I am in the waiting room of my therapists, 25 minutes early. And I am bored. I really hate it here, it makes me feel all anxious. My thrapist is nice and all, but she just bugs me sometimes. IDK how but I kinda wish I had a young counselor that I could relate to. I think that sounds pretty reasonable, or is it just mean? God I feel jump, and nervous. Don't know what to say to her. I guess i could judt tell her about how much my mom is pissing me off or how well I've been doing at like not hurting myself.
But in all honesty, I don't know what eles she van do for me...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Grrrr, my mom is all made at me cuz yesterday I cut my hair wicked short and today I put it up in a pony. It's not because I don't like my haircut, it's just that it's 75 out and I am hot! Why does she give a shit anyway if I wear my hair up, it's mine!!!! Everyday is something new. And today she thinks I'm being rude cuz I asked her not to touch my hair. I've explained to her that I have issues with 'touching' (I mean that in a non-sexual way), but she just doesn't get it! Grrrrrr....
At least I still have my tat and I haven't cut! Wow, go me!
Nadia
At least I still have my tat and I haven't cut! Wow, go me!
Nadia
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I hate being with my mom sometimesm dont get me wrong, i love her and we do have some really fun times together. But when i am with my dad, ihave no urge to cut and i am mostly happy. When i am with her i feel helpless, worthless, angry, and like i cant do anything right. I hate it. And she gets made at me for turning up my music or sighing or drawing on myself, when all i am trying to do is get some release without hurting myself. But of course i cant tell her this becaue when i take to her i feel uncomfortable. I just cant do it without getting angry or sad. I am working on better communications skills, but i am not ready o just come straight out and explain my SI to others. I cant even explain it to myself or my therapist! And she is just so demanding for an awsner, but I just dont havr on. Feeling sooooooo misunderstood.
Nadia
My mom saw my nice little tats. (I have 3, btw) She was freaking out. That or scars. But i can't say that to her because she doesnt get it at all. She saw my latest cuts from few nights ago. They were hardly scratches. Anyway, she was all like why do you do that yourself? We were out to dinner and that awsner would take more then 3 counseling sessions. I would lnow, thats how many ive had and we have hardly talked about the source of my SI. Yet she demanded an awsner, seriously. It pissed me off so much. Cant she respect me when i say i dont want to take about it? Thats why i see a counselor, cuz i dont want to talk to anyone else. And i dont really even talk to her!
I hate SI. Then why the HELL DO I DO IT?????? Cuz im a messed up freak!!!!!!
NadiaTheFreak
Just one tiny cut...
Just a scratch really. That's all I want, to just get one sliver of relief from a knife. No, I can't. I want to. I know I don't need to, but I want to. But I wont. I drew a heart with a tear on my arm. I will not cut it or let it die or what ever. I don't want to be like this anymore. But cutting it is easy. And SI has never failed to make me feel better. I can't wait till that day comes. Maybe that will be the day when I stop this war between me and myself....
Nadia
Nadia
Monday, June 22, 2009
My Own Personal Therapy
And no, I do not mean self harm. I saw this idea on a self harm support website: you simply draw a butterfly (or any other symbol that floats your boat. I hate that saying, btw.) anywhere on your body where you would normally SI. You do this when you feel the need to self harm, instead of actually hurting your self. It's called the butterfly project, google it.
Anyway, the theory is if you don't self harm until the drawing fades, it is a sign of achievement and hope because the butterfly has flown away. if you do SI when the drawing is till visible, you have to wash it off. This symbolizes that you have killed the butterfly, but you can always try again with a new drawing.
I am not going to draw butterflies, but a heart with a tear drop because me and my friend want to get a tattoo of this design.
Who knows if it will work, but I'm gunna try...
