Tag Archives: bipolar 2

UPDATE 10/14/16

My life has been very hectic lately. Hectic and busy.

I remember seeing all those memes at the beginning of the year about how 2015 was the worst year ever, and how we all wanted 2016 to be better (it wasn’t). I think about it and how it’s a little funny.

My life was a complete mess last year. I had gotten into a car accident, and that really messed with me. Molly started abusing drugs heavily. When I first met her, she came right out and told me that she was currently in an outpatient program because of drugs she abused. The drugs were cough medicine. I thought it was ok and I didn’t mind, because she was looking to better herself, you know? But everything turned to complete shit. And we pretty much didn’t even see each other that year. The was constantly in rehab, because she was constantly relapsing.

I was so fucking depressed. I was in the worst place possible. I kept failing my classes, I quit my job because I didn’t have the energy to put effort into it an that isn’t fair to them. I just literally got to rock bottom in 2015. I was always so sad that Molly would relapse so much. I didn’t understand addiction. I still don’t. All the mixed emotions at the time made me feel like she wasn’t trying. I wasn’t seeing the “big picture.” I was looking at the small details. The details I chose to look at.
That, in combination with my own mental health issues, probably made me into satan in the form of Molly’s girlfriend. Towards the end, I was not a good girlfriend. I know this and I regret that so deeply. I was pushy, naggy, and I wasn’t fun anymore. But to me, it was better to be that way rather than sit around and just let her kill herself with all the drugs. I just wanted her to get better. I still feel like all her friends and family think I’m the fucking devil for how I was towards Molly. But they wouldn’t understand.

When Molly would get high, she would call me and speak weirdly. Or send weird texts. In one of the last “big” highs, she had abused inhalants and then also smoked a strong strain of weed. She was hallucinating in a bad way, and would text me that she knew I was trying to kill her. It was heartbreaking. It stressed me out. But none of her friends ever got texts like that. I know they didn’t. I know they would NEVER understand. They still wouldn’t.

So anyways, 2015 was the extreme hurt I was feeling with Molly always being gone and the frustration of her constantly relapsing. I didn’t give a shit about anyone but her. I didn’t even give a shit about myself.

really hoped that 2016 would be better. It wasn’t. Molly died this year. In many ways, I blame myself for her death. Some of my friends tell me that there was nothing I could have done. But I feel so fucking guilty It’s hard enough being a trans person in this world. Being a trans person that abuses drugs? And I left her. I left her because it was no longer healthy for me to stay with her. But I feel like I should have stayed. I feel like, maybe, I could have done something. If I had only held on just a little longer.

In all honesty, I almost killed myself soon after Molly had died. My reasoning was that, you always hear that when you go to heaven, you don’t really exist as the person you were before. Not in the same sense. You don’t have any worries, no resentments, or anger. You are perfect in heaven. I consider my relationship with Molly to have been perfect before she really got into drugs. And so in my mind, I thought, I can still be with her. And everything will be great like it was before. We can be with each other again and everything will be good again.
I was so stupid.

This time two years ago, I was at OSU. I had extremely shitty roommates, and I had just been outed to my parents as queer. My parents hated that and didn’t talk to me for weeks. I was already feeling lonely as fuck. I was so depressed that I never left my dorm. I didn’t have friends because I didn’t have the energy to make friends. The only person I had was Molly. She helped me get through that. And she helped me in so many ways after that, too. My parents hated me and sent me hateful text messages on my birthday. As a “birthday gift.” It was literally the fucking shittiest time of my life. But Molly stuck through it all with me. She was such a good person.
I consider Molly to have been the love of my life. She really was. We were great together, before everything bad happened. We were into the same things. We were super compatible. We knew so much about each other. I loved her so incredibly much.

So I feel like I literally lost the love of my life. I know people don’t believe in soulmates. But we were just so perfect for each other. It is hard to believe that she couldn’t have been my soulmate. I was supposed to propose to her that year. But I couldn’t because she relapsed badly.
And now she is gone. I have minimal physical memories of her, because her family deleted her tumblr. I know that, that sounds silly.. to feel so hurt about that. But we posted pictures of ourselves, we talked about our days, funny things one of us said. Posts we wanted each other to see. I would have loved to keep that. Just to have those memories.
All I have are articles of clothing, letters she wrote to me, and the memories in my mind. I think about her every day so the I don’t ever forget anything about her. I want to keep her alive in my memories. I miss her so fucking much and I talk about her all the time on here but I just really don’t want to forget. Even if I cry all the time, I just want to keep thinking about her and try to keep those memories alive. I cry and sob about Molly every night. I am in hysterics over her every single night. I miss her so, so, so much. I don’t see her in dreams anymore. And I have ever felt like she was “with” me. But I just miss her so fucking much.

