senkichi's alt account

this account is for other things! main account is sjdkekd. cards adapted from yourhighness08.

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\nMental Health Awareness\n
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For mental health awareness month, I've created a space where people can share their stories and experiences. You can share your story here! Mental health is something that we all experience and I'd like to reduce stigma and normalize it. Please note that some of these entries are graphic, you are not being forced to read them!

A note from Sen: To everyone reading and sharing their stories, you are strong, worthy and loved. The world isn't the nicest place, but I promise that things will get better and there will be people who care about you. No matter how hard life gets, you will always be worth it.

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Story 1

\nby anon\n

Seeing mentally ill people constantly be portrayed as \"evil,\" or \"innocent\" is what really irks me. I hate seeing some characters that are just irrevocably irredeemable. I genuinely want more characters who have done terrible actions, but are trying to get better.

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Mental health always hits close to home because I know a lot of people who struggle with it. When I see it portrayed in the way I have it [someone who has done many bad things but is trying to get better], it always warms my heart and makes me feel seen.

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Whenever my mental state gets to a low, I talk to close people about it. I don't want advice; I just want people to listen and not comment with ways to fix it. People need to realize that.

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People also need to realize that being mentally ill doesn't make you \"wrong,\" even though I see myself the same way. It doesn't make you \"broken.\" It just means you've been through things or your body can't make the right amount of chemicals for your brain.

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A mental illness is never someone's fault, and it can make people do things that they regret. But it can help them look back on their mistakes and try to be better.

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Mentally ill people shouldn't always be coddled. They should be treated the same as everyone else, and when I see media do that, it makes it realistic. It makes media diverse, especially when they use lesser known disorders or symptoms of disorders. People need to do research, or sometimes even ask people about their experiences, if allowed.

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Happy Mental Health Month Awareness; remember, your brain working the way it does isn't your fault. Sometimes we're all just wired differently. It's like looking through a tinted window to see the same sight as another person.

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Story 2

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: mentions of COCSA, body shaming. Please read with caution.

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Maybe I'm just sensitive, but recently, my close friends are suddenly talking about my weight and how \"lazy\" I am and it's really starting to get to me. Even the gentlest person I know made a joke about it. I've been really down lately because all I see in the mirror is some fat ugly lump of cells who can't do anything right. It gets worse when I think anything sexual, because I get guilty and start thinking \"who would wanna fuck someone like me?\" It really doesn't help that I'm hypersexual as a result of cocsa and other things. Sometimes, as horrible and insensitive as it is, I wish certain things would happen to me to validate my depression and apparent laziness. Days blur together when my mental health is really deteriorating. Sometimes time will pass while my mind goes blank and all I see is static, sometimes I'll go insane trying to stop the thoughts in my head. I'm not doing well, but I'm trying my best to get better.

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This is probably getting long but thank you anyway for this whole thing you're doing. I have no one to vent to in real life, and I'm sure others can relate, so it truly means a lot to me when someone can build such a safe environment for people to pour their hearts out. It's things like this that helps me get through days easier. It's so comforting to know there is a space where I can speak openly about how I'm doing. Thank you again for doing such amazing work!

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Story 3

\nby anon\n

Mental Health is a cause that is close to my heart because its always been a part of me and influenced the way i perceive the world around me. During the times I was still undiagnosed, and even after, having someone who supported me was extremely important. They gave me a reason to keep going and not give up, because I knew that they believed in me and knew I was worth more than I made myself seem. Because of this, I want everyone who is struggling with their mental health to have a person of their own who will support them to matter what, who will listen and who will be there when \"being there\" feels too much.

