December Update

Hello friends.

I really wish I had the time and discipline to blog regularly, because I really do enjoy it, but sadly I usually only get around to it when I’m miserable. Oops.

Life is actually going pretty well overall right now. Today is just a weird day, which I will explain further after my general update.

Firstly, my relationship is going very well. I am so happy with Sophie. My friendships are also going quite well; I am surrounded by a supportive community of fellow disabled gays and it is lovely. My relationships with my family members are even going as well as ever, despite my current anger towards my dad.

School has been a struggle this term. I had to drop two classes, and I’m not sure how well I have done in the other 3. I’ve managed to avoid picking up my assignments and tests after they’re marked, so I’m really unsure of where my grades will end up. Finances are also stressful, as they often are in December. I get OSAP in September and January, but in the Winter term, I also receive bursaries and a tax return to keep me going later in the term. And this is largely my own fault, because I haven’t necessarily been spending responsibly. I had to ask my mom to borrow money today, and I feel like shit about it.

I’m not sure how much I have discussed trauma-related things on this blog, but something that happened in 2014 started causing a lot of distress recently. I’m having intrusive thoughts everyday to various extents, and it is incredibly distressing. Yesterday, something happened that reminded me of the traumatic event, and I went into a full-scale panic, crying and hyperventilating for a lot of the evening. My girlfriend came over, and then let me spend the night at their house. They are so wholesome and good. I have a counselling appointment this week where I intend to discuss the whole trauma thing, but I know it will continue to bother me for months, which is a daunting reality.

Despite these various struggles, some things are going well right now. I’ve started to use weed more regularly, and have actually started going to an ambiguously-legal medical dispensary. I’ve been finding cannabis really helpful for my depression and anxiety lately, and plan to continue using it more.

When I’m high, I am able to observe my thought processes from somewhat of an outside perspective, and it’s led to incredibly helpful realizations that I never made in years of therapy. I plan to continue therapy, of course, but I think continuing to use cannabis for medicinal purposes will a useful supplement to counselling and psychiatric medication.

Through using marijuana, I have become aware that I treat myself horribly. I refuse to let myself feel confident. I scrutinize every aspect of myself, searching for possible flaws so I can fix them before somebody judges me for them. I am constantly trying to avoid negative judgment of any kind. Upon reflection, I have realized that this practice might have been necessary at other times in my life, but it is no longer useful. The people in my life currently will love me even if I am not perfect. They will not abandon me and disown me for being human. I can break down the walls I set up for myself to avoid social anxiety, and just be myself. Because that person is okay.

I don’t know if I am making any sense, as I am somewhat high right now (whoops), but this is what has been going on. I hope everyone is well, and I intend to blog again soon.



Today, We Will be Sad Quietly

This will be short post, but I need to share this intention with the world so I might actually stick to it.

Yesterday, I had a meltdown of sorts. And it was sloppy, and embarrassing, and likely annoying. They always are. I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who become quiet when they are upset; instead, I whine and complain and metaphorically flail at everybody. And I’ve had enough therapy that I “know” there is nothing wrong with this. That’s the correct answer. I’m allowed to express my feelings or something. But allowed or not, it leaves me hating myself.

So today, I endeavour to spend a single day being sad quietly. I know my thinking behind this almost certainly isn’t healthy, but one day isn’t going to kill me, and it might make me like myself a little better.

Maybe I’ll report back later on how this went. Maybe I will list every negative feeling or event that occurred because my suffering only feels valid when somebody else knows about it.

But right now, I shall begin my day with the almost certainly misguided intention to suck it up and keep it together and mainly, to be sad quietly.


A Day in the Life: Disability Edition

I am currently sitting in my bedroom, high on Ativan, at 3:30 in the afternoon. I mean, it wouldn’t be less weird if I was high on Ativan at a different time, but my point is this is where I find myself.

“How did you end up here, Sarah?”

Let me tell you, friend. Take your coat off. Stay a while. There’s a lot of information to cover.