Nadia
My Full Story of SI
Why do people SI (self injure)? There are a million different answer to this question. We cut to feel better, to feel anything, to feel nothing, so others won't hurt us("I hurt myself so you can't."), to relive stress, because we are confused, because we are addicted, ect..Cutting, the most common way of self harming, is addictive. I know from experience. It is like a bad habit: once you start you can't stop, even if you want to.So, why did I decide to write about this? Because I need to share my story and my feelings. I don't care who does or dose not read this, I am posting for myself. Like a journal. But this journal may be of some help to those who struggle with SI and are looking for teens like them.Why do I cut? lots of reasons, but I guess I have to start at the beginning with that one..September 2005My first day of middle school. I was pissed. I was not returning to the middle school that all my friends were going to, but I had to transfer to the local middle school in my district. I didn't know anyone, I didn't want to. I was just fine with all my other friends. I was sad, still having to watch my wonderful mentor struggle with cancer.I didn't talk to anyone. While my sister (my twin) made friends, I had none. I felt so alone. Even if I wanted to fit in, I didn't think I could. I felt angry at the world all the time. Sometimes I wanted to die, but being the "good" kid that I was, I just pushed the thought out of my mind.It was school conferences. My teachers said all great things. I had all A's, but I was quiet. Outside I was quiet, but inside I was dying to scream.That night I went home, and cried, for no reason. I was overwhelmed with emotion. Sadness, and anger.Then I changed my life drastically.
I took a safety pin out of the sewing kit, locked myself in my room and made cuts on my arms. Not bad cuts, scratches really. All over my lower arm. It stung, but it felt good. It was reliving. The next day I woke up and looked at my arms and wanted to scream. Instead I put on a long sleeve shirt and went to school with a little bit of a rebellious attitude for knowing what I had done.That day I got in trouble with a teacher, something that never happened. That night I went home and cut, this time deeper and longer.I continued to cut all through 6th grade. I did make some friends, but there weren't exactly the best group. I began to get more creative with my self harm. I cut with a scalpel, pieced my belly button twice, (both times the earring riped out about 3 months after I did it), I put safety pins through my skin and started cutting on my legs so no one would see them. Why did I do this? Because I was desperate to get out of the dark blue ocean of emotion I had fallen into. I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. I was angry and plain miserable. I would cry until it hurt, and I didn't even know why. Over the summer I became more careful of where and when I cut, so no one would see my cuts when I wore shorts. I had so many scars because I never let the cuts heal. I would always lie and say my chinchilla's scratched me. And people believed me.Over the summer I found out the worst news of my life.
"Mrs. Parker died yesterday" said my mom as silent tears of agony rolled down my checks. How could my loving, strong mentor be dead?Mrs. Parker had worked with my mom for awhile and was a close family friend. I was in her class when she was diagnose with terminal cancer. She was my mentor, my role model. She was so kind and wise and special.I cried and I cut for the first time on my wrists. While I did this I seriously though of committing suicide.The next year I got in to a lot of trouble, and my self harm got worse and worse until it was to hard to hide. Of course Maya4Life knew of my struggle, and tried to help me stop the habit, but I couldn't. At the end of 7th grade, rumors stared floating around about me cutting myself, mostly between my sister's group of friends. I went to the guidance counselor and convinced her to convince my sister that I didn't self harm, and she did. I still feel awful about lying to the guidance counselor and my family. Over the summer, I stopped cutting, but started some other bad habits. I drank, a lot and I got "high" off medicine like Advil.But I still wanted to cut....In 8th grade, I started yet another year as a self harmer. I was fighting with my mom constantly about what high school I would go to. I felt like I was falling deeper and deeper in to a hole hat I would never be able to get out of. I had my friends supporting me, and helping me, but yet I still felt the need to hurt myself. It hurt on the outside, but I felt numb, sad, and angry on the inside.Every day I would go home, lock my self in my bedroom, blast my music, cut, and cry until there was no more tears left to cry. The next morning I would feel horrible about what I had done, and just wanted to cut even more to feel better.Cutting did relieve all the emotions I carried around with me, but only for a moment. And when I felt like I had no emotions or feelings at all, cutting helped me feel alive, but only for a moment. On Good Friday of 2008, my parents found out my secret. I had carved hate into my ankle, and there was no way to hide it. My sister saw it first and told on me. So, I broke down and told my parents every thing. They were pissed and upset. I cried and told them I felt like I had no reason to get up in the morning.The next day my mom took me shopping. "Retail therapy" she said. I wanted to scream. Part of the reason I cut was so that someone would notice and bring me to a therapist. But no, we went shopping. SO I cut.It didn't stop after my parents knew, it got worse and I got better at hiding my scars. As I entered a private high school. I wanted to die. I had no friends, A's turned to D's and I wanted to die. I never actually attempted suicide or mad e pans to, but I did think about what it would be like to die. I cut and I started making friction burns with erasers on my arms. I pierced my belly button again. Finally, one night I had just had a fight with my mom and was crying because I had just cut. I showed my mom a journal entry about how pissed and depressed I felt because I didn't know what else to do. A couple weeks later I was put on Zoloft for depression and I started seeing a counselor.