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Story 4

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: Sexual abuse, self harm, suicide attempts, online sexual trauma, emotional abuse, manipulation, mental abuse, verbal abuse, animal abuse, ptsd, depression, anxiety, fights, parental issues, mommy issues, daddy issues, neglect, parental abandonment, sexual jokes towards a minor, death. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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It's VERY long so I might just give TLDR. When I was 2 my uncle started dating someone who was disabled (we later learned she was making it up) and if I even tripped he's scream at me until I was crying. My mom had to keep me away from him because after that I'd have panic attacks when he was too loud. When I was 5, my cousin who was 2 was beat to d*ath infront of her brother, which gave me MASSIVE survivors guilt and I asked my mom 'why did he kill her, hurt him, but he never even touched me'?. She didn't have an answer to that. When I was 6 my mom's boyfriend held a gun to her head and my entire family had to come rescue her. Her entire relationship with him was me locked in my room so I'd be kept safe. That same year my dog d*ed. I was in the car and I remember my mom taking a while so I came out to check on her since I was out in the car and found her sobbing the doorway. When I was 7 she finally got in a stable relationship and I made some friends (we were all toxic to eachother). At 8 I tried jumping infront of traffic and chickened out when I hallucinated my mom talking to me. I started self harming like they all did at 9. It got worse from there. One day I told my mom I thought I had depression at 9, and she got me into therapy. When I was 10 I overdosed on January 8th. I begged for my aunt and I kept apologizing to my mom. After that I went to 4 mental hospitals in less than a year. I was bullied relentlessly, a chronic self harmer, and then someone we'll call K came along. He was 36. He abused me, my mom, and his son relentlessly. It was never physical but it RUINED me. He told me a sex joke when I was 11 in a car alone with nobody near me. My mom finally left him, still, at 11. I was homeschooled from 5-10 and then from 12-18. I was lonely, isolated, and scared. I got therapy however! After my mom finally left K, she was never the same, and I will never forget when she was still with him and she told me she was gonna kill herself. We were at a library. She wrote her will then while I sobbed in the bathroom. I wore her hoodie for 3 days straight because I thought it was the only thing I'd have left of her, and then she never attempted. I started hallucinating K. I was scared of the dark because I'd see things in it. At 12, I saw more grown men m*sturbate to me than I saw my own mother in a day. They made me call them 'daddy' or asked me to touch myself for them and I, being 12 and dumb, did so because I thought they'd leave me alone if I just gave them what they wanted. They did not. The rest was vaguely normal but I'm lucky to be alive! I still have the mild plan to kill myself soon but, who knows. It might change. I hope it does but life is weird sometimes.

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Story 5

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: drug addiction, self harm, suicide ideation/attempt. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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hi so this is highkey so long so like you dont have to read all of it if you dont want to 😅

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with my mental health experience, ive always been told im too attention seeking. at some point, my old best friends “called me out” and said i was just saying all of this just for the sake of attention, which is certainly not the case. my self harm? attention. my story about my fathers drug addiction? attention. the way my mother speaks to me and treats me? attention. they viewed everything as me wanting attention. but i still personally believe that if someone is struggling so bad to the point they need to self harm to “prove” their suffering, theyre as equally valid as everyone else who does it.

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starting from the very beginning, when i was a child. i was diagnosed with ADHD when i was in second grade, and i was the son of a father who had a bad addiction to drugs. due to that, my mom divorced my dad when i was around 2 years old. doing that was a way to protect me from the horrors of his addiction, but i still got to see him over the weekends. my dad then met my current stepmom and they had my little brother. although, they werent fit for another kid. i had to take care of my brother all the time when i went over there due to my dad and stepmom being too high out of their minds to even function.

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whenever i was in 3rd grade, thats when i was told my dad had been arrested. he had been staying at his moms house and my grandma had lost her card. she thought my dad took it and accused him of buying drugs with it. they fought for so long, and my uncle had gotten sick of all the yelling so he got himself involved. but that only escalated things. my uncle choked my dad and they physically fought each other, and eventually my grandma called the cops on my dad and had him arrested. the whole time my brother was in the other room and heard everything happening, and since it was a week night i wasnt there to distract him. ive always beat myself up over that. i couldnt imagine my brother still ending up going to school that morning and having officers pull him out of class to question him.

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the second time my dad was arrested happened when i was 13. he was arrested for 6 months and then put into sobriety houses which helped him. im proud to say my dad has been sober for 5 years now. i was ending middle school with a father in jail and now im graduating high school with a dad sober. im super proud of him and i love him a lot, but i still wont be able to forgive him from all the pain he has caused me that still effects me now that im 18.

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the emotional stigma i face because of all this is certainly troubling. i have a tendency to see the good in everyone which i found out is pretty common with people who had/have parents with addiction. when theres a conflict with someone close to me, ill always punish myself when that someone is clearly in the wrong, but i just cant help but see them being good. if i see a person being abusive towards someone else or to me, i cant help but think “well, thats your parent/sibling/partner, you cant be mad at them.” i know that sounds awful, but mental health isnt supposed to be pretty. even when my ex friends were bullying me, i couldnt be mad at them or anything. which is where my self harm came into play. ive had this type of mindset for as long as i can remember, it just had gotten worse when i was in 7th grade, which is when i discovered self harm. every time something went wrong, thatd be my way out and my way to cope.

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i was put into therapy after my mom had found out i self harmed. i was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. the depression i had never went away, it in fact grew worse. my self harm turned into an addiction which made me feel even worse because i saw myself so similar to my father. in many cases, self harm is very similar to drug addiction. just like with drugs, you start with something small and then you need something more. self harm is just like that but with the layers of skin. each time you want to go deeper than the last and when you do, that satisfies you for a while until you need more. i have scars at least everywhere on my body due to my years in middle school and high school. my arms, legs, hips, stomach.