However, despite all this, 2016 has also been the year that I realized that I needed to get my shit together. This time in school, I am very on top of things. I never thought that I would be able to work and go to school at the same time, and still get good grades. But here I am, doing it. I’m really doing it. I’m finally on the best combination of meds I have ever been on. I have a semi-good support system. I have a job. It isn’t the best job and I get paid minimum wage. But that is ok. I go to school 3/4 time, I am taking very intense courses.
I’m doing a lot for myself, too. I wouldn’t have learned so much about myself if I hadn’t gone through these things with Molly. I wouldn’t know what my boundaries are. I wouldn’t even know how to set them.

2016 has been the worst year of my entire life. But it has also been a good year, in terms of self-improvement.

I am here, I am alive, and I am mostly doing well. 

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I’ve been breaking out around my eyes and cheeks because I’ve been crying every day lol.

I miss Molly so much and I’ve been having such a hard time lately.

I realized today that my most recent ex deleted me off of all social media. This was after they had said they wanted to be friends and sent me a “heartfelt” email. I feel that this is karma from when i cut Molly out of my life. I feel stupid.

I’ve talked about how I’ve been seeing someone casually and kind of liked them. I realized today that I am just really lonely. Well I knew that. But I keep seeing people so that I always have someone to talk to and hang out with. So I won’t feel lonely. So I’m not reminded that Molly isn’t here anymore.

But with the guy, I genuinely thought we were having a good time. It was like a relationship without ever being a real relationship. We went out on dates and then some. Idk. But it’s different now. He’s distant now. 

It makes me feel like garbage. It makes me feel dispensable. I read an incredibly brutal article about how it really is when someone uses you for sex. It was saying how the person will never have promised anything and never lied to you about anything. But instead, they are doing he bare minimum so that you stay attracted. They keep texting you sporadically so that you stay interested. This is exactly what has been happening. It’s brutally honest.

I guess it’s what I needed. I know I should cut him off. The sex is great and like actually amazing. But is it worth getting my feelings hurt over? I’m just too sensitive for fwb. I wish I could handle it.
Anyways things have been weird lately. I’m super busy and never have time for anything. I like someone that doesn’t even like me back. Im isolating. Im sad. Im depressed.

What else is new? 

I got a job!

And today was my first day. I forgot how fucking hard working is. I quit my last job seven months ago and have been mooching off of my parents ever since (more than usual..).

I get paid oregon’s min. wage and I’ve never gotten paid minimum wage so that kind of sucks. I got paid $3 more per hour at my last job and I forgot how good I had it.

Nevertheless, I feel like the job isn’t too bad. I’m definitely tired and my feet hurt but that’s to be expected since today was my first day, right? 

I got one customer that was kind of annoyed with me because I fucked up and inconvenienced them. But everyone else was nice and understanding and didn’t visibly appear annoyed.

So I would say today was a success! 😊

Lately

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This is me. I am Carol. 

It’s been difficult for me these days.

Here are some things that have been happening.

-I’m sick. I don’t mean mental health sick, or “fucked up” sick. But I feel terrible. I don’t know if I’m feeling sick as a result of my mental illness or if I’m legitimately like virus-type sick. I’ve been feeling tired all day. I’ve been feeling this way for the past three weeks. It’s ruining some of my interpersonal relationships. I don’t have the energy to do anything. I helped my mom run errands yesterday. In the intervals when we would be in the car getting to the next location, I would just fall asleep immediately. Something is wrong with me. My body is tired and sore.

– My parents are fighting again. Every time the fights are bad, my mom hints that she’s going to get a divorced because she’s “sick of dealing with this.” The fights are never bad, like, physically bad. And my parents don’t call each other names. But rather, they are passive-aggressive bad. They are bad in the way that they don’t talk to each other and ignore each other. I am really sad whenever this happens.
My culture has a very difficult relationship with seeking help for personal issues, whether it be marital problems or problems stemming from mental health. It isn’t that people from my culture are stupid, or anything. But we are ignorant, and this is because of the way it’s been for years. It is the attempt at trying to preserve our culture and keeping with traditional ways that keeps us ignorant. My mom is pretty progressive, but my dad isn’t. As a result, he refuses to go to a marriage counselor.

