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TAKING IT DAY BY DAY.
  1. 19:42 9th Oct 2013

    Notes: 1

    S/O TO THE FACT THAT I’M WRITING A MANIFESTO

    The Uncollege Manifesto

    Basis of my argument is from the ideas of Dale J. Stevens, more information can be found http://www.uncollege.org 


    The number one question I get when I bring up the fact that Im not going to college, is “Why not, you’re so smart!” 

    Our education systems gives us 2 choices in what to do with the rest of our lives:go to college, or get a dead end job flipping burgers in the local Burger King or cleaning toilets alongside Felipe from the south of Mexico. The truth is, college is probably the most inadequate method of determining the level of a persons education. As more and more Americans are opting to go to college in  the hopes of making big money, the value of the degree goes down. Vastly unintelligent people are attaining degrees, and coming out with the same amount of critical thinking skills as before their graduation. Large lecture classes lead to a lack of passion in learning. 

    Education should be inspired by a deep underlying desire for knowledge. An age old curiosity, inrooted in our very human nature. Being forced upon education is counter-productive. It leaves distaste and animosity among students at the concept of learning. 

    In the past, reading was the greatest privilege. All people, children included, fell in love with the beauty of words. It is the nature of the written word, to provoke emotion, to stimulate the mind and to transport the reader to different times, places and situations. That once blooming passion is now replaced by great disinterest in learning in general in children at a very young age. Society acknowledges this problem, and addresses it in probably the most Inadequate method possible, and called it the “American school system.” With generally good intentions at its start, with each passing generation it’s effectiveness in nurturing a nation of educated intellectuals has faded. Schools become a long string of standardized tests, meant less to determine the individual’s knowledge, and more to test the so called “effectiveness” of the school itself. 

     
  2. 19:37

    Notes: 1

    Day 454: No Such Thing as Recovery

    It’s been a while.

    I’ve been pretty held up with not caring about school, and cross country. I had no particular inspiration, and I felt like I wrote enough entries about running and exercise, so I’ve opted to be quiet on here for a little while. 

    Quick update of school, things got significantly better since the mental breakdown on the second day. I’ve brought my uncollege attitude into my school work, so Pre-calc, spanish, and anatomy are pretty extensions of English. I’ve been reading and writing a lot, AP Lang is probably the best class I’ve ever taken so far. I still don’t talk much, but it doesnt make me feel as bad as it did in liberty. 

    I love cross country, and if my post history says anything, it’s that I love and can’t live without running. Benefitting the team is great. But at the end of the day, I am running for me, I’m running to stay far away from who I used to be, and to keep my eye on who I still wish to become. Recently, I’ve been having panic attacks during races. This past week has been pretty low for me. I’m not sure if I’m ever gonna be at a point where I don’t immediately look to my wrist, or think about how I could possibly get alcohol. I’m stronger than that now, and I know that. But the thought is still there.

    Honestly, I’m scared. The summer has been amazing. But it’s getting cold again. The leaves are falling, and I’m sweat pants and a sweatshirt while I’m writing this. It feels like last winter was still to close. I’m different now, I have a stronger mentality, but I feel like the ghost of who I was is still haunting me. I don’t know how it’s going to feel this christmas. Last christmas, while all the children were probably waking up and opening their presents, I was getting blood work and drug tested in a psych hospital. You don’t forget things like that. 

    I feel like I’m starting to distance myself from other people again, and I don’t know how to stop it. I just can’t go back to how I was again. God, I know for the most part I’m a shit person, but I’m trying the best I can.

     
  3. Day 364: To People Dealing With Depression (please read, I normally don’t say that but)

    It’s very rare that I write about something like this, but now that we’re just a day away from the year mark, I figure there’s no way to talk about the year without addressing this major part of it. I don’t mean this to be triggering. If it triggers you, I encourage you to stop, however the purpose of me writing this is to say there I was, but here I am. It’s important that you know that I’m happy now, even when I thought I’d never be again. I found things to live for again. But here’s my story of what I’ve dealt with all my life, but primarily what I’ve dealt with this year. 

