January 30th, 2017

I think I might start titling my blog posts by date. Then I feel less pressure to unify the entry into one cohesive topic. It can be like writing in my journal. Just without the hand cramps.

I might change my mind about this, but I’ll go with it for now. Anyways, the world is going to hell, so there’s that.

I follow American politics to a strange degree. I take pride in knowing what is happening in the world. But this week, I have consciously avoided my Facebook home page and my YouTube subscription box. I usually watch dozens of news videos a day. Now, I watch nearly an entire season of Friends. My mental health isn’t great right now, and these steps are necessary if I want to prevent a breakdown.

I feel like a piece of shit even saying these things, because the world has been shitty for a lot of people long before today. Thousands of people are dying of hunger daily. Thousands of civilians are being wounded and killed in the Middle East. North Koreans are living under the brutally oppressive regime of Kim Jong Un. But now that white people are suffering, of course I finally decide to care.

But I do care, and I can’t stop caring. As a Canadian, the shooting of the mosque in Quebec City literally hit close to home. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it. Somebody had so much hatred for people who prayed in a way he didn’t like (and let’s be real, had a darker skin tone than he would have preferred), that he thought they deserved to die. Of course, that shooter was a Trump supporter.

The situation is much more dire in the United States. There is actually a ban on Muslims entering the country. Trump actually did that. (More accurately, there is a ban on citizens from certain Muslim-majority countries from entering the US, and Middle Eastern Christians are being prioritized over Muslims.) Entry of Syrian refugees has halted. Trump is effectively issuing international death sentences as I type this; people are going to die. And I know people died under Obama’s foreign policy while I sat idly by, but I am saying something now.

I feel a cloud of dread looming over me constantly. I feel like things are about to get much, much worse. I keep thinking about what it must have been like in the late 1930s. Is this how it felt to watch Hitler’s rise to power? Comparing one’s political opponents (or any kind of opponents, for that matter) to Nazis is extremely overdone and hardly ever appropriate. But replace the word “Muslims” with “Jews” in many of Trump’s statements, and they start sounding horrifically familiar.

I am falling asleep as I write this, so it’s time for me to go to sleep. But shit. It’s a brave new world out there.

Fuck it- Let’s do something exciting

I remember being an anxious person as early as I have memories at all. Needless to say, I’m not a huge fan of excitement.

I enjoy math because, for the most part, there’s only one correct answer. I enjoy knitting because it’s repetitive and straightforward. I like crosswords and Sudoku and basically anything you can do in bed while wearing pajamas. I love cats, because they’re as happy as I am to be a homebody. I like to do safe, predictable things, with my anxious thoughts providing more than enough excitement on their own.

But avoiding anxiety isn’t living. It’s cowering inside my tiny comfort zone, waiting for nothing to happen, but why? I don’t want to spend my life knitting and doing math and petting cats. Okay, that actually sounds amazing, but that’s not all I want to do. I want to be adventurous. I want to take risks. I want to be an exciting person.

So tonight, I’m going to do that. And I have to announce it, or I will 100% change my mind. I have been meaning to go to a gay bar in Toronto for months- possibly over a year. But my ex was no fun and my best friend always has some reason she can’t go. So I’m going to go alone. The bus ride will be 1.5 hours both ways at best, and I’ll be out at least 4-5 hours past my bed time, and I might have to dance, and holy shit my heart is beating so quickly.

But what’s the worst that could happen? I could get kidnapped or assaulted, or I could get too drunk to find my way home, or I could be so horrifically rejected that I fall into a deep(er) depression and never recover. Deep breath. Okay.

What’s the best that could happen? I make cool friends and find the love of my life and learn that I enjoy club dancing and say “fuck you” to my GAD, OCD, and SAD all at once. That’s pretty cool.

I won’t know which of these will happen unless I try. And I have handled some pretty shitty things… I think I can handle this. My heart is currently beating out of my chest… not sure when I became so terrified of living. But anyways, I will update you guys later. Still over 12 hours until this even happens, but the emotional preparation must begin now.



Breaking Point


Today was another bad day.

I woke up early. I did home work. I saw my counselor. I felt better.

Then the shit.

I remembered I’m fighting with/ not speaking to my best friend? I was so emotionally exhausted from worrying about her and taking care of her all week that when she overdosed, I called 911 and told her “There’s an ambulance on the way; way to go.” I know that’s fucking awful. But I feel like I have been taken advantage of/ emotionally manipulated all week. We are both going through a rough time right now, but somehow, I was forced into the role of caregiver. And she has plenty of people to take care of her (including her significant other). I have nobody. She was casually talking about killing herself to the point where I wasn’t eating and was popping Ativan every day. I reached my limit when I finally thought I could rest and instead had to call an ambulance again.