Right now, after noticing that this time it’s my dad who’s causing the fight, I am trying to come to terms that maybe this is for the best. I read some articles and realized that it is selfish of me to try to keep trying to keep my parents together, which is what I’ve always done. I’ve always tried to be the middle-man in an attempt to make things better, even if it stresses me out and is ruining my mental health at that time. I guess, I currently realize that if my parents are constantly angry with each other and it seems to be a never-ending cycle, they should do whatever they deem best.

I say this with using “I CURRENTLY think.” I say this as I know I will get extremely sad and go against what I’m saying later on.

-I think that I am going to end the relationship I am in. I started dating the person I am dating back in May. I had broken up with a previous significant other in February, and I had been with them for two years. I honestly think that I got in this relationship out of spite towards the other person. I wanted so badly for them to see how badly they hurt me, and because of that, I was trying to be happy with someone else. One month after I got in the new relationship, my previous partner died of an overdose. I feel like that hit me really hard and that’s when I realized, what the fuck am I doing? I’ve tried to make it work. But it isn’t just me. The person I’m dating has their own issues and sometimes, it’s things that i really can’t deal with. For example, I’ve been needing a lot of space lately. I’ve been trying to figure things out for myself. And initially, they said that they were typically the person that tries to not be serious and not be in monogamous relationships. But as soon as we started dating, that completely changed. They said they were in love with me. They got clingy and dependent. I cannot do that. I can’t even try. As I’ve mentioned before, I have been really tired. I have no energy. It’s beginning to feel like I have no energy to put towards this relationship, too.
I am lonely. I have been very lonely ever since my ex-partner died. I was angry towards them but deep down, I still loved them very much and hoped that they would get it together so that we could date again. But obviously, they never did. But it is incredibly selfish of me to take my loneliness and do things that are harming other people. By knowing that I do not love the other person and staying with them despite this, I am hurting them. I tell them that my low energy level is temporary. But I know I am stalling. I’m stalling from dealing with bigger issues. I am a shitty person and I know I need to stop this. It’s hard. It is easy to read this and say, “wow you’re being really fucking shitty, like, stop.” That’s what I would think, at least. I guess there’s just so much more going on. I thought at one point that I loved this person. But once my ex died, I realized that I didn’t.

-My psychiatrist prescribed me adderall. 5MG to start with. I feel like this is good. I had been getting adderall in unethical ways (lol???) because I knew something was wrong. Not recreationally. But I used it when I needed to study. It helped a lot. I took the test they give you when assessing if this is something you might have, and apparently, I scored high enough on a clinical level. So I feel like even though I was first getting the medication in unethical ways, I wasn’t doing it to harm myself. I knew the implications and I knew that it was bad. But I did it because I thought it would be better for me and it would help me. That sounds like what a drug addict would say tbh but like, it did help me. And it turns out, I do have what I was expecting. I’ve only taken the 5mg pill once, as I’m currently on break from courses and don’t really have something I need to focus on. I don’t want to become dependent on these, either. But the time that I did take it, I felt like it worked. Not for long, but it did for a bit. Was it psychological? Maybe. But it still worked.

-I go back to school in two weeks. I am excited only because I want to be done. I am tired of being stuck in the limbo that is prerequisite courses. I should have been done two years ago. But I got really bad because of my mental health, and only recently got better because I learned how to reach out for help, if I needed it. I want so badly to get into the program because I feel ready to move forward. It isn’t just the rebellious teenager still living inside of me wanting to leave home. It’s feeling like, I am almost 21 (next month) and I should have gotten it together by now. I should have a career by now. I know that there is no time when someone “should” have their shit together. But this is never what I wanted for myself. Shit happens, I know. Life goes on, I know. But this is not what I envisioned my future to be.

