I was dating this guy from October of 2015 to November 2016. With all the shit in my life, he was the most beautiful distraction I could've gotten. He gave me the best year of my life! He was the best thing that has ever happened to me...until he was the worse.
Around eight-nine months in, he got really abusive. Our relationship was falling apart but I was way too scared to admit it so I let it go on way too long.
Finally, we both came to realization that it was over and was not going to get any better. He drove me home one last time from school and we both broke down crying. I watched him drive away and I just collapsed. I finally got myself into my house and screamed, and I mean really screamed. It was gone, my happiness. My love was gone. I felt so scared and devastated. I was completely alone. Finally after hours of crying, I had no choice but to just lay there, feeling numb. Completely numb. I felt dead, I even convinced myself that I wasn't human. Because it was just so inhumane to feel this kind of sadness. I honestly feel like a break up can sometimes be harder than a death. Because when someone dies, they don't have a choice, they don't mean to hurt you. But in a break up, and mine especially, he definitely meant to hurt me. He was so incredibly mean to me after the break up. He called me horrible things and made up horrible rumors. The sadness I felt was so intense. I thought I was going to die from it. And yes, I know, I sound so dramatic, but it's what I felt. There is no exaggeration to this description of tragedy that I went through. This pain lasted 5 months on full power. To this day, I think about him and I miss him. I wish things never ended. I have a new boyfriend now, but I still can't help but to try and turn this boyfriend into my first love.
Monday, June 5, 2017
The Past to Present
As a child, I was never really considered the "happiest" of the bunch. I have five other siblings, they are absolutely beautiful and I adore each and everyone of them. But, we only have two parents and it was hard for them to give each and everyone of us attention. This is my theory on why I am the "way I am".
I knew I was "different" around third grade, which is a very young age to even know what real sadness is. Around fourth grade is when I started realizing my weight. I was in fourth. grade. This breaks my heart repeatedly. I never have had a problem with my weight, I have always been a healthy, thin girl. But I didn't know that, I actually wanted to be like the anorexic girls I saw on YouTube and T.V.. Little did I know that my "wish" would come true, and that I would feel things I never thought would be possible.
So, fourth grade started my weight obsession. Fifth grade is when I first thought about dying. I told my friends I wanted to die, I talked to my counselors at school about dying and my mom was called. Of course, she passed it off as a phase.This is extremely reasonable to think though, sadly, it was no phase. I felt so lost at such a young age. I had friends, my grades were good, I didn't know why I was so sad. But I know now, it has nothing to do with my physical life, and everything to do with my mentality. I was sick, born sick, still sick, dear God, please don't let me always be this way.
Sixth grade, twelve years old. I used a small kitchen knife and cute my skin. It didn't even hurt, it felt normal. I wanted to die so badly, I was so afraid of everything in my life. I went through my hallway closet and found chemicals. I mixed these chemicals together and drank it! Unfortunately (fortunately?), they had no effect.
Seventh grade only got worse, I lost most of my friends and experienced minor bullying. Self-harm got way out of hand and I was cutting nearly every inch on my body. Finally, in April of that year, my parents sent me to a mental hospital called Laurelwood. My stay there can be documented as the worst week of my life. My parents had no other choice though, they were afraid that they couldn't keep me safe so they sent me where I could be monitored twenty-four/seven. There, I learned how to puke. A anorexic who was a year older than me, so fourteen at the time, taught me all of her methods, tricks, and ways on how to throw up. Together, we would skip and limit meals. After our meals, we sneaked salt packets back up into the room we shared and mixed them with a cup of water. This was one of the many ways to throw up. After my stay at the hospital, I tried to look okay so that I never had to go back.
Eighth grade. This was the year that things once again got out of hand, this may be explained in future blog posts. But, my parents ended up sending me to live with my aunt and uncle in another state for the summer. This was very scary for me and once again had to try to seem okay.
Ninth grade. I was older now. I knew other ways to try and hurt myself and tried them all. I got sent home many times for cutting in the school bathroom. October of that year, I got my first real boyfriend and fell in love.
Tenth grade. The boy broke my heart, the boy broke my world.
You're all caught up now. Ladies and gentlemen, this has been sadness in a nutshell 😏.
I knew I was "different" around third grade, which is a very young age to even know what real sadness is. Around fourth grade is when I started realizing my weight. I was in fourth. grade. This breaks my heart repeatedly. I never have had a problem with my weight, I have always been a healthy, thin girl. But I didn't know that, I actually wanted to be like the anorexic girls I saw on YouTube and T.V.. Little did I know that my "wish" would come true, and that I would feel things I never thought would be possible.
So, fourth grade started my weight obsession. Fifth grade is when I first thought about dying. I told my friends I wanted to die, I talked to my counselors at school about dying and my mom was called. Of course, she passed it off as a phase.This is extremely reasonable to think though, sadly, it was no phase. I felt so lost at such a young age. I had friends, my grades were good, I didn't know why I was so sad. But I know now, it has nothing to do with my physical life, and everything to do with my mentality. I was sick, born sick, still sick, dear God, please don't let me always be this way.
Sixth grade, twelve years old. I used a small kitchen knife and cute my skin. It didn't even hurt, it felt normal. I wanted to die so badly, I was so afraid of everything in my life. I went through my hallway closet and found chemicals. I mixed these chemicals together and drank it! Unfortunately (fortunately?), they had no effect.
Seventh grade only got worse, I lost most of my friends and experienced minor bullying. Self-harm got way out of hand and I was cutting nearly every inch on my body. Finally, in April of that year, my parents sent me to a mental hospital called Laurelwood. My stay there can be documented as the worst week of my life. My parents had no other choice though, they were afraid that they couldn't keep me safe so they sent me where I could be monitored twenty-four/seven. There, I learned how to puke. A anorexic who was a year older than me, so fourteen at the time, taught me all of her methods, tricks, and ways on how to throw up. Together, we would skip and limit meals. After our meals, we sneaked salt packets back up into the room we shared and mixed them with a cup of water. This was one of the many ways to throw up. After my stay at the hospital, I tried to look okay so that I never had to go back.
Eighth grade. This was the year that things once again got out of hand, this may be explained in future blog posts. But, my parents ended up sending me to live with my aunt and uncle in another state for the summer. This was very scary for me and once again had to try to seem okay.
Ninth grade. I was older now. I knew other ways to try and hurt myself and tried them all. I got sent home many times for cutting in the school bathroom. October of that year, I got my first real boyfriend and fell in love.
Tenth grade. The boy broke my heart, the boy broke my world.
You're all caught up now. Ladies and gentlemen, this has been sadness in a nutshell 😏.
Introduction
My name is Anna Save. Which is completely ironic because sometimes I feel like i need saving. This is my blog spot, where I will write every little thought in my head that does not deserve to be bottled up and contained. Here I will write about my life, my beautiful, sad life. Tristia Bella.
I do indeed hope you can find some kind of enjoyment, amusement, guidance, or event light, in the horror that is my life.
Thank you.
I do indeed hope you can find some kind of enjoyment, amusement, guidance, or event light, in the horror that is my life.
Thank you.
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