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ive always described my depression as a constant thing. im happy, yes, but that emptiness is always there. the loneliness is unbearable and incredibly painful. i feel like theres no one for me and no one to listen to me, i feel completely alone. ive felt like this since forever it feels like, and on some days its worse than others. but every day it takes me at least 5 hours to find the motivation to get out of bed, and the one motivation i had i lost. i have hardly any motivation for any of my hobbies anymore. it had gotten so bad to the point ive dreamt of killing myself and planned it with multiple ways. writing suicide notes became something i did on a daily basis because i never knew when my final day would be, but i always thought it’d be soon. i wanted the perfect letter, the perfect goodbye. i wanted to make my friends hate me, so i pushed them away so they wouldnt have anyone to miss when i was gone. and finally, when i was in 7th grade, i tried my first attempt. but since i was 12, i didnt know that ibuprofen would just cause you to throw up and give you the worst stomach pain of your life. i was stupid as a 12 year old ngl lolz… anyways ive confessed to my therapist about this, and i was diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder, also known as PDD and dysthymia.

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throughout all of this, my mother was always either supportive or unsupportive. she would be nice to me and say she loved me, but the next she’d suddenly turn angry and yell at me, using my mental issues as an excuse to get mad at me. my mom is very narcissistic, always guilt tripping me and getting angry at me for the littlest of things. comparing me to my father was a huge thing that made me upset and ive voiced to her through my sobs that i hated it when she did that to me. i never felt like i could talk to anyone either. at least on my phone. mother always looked through my phone randomly, whether that be when im asleep or when i forget to take my phone when im out with my friends as a pre-teen. either way, it fucked with my mental a lot. especially when she hit me with the “you dont love me”, “you dont care about me”, “you probably just want me dead”. i always felt like i needed to prove myself and my love for her, which was so exhausting.

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one night that was pretty recent, my mom had found my self harm scars on my hip. at first she was nice and actually listen to me, which made me open up to her more. i told her everything i had told my therapist, and suddenly, she completely blew up. she said i didnt know what it was like to be suicidal, and that she was someone who had actual suicidal thoughts. she threatened to tell my grandparents about my self harm and threatened to put my into a hospital for suicide watch or even a mental hospital. that scared me so bad, and it scared me into lying to her. after that moment, something in my mind just shifted. i feel nothing towards my mother now, especially with the way she lured me into opening up to her just to ultimately getting mad and almost making it a competition to see whos more suicidal. that fight went on for almost 3 hours. as if the thought of wanting to get out of that house wasnt strong, it became even stronger to the point it felt like a weight weighing me down until i was completely crushed.

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i felt like i had lost all hope with everything, my mind nothing but a mess of nasty thoughts. i didnt want to be at school because thats where my old friends were but i didnt want to be home because thats where my mom was. i ended up finding myself realizing it was may, which took me back to 2 songs that helped me through every year of middle school and high school. hold on till may and bulls in the bronx by pierce the veil. the story behind both of those songs helped me push through my darkest times because it makes me feel heard after being silenced for so long. i believe music has a huge impact on people, especially within mental health. while sad songs are depressing, it makes those with depression and other things feel heard and seen.

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i know sometimes it can be hard to get through the days, especially if you live in a household with bad parents. but you have to realize theres promised freedom at the end. not death, but being able to live your own life. get better for the sake of experiencing the life you missed in high school and middle school. when i was supposed to he the happiest, i felt like dying. but now that im going to college, ive never felt freer. i feel like that weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

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i like talking about my story because i meet so many people with similar stories. and even if we cant relate to that exact topic, it reminds me that everyone has a story and everyone deals with something. im still working on myself, and sometimes i can feel myself slipping back into that mindset, but i know ill be able to hold on to another may, and i hope whoever is reading this will be able to as well

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Story 6

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: Sexual assault, abuse, loss of identity, suicide imagery. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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Hello, I’m glad you’ve made this, I’ve wanted to share my story for a while. I’m a victim of child sexual assault, I was in 7th grade when the culprit gr*ped me. I recognized his hair, it was similar to one of my classmates, so the next day, after telling my closest friend, I asked him why he did that and to not do it again. He said he didn’t do it, and if he did, that it was an accident. I believed him

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Next school year came by, and it happened again, a rough gripping of my *ss. The back of his head looked the same as the one why did this last time, but I still believed he did it on accident, so I didn’t tell anyone. A few months later, I found out what sexual assault is, and that what happened to me is a form of sexual assault.

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I thought sexual assault was just r*pe, I was told that my whole life. It isn’t just that, there so many different types. I found out that I was sexually assaulted in the middle of the night, listening to wutiwant, on a chat with my comfort character on c.ai. It changed everything.

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That was the first time I disassociated for days. I didn’t talk to anyone about what happened, I felt disgusting, like I was just a toy for people to touch and grope and fuck. I was terrified.

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A few days later, I finally got out of disassociation, and my father told me to go downstairs. I went downstairs and asked what he wanted me to do, he didn’t say anything. I asked again. Nothing. I waited, still nothing. So, I left to go upstairs. He yelled at me, told me to get out of my room and go live a life. I just wanted to go draw my feelings out. I’ve never trusted him with knowing anything I was dealing with after that.