 

Speaking of my future, sometimes I am really amazed and even proud of myself for even still being alive. Not in the way that a higher being has allowed me to live one more day. But in the sense that I have literally thought about suicide every single day since I’ve been 12 so like, it is really an anomaly lol. Sometimes the thoughts are fleeting. Fleeting in the way that something bad will happen and I’ll immediately think, “fuck this sucks, I want to kill myself.” Sometimes it is more serious, and I will have a blade to my wrists or neck, of have a handful of pills ready in my hand. I’ve attempted in the past, but that was years ago. I think that the last time I seriously attempted was when I was 16. That was a long time ago, wow, I’m just realizing this. I guess I’m just proud of myself to be able to push through. I guess it is surprising to me that I am still alive. I always said to myself that I thought I would never live to be in my 20’s, because of my mental illness. Because I think of suicide so often. Sometimes i still think, wow, I’ll never get to my 30’s and I’ll never have a career or a stable relationship because it’s bound to happen soon.

Baby steps, I guess.

 

So that’s that. There’s what has been happening the last month. Most of the time, I come on here to talk about bad things happening in my life. I feel like that’s how it is for a lot of people that are mentally ill, or even people that are not mentally ill. We want to reach out to people and talk about ourselves when things are rough. We want advice and we want to be comforted. If things are going well, we don’t need to be comforted in the same sense. We are ok, we are sane, if only momentarily. So I guess that’s why a lot of my posts are mostly negative.

On being in a relationship and being in a depressed stage

I have bipolar disorder and am currently in a depressed stage. Depression for me means not wanting to do anything all day. I just want to sleep and stay in bed –and I will. I will not take care of myself in even the most basic ways such as; eating, showering, daily chores, etc. Getting up and out of bed is the biggest struggle. And that’s just the physical things.. that’s not including all the shit going on in my mind.

I am also in a relationship. The person I am dating is nice, and funny. They’re really kind towards me. Though, we haven’t really been dating for too long. We’ve been dating since the end of May.

We are currently struggling in our relationship BECAUSE I am in a depressed stage. It has gotten to the point where they get upset with me and ask me if I really want to be in a relationship with them.

I’m upset because the relationship was good before this. We were both supportive of each other and whatnot. But now that things have shifted, our relationship has also shifted. I can understand that it could be alarming to be in a relationship with someone who is currently in a depressed stage. I could understand how being in a relationship with someone with bipolar disorder could be something to be uneasy about. After all, one gets into a monogamous relationship hoping for some stability, right?

But they knew about my disorder since the very beginning. I never lied and I never hid anything. It also isn’t like I’m not actively seeking help. I go to my therapist, I go to my psychiatrist, I take my medication regularly. It has just been really, really hard for me lately.

The issue is this: the first two weeks of August, I was in complete crunch mode trying to get everything done for my courses. So of course, I would spend hours upon hours a day trying to study and get things done. I would tell the person that I was dating that I couldn’t talk as often during that time because I NEEDED to get good grades. After the term was done and I found out I had gotten a B in one of the courses, I fell into a deep depression. A depression I am still in. And they’ve been upset and frustrated with me because I am not as attentive as I was before and I am not as energetic as I was before. They ask me to send them packages or letters and I did once, but not again. And they feel that I am neglecting them. And I am, but I’m also neglecting myself so..?

 

I guess I just feel like I’ve been put in a very unfair position. They are a huge advocate towards ending the stigma towards mental health and this just feel hypocritical. They’re someone that has even been in intake for what they describe as “a psychotic episode” they had. I’m just thinking, how can they not understand me at all? It feels like they don’t. I think that it is unfair and selfish to get upset with someone for not putting enough energy into something when they can barely put enough energy into themselves, though they are trying their very best. It just feels like they have absolutely no patience and it is getting to be a bit much for me. I am asking myself, can I handle a relationship right now? And I feel like I could. I was. But I fell into this depression so suddenly and because it’s a phase, I know it will be over. I just don’t know when.

A couple years back, someone broke up with me because I was also in a depressed phase. I didn’t want to go out often and it was hard for me to get excited about things. But they didn’t know anything about mental illness and even said that ti was impossible for me to feel so sick all the time. They said I was making it up. They said they couldn’t deal with it. But they didn’t know anything about mental illness, though I tried to explain it several times.
They literally broke up with me for my mental illness. And I can blame that on their ignorance. But with this person? God, I don’t even know. This feels so similar. It doesn’t feel good.

 

Is this just me? Is my fucked up, bipolar mind skewing things into how I want to see them? I don’t feel like they should “put up” with me. I guess I just need patience and understanding and I am not seeing that.

thinking out loud

cat-sleeping-after-study

Now that I have pulled myself together and feel motivated towards school again, I know that I will need to make changes.

