I Slipped

On Friday night. I was home. Alone. I watched Sharp objects.

I drank Deep Eddy’s Lemon vodka.

I broke a glass.

& then I used it to cut myself.

I had no reason to do it. It was honestly just the perfect storm, because I’ve been really wanting to break a glass and see what it would feel like to do so and to potentially use it. But, I didn’t feel anything. I saw the blood, but I didn’t feel the pain. It just felt like it was something to do.

It was also the first time I cut anywhere other than my wrist. But, I wanted the lines to be longer, so I cut the length of my thigh.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. And I’m afraid to tell me friend that I failed, because I don’t want to let them down.

Continue reading “I Slipped”


I feel like a child.

I feel like the person who hasn’t grown up.

I feel like a failure.

I feel like a nothing.

I feel nothing.

I feel like I am not who I want to be.

I feel like I am not who I am supposed to be.

I feel like I am not who I want/ed to be.

I feel like…

I don’t know.

I just don’t feel like me.

Grow the fuck up Alex.

Be better than this.

Be better.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Is there anything even wrong with me?

Why can’t I get passed this?

Why am I like this?

Why can’t I be normal?

What is happening to me?

Why is this happening to me?



I don’t know what to do.

& I don’t know what happened.

But, I’m afraid that it’s going to happen again.

Long story short, November fucking sucked. My family was in an accident and I’ve been taking care of my mom, who fractured her back, and sister, who ruptured her Achilles tendon and consequently had a blood clot.

I’ve been the one waking up in the middle of the night giving pain meds. I’ve been the one making meals, cleaning, and shopping. I’ve been the one to take them to the ER and stay with them when they’ve been admitted. I’ve been the one to do everything.

I became a nurse and a mom overnight.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind it because it’s something that I just had to do. Well, I didn’t mind it. At first. But now. I’m tired. I’m tired of only being the one called. I’m tired of only being the one who cooks and cleans. I tired of constantly trying to make everyone happy. I’ve been taking care of them, with no one to take care of me.

I’ve had two breakdowns this month.

The first one, I was extremely tired and exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically just lost it after going to the gym. I called my friend to try and calm me down and she suggested I contact my doctor. I did. And it wasn’t what I expected and we ran out of time.

During that breakdown, I ended up self harming again. It was the only thing that I could do to get the thoughts to stop. It was the only thing I could think of to do to get my mind off everything that was happening around me. It was the only thing I could do for myself.

After that time, I had to snap out of it because I had responsibilities as a nurse mom and I couldn’t focus on myself, right? I had no time. So I pushed my emotions aside and got back to work.

Today, well yesterday. It happened again. I got overwhelmed with everything that was going on and all the responsibilities I have to do that don’t belong to me and I sat in my car and drank. For two reasons, 1. I didn’t want to go inside and be bombarded with requests to do something. & 2. I didn’t want my family to know that I was drinking, especially not that much.

When I got inside what do you know, I was already being asked about tomorrow. Can you do this, take me here, help with that. Like, can I breathe for one moment before you start the attacks.

All day I had been thinking about getting a tattoo that says, breathe or just breathe on my wrist. So when I came back today, I thought it would be a good idea to write it on just to see what it would look like. The pen turned into a razor I found and I ended up self harming again.. I think this might have been the first time I did it while drinking. But regardless, it happened. And I not to sure that it won’t happen again.

I just want to go somewhere where people don’t need me to take care of them, but instead I’m the one being taken care of. I want to go where people don’t know me. I just want to go somewhere. Anywhere. I just don’t want to be here anymore. At least not right now.


Square One: Part Two 

I feel like everyone else’s life is going on without me and I am emotionally at a stand still.

I feel like I am stuck and I have no way how to get out. 

It’s worse because I’m currently not working right now, so I literally have nothing to do. But, in reality, I also don’t want to do anything. 

For two weeks now I have been lying on my bed or the couch, blaming my laziness on my back injury, but really it might just be me. 

I’m not motivated to do anything or to go anywhere. I just want to watch television, eat, and sleep.

I don’t know if I’m depressed or just lazy. I want to get up and work out and lose all the weight I’ve gained, but it’s physically so hard to do. I had high hopes for losing weight this month and I think I might have lost maybe one pound? 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

And I hate that nothing has changed: 

  1. My back hasn’t gotten better. 
  2. I’m still fat. 
  3. I’m back to thinking about the incident and him. 

I’m literally fighting with myself on a daily basis. “You shouldn’t be eating that. You should be working out.” “You can work out later, keep lying here.”

I’m also a self sabotaging person. Yesterday I bought bags of salad and today I went out to buy ramen. It’s like I don’t want myself to get better and succeed. 

I hate how far I’ve fallen. I hate how lazy I’ve been. I hate that I’ve gained so much weight. I hate that I’m not happy. I hate that I have no one to talk to about this because everyone is so busy. 

I hate that I’m all alone.


Me Too 

It’s not fair. 

