Anonymous Story #28

I have misophonia. It is a mental disease that not many have heard of, and it affects very few people. However, I happen to have a very severe case of it.

Misophonia is a sound-related anxiety disorder similar to post traumatic stress syndrome. For example, when I hear a certain sound, it causes a VERY intense panic/anxiety attack that includes stress and anger. Let me be clear. This is NOT me being annoyed with certain sounds like pencil tapping or gum smacking. This reaction goes beyond annoyance, and instead triggers a “fight or flight” response, similar to a response those with PTSD experience. I have the urge to literally run away from the person or thing making the trigger noise. And these triggers are around me everyday—at school, at home, and with friends. To show you how common they are I will name a few: chewing loudly, breathing, snoring, gum smacking, nail biting… (the list goes on).  It has gotten to a point where I am very afraid and stressed to leave the isolation of my own room because I do not want to surround myself with noises that will make me have a panic attack.

I have lashed out at family and friends multiple times during these attacks, because anger is a large component of the illness. There is a lot of guilt and regret that comes with this illness because of it. For years my parents just thought I was rude and mean because of the things I said or did. I have trouble in school oftentimes, because I will be having these attacks during class and it is hard to focus. I’ve had to miss classes. I’ve ruined relationships. All because of sounds.

I live in constant fear. I know it sounds silly, to be afraid of hearing certain noises. But everyday I’m afraid of being somewhere where I will begin to have a panic attack and I will not be able to leave the area where the sound is. More and more sounds have started to affect me, and I am afraid that within a few years there will be very few noises that affect me, and I will not be able to leave my house without a panic attack.

But here is the worst part. Unlike depression, or some other forms of anxiety, misophonia does not have the potential to get better or to go away at all.  In fact, it only gets worse. And this is hard for me to imagine, because it already affects my daily life so much. It feels like the next step for me is complete isolation from the world, and at times I feel very hopeless and sad about my situation. I feel as though I am dealing with depression, anxiety, and anger problems all rolled into one. I am on anxiety medication, and I see a therapist, but things are still not looking up. It is hard to know that I have an illness that has never been beat. There are no videos of people telling me “it gets better”. There are no success stories. No one saying that it can be beat. The articles and stories I read online say that the illness leads to isolation, and at times I believe that that is my future.

I try not to let this all show on the outside. The only people that know of my condition are my parents and my therapist. And sadly, the only reason I do this is because I believe people will laugh at me when I tell them that I have panic attacks from specific noises. I’m afraid they will not believe me, or will not take me seriously. And if you don’t believe me either, then I guess that’s ok. I would understand. Not many have heard of misophonia. But I do hope you take something away from my story. Never tell someone that what they are dealing with is not real. Just because they have an illness that you haven’t heard of, or that it sounds ridiculous, it does not mean they are not genuinely struggling. Half the battle of dealing with misophonia is knowing that not many can sympathize with me, or are willing to take me seriously. Just know that everyone has their own battles. Even if they sound ridiculous to you, it does not mean that someone isn’t fighting them every day.

Anonymous Story #27

I was a fat kid.

I was reminded of this fact at every mirror that caught my glance. Every name I was called. Every step that I took. Everyday, week after week, month after month,year after year. I had been living my life this way for as long as I could remember, my body tormented by an elusive metabolic illness. One that still has yet to be solved today. However, I could not wait for a cure. All I wanted was normal, and normal meant thin. 

It only took 14 years for me to realize that I controlled what I ate, and therefore what I looked like, what people thought of me, how many people loved me. At the age of 14, food was my enemy. I began restricting, ever so slightly at the beginning, yet it was something that I controlled. I loved control as much as I wanted to be thin. Exercise only added to this new thrill. I had found new comfort and a new friend.

By 15, despite my efforts in restricting and exercising my weight had barely budged. Depression quickly ensued, only to be cured by the affection of more restriction and exercise. I knew I could be better; thinner. A year of restricting and measurements lead to speedy results.