This includes studying every single day. A few hours at the very least. It NEEDS to happen as I NEED to get A’s.

I need to figure out how to be more approachable… I feel like I have chronic bitch face and it definitely doesn’t help in making friends 😦 I have people tell me that I look intimidating because I look so serious. On the first day of classes, I try to not look so serious and smile a little bit at the people coming in. But I feel like such a dumbass and that doesn’t even work lol.

I do have a serious personality just because I am pretty shy.. I’m not shy once I open up but I am initially shy. I don’t know how to combat this!

That is a BIG issue that I need to fix because if I apply to the program I want to, obviously they want someone that has a lot of confidence and that stands out. I feel that I probably don’t currently stand out.

I also need to be more approachable because I need to try to get these two professors for the classes I’m going to take to give me letters of recommendation. The other professors like I didn’t try to make good impressions on them so I know I was forgettable and there is no reason why they would recommend me. I read online that I just need to come into their office for study hours often and make an effort to know my shit and participate in class.

Does anyone have any suggestions in regards to being more approachable though?

No one wants a dentist that doesn’t initially seem friendly and approachable…

Anyway those are my things that I’ve been thinking about. I know that I got the grades I got because of bad choices I made. Yes, I went through a lot. But I did not try my hardest. I did the bare minimum. This cannot keep being my pattern and I need to change this if I am to be in a professional program.

I’ve been watching videos on how to manage your time and how to study better… I will try to incorporate these into my life.

So, yeah! Wish me luck! and please give me any tips or suggestions that you may have!

Bitterness and Forgiveness

I am often a bitter person. Being wronged by someone upsets me. It upsets me because many times, I feel like I really put my all into someone or something. To not be recognized for that or to be sort of backstabbed is hurtful. It makes me feel bitter and petty.

The last time Molly and I officially talked to each other, we got upset. I told her that I was tired of being jerked around and treated like I didn’t matter. She said she felt the same way and that she was tired of being manipulated.

That upset me a lot because I felt like I put in SO MUCH towards her. I tried so much and, essentially, deteriorated and wore myself away because of trying to take care of her. Because I was codependent. I didn’t think I was manipulative, I thought she was. It was annoying to hear that I was the one being manipulative.

I told her goodbye. We left it at that. We were already kind of sick of each other I think. Not on a big picture basis, but we just kept getting on each others nerves. I was constantly upset because I felt like she wasn’t trying to get help for her addiction. I felt that she wasn’t trying. She would be upset with me because I nagged her about doing a lot of things; i.e. going to therapy, calling for appointments, etc. I thought that I was being helpful. I should have just let her figure it out for herself. My mindset was that I didn’t want her to fuck everything up more than she already had.

Anyway, she went off to rehab again and we didn’t talk for more than two months. I was still very hurt, but I secretly wanted to know how she was doing. I would check her social media every day to see how she was. To see if she missed me.

I didn’t actually know when she was getting out of rehab, until I decided to check out her twitter one day and she had posted about it. It felt like my heart sank to my stomach. I was scared. I was scared because honestly, the relationship between us was tearing me apart and I would get so bad in terms of mental illness whenever she got back. I was scared I would give in, talk to her again, and fall into the codependent cycle again. But, god, I knew that deep in my heart, I missed her so much.

I had decided to cut her off. I did it because I knew I needed to. But I also did it because I was still angry, petty, and bitter.

She sent me a message on snapchat maybe a week after she got out. I had forgotten to block her on that and so that’s how she got through I guess. The message said, “I’m sorry for how I talked to you last time. I was out of line.”

But it wasn’t enough for me. I was SO angry. The anger just stemmed from me really putting myself out there and then feeling like I got slapped in the face for it. I never replied.

I was so angry that I never wanted to even talk about her. I got upset if someone tried to talk to me about her or asked me how she was doing.

She died two weeks later. I still feel so bad and I am filled with so much regret that I had built up so much bitterness and anger towards her. I really did want to be friends with her again.

I’m sad that I was so angry about what she had done that I never wanted to talk about her. All I want to do now is talk about her. Constantly, constantly, constantly.

I think that by ignoring her, I was being manipulative a bit. I think I am manipulative in small, subtle ways. I always want to be the victim and I always play myself out to be so.