A more proximal reason why I am here is that I wanted to leave campus. This is because I wanted to wear jammies and snuggle my cat and write about my feelings, and these things can’t happen on campus.

Why did I feel the need to wear jammies and snuggle my cat and write about my feelings? Well, I took a half milligram of Ativan, and it hit me pretty hard. I knew I was done functioning for the day and my priorities turned to being cozy.

Now why did I take the Ativan?

This is when the causal relationships start to get fuzzy for me, but I’ll try to figure out my thinking, while I explain it simultaneously.

I took the Ativan because I was anxious.

Why was I anxious?

I have an intake appointment tomorrow for potential trauma therapy, I’ve been feeling weird since yesterday afternoon, and my girlfriend is having a bad day.

Let’s dive into these feelings, shall we?

  1. Why do I have an intake appointment for trauma therapy?

The first part of this answer is that something happened in 2014. I’ve mentioned that something happened around that time because it’s relevant to my eating disorder story, but I’ve never spoken about it. It’s just the bad thing that happened. I put this bad thing in a box and put this box on a shelf a long time ago. Every once in a while (once a month maybe?), something would remind me of what happened and I would be briefly upset, but ultimately fine. Recently, this has changed. There are a few events which I think may have contributed to this, and after some brief fact-checking to establish chronology, I will explain them.

First, September 30th. I was having a meltdown about something, and I started rebelling against my anxiety by doing things that would trigger it. One of those things was writing out an account of what happened. I took the box off the shelf and opened it. I didn’t feel that bad initially afterwards, but I suspect at least part of what I am experiencing is long-term consequences of this event.

Next, October 15th. S (my girlfriend) had a night terror while I was over. They ended up telling me some things about their trauma, and I remember feeling triggered at one point, but I don’t remember specifically what caused this. My main focus at the time was helping S. I didn’t think this event would have any effect on me, and maybe it didn’t. But I think there’s a possibility that this made me think about what happened to me and made me draw an association between a certain kind of trauma and terror. So this may have contributed to my current issues.

Finally, October 22nd. This was the day I had training to be a peer support volunteer. During this training, I learned that something else that happened to me (with the same person involved in the original event) was a lot worse than I thought it was. I knew I felt very uncomfortable about it, but I thought I was being overly sensitive and dramatic. And for some reason, framing this experience in a different way created so much terror in me. I even saw the original event differently, as I realized the person involved was a much worse person than I realized at the time. And since this day, my life has become increasingly filled with intrusive thoughts about what happened.

For a few days, I carefully policed my thoughts all day in an effort to keep these thoughts away. I took a lot of Ativan, which helped in the moment, but isn’t a great long-term strategy. I was terrified to talk about what happened with a therapist, so decided to wait for these thoughts to go away. Then there was an episode at S’s one night where I was high and having graphic flashbacks that left me hyperventilating and crying. After that happened, I figured it would be a good idea to get help with this. The counsellor I was seeing was actually so useless that I skipped my appointment  and am now ghosting him. I also quit CBT for social anxiety, because why not? More recently, I e-mailed a counsellor whom my girlfriend (and others) say is great for trauma-related things. This is the one I will be speaking with tomorrow. I’m currently having intrusive thoughts about the event all day which get worse at night when I have no distractions. I have been taking Ativan most nights so I can calm down and fall sleep, and even then it’s hard.


2. I have been feeling weird since yesterday.

This story will be much shorter, don’t worry.

Yesterday afternoon, while taking the bus to my mom’s for lunch, I started feeling very weird. At first, I really couldn’t tell what was wrong, and thought I might just be looking for things to mope about. But then I realized I felt pretty dissociated. I experience derealization (thinking the world isn’t real or I’m in a dream) fairly often, but its severity fluctuates between days. It was pretty bad yesterday. I tried so hard to feel present, but I just couldn’t. I barely remember the bus trip to my mom’s. When I got home from my mom’s, I had a beer in hopes of keeping intrusive thoughts at bay. This just made the dissociation worse. When I headed to S’s for dinner, I was feeling terrible. But it’s always something with me; I always have something wrong. And I recognize how annoying this can get. For just one day, I wanted to answer “How was your day?” with “Good.” Just once, I didn’t want to make everything about me. So I acted like I was fine. This is leading into the next story, but the point here is that I was feeling shitty independent of recent/upcoming events.