At the age of 16, I had reached my goal weight. I was happy for once with the way I looked. At that, I began to undo the enemy I had made food out to be. I restricted still, but less. And shortly after this fatal mistake, all my work was becoming undone, the pounds were flying back, along with the rejection, hatred, and depression. I began to restrict more than ever. What food I was pressured to eat was promptly purged. After some months of participating in this behavior, my weight still would not come down from the height it had soared up to. Then, one doctor's visit sent me to the ER, with a diagnosis of anorexia nervosa, followed by an ED inpatient program. 

I still disliked myself and the doctors wanted to put more weight back on me. I physically recovered with a meal plan, one that was sent home under a dietitian's orders. After another month of following a weight maintenance plan my weight only kept climbing. My dietitian was clueless. I hated myself once again. I was angry at myself and 
the people who tried to help me. Recovery is no option for me at the moment, but I hope to see a day when it is. I starve. I purge. I yearn. This is where I am today.

Also, I am male. No one suspects an ED with males, making it easy to use ED behaviors in broad daylight. But amidst my ED, is my immense suffering. I go through each day suffering and starving in front of people. None except my doctors know of my problems. I am also a closeted bisexual, which complicates things horrifically. All those I know and love would reject me if they knew who I truly was. They discuss their hatred of "those types of people" to my face. And I suffer in silence once again.

Today was the day of my 17th birthday, This marks my third account of sitting through my birthday dinner with gum in my mouth; the third account of rejecting my own birthday cake; the third account of passively watching people celebrate me, something I cannot give myself good reason for. I am writing this with tears in my eyes and
am doing so not just to get stuff off of my chest, but as a message to anyone who can relate to what I have been through, the pain and silent suffering. I encourage you to do not what I do, and be not who I am: a coward suffering in silence. I encourage you to use your voice and be brave, and most importantly enjoy life.

Anonymous Story #26

It started when I was 8. I didn't know it was wrong until my brother found out. I started masturbating when I was 8. When I was 10, I started watching porn. When I was 13, I started masturbating every week. When I was 16, I masturbated every day. Now, I'm bleeding. I'm scared. It's so wrong, but feels so good. How can I be such a monster? I'm disgusted by myself. I can't tell my friends...how would they think of me when they knew? To them, I'll be a sick whore. I'm so ashamed of myself. Now that I've gone too far and started bleeding, I've vowed to myself that I won't do it again. I can't bare to even look back. But I've broken that rule. I relapsed. I'm ashamed. No one will ever understand. How can a girl be addicted to masturbating? How can she be so gross? To you, I'm a nasty girl that does nasty things. How can you understand? How can anyone understand? No one will ever understand. No one, because it's frowned up. I hang my head in shame. To my best friend, I'm sorry that I could never tell you this. It's one thing that I will never let you find out. To my parents, I'm sorry that I'm a failure as a daughter. I'm sorry that I can't be as smart as you want me to be. To my sister, I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you this. I'm too ashamed to say it. And finally, to myself. You're a dumb idiot. This is all your fault. I'm sorry world. 

Lets talk about Sex

... Or more accurately, when it is not okay to have sex with a person.

It is NEVER okay to have sex with someone who does not give consent.

It is NEVER okay to have sex with someone who is unconscious for WHATEVER REASON

It is NEVER okay to have sex with someone who is under the influence of drugs or alcohol, as they cannot legally give consent

NEVER use "blue balls" as a way to guilt trip someone. NEVER guilt trip someone into sex in anyway, including but not limited too saying he/she is a  "tease" and he/she "led you on."

NEVER force someone to do something with you sexually that he or she is not comfortable with.

ALWAYS ask if it's okay first. Prior consent doesn't mean it's okay now.

ALWAYS respect the person's boundaries and wishes (i.e if the person asks you to stop, STOP)

ALWAYS wear protection. Any kind of protection works, but remember, birth control pills or shots may stop conception but they do not stop STDs. 