But, I did eventually want to reconnect. I just needed time to process my anger.

It feels like that feeling when they describe in books or movies where someone regrets not talking to their parents or being mad at them, and then something happens to them, like they get in an accident or something and then they die. It feels like that sort of regret.

Since then, I have been trying really hard to dispel my bitterness quicker. I still do feel the initial anger and bitterness. But instead of feeding it and constantly thinking about it, letting it build up, I try to rationalize what is happening. I try to think, “is this worth getting so upset over?”

It usually isn’t.

It has also caused me some sort of trouble though.

The other day, I got upset with my mom. After I had gotten upset, she left to go run some errands. I started thinking, “shit, what if something happens to her and I never get to tell her I was sorry?” I didn’t want that to happen to me ever again. I wanted to call her and tell her I was sorry. But then I thought, “what if she answers while she’s driving, gets distracted by me, and she crashes?” I thought, hmm maybe I should text her. The thought that followed was, “what if I text her, she tries to look at the text while she’s driving, and she still dies?”

I’ve just been having a lot of intrusive thinking lately.

The point of this post is that I have been trying to not be so bitter. I know that what happened to Molly isn’t my fault. I try really hard to remind myself that. But I do feel a lot of regret towards how our relationship as lovers and as friends ended.

I really don’t want that to ever happen again.

Therapy

Today, I had a therapy appointment.

I like my therapist, I do. But there are vast differences between us. Not that that’s bad, but it shows in our sessions.

Our cultural differences, for example. She always seems surprised at how I can keep my romantic relationships separate from my family. Like, almost a secret. I have to do this because although my parents know I am not straight, they want to be in denial and think that what I am doing is just a phase, and that I am doing it to “get back at them for something.” And so, I make the conscious decision to not talk to them about anything in regards to my romantic relationships. My therapist thinks that this is weird and that it is weird how I don’t feel resentful or bitter towards them because of it. She finds it weird that I can still have a good relationship with my parents while they also don’t accept me. I suppose that it can be weird. But I find a way to deal with it, because I know that much of my parents’ disapproval comes from how they were raised in Mexico.

Another thing that can be different is on the privileges she has that I do not. During a session I had a long time ago with her, I told her that I felt like I had a huge disadvantage in reaching my career goals based on the fact that I am a xicana woman. I had gone to a dental seminar and in the seminar, they had statistics on racial and gender makeup in the dentistry career. There are less woman dentists than there are men. And there are even less “hispanic” dentists than any other racial makeup. It makes me feel very discouraged because I am aware that it is due to institutionalized racism.

I explained this to my therapist and she said that she thinks that it would actually be an advantage, considering I am bilingual and that it should make me want to go towards my goal even more. I appreciate her optimism, I do. But that is just not the way things work unfortunately. Especially not in a place like Oregon. It seems progressive here, but that’s far from the truth. This can be seen more prominently if you’re a person of color.

I’m sorry, but that is the reality of it all.

I would like to have a therapist that doesn’t always need an explanation. But you can’t always have what you want, right?

 

Anyways, this post was prompted by the fact that I had told my therapist today that I had been dating someone “officially” since May. She asked how/why it hadn’t come up before and I said I guess I had other things on my mind. Truth be told, I just didn’t feel like explaining things again, which is what happened today.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t need therapy. I feel like I am a very insightful person, as I have also been told by every single therapist I’ve been to. I do know right from wrong and I do know when I am in the wrong. The reason I continue to go to therapy is because I like being validated. I like having someone tell me that my feelings are real and that they are valid and that I am not just crazy. It doesn’t matter if I’m paying them to listen to me and to validate my feelings. I just like knowing that I am not crazy.

Your memorial

I am feeling annoyed.That’s been a constant reoccurrence on this blog, hasn’t it?
The other day, Molly had a memorial in New York held by past friends. I got upset with one of them because they had said that it was ok to call Molly “Jamie.” She said to come to the memorial and call her Molly or Jamie, “whichever you prefer.” I don’t think it’s ok and I don’t think Molly would have thought it was ok either. That was her dead name, and she changed her name for a reason. The addiction she struggled with was fueled by the dysphoria that she experienced. There is no fucking way she would have been ok with being called her dead name. There just isn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered if it’s people that knew her before she became Molly. She wasn’t Jamie anymore. She was Molly. Everyone that was her close friend would agree. I know they would. Because they know that Molly didn’t want to be called Jamie anymore.
Anyway, I got upset with the person and they said I was being disrespectful and insensitive and that it’s not what Molly would have wanted. This particular person had literally posted that they hadn’t talked to Molly in three years. How would they even know what she would have liked?