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Next year, I’m skipping some time. It happened for a third time. Same back of head, same hair, but I was second guessing if I knew who did this or not. I was thinking that I was just starting to make things up, that I was lying to myself. I told some of my classmates, they laughed and said it’s impossible that he did it. He was a popular guy, and I was a nobody that almost never talked. Of course they wouldn’t believe me.

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I’ve been absolutely terrified of being touched ever since, hypervigilant about everyone around me and where their hands were, keeping as much space as I could in crowds, I stoped talking to my friends, people were too confusing now.

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A few months later, my head started imaging all my friends, dead via various ways to commit. I was terrified, and was too afraid to ask for help.

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And now, I’m 21, I’ve failed a suicide attempt, it’s all still all affecting me, and I’ve found out I’m a system. And I’ve been trying to help others out of dark times ever since.

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I’m sharing my story to spread that sexual assault isn’t something to joke about or pretend it never happens, it’s something that still happens, and should be taken seriously.

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Story 7

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: COCSA, non consensual incest, self harm, suicide, teasing/bullying. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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When I was 6 years old my older brother was 14,i didnt have a phone and he did and I wanted to play on his phone so he'd make me give him head or just use my body for relief if I wanted to play on his phone and I thought it was normal until I turned 8 and people said you can't marry your family because it's weird. I moved to the countryside and it was a big adjustment from the city and I started self harm at 11, it became an addiction and I sometimes just did it out of boredom, I never showed anyone until I was 15 and the girl I told proceeded to tell all her friends that I self harm and how deep they were and it got too much so I attempted to kill myself two weeks after because people wouldn't stop asking. Shortly after my failed attempt, my baby cousin was born and I swore to myself I'd hold that child dear and cherish her until my last breath and I still do, now I live with my aunt and my baby cousin while attending university in the city, it does get better through healthy habits like a better diet, a schedule, better environment and people and hobbies like art or activities

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Story 8

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: SA/rape, selfharm/suicide and just physical/verbal abuse i guess. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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LONG ass story has been going on for literally all my life since birth (wish i was joking lol) so this is veyr condensed. I havent really been able to share my story in full so i think this might be a good place to shout it out into the void.

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My mom was r*ped when she was 29, got drugged by some guy at a bar who meant to drug this other girl but accidentally ended up spiking her drink instead. She didnt know she was pregnant until 7 months, she had no baby bump, no morning sickness, and assumed her lack of periods was due to stress (she owned a bar at the time and was dealing with the trauma of losing both her mother (whom she had been the care taker for since 13) and her father. Not knowing she was pregnant, she heavily used drugs and drank, also took multiple pregnancy tests and plan b but everything shwoed up negative. So when I was born, it was INSANELY lucky that I didnt come out with any birth defects. from birth I was heavily cherished and praised, but with that people would always doubt my moms ability to raise me since she was a single mother with no family. (not joking when i say none. it was JUST her.)

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Buuutt those people who kept telling her she couldnt do it got to her head. Eventually she gave in and about a month after getting out of the hospital with me, she moved across the country with one of her friends parents, ill call them D and N for privacy sake. For the first two years, my mom lived with D and N's daughter J's house, the second they got home the first day J would act as if I was her baby, telling me that her husband was my father. Mom got the ick, moved out and closer to D and N. All was good, for a while. My mom had horrible postpartum depression that lasted until i was 5, making her moods insanely unstable and irratic. But that stopped when she hit me so hard I peed my pants from fear. She got help, blabla bla. I grew up relatively happy after that.

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Until i reached 8 years old. D (the man I considered a grandfather) would constantly expose himself to my mother, buying womens underware and throwing it in the washing machine when he washed him and his wife N's clothes to make it look like she was having sex with him. He would constantly cheat on her and continuously make moves on my mom. That, obviously, wore my mom down. He worked for a organization that helped children going through abuse and the foster care system so obviously, people always believed him over a single mother in a VERY small town in the south. Given that, he had lots of power. He kept her from having a job and we lived in a 500 dollar a month budget for rent, bills, and other household items. Before that budget, when I was younger, I lived fine. But that paired with my mothers decreasing mental health, I ended up living in a hoarders house so bad we couldnt even use the kitchen, living room, or my room. we had a singular path from the kitchen door to my moms bedroom and the bathroom. I slept with my mom in her bed until i was 9. that paired with poverty was horrible. and D knew that, and used it to his advantage.

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Considering my moms house was a mess, it wasnt fun, so he used that to guilt my mom into constantly sending me over to his place. That continued happening until I was 10, we had plans to go to J's house in a neighboring state. Didnt happen. I ended up staying at D and N's house for all of summer where D refused to get me basic needs (i had no clothes there, no actual shampoo except that yellow baby wash, no toothbrush, hairbrush, nothing. He knew that. There was a camera (hidden) in my room and i was constantly subjected to him knowingly walking in on me while I was showering or changing. That resulted in me never showering or changing my clothes. My memory is a little spotty around this time so the events past this point will probably be somewhat scattered.