To have or not to have sex must be a mutual decision between two people (or more if that's what you all are okay with). If it isn't mutual, it is rape. Rape isn't just some strange person grabbing you and forcing you to have sex. It could be a friend, a relative, a coworker, a neighbor, etc. And it is rape or sexual molestation if consent is not given, or if the person said yes at first but then said no and you proceeded anyway. 

Sexual assault of any kind is extremely damaging to a person's psyche. And it is such an easy crime to avoid. Not the victims, but the perpetrators. There is NEVER an excuse to rape someone. Follow the golden rule, treat others as you would want to be treated, and we'll all be okay. 

NO ONE has the right to another person's body. I don't care if you're male, female, agender, transgender, or any other way you might identify. 

ASK AND RESPECT THE ANSWER. It isn't that difficult. No does and always will mean no. 

If you are a victim of sexual assault, ANY DEGREE OF SEXUAL ASSAULT IS EQUALLY VALID. You have a right to feel pain, you have a right to get justice, and you have a right to get help. You deserve help and you are a worthwhile person. Just because someone didn't realize how precious you are, doesn't make you less so. There is no shame in being assaulted. You have done nothing wrong and you did not deserve it. You were not asking for it. Don't let anyone else's lies destroy you. You are a human being and deserve to be treated with respect and dignity no matter what. Please, ask for the help you deserve. 

Call 1.800.656.HOPE (national sexual assault hotline). 

Respect

In light of recent events (the shootings and stabbings of women because they rejected someone, and that's only what's been happening in America), I thought it'd be a good idea to talk about respect.

Respect is asking someone what they think and then listening to the answer.
Respect is keeping a promise.
Respect is being a confidant when needed and not spreading secrets.
Respect is asking for permission before doing something.
Respect is being honest.
Respect is honoring a person's choice and trusting their judgment.
Respect is offering advice when asked, but not forcing an opinion.
Respect is letting a person believe what they want to believe.
Respect is listening to what a person says.
Respect is treating a person as an equal.
Respect is responding well  to what a person asks you to do or not to do, and following their request if appropriate.
Respect is allowing a person to disagree or disappoint you and still not doing anything to hurt him or her.
Respect is never intentionally hurting someone.
Respect is never judging a person because he or she is different.
Respect is letting a person be him or herself.
Respect is admiring a person for who they are.
Respect is honoring a person's life as a precious thing, and trying to be a good presence in it.
Respect is, and always will be, a vital part of love and life.

Purging.

A lot of people don't think they're good enough just as they are. And they are desperately looking for a way to change themselves. So many of them fall in the direction of an eating disorder. Whether it be anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder, or eating disorder not otherwise specified, all eating disorders are serious, and all behaviors are dangerous. But lets talk about purging for a second.

To purge in itself is to get rid of something, to purify, to cleanse. So, someone with an eating disorder does something to get rid of calories normally. Forcible vomiting and excessive exercise are the most common forms a purging.

But listen. In the moment, when you having an eating disorder, purging feels right. But in reality it does so much damage. Physically, organs get seriously damaged by vomiting, and excessive exercise can cause problems with the heart and damage the body as a whole.

But even more importantly, it just increases the negative thoughts. By doing what the thoughts say, it reinforces the false idea that what the thoughts say are true.

What your mind says to you is NOT true. Whoever you are, whatever you're going through, you are worth so much more. You are beautiful and you matter to the world so much more than you think you do. You don't need to change what you look like, you don't need to change who you are. You're absolutely perfect just the way you are. And you are loved. Never forget it.

Stay strong.

And check out this video, if you need any more convincing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWN8059KBq4

Anonymous Story #26

My sister was diagnosed with an eating disorder. She became distant. She was always angry. I was afraid of her because whenever I said anything to her she made fun of me and she always made me feel really horrible about myself.