In fact, how dare they even try to say that they know what Molly would have liked.
I’m grieving, still. And I’m sad, still. I’m slowly getting better. But I got upset a lot of times when people would misgender Molly or call her by the wrong name when we were together. 
Something I’m annoyed about now: Molly’s mom gave this person, who I know was one of Molly’s ex-girlfriends, items that were once Molly’s. And I suppose that doesn’t annoy me. It is nice to have things that were once a loved ones. What annoys me is that two of these items, that this girl is wearing, are items that I got for Molly. I got the bracelet she has from my trip to Mexico. I got the seahorse necklace from an obscure shop on Mississippi in Portland. 

And I am annoyed because these are both items that Molly frequently wore. Because they were her favorite, in addition to a mermaid necklace I had gotten her.
I am annoyed because this girl did not have the basic decency to respect who Molly was and didn’t even talk to her. She wants to make all these posts on her Facebook wall but if you can’t respect who she was, were you REALLY her friend? Did you REALLY care about her? And now that she’s gone, this girl is trying to make up for lost time? For what? What is the fucking point to act like you care so much and so deeply about her now?

This seems to be a common thing for people that knew Molly. All these people that would hurt Molly and were fucking assholes to her are coming out and saying “oh I miss you so much and blahblah.”

Why weren’t you there for her before? When she was alive? Why didn’t you treat her like a human being when she was still here?

But now you want to go and act like you guys were best friends?
I’m upset and it’s all coming out now. It’s been building up and I feel like I’m reaching my breaking point. I also feel like I’m in that stage of grieving where I’m just so angry at everything.

I’m just annoyed because Molly cried so much and was so sad and alone so often. She would text and message and call all of these people, even from rehab. No one ever answered. It made her sad. And it made her feel lonely and like she didn’t really have friends. I’m just really pissed off that these people are acting like they care about her when they really didn’t. It seems like they want other people to think they cared about her, just to seem like a good person or something.
It makes me angry to have someone say that they knew Molly better than I did. And they didn’t. I knew literally everything about her. The creepy things to the normal things. From what deodorant she used to what music she liked to listen to when she was sad. I knew this because I almost proposed to her. I knew this because I loved her deeply and she was my best friend.
I suppose that the items this girl has are just that –items. They don’t hold any significance to her other than the thought that maybe all the lost time between them can be made up by wearing these items, and possessing them. And I suppose I can recognize that the true meaning of these items are in my memory. And I suppose that I can recognize that throughout all of this stupid fucking bullshit, I know what Molly and I went through. And I know I don’t have to prove that to anyone at all. I know what she would have wanted. And I know that everyone who actually loved her knows that too.
But it’s still annoying. And I’m blocking the girl for my own sanity because I get #pissed every time I see her making an empathetic post on Molly’s Facebook wall. 

In addition, because I don’t want to make another annoying Molly rant post, I am angry because I am also angry at myself for not having been there for Molly near the end.

I know so deep down that I did it to protect myself. I know that I did it because I was destroying myself for Molly. I guess my own stupid reasoning is that if I had destroyed myself for just a little longer, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling such incredible guilt. And maybe Molly would still be here. Maybe if I had responded to her text that one time or not gotten upset with her that other time.

I am angry because I know that all of the anger I am feeling is misplaced. I am probably not actually angry with these people (lol jk). I am actually angry with myself. I am angry and because I can’t actually talk to Molly and tell her all these things, I want to take it out on anyone that slightly pisses me off. I actually am pissed off at that girl though because I think what she’s doing is fucked up but w/e. We’ll just say my anger is misplaced and my [literal] ol’ bipolar ass will go back and forth between those feelings.
If I’m being reasonable, I know that what she is doing is her own way of coping. I do know that. I do know that she also probably feels guilty for not talking to Molly. I also know that everyone else that was an asshole to her probably feels that way too. It is just easier for me to be angry at them than it is to be angry at myself.

Molly: Anger and Denial

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The two stages I’m going in and out of are denial and anger.