3. S is having a rough time. This started when I was over last night, and once I knew they were having a hard time, I knew I couldn’t talk about how I was feeling. That would make me a dick and someone who needs to constantly be the centre of attention. So since then, S hasn’t been doing well, and neither have I, but I have been saying nothing. I’m sure that isn’t helping.

But I always have a very difficult time when the people around me struggle. It makes me extremely anxious, and I have never fully figured out why. I think part of it is that I have some deeply-rooted, incorrect beliefs. For example, I feel very strongly that everybody’s attention should 100% be on the person suffering the most, and everybody else needs to shut up about their problems. This is true to some extent, in that you wouldn’t complain about your coffee being made wrong to somebody who just lost a loved one. But I have been told that I take this idea too far. I believe this causes part of my distress, as I start feeling like I have to be perfect and take care of the other person and have no problems of my own. I also think a lot about whether I do need to be the centre of attention to some degree. I’m not sure whether this is a factor, but it’s possible. Another theory is that I’m hyper-empathic, to the point where someone else’s pain makes me suffer enough that I can’t even support them. I definitely think this is true about me, and that this contributes to this issue. But I’ve never fully put the pieces together, or thought of a way to work on this. But there’s that.


Anyways, the heap of text above explains why I was feeling anxious, which explains why I took the Ativan, which explains why I couldn’t function, which explains why I decided to come home and sit in my room high on Ativan. And now, we’re all caught up.

My thoughts currently are all over the place. To be honest, it was triggering just mentioning the thing that happened, and that’s making me feel weird. The Ativan is still impacting me greatly. I’m unsure how much compassion to have for myself, because I’m scared my only problem is that I need attention. I don’t know whether I really am allowed to be upset right now. I don’t know who I’m allowed to tell. I don’t know if S would be mad if I told them I am feeling bad. And I just REALLY fear that I only feel bad because S feels bad. I have other reasons to feel bad, but I was trying not to bring them up because I didn’t want to be a bummer, but now I feel like we’re allowed to be bummers? I meant to explore my current thoughts in more depth, but I am getting very tired, to be honest. I think I will just reschedule everything I need to reschedule from today and tomorrow, and go to bed early. That’s all for now.



Just Kidding: We are Blogging Again

I recently made the announcement that I would stop using this site and would instead use my time writing political posts on I have since changed my mind.

The internal crisis surrounding my perceived lack of accomplishments continues, and I have found myself increasingly drawn to the idea of putting more effort into writing.

I love writing. I have loved it since the second grade. And my dream for the last little while has been to get a steady, “real” job, then pursue writing on the side until it becomes a viable way to support myself. But in the meantime, I have been doing nothing to strengthen my writing skills or to use writing as a creative outlet to the extent that I would like to. So I am back here. Hello darkness, my old friend.

I know I haven’t made it clear how returning to blogging will fit into my goal of accomplishing literally anything, and that’s because I am not really sure of the answer. But it’s something.



Doing Something that Matters

I have probably mentioned more than once that I have recently entered into a new relationship. I try to work this fact into most conversations, but I promise it’s actually relevant here. Just give me a minute.

My girlfriend is amazing. I don’t understand how I found somebody so incredible. They have had countless disadvantages in life, but have accomplished more than a lot of people who have been given every opportunity. The one downside to this fact is that I’ve been comparing myself to them a lot lately. And unsurprisingly, I’m coming up short.

They have clear passions, firm values, and big ambitions. Not only do they have big dreams for the future; they have big dreams for right now. These things aren’t true for me. I have been held  back by fear and disability, allowing my goals and passions to exist only in the future, where they can give me hope without terrifying me. Theoretically, I know what I stand for. I know what’s important to me. But what am I doing about it?