At age eight I started sucking in my stomach. I hated how I looked in my school photo. I thought I was huge.  And I hated myself. I used to wish with all of my heart that I would be pretty but I didn’t know what to do about it and I hated everything about myself. I had to get myself up and ready and I had to get my older sister up too because my mom had to drive my oldest sister to school. I stayed upstairs until they left. When I woke my sister up she’d yell at me then too. I skipped breakfast a lot.

My sister was diagnosed with depression. She was angry and always exercising and not eating and throwing a fit when we tried to make her. She stayed away from me. That’s what I wanted. Because if she didn’t then she was mean to me. I saw her attempt suicide. I stayed by myself the night they took my sister to the hospital. Both of my parents were gone.  My sister became extremely angry all of the time. She would yell and scream and push people around and throw things. I watched my sister exercise in secret. I listened to her purge in the bathroom. I watched everyone live not knowing what to do. Everyone was lost. My two sisters were both diagnosed with depression. They were both in therapy. They were both angry all of the time. They both screamed at me most of the time. They fought all of the time. My older sister used me as her punching bag. Sometimes literally, more often figuratively. Whenever she was angry she found me. My oldest sister did nothing but talk down to me or about me. She watched me eat. She commented on what I ate and yelled at me if I ate something she didn’t want me too. My parents told me that she was going through a rough time so I should just let her do what she was doing. And that’s all my parents could handle. I felt more and more unsafe in my life. I stopped inviting friends over because I was afraid that my sister would make a scene. I was embarrassed. 

When I was eleven I never ate in front of people except at lunch and even that made me uncomfortable. I didn’t talk to people. I never ate anything anyone offered me. I restricted my food slightly. I felt like I was huge. I spent a lot of time in front of the mirror checking how I looked. I sucked in my stomach. Eventually I thought I was so huge that there was no point in restricting so I tried to eat normally but I wasn’t sure what that was. I ate a lot and gained weight and hated myself because of it, but I didn’t want to be my sister so I tried not to notice. I became extremely depressed and thought of killing myself for the first time. I wanted other people to like me but I was so scared of them judging me I never spoke. I had one friend and I was completely quiet throughout most of the day. I wanted more than anything to be liked, or to be enough for someone but I never was. My grades were just average. I stayed after school every day doing work to make my grades better. I also didn’t want to go home, because if I went home I’d be alone. I got myself up in the morning and I got myself ready for the day because my mom had to drive my sister to school. And when I got home I had to wait an hour before anyone would be home. I was terrified of being home alone but when I told my parents they told me I’d be fine. I didn’t tell anyone that I stayed after school every day, because I was afraid they would make fun of me.

When I was fourteen, I started isolating.  I had flashbacks to when my sister was really sick and I was scared all of the time. I because extremely depressed and suicidal and I started self-injuring. I self- injured regularly. My friends started worrying about me, telling me I needed to eat but I lied and told them there was nothing wrong. I laughed and told them I was too fat to have an eating disorder. They didn’t believe me, but they kind of did. I was extremely depressed and restricted and binged (minimally). I started restricting and exercising a lot over the summer. When I went back to school everyone told me I looked great. That was really nice to hear. I counted calories a lot. I started self-inuring on and off throughout the whole year. 

 My sister was doing better. My family was more stable. Everyone thought I was fine. My high school teacher told me I needed to eat. But I ignored him and told him I was fine. So did everyone else.

When I was fifteen I restricted a lot. My entire life was about restricting. It was all I thought about every day.  I worked out at least once a day, sometimes more. I would be really hardcore for a while, but then I would back off. I realized what I was doing wasn’t really great, but I didn’t think I had an eating disorder. I didn’t accept it. I thought I was normal. And I’d convince myself I was healthy, and then go back into everything. But I never was healthy. Even when I tried to be I didn’t know how. And I couldn’t bear to make myself eat more than normal. If I did I panicked and needed to get rid of it, but I didn't purge yet. I was too scared. So normally in the beginning I just self- injured a lot when I felt that I ate too much. I purged once or twice throughout the entire year, but very rarely, I just did it after I felt I binged. I was so scared of it. I counted calories more than ever and I knew my calories burned as well. Over the summer I did that same as the summer before and I lost weight. I started purging a lot more at the beginning of sophomore year. I self-injured several times a month. I went to therapy and she told me I was fine. I stopped purging and just restricted just as I had before. I worked out every day, twice. 