I keep thinking to myself that Molly is in rehab still and that’s why we can’t talk. It isn’t because she’s dead. It is because phones aren’t allowed in rehab and that’s why. I know I’m lying to myself. But it is easier to think about it this way.

I keep thinking that I can text her or post to her Facebook wall, and that she’ll read it at a later time.

I have sudden realizations that Molly will never come back and it hits me hard.

Anger is a reoccurring emotion. I have anger towards the people she knew. I feel angry because when she passed away, naturally, people were offering their condolences on her Facebook wall.. but they kept misgendering her and using her dead name. They would post pictures of themselves with her, before she had started transitioning. She would not have liked that. She removed all photos from before she transitioned because she didn’t want anyone remembering her as a boy. The dysphoria she experienced was one of the reasons that she abused drugs. I know that if she were still here, she’d try to brush those images off as good memories. But I know that they hurt her.

I am also angry at the people that knew her. I went to a memorial for her a week ago and there were so many people there, acting as if they knew her really well. There were even people that she hated and that they hated her…pretending they were friends. Talking to other people as if they and Molly had good memories together.

her brother had posted on Instagram that he had traveled to the west coast with his family to release Molly’s ashes into the ocean. He also said that he was happy to have met some of the family she made over here. Who was the family? Her old bandmates and housemates. They did not treat her well. They ignored her, trivialized her addiction, and were not there for her. I would be taking her to the hospital, pleading them for someone to come help. None of them did. One of them even said it wasn’t a big deal. And now she is gone, and THEY are being called family????

I am also angry because I’ve been pushed out of the picture and I’m being imagined as being this huge bitch that left Molly in her time of need. And I can understand how you can see it that way… since I left her two months before she died. But I was the ONLY one constantly in her life. Taking care of her and being there for her. Ever since the beginning. I was the one that stayed up with her late at night trying to calm her down. I was the one waking up in the early morning hours, driving for hours to go see her, and then repeating the whole process again. I was the one begging and pleading her to get better. I was the one offering support. I was a constant force in her life. I was the one that knew her the best out of anyone else in the world. She even said once that I knew her better than her mom did.

And so, it really hurts that I’m being portrayed as this sort of demon for leaving her. It doesn’t matter that I was the only one that was constantly there for her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one staying up all night taking care of her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one driving her to doctor visits and to the hospital. No. All that matters is that even though I was there for her for two years, non-stop, it only matters that I wasn’t there for her those last two months.

I left her because I cared about her so much, I was wearing myself down. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was putting all of my own energy, into her, hoping that she would get better. She never did, and to me, it felt like she wasn’t trying as hard as she could. That is why I left her.

I feel bad because I knew that she was hurting. I knew that she missed me. I blocked her on every single thing so that she wouldn’t be able to contact me. But I was still so very much in love with her. I would check her twitter and tumblr every day, several times a day, just to see if she would say anything about me. She did. At that moment, I felt very angry. Because she was missing me but she still wasn’t trying to get better.

She tried to get my new number two days before she passed away. I hadn’t given my number to any of her friends, and so no one knew it. I blame myself for having not given it to her. I know she needed support. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had gotten my number anyway. The outcome would have been the same. I had blocked her from my phone as well. The texts and calls would have never reached me.

I blame myself for thinking I could be there for her. But deep down, I know that I would have been pulled back in and would have dug a deeper hole for myself. I know that I would have destroyed myself for her if I hadn’t left.

But knowing that doesn’t help with the anger, and the bitterness, and the sadness. It doesn’t help the guilt. It doesn’t help with the “why are all of her friends moving on with their lives while I’m still so fucking depressed and sad?”

I think that if her friends had been better friends and had been there for her, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way it did. I know it’s pointless to think that way. It is what it is. And there is nothing I can do to change that. But I still just wish everyone had cared just a little bit harder. Or at least pretended that they cared about her like they pretended at her memorial.

I never thought it to be true and I thought it was an exaggeration when they say in movies and in books that everyone pretends to have known you really well after your death. But I experienced it first-hand for Molly. And now I’m left wondering, out of the people I know, who will do this fact same thing? Act like they’re so torn up about my death? Act as if we were best friends and they helped me out with so much? As if we had such good memories together?

I’m angry and I am bitter. These feelings are hard to disperse. I miss her so very much. This isn’t fair.

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