I invited a friend over so I would feel less lonely, and we got into a fight. It was about fucking politics. But not really. He has no empathy for the human race, and I have way too fucking much. He’s not super worried about Trump, which got me really angry, because people are afraid for their safety and other human rights but okay. I want to hug every single scared American right now, and he hardly seems to view them as people. I got angry, then he got angry, then he left.

I don’t have nearly enough friends to be doing this. I’m sort of friends with my best friend’s boyfriend, but not really. And sort of some people from the math department? But they’re really just friends with my best friend. I feel alone. I have had a horrific week and I feel alone.

Do you know how much emotional energy it takes to be dealing with your own poor mental health, be terrified your best friend is going to die all week, be hypervigilant at all times in case you need to do something for said friend lest she fucking dies, get school work done, all with no support, and end the week all fucking alone?

I thought about killing myself. I would leave my current life in a second. But I’ve been dreaming of a future life where things are better, and I still want that. Also, my fear of dying is still going strong. But mostly, suicide is out of the question because of my cat. I’m her mom. I can’t leave her all alone. Not to mention my roommate’s stupid cat. I can’t even go to the hospital because I have to take care of these fuckers.

I thought about hurting myself. But this past week has shown my how manipulative it can be to do something like that. It isn’t necessarily manipulative, but it can be. And I never want to make anybody feel the way I’ve been feeling.

I just want to go to sleep and wake up in four years with a Master’s degree and some decent friends and a different fucking president. I am in so much pain and I don’t have any decent options to soothe it.

So that’s it for now. I’m safe, by the way.


Today will be Rough

I promise I’m not sad all the time. I have been having a lot of mood swings lately, so I’ve actually been finding myself incredibly happy at times. But when I’m happy, I am less motivated to share the tortured thoughts of my blackened heart with the world for catharsis.

Anyways, as the title suggests, today will be a difficult day. The morning has been fine; I slept in until 7 and went to Algebra for 10:30, and now I’m home to have lunch. But now the shit begins.

I know I bitch about my roommate on here all the time. I have Social Anxiety Disorder, and thus cannot handle confrontation, so I can’t tell people directly when I’m mad at them. This leads to me silently raging all the time, with no real outlet or effective coping methods. I bitch about most people to my roommate because she’s my best friend, but when I’m mad at her, I don’t have many options. Even my therapist used to be her therapist, so I feel uncomfortable bashing her in that setting.

But today, I feel like my roommate is being horrible. And I don’t know if I am allowed to feel this way, or if I am being a dick about it. She suffers from depression (as do I), and it has worsened over the past week for no external reason. I understand that depression does that, and that isn’t my issue. But she keeps threatening to kill herself, and she must know that she’s upsetting me. Obviously she needs support, but I don’t have the emotional energy to talk somebody out of suicide every day. She sees a doctor today, so maybe that will help. But she keeps making jokes about how today is the day, and she’ll probably end up either in the hospital or dead. What am I supposed to do with that?

She might be trying to reach out for support without actually talking about her feelings, but I am starting to feel like she is looking for attention.

I know that’s a horrible thing to think about somebody with Depression. I know how it feels for somebody to assume that when you’re in that much pain, but I don’t understand why she is doing this. If she is serious about hurting herself, she should be on her way to the hospital. She is smart; she knows how to access those resources. There seems to be no reason to constantly joke about this if not for attention. And I think it is highly inconsiderate, given she knows that this is difficult for me to hear.

I also know that I tend to automatically convert anxiety into anger, probably because anger is easier to deal with. And I experience my emotions very strongly, so when people make me feel negative things, I am furious. To me, it feels like torture, so why would I not feel angry with my torturer? And today the one selfishly torturing me is my roommate. I know she is sick and I know she is suffering, but so am I. And I would like to think I try not to hurt people when I am at my worst.

I probably did that a little after my breakup, but at least that was in response to an event, and I haven’t done it since. My roommate has these crises a lot, and it’s frankly becoming exhausting and hindering my own mental health. I think this relationship might be getting destructive. I don’t know.

Again, I have been having mood swings lately, so maybe I’ll be feeling differently in a little while. I might make a crisis counselling appointment on campus instead of attending my DBT group. I am not considering hurting myself in any way, but I am extremely distressed and need advice on how to deal with this today.

I could never say these things to my roommate. And I probably shouldn’t. So these feelings will probably never go away.

I don’t know. Those are all my thoughts for now.


UPDATE: I made a crisis appointment and found it extremely helpful. I wrote an assertive-ish (while still being gentle) letter to my roommate about how I can’t handle certain things, but that I still really care and can help in other ways. I took an Ativan at one point, so I’m a little hazy right now, but I think things are okay.