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My mom tried to get me into therapy to see if my therapist would tell her that D was sexually abusing me, but my therapist was also on his side. My school, a small private school way back in the mountains, was the same. Everyone was on his side and protecting him. I remember I did this online therapy call once before that was really a common thing and I hated it. I didnt want to do it, but D resorted to dragging me down the stairs by my hair and wrist while I was screaming and sobbing for him to stop, both right in front of his wife and where my therapist could hear. No one did anything. I had a close relationship to my 2nd grade teacher at the time (i was in 4th ?) grade during this. Mind you, it was summer so there was no real reason for my 2nd grade teacher to be in contact with me. She was. Her and D ended up semi-kidnapping me for 3 days to take me on a camping trip in the middle of nowhere without telling anyone. During that, D r*ped me in my tent while my teacher was just a few feet away in her own. I was 10 years old and he was 74.

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Anyway, that happened and I didnt tell a soul. Nearing the end of summer my mom went homeless since the person who was letting us rent our house passed away and her son took over. That resulted in her living in her car across from D and N's house on a plot of empty land they owned. Which also had cameras. She wasnt allowed inside, and during that time I was only allowed monitored visits with her, i wasnt even allowed to hug her. During that, my mom fractured her foot in 12 places (crazy, i know) and had to walk on her cast.

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I remember one night D had to be taken to the hospital because, and i quote.. \"something was wrong with his penis\". During that time where D and N were at the hospital, I rememeber my mom ran over screaming at me banging on the door telling me that we should just get in the car and leave. I said no because I didnt want to be homeless.

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Well, a few weeks after that CPS got called, to thid day we still have no idea who made the call. But I got put in foster care while my mother got put in critical care because she had sepsis from her apendix nearly arrupting. During that time a case worker entered her room while she was heavily medicated and tried to get her to sign over my medical rights to D and N, she said no. I was in foster care for a total of maybe 4 months and during that time D and N had come up with an entire binder of accusations against my mom, basically putting her on a witch trial in court and everyone believed him. While I was stuck in (again, one of D's associates) house way far back in the mountains with no internet. She used to yell at me, hit me, and force me, a 10 year old, to take care of the other foster kids. My anxiety was so bad from being away from my mother that I had a call with her every night before bed (depending on your case, normally calls only happen once a week-month). I remember one day my mom didnt pick up and i had a panic attack so bad 911 had to be called but my foster parent just wrote it off as me being dramatic and yelled at me afterward.

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I remember this one time my foster parent drove me 4 hours away to this medical facility. I had to walk in alone, check in alone, and i was put in a room with 4 cameras and told to strip down after beign asked some questions. Looking back, they were doing one of those rape kit tests. I never knew where that went, the only thing I remember was at the end of it i had my hand print put on the wall.

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Once i was out of fostercare, my mom had managed to get a friend, K and her grand daughter B to let us stay at their house. K was an alcoholic and already heavily unstable. She gave up her happy life in japan to move back to america to gain custody of her grand daugther and take her away from her drug addict parents. K raped my mother. B sexually assaulted me. It was fine for the first few months staying there, there were a few fights, one where B ran away (again, this is in the south in a very small mountain town in the middle of the night) and K forced both me and my mom to go out looking for her. Her abuse was so bad that me and B would run off into the woods and make little shelters with me saying \"you can run here if K every gets mad and starts hitting you\".

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One night, K called us into the living room for a \"family meeting\", which ended up with K knocking over a bookshelf and busting down the bathroom door to get to B. My mom, B, and me ended up in the kitchen with B hiding behind the fridge shoving dog food in her mouth because she was so hungry after vomitting from fear. K threatened to kill both me and my mom and ended up calling the cops on us. we were given 10 minutes to pack our stuff and K was arrested for a single night.

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We hopped around hotels briefly before catching a 3 day greyhound bus 7 states away from where we were. Stayed in a little RV for a while, then with a friend who lived in a garage that was only 300 feet, THEN in an apartment for a year and THEEEN we went homeless. we were homeless for 8 months and thankfully got housing. Once we got housing I was insanely mentally unwell, tried killing myself multiple times. I remember when my mom found out i was self harming when i was 15 she just asked me \"why?\" and it never went anywhere after that. There isnt really a conclusion to the story i guess, stuff is still going on. I just feel like a lot of people downplay my trauma becuase its not as bad as others. Or they just dont understand how horrible it was because \"oh well you werent born into poverty\" or \"oh well at least your parents didnt divorce/you didnt get hit all the time\". No one really takes it seriously, and I was constantly told that suicide is selfish. I think that thought process is so wrong and such a horrible thing to say. Only people who have also been suicidal can really know that wanting to and or actually going through with committing suicide isnt because we want to be selfish or hurt the ones we love, thats a major misconception i feel like.