Now, I am still suffer from depression, I am on 100 mg of Zoloft a day, and I see my therapist once in awhile. I still self harm. I don't feel as depressed, but I am still over come with to many emotions that I don't know how to explain. I am switching high schools next year. I am happy about this, yet scared for the change. I still feel like there is something wrong with me, like mentally and emotionally. And I don't know what to do about it...
og
Ps
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I took a safety pin out of the sewing kit, locked myself in my room and made cuts on my arms. Not bad cuts, scratches really. All over my lower arm. It stung, but it felt good. It was reliving. The next day I woke up and looked at my arms and wanted to scream. Instead I put on a long sleeve shirt and went to school with a little bit of a rebellious attitude for knowing what I had done.That day I got in trouble with a teacher, something that never happened. That night I went home and cut, this time deeper and longer.I continued to cut all through 6th grade. I did make some friends, but there weren't exactly the best group. I began to get more creative with my self harm. I cut with a scalpel, pieced my belly button twice, (both times the earring riped out about 3 months after I did it), I put safety pins through my skin and started cutting on my legs so no one would see them. Why did I do this? Because I was desperate to get out of the dark blue ocean of emotion I had fallen into. I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. I was angry and plain miserable. I would cry until it hurt, and I didn't even know why. Over the summer I became more careful of where and when I cut, so no one would see my cuts when I wore shorts. I had so many scars because I never let the cuts heal. I would always lie and say my chinchilla's scratched me. And people believed me.Over the summer I found out the worst news of my life.
"Mrs. Parker died yesterday" said my mom as silent tears of agony rolled down my checks. How could my loving, strong mentor be dead?Mrs. Parker had worked with my mom for awhile and was a close family friend. I was in her class when she was diagnose with terminal cancer. She was my mentor, my role model. She was so kind and wise and special.I cried and I cut for the first time on my wrists. While I did this I seriously though of committing suicide.The next year I got in to a lot of trouble, and my self harm got worse and worse until it was to hard to hide. Of course Maya4Life knew of my struggle, and tried to help me stop the habit, but I couldn't. At the end of 7th grade, rumors stared floating around about me cutting myself, mostly between my sister's group of friends. I went to the guidance counselor and convinced her to convince my sister that I didn't self harm, and she did. I still feel awful about lying to the guidance counselor and my family. Over the summer, I stopped cutting, but started some other bad habits. I drank, a lot and I got "high" off medicine like Advil.But I still wanted to cut....In 8th grade, I started yet another year as a self harmer. I was fighting with my mom constantly about what high school I would go to. I felt like I was falling deeper and deeper in to a hole hat I would never be able to get out of. I had my friends supporting me, and helping me, but yet I still felt the need to hurt myself. It hurt on the outside, but I felt numb, sad, and angry on the inside.Every day I would go home, lock my self in my bedroom, blast my music, cut, and cry until there was no more tears left to cry. The next morning I would feel horrible about what I had done, and just wanted to cut even more to feel better.Cutting did relieve all the emotions I carried around with me, but only for a moment. And when I felt like I had no emotions or feelings at all, cutting helped me feel alive, but only for a moment. On Good Friday of 2008, my parents found out my secret. I had carved hate into my ankle, and there was no way to hide it. My sister saw it first and told on me. So, I broke down and told my parents every thing. They were pissed and upset. I cried and told them I felt like I had no reason to get up in the morning.The next day my mom took me shopping. "Retail therapy" she said. I wanted to scream. Part of the reason I cut was so that someone would notice and bring me to a therapist. But no, we went shopping. SO I cut.It didn't stop after my parents knew, it got worse and I got better at hiding my scars. As I entered a private high school. I wanted to die. I had no friends, A's turned to D's and I wanted to die. I never actually attempted suicide or mad e pans to, but I did think about what it would be like to die. I cut and I started making friction burns with erasers on my arms. I pierced my belly button again. Finally, one night I had just had a fight with my mom and was crying because I had just cut. I showed my mom a journal entry about how pissed and depressed I felt because I didn't know what else to do. A couple weeks later I was put on Zoloft for depression and I started seeing a counselor.