This is a word I have always associated with sci-fi novels and young-adult series. I never thought I would find myself living in one.

I think I’m starting to feel the effects of taking too much Ativan last night, because my mood swings are pretty real. I am currently in the low part. So maybe I’m being dramatic, but am I really?

Donald Trump is the President of the United States of America. I feel sick just thinking those words. Nobody knows what the next 4 years will bring, but there is plenty of reason to believe it won’t be good. And I, for one, am fucking terrified.

This situation is completely unprecedented. This is virgin territory. It could end with a Nuclear war. It could end with climate change causing mass chaos and widespread deaths. It could end with genocide. Or, everything might be okay. But we don’t know.

I know how ridiculous I must sound to anybody dealing with tragedy already. If you’re a widow trying to raise your children and keep them safe in Syria, if you’re a family member of somebody murdered by a police officer last year, if you are days from starving to death in sub-Saharan Africa, you already know. You know that boundless pain and suffering is endured on this planet daily. I recognize the sad fact that I am only worried now because the suffering could impact me or those who look like me. I am sorry.

But we are living in scary times. And now I’m thinking about my ex in a similarly bleak way, so it’s very possible that I just need to sleep. I don’t know




That should be the title of my autobiography. That or “Waiting for people to stop dicking around on the leg press”. Both equally sum up my general experience of living.

I got upset and made an oopsy. Not a big oopsy. Just a little one.

I took 2mg of Ativan when I’m supposed to take 0.5-1mg. Not a huge deal, but I’ll probably be falling asleep and spacing out all day tomorrow. This post may become unintelligible soon, but again, 2mg isn’t that much, so maybe not.

I feel like my body knows when I’ve taken things I shouldn’t have, because I am fairly nauseous. And even thinking about ODing makes me want to throw up sometimes.

Anyways, maybe I should get to what made me so upset. I mentioned feeling down earlier, and that feeling continued into the evening. At one point, my roommate started messaging me about how shitty she’s been feeling this past week, and how she wants to die. I’m always a shit person when my roommate has issues. It makes me unbearably anxious when anybody around me has a problem, so I tell myself they’re faking it for attention, and then I get to be mad instead of anxious. I caught myself doing that, but I’ve been able to keep it pretty rational. Whatever, that’s not relevant to the story. What set me off was my roommate’s boyfriend coming over to comfort her.

I know she is having a hard time. But I am so unbelievably jealous that she has somebody to comfort her when she’s upset and I don’t. I used to have that. Now I just feel like I’m drowning sometimes and nobody gives a fuck. And I know you can be in a relationship and still have problems, but I have the irrational feeling that everybody in a relationship should shut the fuck up about their problems because some of us are suffering alone. Some of us deal with everything you deal with, just without anybody who gives the tiniest shit about us. Do you know what I would give to have that?

I feel I should specify that I am not jealous because I want her boyfriend in particular. Not only am I fairly certain I’m gay at this point, but Kyle and I have a strange relationship. Our conversations are brief and a hybrid of mild discomfort and amicable joking. And I know more about his sex life and particularly his penis than I would prefer. It’s just what he represents.

Ugh, but I literally could have taken a half milligram or even a milligram and gotten the same effect without feeling like shit tomorrow. Oh well, live and learn.

I think this post is much more well-written than I expected it to be. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and change my mind, but that’s tomorrow Sarah’s problem.

Good night, homo sapiens


Maybe an update?

I wrote another post like five seconds ago, but I enjoyed writing it, so I thought I would write another. I haven’t blogged much lately. I started a new journal, so I’ve been writing in it a lot, and it feels redundant to put my thoughts into my journal only to rewrite them here. But I’m sad today, so here we are.

I don’t even know what this post is. An update? Sort of, I guess. I just want to spill my thoughts and do not intend to organize them very well. Maybe I have been journalling too much.

I’m falling behind on schoolwork even though I started the term ahead. I have been slacking on my readings, and the farther behind I get, the greater the urge to avoid. I am hoping to turn that around today, but we’ll see.

Oh, I started a ballet class last week. It’s just a beginner/ intermediate class at my university’s athletic centre, but it’s pretty cool. That’s actually a lie; last week sucked. It was way more difficult than expected, and trying to keep up left me tired and self-conscious. I could hardly move for 3 days afterwards. But I like ballet, and I would love to see my technique improve, so I will continue to go.

I have been really anxious about Donald Trump, so much so that I don’t really want to write about it. I also feel like a piece of shit for missing the Women’s March in my city.

That’s all I feel like writing right now. I am sorry about how shitty this post is, but not quite sorry enough to fix it.