Thank you, for anyone who is reading this, or following the blog. I really didn’t know if this would be of any interest, or all that relatable, I’ve been proven wrong in the best way. A bit of a trigger warning, self harm is detailed in this particular post. This is one of, arguably the most important blog that I’ll likely ever post. I will briefly explain the preceding events and the effect they had on my life afterward. It happened seven years ago already…
First, I’ve gotta sloppily push through a couple of subjects that can, and likely will be, their own post at some point. These I feel, add to the bigger picture. 2008, highschool ended, and just as swiftly, ties with all of my friends (again for reasons later explained). Blaming myself… villainizing myself for everything that happened, I just kind of wandered around for quite sometime, the better part of two years approximately. Until I received a chance at a new life in a relatively nearby city. A huge leap of faith was taken in doing so, but I mostly came out alright. This was my second attempt to leave the nest (oh, this move occurred in 2011 by the way. I was still living with the parents at age 21.) It was met with mixed results.
Through the next year and a half I lived in two different locations. Somehow I got by without ending up homeless, raped, dead, or any combination of the three. I managed to have four jobs within that time, two of which were at the same time, which is where the main aspect of this story came into play. I had moved there emotionally unstable, socially inept, with no friends. I felt sad nearly every day. I didn’t have much of any clue who I was as an adult, as a person. And, one of the worst things yet, I didn’t have the tools necessary to fly solo yet. This is something that was never planned for, my parents were not good on the preparatory front, so I’ve had to wing most of the things I’ve done in my life. I also did not know my personal limitations as far as work went. Oh man, I did not.
Some people can work fifty plus jobs and go to college full time (over exaggeration acknowledged). I learned the hard way that I was not built for that. But I tried. I began dual jobs at Starbucks and Home Depot. Barista by day, stocker by night. I Essentially worked the closing shifts at Starbucks somewhere between seven and ten at night. Once that was done, I had but an hour to compose myself for the rest of the night. From about eleven until six in the morning I was stocking the shelves with the boys. I must admit, this is the most puzzling job that I have ever had. I am by no means the archetype of masculinity, but the others were. AWWWWKWAAARRRD! Anyways, it was a bit overwhelming, because they almost always overlapped my workdays. Now I found out something very fun during this time: I can’t really sleep during the day. SURPRISE! Ugh. So here I was trying my best to hold it together with no connections, no ways to properly cope, nothing fun to do. My free time consisted of watching tv and binge eating- hard. Between the coffee at good ol S-bucks and my diet of Monster, frosting, jumbo gas station cookies, and Dominos pizza I was set up for failure. Little to no sleep, and my inner child’s dream diet were spreading me thin mentally. And then, there was that nail in the coffin. The guy I was seeing at the time was ending things. I remember shaking, feeling very cold in the heat of early summer. TRIGGER IN NEXT PARAGRAPH.
I had always had my little topical self harms before. No serious attempts at anything really. This time was different, and I’m not sure what I was trying to accomplish here, actual death or “If I threaten this because it’s a completely logical thing to do, than he can’t possibly leave me”. That last part being a variant of the, “If I put out he’ll stay with me” I often fell victim to. So, I went to Meijer, got a razor and took it to my neck. While I was doing this, I was on the phone with the now ex. He called the police, which brought me to the hospital where I spent about a week and a half in the ward. Which, to be honest is not awful, it’s like a little community of people that understand you. Or, at least the one at U of M was that year. BUT PLEASE, do not look at this statement as a yelp review, I’m only giving my opinion of a place that I went to. I was stitched up and made a couple of dark humor jokes that the staff frowned at me for. When asked what happened, I might have said one of two things: “Oh, you know, nicked myself shaving.” or “You wanna know how I got these scars?” But it was all in attempt to make myself feel a bit better. I was released a few days after the fourth of July 2012.
I was initially diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, but upon having a one on one with a psychiatrist outside of the ward, I was diagnosed as Bipolar II. They just happen to have a lot of overlap. Since then I have not harmed myself in any way other than my addictive behaviors. In a way, passively killing myself. I’ve attended counseling with several ultimately fruitless but helpful therapists and been on two medications ever since. I am in many ways different, as one would hope given a seven year difference, but I am still very much the same. I still don’t have social skills, and I still don’t know who I am. But I know a couple of key things, such as I like to write and I think that I am fairly good at it. But that my friends, is quite subjective. Do I like what I write? Most certainly. I have enjoyed writing this post the most out of any thus far.
In conclusion, I just wanted to give a bit of backstory about a very personal anniversary of mine. Some might want to completely forget such an event, but I embrace it. It’s something that has shaped me, why would I want to box it up and ship it off? Plus, that’s not healthy in it’s own right. I guess the message that I want to leave with you, whoever you are, is this: Seek help, or get help for someone who needs it. Talk about it with someone, listen. Although I’ve always had to learn things the hard way, that’s not something I want for other people. I am ardent that you reach out, that’s what I’m doing here, and it helps… quite a lot actually. So thank you. Enjoy life, don’t end it. If you need help that’s okay, we all need help sometimes. With love, Grant.
I’m randomly going to start adding some (other) things that I’m proud of in this blog, like art I’ve created, poetry I’ve written, and in this instance a short song. 😀
P.S. My cat Henrii wants you here too 😀
Seasons of the Which 