness is fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. However there is a BIG problem with glorifying mental illness. The problem is, the difference can be hard to notice.

Romanticizing illnesses is done all the time. From John Green writing romance novels about teens dying with cancer, and a potential suicide in "The Fault in Our Stars" and "Looking for Alaska", to quotes such as "There are lines on your wrists/ like railroad tracks/ and I know exactly where they're going/ but there is no train to heaven" (Unknown), we romanticize illness everyday. It helps us cope. Thinking that we are tragically beautiful, or a purging princess, or a delicate doll helps us hate ourselves less.

The problem occurs when the romanticizing enters that grey section, where illness are glorified, the bad sides pushed aside, and people start wanting eating disorders. I'm talking about people thinking that being depressed means someone is going to save you and help you escape from the dark side. Or thinking that cancer will make you realize exactly what you want in life, and post recovery you will live your life to the fullest.

This isn't how illnesses work. Yes maybe when you are depressed you have that one person who never gives up on you and gives you hope. But you still can't get out of bed everyday, cry yourself to sleep at night, get nightmares, and can't cross the street without secretly hoping that a car will run you over. If you wish you had an eating disorder, stop right now. You will lose your hair, your friends, isolate yourself, and the disease will take control of your brain.

If romanticizing your illness helps you cope. Continue what you are doing. I know that reading poems about people dying, and reading books about beautiful girls who cut themselves but get saved and find themselves with the help of a boy, gives me hope. Makes me think that I'm not just a crazy worthless girl. But please never encourage others to worsen their disorders, and if you find yourself wishing you could have a bit of anorexia or anxiety please stop and read about all the terrible side affects of these diseases.

-Niqi
xoxo

Fucking mood swings

Everything is great. I'm productive, light restricting, exercising and pretending to be functional. I actually start to think that maybe things are turning around. Just maybe I actually am getting better. Maybe my meds do work. Maybe I can overcome this hell. Then bamn. I run into someone or something that triggers me. My old residence manager, my weigh in was bad, I don't lift as much as I wanted to, I ran out of bananas. Literally anything. It could be the tiniest thing. Sometimes it's nothing. And all of a sudden every thing sucks. My skin is itching to be cut, I just want to see blood drip. I want to scratch away at the skin covering my bones. I want to cut the fat off my stomach. I'm losing control. What I crave so much, and strive for every day but now I'm losing it. I leave my house in a fury and jump on the first bus that will take me to a grocery store. Cookie dough, chocolate, oreos, whipped cream, pizza pops, pretzels, peanut butter, and ice cream all go into my basket. Realizing I probably shouldn't be spending this much money on food I know I'm going to purge, I slip some into my coat pockets and bag before heading to the cash register. I have about 20$ left this week for food, since my shopping trips are so small from restricting during my good days. I spend it all. I start eating on the bus ride home, doing my best to seem in control and not shoving food in my face as fast as I can. I get back to my house hoping to run down to my room before my housemates see me and start a conversation. I'm so fucking inpatient. They've gotten good at noticing when I'm not doing well. I run down to the basement and through the curtains into my room, hoping that no one decides to go play video games in the adjacent room. I sit down and open boxes of cookies and peanut butter and realize I forgot cutlery. Screw it. I dip the cookie in peanut butter, put a piece of chocolate on top and spray out some whipped cream. I take a bite. Finally. Relief. I feel so damn great now. I eat more and more until I am no longer in control. My stomach no longer wants food, but my brain still does. I head to the bathroom and purge a bit so I can shove more food in. This repeats until I get into the shower for my final purge. I purge and purge as burning hot waters sprays onto my back. Drinking water coming out of the shower head to avoid big clumps of food coming out that will clog the drain. When I'm finally empty, the sense of security comes back to me. I'm in control. I can do whatever I want. I get out of the shower, put some clothes on and go back to my homework, or practice as if nothing had happened. This lasts a couple of hours until I start having flashbacks to all the food I ate, how I lost control, how pathetic I am, reach for my blade, lighter or simply start scratching. I then give up. Pop a couple pills and head to bed, so the monster in my head will calm down for a bit. Maybe tomorrow will be better I tell myself as I drift into sleep.

-Niqi
xoxo

I'm a mess of contradictions in a dress

I go to bed wishing I had someone to cuddle with, and wake up pushing everyone who cares about me away.

I spend days wearing cute floral dresses, acting adorably innocent, then get tattoos and piercings, shop lift and have sex on total impulse.

I freak out over the calories in gum, then binge on thousands of calories.

I have bubble baths to soothe my sore muscles, then I take a blade to my wrist.

I plan my future with a PhD, then think of ways I could kill myself.

I spend hours cleaning my room, then smash my mirror to bits.

I am sweet and caring, yet turn into a ruthless sarcastic bitch in a matter of seconds.

I hate being lonely, but refuse every invitation I get to be with people.

I talk about poetry like a queen, while using 'fuck' as punctuation.

I want to be myself and ignore what society thinks, but I have no idea who I am.

I love you and I hate you.

I want you, yet I hate wanting you.

I can't describe myself as I am a bunch of opposites.

As Fiona put it in Shrek The Musical;
"I'm a mess of contradictions in a dress"

-Niqi
xoxo