Tag Archives: bipolar 2

Molly: Anger and Denial


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.




I am feeling very lonely but I know that I am the one that is pulling away from people.

I know that they are not ignoring me –I am the one ignoring them.

I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know why I’m like this.

positivity steps

i’m trying to come to terms that i will, again, probably fail the class i am currently taking. I’m quite disappointed in myself because i kept pumping myself up but i just never made it happen. the bad thing is, is that for each time you take a core science class, the harder it is to get into the program i would like to get into. understandably, though. if you think about it (this isn’t my field) but if you had a doctor that got a C in core classes that have to do with the human body, would you feel as comfortable? probably not. But I will re-take the class. And I will try to be ok.

I know that my parents will be very disappointed. But I’ve got to give myself some credit, I have been having a really rough year. My significant other battled an addiction for such a long time, until I had nothing left to give and we ended up just breaking up. We were both sad, but shed no tears. There just wasn’t anything left to say. I feel like that was the thing that really messed me up. I was putting so much effort into having someone else be ok, that I completely forgot to make sure that I was ok too.

I’ve decided to take steps towards being a more positive person. I have realized that I am very negative, and I realized this because of the bad date I went on. I just feel like it isn’t just being an introvert, and it isn’t just me being shy. Some people radiate happiness. And that’s ok. But I feel like I radiate negativity, and that isn’t ok with me.

I keep trying to re-route my negative thoughts. It is quite a challenge, especially because my eating disorder has been really bad (which completely fucked with my blood pressure and even though I’ve been eating regularly the past two days, i still get very dizzy and lightheaded whenever I move due to not eating at all for a couple of days).

But I am trying. And that’s got to count for something, right?

All or Nothing

I live with extremities. I cannot do something half assed. It has to be all or nothing for me.

My eating disorder is getting bad again. It started very suddenly. A few days ago, I just looked at myself in a picture and it really upset me. I hate the way I look in every single aspect. That’s when it all started.

I haven’t eaten for three days. I got dizzy today any time I moved. The feeling of emptiness felt good. I didn’t feel hungry. I felt fine. I felt like I was in control of something for once.

A couple minutes ago, I had a really big binge session and I’m so upset with myself. I feel like it was all for nothing. My life is such a mess. No one wants to be with me. Those that do end up getting pushed away because my mind twists things around and makes me think they don’t like me.

I feel like I annoy everyone. I annoy myself. I don’t know who I am and I don’t know what I’m doing.

I went on a date

So, I went on a date today. It’s the first date I’ve been on since Molly and I broke up. She is still in jail.

The person was really cool and we had been talking online/over text for quite some time and it felt like we were really hitting it off? I dunno. They would tell me I was cute and how they wanted to kiss me and blahblah.

Then, we hung out and I don’t know if we both just got really nervous but it was not a good first date. We walked around the city for a bit and went to eat and that was fine and cool, and we were getting along. THEN, we went back to their dorm room and just watched Netflix. Now, I was sort of looking forward to this because they said the night before that they wanted to cuddle so there I was like SO ANXIOUS. And we didn’t. We ended up watching six episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. That’s three hours of just watching tv. Until I was sort of like, “fuck this isn’t working out and nothing is happening and this isn’t going the way I pictured AT ALL.”

So I ended up just saying I was going to go and then I cried in the parking structure. Then I went to Target and cried in the parking lot for an hour before going in to buy some chocolate lol. Then, the whole drive home (which is an hour) I cried.

I cried BECAUSE it had been my first date since Molly and I broke up. I was pretty into them and so that was disappointing. But what was most disappointing is that I really just wanted to feel wanted. I really wanted to feel like I was still likable and lovable. So when it didn’t work out I was just like “fuck, it’s never going to work out for me.”

Anyway, I had driven to a friends house and just completely cried to her telling her how fucking pathetic and ugly I felt. She comforted me and encouraged me to text them again because I had been pretty into them (though we were both not wanting anything serious).