Politics and public policy are a huge interest of mine, and the field I intend to enter after grad school. Yet, the only way I actually engage with these issues is by yelling at my computer while I watch the news. I am passionate about fighting racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and every other form of oppression, but I skip protests in favour of going to bed early. I have always loved to write, and yet I’ve never had a piece of writing published. I write half-assed blog posts when I’m sad, wanting to be heard but not wanting it enough to invest my whole self into it.

Who am I? What do I bring to the table? What am I doing with my life that actually matters? These questions continue to haunt me, and likely won’t stop until I have finally answered them.

Speaking of writing half-assed blog posts, I need to cap this off because I am very tired. I might write some better posts in the near future. Or I might not.



I am exhausted. I got around 4-5 hours of sleep last night, so that is likely contributing. But also there’s everything else.

Doing things takes a lot of mental energy. For this reason, I am often tired. Days are just too long, and I often can’t get through them completely. Recently, this has caused me to miss many classes. It’s great.

Today, I had to function like a big girl. I had to go to all my classes. I have missed too many lectures, and I am really falling behind in one class. I started the morning by inexplicably crying when I was having trouble printing something on campus. (That can probably be attributed to the lack of sleep) I got through the rest of the day. But it was SO MUCH.

I feel like I need a day or two to recover from one day of being an actual person. But my scheduler tells me I have many busy days ahead. I feel so anxious and trapped and tired. I am so tired. One day of proper functioning was too much for me; how am I supposed to live my life? How am I supposed to have a social life, engage in extra-curriculars, get involved in causes that give me purpose? I can’t even handle a full course load without those things. I’m starting to think I seriously can’t do it. Not that I don’t want to do it, or it would be really difficult, or it would cause more suffering than I care to experience. I literally do not think I can do it.

I need to get more involved in the community. It is starting to really bother me that I am doing nothing to contribute to society. But it feels like so much. And I have many friends with disabilities who are able to do all these things, so what is wrong with me that I can’t?

I have more I want to write about, but honestly, I do not have the energy. Again, I’ll probably feel much better after a good night’s sleep. But right now, everything feels like a lot.


Future Conversations with my Dad

I saw my counselor this morning.

We talked about a few things, but my relationship with my dad came up a lot. I am currently in a transitional period with regards to my views on my dad. I spent almost twenty-three years living under the assumption he was trying his best to be a good father, and that his best simply wasn’t good enough. I assumed he cared, but had trouble expressing this fact through his actions.

I recently came to the conclusion that my dad was not trying his best. I believe that he never did care, and he never will. I have reached this conclusion in response to a recent event wherein my dad essentially abandoned my sister. I am extremely sad and angry and hurt, but I haven’t told my dad any of this. In the past, he has reacted with a lot of anger when criticized in any way. I am scared of what would happen if I told him everything I’m thinking.

I have also recently been questioning my dad’s level of comfort with my sexual orientation. He was raised in Northern Ireland in a conservative, Protestant family, so I have always suspected that having a gay daughter isn’t his favourite. When I initially came out to my dad, all he said was, “I just want you to be happy,” which I assumed was positive. But I have never understood whether my dad just tolerates my sexual orientation , or is truly indifferent about it.

This train of thought was set off when my dad asked me when he will get to meet my “new friend,” in reference to my girlfriend. Maybe he would have said the same thing if I was dating a man, but I can’t help but think he purposely avoided validating my same sex relationship.

Anyways, in response to both of these issues, my counselor has suggested that I tell my dad how I am feeling. I initially dismissed this idea, but part of me wants to do it so badly. I want to be clear about what my dad thinks of me. I want to tell me dad how much he has hurt my sister and myself. I want to stop smiling through coffee meetups and lunches as if nothing is wrong.

I haven’t decided whether these conversations will happen. But this will on be on my mind for the foreseeable future.

Anyways, I am getting very tired. I hope everyone is well, and I will hopefully post again soon.