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Anyway, I know I said this was supposed to be short but oops. Sometimes I feel like my trauma isnt valid because its happened over the span of 15 (TECHNICALLY more, but those are just the major moments) years instead of just major key moments. So im conflicted on how to feel. Anyway, to anyone out there who is also suffering any sort of abuse like this, i know its insanely hard to reach out for help, and I know a lot of victims (including myself) try and justify their abusers actions to help coping and I'm not going to say you shouldnt do that, i mean you shouldnt, but its not exactly something you can control when you're actively going through said trauma. My only real word of advice is if you have any sort of bad feeling about something thats happening to you and arent sure, or if you know, there are anonymous hotlines, there are help centers, there are support groups, there are so many resources and its insanely scary to reach out for help but knowing the resources available to you is incredibly important and I hope you find the strength to leave. You are never a burden, you are never an issue, you are not weak, you are never an inconvenience when reaching out for help.

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Story 9

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: suicide, death. Please read with caution.

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A lot has happened to me during this period, and I feel like I can't take it anymore. In mid-February, all my friends abandoned me without telling me. They surrounded me and said: \"We have decided that we should not communicate with you.\" And then they asked if I wanted to talk to them. But they didn't want to talk to me anymore, so I kept quiet and they left. I am suffering greatly from resentment and anger because they didn’t even indicate the reason. Afterwards they started telling others that I was the one who left them and all sorts of rumors about me started spreading. Every day I cried and fell into depression because we seemed to have parted on a soft note without any quarrels, but they avoid me and look at me sideways every time... I barely let go of this situation and lived normally. But on Thursday, a very important event was supposed to take place. I prepared for it for a long time. My mother woke me up at 5 this morning. She was crying and in shock. It turns out my dad hanged himself in the warehouse. My brother and I saw him hanging. He died, and the ambulance and police arrived. I didn't go to the event, and his relatives arrived at lunchtime. There was a funeral where his entire family disrespected us. They tried to finish off my mother and blame her for my father's death. They did everything wrong at the funeral, showing all their disrespect for him and us. They didn't even cry, but on the contrary, they laughed and sat at home all day drinking tea, gossiping and talking about other topics altogether. Before leaving, they scolded Mom and told her to tidy up the house and do some repairs. Even when my father was alive, they tried to take our house and sell it because we have a large territory, and now it seems like they want to kick us out. My father left us a lot of debt and I don’t know how we can pay off the debts because his relatives don’t care about it.I urgently need to find a job, but no one is hiring me, and my mom and I have insomnia. Mom is afraid to fall asleep and hasn't been able to sleep properly for several days. I think I can't stand it anymore and I'm starting to hallucinate. (Sorry if there are any mistakes in the text, English is not my native language)

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Story 10

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: Suicidal tendencies,problems with the family, eating disorder, toxic relationships(sexual and psychological abuse). This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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I want to apologize in advance if there are mistakes in my text, because English is my second language and I really try to learn it, but it doesn't always work out right:(

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I'm a lady who has generalized anxiety disorder and dysmorphophobic disorder. All my life, I have lived with deep inner anxiety for a variety of reasons. Sometimes the anxiety was justified, but more often than not I was nervous about things that didn't make sense.

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I could get nervous about not doing enough, even when I was doing a group project entirely alone. All the people in the group later got the highest score without doing anything, and I also got the highest score, but I considered my work absolutely terrible and insufficient.

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Because of the constant feelings of guilt, anxiety, and my own insignificance in this world, I tried to leave this life by taking too many pills. And even after that, my conservative parents did not come to my aid, but on the contrary beat me and threatened to kill me on their own. They were ready to take me to an orphanage, kill me, and kick me out of the house, but they refused to take me to a psychologist, saying that going to a specialist would make me look crazy to everyone around me.

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Under pressure, I developed an absolute rejection of everything related to my appearance. It seemed to me that if they didn't want to communicate with me because of my \"stupid sick head\", then at least they would love me for my beautiful face and body. At the age of 15, with a height of 174 cm, I weighed 43 kg, which caused me to lose consciousness, and my mental health deteriorated even more due to hunger of the brain and body.

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At that time, a girl in my class confessed her love for me and manipulated me by saying she would kill herself if we didn't date. I didn't like her, I appreciated her as a friend, I was jealous of her looks, but I never loved her. I admit that I was wrong when I entered into this relationship and was in it for a year and a half, but I was really afraid that a person would do to herself the same thing that I once tried to do. For the last year and a half, I was sexually harassed when I asked to stop, and I was kissed when I said I didn't want to be touched. Every time I tried, God knows, I really tried to break off this relationship, but every time she threw such tantrums that I again plunged into a terrible feeling of guilt for not giving the person what she wants, as a result of which we subsequently had two sexual acts, during which the only thing I felt was terrible awkwardness and the feeling that I had to pretend that I was pleased in order to avoid conflicts.