Now, I am still suffer from depression, I am on 100 mg of Zoloft a day, and I see my therapist once in awhile. I still self harm. I don't feel as depressed, but I am still over come with to many emotions that I don't know how to explain. I am switching high schools next year. I am happy about this, yet scared for the change. I still feel like there is something wrong with me, like mentally and emotionally. And I don't know what to do about it...
og
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Johnny Depp, an actor well known for his past "bad boy" behavior, was born in Owensboro, Kentucky in 1963. In a 1999 Avantgarde interview Johnny said, "As a teenager I was so insecure. I was the type of guy that never fitted in because he never dared to choose. I was convinced I had absolutely no talent at all. For nothing. And that thought took away all my ambition too." Even today he still has feelings of insecurity about himself. In 1999 he said, "My self-image it still isn't that alright. No matter how famous I am, no matter how many people go to see my movies, I still have the idea that I'm that pale no-hoper that I used to be. A pale no-hoper that happens to be a little lucky now. Tomorrow it'll be all over, then I'll have to go back to selling pens again." During his teens he had drinking, smoking and doing drugs. There were episodes of petty theft and vandalism. He dropped out of high school at the age of sixteen so that he could concentrate on being a musician. He continued to have problems with drugs and drinking into his twenties.Johnny has a series of seven or eight scars on his left forearm where he has cut himself with a knife on different occasions to commemorate various moments or rights of passage in his life. In a Talk magazine interview he said, "It was really just whatever [times when he hurt himself]--good times, bad times, it didn't matter. There was no ceremony. It wasn't like 'Okay, this just happened, I have to go hack a piece of my flesh off.'" In a 1993 Details magazine interview Johnny explained his self-injury, "My body is a journal in a way. It's like what sailors used to do, where every tattoo meant something, a specific time in your life when you make a mark on yourself, whether you do it yourself with a knife or with a professional tattoo artist." Johnny has several tattoos, such as the one that says 'Wino Forever' (used to be 'Winona Forever" when he was dating the famous actress, Winona Ryder).Johnny Depp now lives in France with his steady girlfriend (whom he considers his wife), Vanessa Paradis, and his young daughter. He has quit doing drugs and no longer drinks heavily. In a 2001 Movie Star Magazine interview he talked about how he is currently the happiest he has ever been, "My upbringing made me as I am now. But I can become merry and happy at once. There were many years I was feeling at a loss about my life or how I grew up. I couldn't understand what is right or what is precious. At that time, I was so miserable and self-defeating. I was feeling angry with various things. My anger came up to the surface then. I don't say such tendency has disappeared. Even now there are anger and the dark side in myself. But it's the first time I've been so close to the light."
Source: http://self-injury.net/media/famous-self-injurers
This just goes to show you, self harm can happen to anyone: the depressed, the forgotten, and the movie star....
