Yesterday, as I was sitting on the sofa after putting Cas to bed and trying to get out of doing homework, I went on facebook to see if anyone posted funny stuff or weirdo things that I tend to enjoy. Instead, I stumbled upon Kerrang! and their post about Chester Bennington and how Mike Shinoda was talking about their upcoming tribute concert and why they felt they owed it to Chester and something hit me; it could’ve been someone I know or, I can’t believe I am admitting this, me. I tend to ignore talking about me and me related things because I doubt people want to know about me. But the truth is, it could’ve been me. Not the tribute concert, but the suicide.
Maaaaaaaaany years ago, when I was an ugly ass teen going through a period (goth and later punk, later turned out I just really love black. Don’t judge me.) I was going through some pretty heavy shit of my own and I had literally no one to turn to. Some people will read this and disagree because they think their version is the truth and fair enough. I’ll try and find the fucks to give at that time but here is my truth.
I grew up in a not so nice home, with not so nice people. People I no longer talk to or have a desire to talk to anymore. Well this will hurt to read. It’s true, and I’m sorry for trying for so so many years because the truth is, our relationship was never there. And I was your mother or I was your scapegoat and that’s okay now because life isn’t always a dance on flowers. But back to the story. I did try to end some things which included my life. Tired, so tired of the constant judgement and mind games. I admit I had enough because I knew, and later got confirmed, that I was not good enough, but jokes on them cause I’m fucking amazing, bish. The scar is now covered with a tattoo as many of my scars are because I felt ashamed over being sad and getting shut down when I tried to talk about it, which sucks cause shaming a person and invalidating their feelings makes YOU a shit person, not them. It’s never them, because they tried and they tried so hard but trying is never enough. I don’t feel ashamed anymore, so here it goes, apart from suffering from PPD, I suffer from anxiety, PTSD and lovely night terrors. Preeeeetty Sure, I’m also an undiagnosed either ADD or ADHD but fuck it, maybe I’m just hyper or maybe it’s all the caffeine? I don’t think we will ever know.
The thing was, I needed a way out. I was emotionless, because that’s what happens when people keep invalidating your feelings and putting you down. You end up becoming an emotionless ass with an awful attitude. Worst part, people knew. I am naïve enough to believe that people knew what was going on, because I had a therapist at school and another therapist and later another therapist. God, how many therapists does one need? Well they do say some things take a village. But unlike Chester and many others, I made it. Through every sleepless night and every fear, I made it and though I’m alone today, I’m happy. Okay I’m not totally alone, I have Dines and Cas and that’s enough. For me at least. But a lot of people knew and did nothing, which did not help me in anyway. I ended up getting so used to it that when I told Dines about my childhood and him telling me that it wasn’t okay. I was shocked, but not as shocked as finding out that his family are nice people, something I wasn’t used to. And weirdly enough it goes way past my comfort zone. Being asked how I am or getting a compliment is so messed up to me, I need a book called “How to human”. Because fuck if I know, I panic when this happens.
So, the PTSD thing, yeah. A lot of people won’t like this but turns out when you witness and go through a lot of shit, PTSD isn’t just for veterans. Others can have it, which sucks, a lot. I embrace my craziness, my emotional baggage and my dark humor. Because that is all I have left now, I think that’s okay? Time will tell, but for now…
So why am I writing this? Well it is September, and for people who are unaware, September is suicide awareness month. And I’m currently getting over an anxiety episode. Fuck you flu season, you will definitely become my number 1 enemy, cunt. But the Kerrang! Article really inspired me. For this isn’t a tribute, nope. This is a reminder that no matter how happy you look or how you joke around, people might not be okay. Be a friend and remember to check on them.
Ps. Underneath I have posted the numbers to different hotlines. Also, don’t be a dick and help someone in need.
DK: 70 201 201
UK: 0800 068 4141