    I’m not going to go into specifics about all my experiences that triggered my depression, cause I’d rather focus on what it felt like to be depressed. Just know that I battled an eating disorder at 11, and I’ve been bounced between therapists and different antidepressants since. I’ve recently been diagnose with BPD.

    Depression starts off slowly. One day it’s just a fleeting thought of I wish my life was this way, or I wish this was different. But eventually the thoughts keep coming, until it consumes your mind, until one day you lose the strength to do basic things, like getting out of bed or eating. Every time you think that it couldn’t possibly get worse, it does. I will never forget the moment right before I stole those pills from my grandma, the first time I planned to commit suicide. Before that, I always thought that the most painful thing in the world was to lose someone you love. But standing there in my grandma’s bathroom, looking into my dead eyes in the mirror, I realized that the most painful thing in the world is the moment that you lose yourself. In that moment, I thought that my soul died. That I was a walking corpse, and committing suicide was just getting rid of the corpse. It was a christmas party that night, a few days before christmas. I felt like the world was saying bye to me. There was a new family member dressing up as santa for all the screaming little kids that I used to be. The family no longer paid attention to me, with all the kids all around. Everything just seemed so perfect when I watched on the side line. I felt like a ghost, watching a perfect little family on christmas. And how can you fit into a perfect family when you’re not perfect? I came home that night and desperately cut my arms and my legs, praying for something to show me that I was still alive. But it just wasn’t enough anymore. I planned to go through with my plan after christmas, so I wouldn’t ruin the holiday for everyone for the rest of their lives.  

    The next day, someone uncovered my plan, and I was hospitalized in a mental hospital for the first time. I came out and went to a partial hospitalization program until the end of january. 

    I don’t know if anyone reading this has ever experienced negative side effects from their psych meds, but it makes everything 10x worse. The medicine was called geodon, and it increased my anxiety to the point where I was having regular panic attacks. It made it seem like nothing was real, and death was always on my mind. I couldn’t think about anything else. I would just look at everything and figure out a way that I could kill myself in any given situation. I was so obsessed that I lost weight for a while. Anyone who’s had an ED knows how addicting losing weight is, and I was thrown into yet another eating disorder. 

    The cutting got worse in february. My arms were raw almost up to my shoulder. My thighs were cut up so bad I had to hide a limp when I walked. I gave myself horrible burns with my straightener all down my arms, that the only thing I could stand to wear were baggy long sleeve shirts. I held my breath until I passed out, cause my screaming lungs made me feel like I was dying. I started self medicating with alcohol and weed in february, which went on until april, where my mom found weed in my room. It started a big fight, and just the thought of having to deal with my problems without any self medication was just too much for me to bare. The feeling was a different kind of intense than it was in december. I was just pacing in my room, just feeling so empty. Crying to the point where you grab onto anything and hug it, just trying to keep all the pieces together inside. But there’s that gaping hole that just doesn’t go away, and all the thoughts in my head were taunting me, telling me that it could all be easier 6 feet under. Thinking of death was the only thing that made me feel peaceful. That made the hole a little less gaping. The thoughts were horrible. I just remember lying on the floor curled up in a ball, and it felt like something was kicking me in the stomach over and over again until I couldn’t move. But then the pills were in my hand, and everything just got quiet. They felt so good there. It felt like freedom. 

    I had a seizure and was taken to the hospital for about four days, before I was transferred to the mental hospital again. After a week there I came back, but little changed. My parents came home to find my arms covered in blood and I was back in the hospital not even 4 days later. 

    The hospital is not a bad place. They don’t lock you in a room like a prisoner. You interact with other kids that have been through the same things you’re going through, and I’ve met some of the coolest people ever there. I’ve had some pretty awesome room mates, actually. If you need help, GO THERE. It will help you, you just have to be brave enough to give it a shot.