OKAY, my parents found out I pierced my ears. I knew they would find out. I also knew that I wasn't allowed to get my second holes done, or my cartilage. Why did I do it then?It did start out as an act of self harm, but not really. I was mad at my mom because she said: "I'm tired of your bitching, just get over it." I don't even know why she said that, I think it was because I was fighting with my sister about something she wanted me to do for her. I know what she said wasn't a huge deal, but when she swears at me, it just really pisses me off and triggers my desire to self harm.SO I was planing on piercing my belly button, again, because I didn't want to have to hide another scar/ burn from SI. Then I decided that was not a good idea because I still have a scar from the last time I pierced my belly button (I think way to much about logistics when I want to self harm, it's sick, not in a good way) SO I thought: what else can I pierce? MY EARS!!! By this time I had totally forgotten about wanting to self harm and being mad at my mom. I just wanted my ears pierced. I knew my parents would not approve, but for some STUPID reason I did it anyway. I like the rush of being rebellious and breaking rules.So, that's why. I have no idea why I couldn't just say this to my mom and dad, but I couldn't find the words to explain it when they asked. Maybe it was because I was crying and having like a firiggin mental break down or maybe I just didn't want to. IDK.All I know now is that I AM DONE BEING THE STUPID, REBELLIOUS, SELF HARMING PERSON I WASTED 3 YEARS OF MY LIFE BEING.I know how hurting my body and doing stupid things hurts my mom, my dad, my friends, and even my sister. They were all upset about this. AND I'M SORRY! I didn't want to hurt anyone, only myself, and that wasn't really even my intention in the end. I just wanted to do one last thing before I begin again at a new school, as a better person.I told my parents that I wasn't going to do anyhting else stupid like drinking, piercing, cutting, drugs, ect... anymore because I DON'T WANT TO!!! I am done being idiotic about the decisions I make. I've been through that, and I don't want to go through it again. I realize my mistakes, I'm sorry for them, and I am ready to move on. And what made me realize this? The anger in my mom's voice, the disappointment in my dad's eyes, my sister crying, and the disapproval of my teacher. I see now how my actions have hurt others, and because of that, I have decided to stop.And this time, I really mean stop, all of it. I WILL NOT SELF HARM ANYMORE. I can't, it's not right, and I don't want it to be who I am anymore.I just want to be that girl who gets good grades, enjoys preforming, and loves her family and friends. (Well I already do, but I mean, like, be nicer to them, and no fighting.)I have also decided that I am NEVER getting anymore piercings, and no tattoos. I am not going to drink again until I am 21, and legal. I will never try drugs, or smoke. EVER. I have seen how this stuff can mess you up, and I don't want to do that.I'm going to try and fix my life and get it together, but I am not taking out the earrings, because I like them.My parents don't trust me anymore, and I don't think they should. I understand. I'll have to earn my trust back, I just wish they would believe all the things in this post about I AM DONE.Gosh, why can't I just tell them all this??? Every time I tr to talk to them about stuff like this, I cry and I don't like crying around other people. I guess I am just better at writing them I am at talking.That's all I have to say at the moment.
PS
I have a lot of new posts in such a short amount of time cuz I am importing them from another blog
PS
I have a lot of new posts in such a short amount of time cuz I am importing them from another blog
Goodbye (For JP...)
Goodbyes are not forever.
Goodbyes are not the end.
They simply mean I'll miss you
Until we meet again!
But again seems life forever,
And pain will never end,
So I will say one single more heartfelt farewell
Until we meet again
Goodbyes are not the end.
They simply mean I'll miss you
Until we meet again!
But again seems life forever,
And pain will never end,
So I will say one single more heartfelt farewell
Until we meet again
I am back with my mom this week. I have been with my dad and his girlfriend since I got out of school, and it has been wonderful. No fighting or stress. Now I'm back with my mom and I just feel so irritated with her and everything she is doing. I mean her and all, but she just tends to push my buttons and irritate my need to SI. Every thing I do never seems good enough for her or I sm doing something wrong in her eyes. It just really pisses me off that she hasn't even tryed to understand what I am going through with cutting. She just gets angry, which makes me want to cut even more. It is a painful, stupid cycle. I hate it, yet it is harder to break it then to begin it. *Sigh*
Nadia
I cut last night. Now I feel awful and guilty. I don't even know why I did it. I felt so alone and isolated. And that just made me sad. Not just a regular kind of sad, but ocean blue sad. What I mean is, I felt like I was in a kind of sadness that I would never get ouy of; like I was drowning in a deep, blue ocean of depression.
This shouldn't happen! The medication is helping and I haven't SI'ed in at least three weeks!
Depression sucks,
xXNadiaXx
This shouldn't happen! The medication is helping and I haven't SI'ed in at least three weeks!