When I see other women and they are so put together & they say that they are survivors of sexual assault as well. I don’t think it’s fair that they are okay & I’m not. I know that it will take some time. But, when will I get to stand tall & proud I say that I survived too? Because as of  right now, I don’t see myself being able to to do that…ever.

When will I be able to say that it no longer affects me? 5 years from now? 2 years? 1 month? 2 more  weeks? The fact that I will never know when I’ll be myself again is what bothers me most. I know I have to take it one day at a time, but these days are getting harder and harder. 

I’m so tired. But, not only that I feel so guilty. I feel as if I’m complaining too much. I feel like I should just get over it because it wasn’t that bad. I feel as if I should be happy, because I’ve lived a blessed life. I’ve had some trials here and there, but overall it’s been good. So I feel like I shouldn’t complain. I feel like I have no right to do so.

And that’s what makes some days harder than others. I am in this enormous amount of pain, but I don’t feel like can express that. There are days where I am overwhelmed by sadness, but I feel like I’m not allowed to be, or at the very least l don’t think I can be.  But then there are days when I’m completely fine. 

I just want to go home. I just want to be happy again. I just want to go back & stop it from happening, so l don’t have to feel this way anymore.

I regret everything…

Tired of Pretending 

I’m so tired of pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. I’m so tired of doing so much for other people, but having noone doing anything for me in return. It’s hard when you give so much of your strength to others & not have any of it given back to you. Maybe I’m being selfish? Or maybe I’m just complaining, but whatever the case may be. I’m tired. And I want to be okay.

Moving On

“I’ve got to move on and be who I am.”

There was point in my life three weeks ago where I was losing control of my life and I had no idea how I was going to get it back. Or even if I was going to get it back at all.

I was in South Carolina for work and the trip itself started off on the wrong foot. The drive up was horrible. It was about a 5 hour trip (an hour was which was me stuck in rush hour traffic because I left late) of me trying to stop myself from crying. Sometimes I succeeded and sometimes I did not. When I got to my hotel it was the same exact set up as the room where the incident occurred. (Granted, that didn’t become a known problem until later.)

Long story semi shorten, after arriving in South Carolina and feeling like shit, I tried to cheer myself up by doing things I would normally do on a project — find the best place to eat and go there. I arrived on Friday, so I went out on Saturday and it was no help, so I tried again on Sunday and still I was still unsuccessful in trying to get back who I was. Because the person I was becoming was scary. All while this was happening, I deleted Facebook and Messenger and just shut everyone out. Mainly because I couldn’t tell them what was happening, but I also couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t happening. And simply put, I didn’t know what was happening with me.

I felt as if I was in a fog. Like I was trapped in this overwhelming sadness that grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I was depressed and I was scared and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stop thinking about that night; everything and I mean EVERYTHING reminded me of it and I just kept reliving it over and over again. And I couldn’t reach out to anyone because I didn’t know how to describe how I was feeling and I didn’t feel as if they would understand.

I guess I should also let it be known that before I left for South Carolina I had asked a group of my friends if they would be interested in renting a house for a weekend at a lake to celebrate my birthday (see previous post). So my emotional state was already shattered before going.

Anyway, I had a call with my friends and they let me know that they were worried about me and that they would be there to listen no matter what and that I should never feel like I am burdening them or that they don’t have time for be. The call was helpful and a friend offered for me to come visit, so I bought a ticket to Houston shortly thereafter the conversation. But, when I called her a few days later and let her know that I was coming right when the project was over (drive home Friday evening, fly out Saturday morning) I was also in another fog, I was eating at a restaurant and didn’t want to leave. I was sitting at the bar just not caring about my surrounding and also on the verge of tears. It took me so long to bring myself to actually leaving.

When I called her, I let her know that I wasn’t feeling like myself and that I didn’t know how the upcoming weekend with her in Texas was going to be like. I did say that I wanted to talk about it when I got there, but we never did. I never brought it up and she never asked. The main reason I didn’t bring it up was because I didn’t want to bring the mood down. I was happy and enjoying myself and I didn’t want that to stop.

I got back home last Wednesday and I haven’t had a bad day since. Maybe it’s because I am home, or maybe it’s because I am done with feeling that feeling. I never want to go back there. Yes, there are still times were I think about what happened and get flashbacks, but I don’t let it overwhelm me anymore. Well, at least for now I am stopping it from doing so.

My friends were concerned about how much I was travelling and how I was keeping myself busy and distracted from it, and they were concerned for my well being when I didn’t have anything to distract me. Well for the next two weeks I have no travel plans, so we shall see. I am home and I am back with the Huxtables (the family I care for) and I am happy. I am starting to revise my Personal Statement and writing a Diversity statement and my recommender are on board. Also, I have to do some online training before I leave for Camp in a few weeks. So, I am keeping busy, but at least I’ll be at home.

I feel like it’s time for me to move on and stop dwelling in the past. I know I can’t pretend like it never happened, I get that. But, I also just don’t want to talk about it anymore. Because, now I am fine and I don’t want to be not fine again.