I ended up texting them later apologizing, and telling them that I wasn’t being myself and if they wanted to try it again. They agreed but said that it would have to be after finals because they’re really busy. That would sound reasonable, right? Finals are over next week I assume. They go to a different college than I do but that’s when my finals end so I feel like they would end around the same time.
I felt fine and good and happy and relieved in that moment that they had texted ack that they would like to give it another change.
BUT THEN.. that’s when the fire nation attacked

No, seriously, that’s when my OCD started kicking in. I started analyzing every text we had sent each other and what had happened during the date. I realized, oh my god? I was the one that asked them out… and then I felt pathetic again lol. I know that they are a really nice person and are probably not lying about wanting to hang out after final, but because my OCD twists things around in my mind, I’m also thinking “they probably just said that so that I would forget about them and we won’t go out again.”
I know that sometimes dates don’t work out. I know this. I know that not every single date I go on will be good. And honestly, I have experienced dates in the past where they weren’t good, but we still stayed friends. I feel like I’m beating myself up more over this because I’m trying to fill the empty space in my heart that Molly once filled.

I’m not looking for a rebound. I just want to feel wanted again.

Last night


Last night was a horrible fucking night. Up until now, I have been suppressing my feelings about my failed relationship. It felt like I was going to be ok. Until I started feeling sad. And then sadder. And pretty soon, I was crying uncontrollably. I cried for hours straight.

I started removing my ex from my life last night. I have found that, that is what helps me cope. I just remove them from my life completely. Reducing their carbon footprint in my life, never to be spoken of again. But it will be harder this time. I recognized this when I had just built up the guts to remove my ex from my Facebook page, and then I realized I was wearing one of her shirts. And then I still had small letters from her in my wallet. And then I realized my laptop was covered in stickers from her.

It was just a lot of small things and gestures that made me realize. Holy shit. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought. And through the process of trying to get rid of everything, i just had a complete meltdown.

This still doesn’t feel real. It feels like she’s just at rehab again. Or we’re mad at each other. And it feels like I’ll wake up in the morning to a text message that says “good morning, baby.” Though, I haven’t received those kinds of text messages from her in months.

So many of my fondest memories include her. And so many small, seemingly meaningless things, remind me of her.


It is really, really hard to swallow the fact that this is really happening. We are really broken up. Life’s a bitch sometimes.

A Failed Relationship



Lets see, lets see, what could I say about my most recent failed relationship. There’s just so much to say. It’s hard to even find the words.

First off, I know I play the victim a lot but I really feel like I’m the only one that’s hurting. I’m not sure if that’s because they really don’t care that we broke up or because they’re busy getting high. Probably both. Even so, I don’t think I’m hurting as bad as I thought that I would. Sure, I get really sad sometimes. But that’s normal. I feel ok for the most part. Maybe that’s how it is for them too. I think we were both just tired of dealing with each other’s shit.

I’m a little (a lot) disappointed that this last relationship didn’t work out. I really thought and was hoping that it would. In the beginning, it all felt really dreamy and surreal, which you could contribute to the infatuation that we were both experiencing.


We spent a lot of time together, and it felt like we missed each other a lot, even we had only been apart for an hour. It felt like we were two pieces of the same puzzle. We both liked the same movies, music, food, etc. We connected in random ways, that you wouldn’t have imagined connecting about. We had a lot of good experiences, and first-time experiences together. It felt like they were my best friend. They understood me really well. They understood when I would react to something badly and would quickly apologize after. They didn’t chastise me for that. I liked that. I liked that it felt like even if I I was the craziest person in the world, they could see the good in me.


But even though everything felt so dreamy, I think that things really took a turn for the worst when my ex-partner started relapsing and then left for rehab for 7 months. It was 7 months of not seeing each other and barely being able to talk to each other. It was 7 months of hearing dates of when they would come home, and then having those dates being pushed back, over and over again, because of them constantly relapsing. I think we care for each other a lot. We were together for 1 year and 5 months. Apart for 7. Life moves on, even if you’re not in each other’s life. I think that’s when we started falling out of love. I think that there is a clear, definitive point in time where you could really look and see, well, they’re not as in love as they used to be.

It is hard to think that at some point, everything was good. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. I think if they hadn’t started abusing drugs the way they are now, we could possibly still be together. There wouldn’t have been as much lying, deceitfulness, or disappointment. That’s what I tell myself, at least.