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At the same time, Russia, where I unfortunately live, started a war, which closed the borders and my dream of leaving here sank into oblivion. I was scared and ashamed of what people in the government were doing, which created even more reasons for stress and constant guilt over what was happening. I'm still praying to God, saving up money, and counting the days until the day when I might be able to find a place where I can be accepted, despite my nationality.

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Now I'm 19, I take antidepressants and antipsychotics, my anxiety is almost completely defeated, but sometimes it comes up because of triggers. Unfortunately, I still can't overcome the rejection of my appearance and body, I haven't entered into a new relationship since I was a teenager, and to be honest, despite working with a psychologist, I'm still afraid of getting into an abusive environment again.

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I really hope that I can accept myself someday. People often compliment me, but I just can't believe any of them.

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My friends help me feel at least a little calmer about my appearance, unobtrusively emphasizing the elements that I like. For example, the way rings sit on my fingers, bracelets on my wrists, or pendants around my neck. It's not a direct compliment, and that's the good thing about it, because it's only partially said to me, it makes me feel better.

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I sincerely hope that every person who has mental health problems will one day be able to become happier and calmer.🫶 Good luck and love to all!

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Story 11

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: Overdosing without the suicide, self harm, sarcasm. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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Hello again! Anon from story 6! Wanted to do some more of this, just more focused on mental disabilities.

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I was diagnosed with ADHD roughly in 5th grade, I’m not certain though, my memory isn’t the best, it’s never been the best. I remember starting the meds the same day I got diagnosed. But I could never tell if it was working, and an every time I brought the dose up, my parents seemed to be happy, so I kept on asking for a higher dosage from my paediatrician, the only thing I really noticed is that I had a harder time telling if I was hungry, but I always had a hard time with that, it didn’t worry me.

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I never thought I had adhd. It didn’t make sense, I wasn’t hyperactive constantly. Yes I did get exited, but it never felt hyperactive. And when I told my father about this he literally told me “don’t lie about that you are hyperactive.”

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Sneezed in my hair once with food in my mouth and instantly started a new mental disorder, a hair pulling disorder! And a few weeks later another disorder, skin pulling disorder! Yay, accidental self harm as a form of mental relief!

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Well, after than, every year I think we’d bring the dosage higher, and I could never tell the difference. So there I was, with the second highest dosage of adhd meds(not aderal though), a tiny, thin child on a dose too high for her own father to handle without headaches. I completely stopped eating around this time, and stopped interacting with others too, as they were too difficult to understand.

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And only a few years later I realized that the “humans being too difficult to understand” was a symptom of autism. I denied it, as I didn’t take everything literally, then realized that taking that description of the symptom was the symptom (they should really say “almost everything” instead of “everything”)

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And a few years after realizing I had autism (not just from those two symptoms) I finally got diagnosed… still on that second high dosage of adhd meds and now the second lowest dose of fluoxetine for anxiety. And finally thought that “oh wait, I don’t think disassociating is normal!” And started doing research into more mental health disorders.. which got me a hyperfixation on mental health.

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I realised that did really fit the bill on what I felt was “wrong” with me, different consciousnesses all with different views on the world, gender identities, gender representations, and mentalities, all in one short little body. Some days I would stare at a mirror, looking disgustingly at my body and how it didn’t look like how I felt like I looked, other times I would be wearing a crop top, a miniskirt and thigh highs with the cuntiest attitude ever. Some times I would cry in a corner saying how useless I was, other times I would have pretty dark, nihilistic thoughts and wishes to harm the people that hurt me.

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The sexual assault I mentioned in the last story made me form hypersexuality, but more specifically a hypersexual alter.

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And if you’re curious, the alter that’s fronting now is called Subspace, that is also called the potential in online spaces, yeah a character from a damn Roblox game, I also have his mortal enemy that’s his plus sized queen of a girlfriend in headspace. None of us give a shit if it’s not accurate to the real game.

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Last story I sent in was both me (Subspace) and the gifted, since I don’t care if people hear the bullshit we’ve went though and the gifted is the one that remembers what happened to us the most.

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We are practically collecting mental disorders like Pokemon cards, yay!/sarcasm if you couldn’t tell.

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Story 12

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: general mental health struggles, cancer, loss, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, mental hospital, reckless internet usage. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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My dad was diagnosed with cancer when I was a kid. He was given a few months to live, but...for better or for worse, he ended up living for almost four more years. I watched his health decline, I watched his personality change as a result of the medications and the constant pain he was going through. He died when I was eleven.