    I know I’ve mentioned this in previous posts, but I feel like its important here, because the purpose of this post is not to make you feel like suicide is the best option, or anything along those lines. I’m am writing this to be living, breathing proof that it does get better.

    I was put on homebound for the rest of the year After being home for a while, in may, I started running again, my mom put me on a cleansing diet, and I started to feel like I had purpose again. I got back into the things I had no energy to do before, like reading. Reading and running filled the gap, and silenced the thoughts. 

    You have to understand that nobody’s gonna save you. You can’t sit there waiting for someone to come, because it’s never gonna happen. I saved myself. I dug deep and found the strength I needed to move forward. Understand that I am no extra-ordinary girl. I am 16, barely 5’1, clumsy, and extremely socially awkward. I will never cure cancer or win the nobel prize. But I beat depression. I resurrected myself when I thought that I’d never be truly alive again. If I can do it, so can you. 

    Nothing can truly amount to the pride I feel going out in public and showing my cut free arms and legs. I have scars, yes, but they will fade in time, like all do. I look in the mirror now, and remember looking at that dead girl’s eyes in december, and feel like I’m looking at a stranger. Now I have a smile that lights up my whole face again. My eyes are bright, and much to my parents’ dismay, yes, I am singing in the shower again. 

    I have been weak. I have struggled. I have fallen more times than most. 

    But I’m strong now. I’m braver than I’ve ever been. 

    I am alive.

     
  4. 12:24 1st Jul 2013

    Notes: 691232

    Reblogged from itastesounds

    This year July has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays. This happens once every 823 years. This is called money bags. So copy this and money will arrive within 4 days. Based on Chinese Feng Shui, the one who does not copy, will be without money. Figured I’d pass this on!

    darklight1824:

    doingthemost510:

    purelyawkward:

    MONEY.

    image

    Only reblogging because I’m a greedy bitch who wants money.

    image

    image

    Hey doesn’t hurt to reblog ya knoww and if money is involved….

     image

    My mom’s paycheck arrives in 4d days, THIS SHIT WORKKSS

    chinese feng shui knows about tumblr ? image

    brunetteinferno:

    OMG I didnt notice until today.I reblogged this and got 10 dollars :D

    got to pay for stuff somehow so why not. 

    forever reblog

    haha I got money today!!! 

    Show me the moneyyyy!

    image

    MONEY MONEY MONEYYYYYY!

    (Source: ickest)

     
  5. 12:22

    Notes: 627870

    Reblogged from self-loved

    itty-bitty-babe:

    diisneydreaming:

    It’s missing a few but hello childhood.

    m… my childhood 😭😭😭

    (Source: nevillles)

     
  6. 12:09

    Notes: 50881

    Reblogged from itastesounds

    fitzepic:

I think this might be my favorite picture on tumblr

I don’t know why this makes me happy

    fitzepic:

    I think this might be my favorite picture on tumblr

    I don’t know why this makes me happy

     
  7. Day 353: Well, This Sucks.

    So I spent the day in my bed listening to depressing music and sleeping. Ahh, familiarity. Yesterday my friend and I went to a deal, where we skipped out of $60. Then it turns out no one can come to my party thing today. My mom also found out that I’m back to looking for weed. I went running this morning and ran like a mile if that. I’m really slipping up my healthy eating and working out. Still haven’t gotten that interview for saint rose. 

    It seems like whenever I raise my expectations on what life is supposed to be like, it knocks me back down on my ass. Like if once I’m content with myself, and being alone, and decide to venture out and create a social life, life is all like what the hell are you doing go cry yourself to sleep. 

    That guy and I aren’t talking anymore. I’m sure he was just looking for a cheap thrill from me, so I shouldn’t be that surprised. Not even trying to be sarcastic, that’s just how it was. 

    Reading isn’t the same anymore. I don’t get my breathe taken away at the happy moments anymore, nor do I cry at the sad ones. It’s like I’m not reading for pleasure anymore, but for something to take my mind of life. 