Today, we are no longer together. We are not even friends. I go back and forth between deleting them and their friends from all of my social media accounts. But I then find myself feeling frantic, wanting to know what they’re doing, and if they’re doing better without me. I find myself wanting to change my number, and feeling the imaginative joy I could feel when they receive an automatic reply that my phone number is no longer in service. I feel very spiteful, but I also feel very hurt.

I feel very apathetic and indifferent towards the relationship we were having. The past few months are indifferent to me. They weren’t good. Most of the time, they were bad.

But the memories, oh the memories. I am in love with the memories, and the memories and feelings of what could have been. It feels disheartening to think that I thought I had a soulmate. We were so alike and it just really feels like a punch to the chest.

Presently, our relationship was stagnant. Nothing was happening and in fact, it felt like the love we had towards each other diminished by the second. They didn’t care about themselves a lot, and I couldn’t handle it. I tried really hard to have things get better. But nothing happened. They just didn’t care. Or they did care, but didn’t do a good job at all of showing it. The last time we hung out was three days ago, on Valentine’s Day. I had been contemplating leaving them. We weren’t together. But we certainly acted like it. I think the thing that was the final straw for me was that, that same day, they groaned when I wanted them to walk me out to their door. How much is that, a couple feet? I left angrily, but forgave them soon after. The next day, they walked at least a mile to the store to buy inhalants to get high with. I always heard that the addict will always love the drug more than they love any of their partners or family members. I tried so hard not to believe it. In that moment, it became very clear that yes, at this point, I am not the thing that they love most.

I am still mourning our failed relationship. We were together for quite a long time, but apart for nearly as long. I find myself feeling stupid sometimes for how hard I tried to save our relationship. Or how badly I wanted them to save themselves.


This has been something that will be really hard to get over. It will take me a long time before I could even think about being with someone else. Even now, here I am, pouring my heart out. I know they will read this, and perhaps they’ll feel just as indifferent as I do. But still heartbroken over what could have been. We could have been so much more.



DUI and Wreckless Driving

My ex girlfriend was supposed to come see me today. I was seriously considering giving them another chance. I’ve given her so many chances. I was literally talking about her today and how I want to give her a chance because I think she’s my soulmate.

But she never replied to my texts. Or my calls. Until her mom texted me asking where she was. And I didn’t know. And then she got a collect call from the county jail.

So her license is suspended. And I’m so fucking angry because she isn’t getting better and that makes me really sad. But on top of that now, we can’t see each other unless I drive to her.

I’m so upset and I genuinely wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. 

I can’t help but feel responsible. I told her I was suicidal and wanted to admit myself to psychiatric inpatient. I feel like I stressed her out. I feel like this was in part, my fault.

Loving an addict is one of the hardest things you can do. It is so heartbreaking. You want to help. You invest every single bit of yourself trying to help and provide support. You can’t help it, you love them. It breaks your fucking heart wishing they would get better. It rips you apart wondering if they’re going to die.

It hits me in waves

I spent a good portion of my life with my ex that sometimes, I kind of forget that we aren’t together anymore. So I’ll talk to them or send them a message about something I saw or experienced and suddenly it’s like, oh..

I was with them the longest I have ever been with anyone. We’ve broken up before. The first time, they broke up with me. I can’t even remember why. But it felt really bad and I just wanted to hurt myself. I cried to my roommate then I told her to leave me alone. Just a total mess.

The second time, I broke up with them because they had used drugs. I don’t even remember what time that was but we got back together the next day. That time hurt a lot too, but it wasn’t so bad because it didn’t last very long.

And here we are again. In the same position. Except it doesn’t hurt a lot this time. It is a deep, prolonged aching. It’s going through moments thinking, God, I can’t live without them. And then thinking, do they even care? And because I’m so emotional, are they even taking me seriously? Or do they think I’ll want to get back together instantaneously? 

I don’t have any support. I don’t even go to therapy anymore. I am more alone than I have been in the past. But I’m managing and I think, maybe I can do this.

But it comes in waves. And the sadness comes in waves. Unpredictable, messy, and unstable waves.