Depression sucks,
xXNadiaXx
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Therapy
I found this great website about SI, it has helped me more then my frigging counselor! http://www.palace.net/~llama/psych/injury.html
Self Harm, Depression, And Hyper Sensitivity
Self harm is deliberately hurting ones self with no suicidal intention. It may include: an eating disorder, cutting, burning, friction burns, or piercing. I have been through all of these things, and trust me, they are not pretty or fun.
Why do people self harm? Lots of reasons, it is different for everyone. Why do I? Well I started, because someone very close to me had cancer and died. Then I had to transfer middle schools, and I was pissed. It all went down hill from there. I started feeling so alone and sad. I was depressed. That made me so angry and everything irritated me. Everything just felt so damn wrong, so I stared drinking to try and numb the pain. That just made it worse. SO, one day after I had gotten in trouble at school and into a fight with my mom, I took a knife and cut my arm.
After that it became a sick habit. I cut my wrists, my stomach, my legs, and my ankles. It began to take over my life. I had to plan everything around my cutting. Wearing long selves to hide the scars, buying medical supplies, and hiding evidence of my self harm from my family became my main goals.
A year into my cutting, there were rumors started about me and my friend self harming, but we got through that. I even stopped cutting for awhile. But then I started doing friction burns and piercing my body. A another year later, my parents found out about my self harm. I thought they would send me to a mental institution. They did nothing.
Finally, this year, I got help, and well here I am, still self harming.
Depression. Depression sucks and was the stupid cause of all my self mutilation. Depression is feeling alone, scarred, sad, helpless, and sometimes suicidal. So many suffer from depression and is as subject worth knowing about. If you want to learn more about self harm, suicide, or depression, search to write love on her arms and just search one of these topics in youtube. There are some really good videos.
Anxiety is a relatively permanent state of worry and nervousness occurring in a variety of mental disorders, usually accompanied by compulsive behavior or attacks of panic. I DO have some compulsive behaviors but have not had a panic attack, yet.
And finally being hypersensitive could be described as being allergic to life. For the highly sensitive person (HSP) a seemingly ordinary day can be overwhelming. Even the most subtle of stimulants a person encounters on a daily basis can be over-stimulating. Energies associated with touch, noise, scent, light, etc. are often too quickly or deeply absorbed by the HSP. As a result, the HSP may become mentally confused, emotionally upset, and/or physically uncomfortable. Hypersensitivity is also associated with a heightened sense of awareness and intuition. This makes being a HSP or empath a two-way street.
I found this and it basically describes my experience with hyper sensitivity: To her... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death.
So that is what I deal with everyday. I am not complaining, just informing.
Nadia
Why do people self harm? Lots of reasons, it is different for everyone. Why do I? Well I started, because someone very close to me had cancer and died. Then I had to transfer middle schools, and I was pissed. It all went down hill from there. I started feeling so alone and sad. I was depressed. That made me so angry and everything irritated me. Everything just felt so damn wrong, so I stared drinking to try and numb the pain. That just made it worse. SO, one day after I had gotten in trouble at school and into a fight with my mom, I took a knife and cut my arm.
After that it became a sick habit. I cut my wrists, my stomach, my legs, and my ankles. It began to take over my life. I had to plan everything around my cutting. Wearing long selves to hide the scars, buying medical supplies, and hiding evidence of my self harm from my family became my main goals.
A year into my cutting, there were rumors started about me and my friend self harming, but we got through that. I even stopped cutting for awhile. But then I started doing friction burns and piercing my body. A another year later, my parents found out about my self harm. I thought they would send me to a mental institution. They did nothing.
Finally, this year, I got help, and well here I am, still self harming.
Depression. Depression sucks and was the stupid cause of all my self mutilation. Depression is feeling alone, scarred, sad, helpless, and sometimes suicidal. So many suffer from depression and is as subject worth knowing about. If you want to learn more about self harm, suicide, or depression, search to write love on her arms and just search one of these topics in youtube. There are some really good videos.
Anxiety is a relatively permanent state of worry and nervousness occurring in a variety of mental disorders, usually accompanied by compulsive behavior or attacks of panic. I DO have some compulsive behaviors but have not had a panic attack, yet.