    I just need to start over again. I may need to take a few steps back in he recovery process. Maybe I wasn’t ready for the social life part yet. I’m just going to go back to being content with myself, and let the social life come a little later on in the summer. 

    No, I don’t feel like old madison again. I’m stronger than I was then, I can feel it in my veins. But I’m still human. I still have slumps, and I still get upset. Maybe my slumps will be more frequent, or last a little longer, but I will get through them without resorting to my old coping mechanisms. 

     
  8. 18:33 27th Jun 2013

    Notes: 1

    Day 350: Part B Saturday…

    I don’t know what’s the right thing to do. Everyone says I’m so put together for my age, and maybe a large part of that is true, but sometimes I just feel so lost. 

    I was thinking about the kid I was supposed to hook up with on saturday. I try to act like I’m this girl who doesn’t fall in love and can hook up with guys like it’s nothing, but in reality, that’s just not me. I’m a hopeless romantic, as much as it pains me to admit it. I listen to love songs and think of the day that it will apply to me. I feel in love with the idea of love at a very early age, and ever since I was that little girl watching that stupid movie about cats or something falling in love, there has been nothing else I’ve wanted as badly as that. 

    I get attached way to easily. I have this horrible habit of caring for people more than they could ever care for me. That’s probably part of the reason I have depressed tendencies, because anyone other then family I’ve ever gotten close to has broken my heart. I can’t just casually hook up with a guy, because I just can’t shut off that part of me that’s gonna want more then that. That’s gonna think about him while he’ll struggle to remember my name. That’ll get jealous when I see him with other girls. 

    It physically repulses me to say that stuff, because I try so hard to have the opposite feelings. I try to protect myself by letting people think I just don’t care, and it’s gotten to the point where I’m lying to myself. I laugh at people who show they’re feelings because they look weak, but in reality, the only cowards are the ones who refuse to acknowledge the possibility that love may exist. 

    So I’m not sure if I can hook up with the guy this weekend anymore. I know he won’t look at me as anything more then a body. He has his popular friends that are gorgeous and everything that I’m not. 

    I won’t let myself think that way. I am not in any way worse or better than his popular friends. We’re so different, it’d be like comparing twilight and harry potter. 

    I just don’t know if I’m ready to put myself out there like that yet. As far as I’ve come, it was still only 2 months ago I basically tried to kill myself. Can I take a rejection like that? Can I handle getting attached to someone who doesn’t care about me? 

    I don’t know what the right thing to do is, non-existant readers. Part of me says who knows, you could be missing out on something really great. And the other part of me is scared shitless, and vulnerable. 

     
  9. Day 350: Bonfires & Memorial Services

    That bonfire in the last post, that I thought wasn’t gonna happen because nobody could come? Yeah, it happened, and 12 people showed up. MY two friends couldn’t stay over though, but they did stay until 12, which gave us plenty of drinking time. We finished two bottle of wine between the two of us, which is pretty respectable. We all got just a tad bit too slutty, considering it was a room full of girls. I hooked up with two of them. Not a lesbian, just a slutty drunk. 

    So this weekend, I’m having a few friends over. There’s gonna be alcohol again:D This time a boy, who I find really attractive is coming, and we were HARD CORE WINKY FACING IT last night. I really hope this happens this weekend. I haven’t been with a guy in so freaking long. 

    Saturday morning I have a memorial service for one of my moms best friend that passed away about two weeks ago. It’s making me think about death again. It’s such a weird thought, to think that someday, all of this will be gone. That we spend our lives desperately trying to make something of ourselves, and of our lives. Trying to somehow make ourselves alive even past our expiration date. To make it so that we matter. 

    But eventually that will all be gone. The lives we made for ourselves will all at once be forgotten. 

     
  10. I’m the kind of person who will wear bathing suit bottoms as underwear before I do a load of laundry.