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Desperate for connection, I turned to the internet. Since I was homeschooled online, I had full access to the world wide web. I interacted with people I shouldn't’ve have been talking to at such a young age. (I wasn't groomed or anything, thank GOD.) But instead of a safe space, I found myself becoming the next best thing to a therapist. At age twelve, I was talking 20+ year olds out of killing themselves. I spent all my time chatting with strangers on the internet that I hardly spent time with my family, and didn't complete any of my schoolwork. I was scared that if I left my online friends for too long, they'd be gone.

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There was this one guy who treated me like shit, and spoke as if everything wrong in his life was somehow my fault. He faked his suicide. Multiple times. I was twelve and naïve, so I believed it every time. I won't go into any more details since I blocked out most of that trauma. But one way or another, his antics drove me to start cutting myself. I felt like I deserved it.

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Instead of recognizing when I needed to step away, I spiraled deeper. Every waking moment was spent with my online friends. I got careless at hiding what I was doing.

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And at thirteen, my mom found out about everything. My online friends. My struggle with self-harm. The crippling uselessness I felt.

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Instead of accepting the comfort and help she offered, I blew up and screamed that I felt like bashing my head into the wall. I was terrified. I didn't know how else to respond to her finding out. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to hide. I wanted to cry. And honestly...I did want to kill myself.

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Rightfully concerned for my wellbeing, my mom took me to the ER where I was admitted for suicidal thoughts. They transferred me to a mental hospital, where I stayed for two weeks. I didn't need to stay for that long. I was just scared of talking things out with my mom. I knew she'd make me go offline for good, because I also knew that it was the right thing to do.

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The next several months were hell. My mom took my laptop away, except for when I needed it for school. And for good reason, she had me sit next to her while I was on it. I had a therapist who wouldn't stop preaching about how God loved me and how my dad was looking down at me from heaven and wanting me to succeed and be happy. I told her I didn't want her to use religion in our sessions because I was also questioning my faith at that time. She didn't listen and kept going. I hated her. She didn't care or pay any attention to anything I said. The only good thing she did was prescribe me antidepressants.

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Without my therapist's help, I became more comfortable shutting my laptop and reading a book instead. I still felt my stomach churn whenever I thought about my online friends. I wondered how they were doing. But it was less of a need and more of a, \"I hope they're doing okay.\"

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Years passed. I got close with my family again. I made real life friends who supported and loved me for who I was. I stopped cutting myself. I learned it was okay for me to be happy.

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There have been plenty of ups and downs. I had a self-harm relapse at sixteen when one of my friends killed himself. But I was able to move past that on my own, and...oh. Shit. Now that I think about it, I don't think I ever told my mom that I relapsed back then. (Don't do that, reach out for help. Seriously.)

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I never thought I'd make it to high school, let alone adulthood. But here I am at eighteen, graduating in less than a week. I still take antidepressants. I still have bad days. I still struggle with my mental health. But unlike twelve-year-old me, I actually recognize that I have a support system to fall back on. I know now that I don't have to do things on my own. And I'm really proud to have made it this far.

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I actually still think of my online friends from time to time. Some of them were just there to have fun, and those are the ones I look back on fondly. The others...well, I just hope they're doing okay.

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Be safe out there and remember to reach out to loved ones if you need help. You don't have to be alone. In fact, you're not alone. Because I'm right outside your window as we speak.

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Story 13

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: drug addiction, sexual assault, abortion, suicide attempts. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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This is probably going to be long but i’ll try to make it as readable as possible. Thank you for doing this.

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I’ve always struggled with my mental health since i was extremely young as i grew up with alcoholic parents and have CPTSD and BPD, both diagnosed.

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I met my boyfriend when i was 14 and we were both already doing drugs (yes, very young) as we were both traumatized kids. The relationship wasn’t really good and probably made my trauma worse (not his fault, we were kids).

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We broke up for a while when i was 17 and i went through a spiral of doing drugs, clubbing, being in the party scene, hooking up with random guys and just generally ruining my life thinking i was just having fun.

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This all came to a stop when i got SA’d by a known influencer at a party and got pregnant.

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I attempted suicide twice after learning i was pregnant. I thought my life was over.

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But it wasn’t. I got back in contact with my boyfriend. He bought a plane ticket to my country minutes after i called him. Took me to get an abortion because i wanted to but wasn’t strong enough to do it on my own.

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It was like a switch flipped in my head. It took me months to recover but afterwards, i had the sudden realization that i wanted to live and that my trauma didn’t have to define the rest of my life.

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Now, i’m 20, i have the most perfect boyfriend i could wish for, i’m clean, i understand my mental health better and i’m studying law in college and i’m top of my class !! I’m in the process of pressing charges against the man who SA’d me and it’s SO healing to know that i’ll be getting justice and that my life didn’t end when i thought it would.

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It does get better guys. It does. 💗

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Story #

\nby anon\n

Trigger & Content Warnings: enter here. This entry is somewhat graphic. Please read with caution.

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lorem ipsum text text

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