And finally being hypersensitive could be described as being allergic to life. For the highly sensitive person (HSP) a seemingly ordinary day can be overwhelming. Even the most subtle of stimulants a person encounters on a daily basis can be over-stimulating. Energies associated with touch, noise, scent, light, etc. are often too quickly or deeply absorbed by the HSP. As a result, the HSP may become mentally confused, emotionally upset, and/or physically uncomfortable. Hypersensitivity is also associated with a heightened sense of awareness and intuition. This makes being a HSP or empath a two-way street.
I found this and it basically describes my experience with hyper sensitivity: To her... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death.
So that is what I deal with everyday. I am not complaining, just informing.
Nadia
Me
I am a self harmer, I guess that's why I decided to start this blog. I have feel so much (sometimes too little), have so many thoughts, and needed to put them somewhere besides my overwhelmed mind. I suffer from depression, anxiety, and I am incredibly hyper sensitive to a lot of things.
My name is irrelevant, but you can call me Nadia. Nadia the depressed, that's who I am. In this blog anyway. In reality I have no idea who I am or what I want to be.
A little more about myself: I was adopted from Russia when I was a yer old along with my twin sister. We'll call her McAri. I also had a brother who died shortly after birth. I have one other brother who lives somewhere in Russia, he would be 21 now. That is all I know about him. As for my birth parents, I know their names were Olga and Vladimir. My mother was in her early 30's when she had us and my father left her when he found out she was pregnant again.
Now I live in Maine with my twin and my adoptive parents: Mama and Papa. They are divorced. They have been separated since I was 5, I don't even remember what it was like when they lived together. Well, I remember them fighting, a lot. And my dad leaving to get his PHD in music education when I was 5. He came back when I was 8 and didn't move back in with me, my sister and my mother.
I don't really mind that my parents are divorced, I mean they are both happy and have found people to spend the rest of their lives with, hopefully. But more on that later.
Now I am a sophomore in a wonderful public high school where my dad teaches. I use to go to a private, catholic school. I wish I could say that I was kicked out for doing drugs or something like that, but I transferred schools because my psycho therapist (aka, my counselor) thought it was the best decision.
As for my self harm: I have self harmed since I was in 6th grade, so for 3 years. I was just diagnosed with depression this year. I now see a therapist once a week, and a psychiatrist once a month. I am on Zoloft to help with my depression and anxiety. I still self harm, and have a long way to go before I am completely healed, maybe I never will be, but I am doing my best.
So, this is me, my story, my life, my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams, and my fears. Enjoy,
Nadia
My name is irrelevant, but you can call me Nadia. Nadia the depressed, that's who I am. In this blog anyway. In reality I have no idea who I am or what I want to be.
A little more about myself: I was adopted from Russia when I was a yer old along with my twin sister. We'll call her McAri. I also had a brother who died shortly after birth. I have one other brother who lives somewhere in Russia, he would be 21 now. That is all I know about him. As for my birth parents, I know their names were Olga and Vladimir. My mother was in her early 30's when she had us and my father left her when he found out she was pregnant again.
Now I live in Maine with my twin and my adoptive parents: Mama and Papa. They are divorced. They have been separated since I was 5, I don't even remember what it was like when they lived together. Well, I remember them fighting, a lot. And my dad leaving to get his PHD in music education when I was 5. He came back when I was 8 and didn't move back in with me, my sister and my mother.
I don't really mind that my parents are divorced, I mean they are both happy and have found people to spend the rest of their lives with, hopefully. But more on that later.
Now I am a sophomore in a wonderful public high school where my dad teaches. I use to go to a private, catholic school. I wish I could say that I was kicked out for doing drugs or something like that, but I transferred schools because my psycho therapist (aka, my counselor) thought it was the best decision.
As for my self harm: I have self harmed since I was in 6th grade, so for 3 years. I was just diagnosed with depression this year. I now see a therapist once a week, and a psychiatrist once a month. I am on Zoloft to help with my depression and anxiety. I still self harm, and have a long way to go before I am completely healed, maybe I never will be, but I am doing my best.
So, this is me, my story, my life, my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams, and my fears. Enjoy,
Nadia
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