When I was sixteen I purged and I restricted and self-injured a lot. I stopped going to therapy after three months because no one really seemed to think I needed it and I didn’t want to get better anymore. My therapist didn’t believe that anything was wrong, and she had told my parents there was nothing to worry about. So I told them she wasn’t helping and I went off the rails. The only time I ate was when I was with my family. And I exercised a lot. My parents realized something was wrong, but not how wrong it was. I went to the hospital and was inpatient. I was diagnosed with an eating disorder, major depression and two anxiety disorders. And I thought I could be okay. Then I got angry and I decided to fake my way out of the hospital. I knew it was wrong but I was feeling too self-destructive to care. I don't recommend it. After I left things started getting horrible. I was extremely depressed. I started restricting again. I hated myself and every weekend I had to fight to keep myself from killing myself because I was so depressed. I started using behaviors again a lot. Then I attempted suicide. I was hospitalized again. 

Now I'm working to truly recover. It's hard, but I can only hope I'll get there one day. 

What's going on?

Everyday I see and talk to some really amazing people. I hear their struggles, and I hear their good times. I feel sad with them and I laugh with them. I'm so proud of everything these people have done. I'm so proud of everything everyone struggling in the world has done. It's a truly amazing feat just to live, and I'm so proud of those who are able to do it at all.

But everyday I also hear people talking trash about each other. I hear them whispering behind someone's back, and then acting all sweet to their face. I hear them yelling at each other, swearing, calling each other horrible things, to their face and online. And it pains me to see that happening to all of these really fantastic people.

Doing that kind of thing is so damaging to a person's mind, it's unreal. It's hard enough to live life, but it's even harder when it feels as if everyone is out to get you. If anyone hears horrible things about themselves enough, they're likely to think those things about themselves as well, eventually, unless they have very solid self-esteem.

Not only does this kind of abuse hurt the abused, but it hurts the abuser too. Lashing out generally means that he or she actually wants help but doesn't know what to do. And no one is going to help someone that keeps hurting them.

So I just don't know what's going on. No one wants to be hurt. Most people really want someone to help them. Everyone wants to be loved and cared for and everyone wants to belong. So why don't we all treat each other that way?

The golden rule "do unto others as you would have them do unto you" is so simple. It shows up everywhere. It's in every religion I can think of. It's in every school modo I know, everyone uses it as their backup line. But we don't follow it.

Let's change that.

Drug Use and Alchoholism

You always hear people calling people who use drugs and/or alcohol stupid. It's like, because they use whatever substance they use, that makes them less of a person somehow. Like that's the biggest mistake a person could ever make.

Now listen. I'm not here recommending using drugs and/or alcohol. The very possible negative ramifications outnumber the temporary high you might feel. Putting any foreign substances into your body is rarely a good idea. I'm not stupid though. I know that a lot teenagers and adults use drugs and alcohol. As an adult, alcohol is legal. That doesn't make it less dangerous. It's addictive at any age. Drugs, of course, are always illegal. All I can ask is, if you are using drugs or alcohol, please be safe. Keep close tabs on your physiological and psychological health. If you need help, please ask for it.

I am here to defend those suffering with addiction. People use drugs and alcohol as a way of coping with the stresses of life. Whether they become addicted or not, there would be no use for recreational use if there was no stress in life. But when people become addicted, it is not because they're stupid. It's because they really think they need it. They can't handle life without it. It's the only thing that makes them feel good. Or even simply feel okay.

Addiction or substance dependence is a mental disorder. People are born with a certain predisposition toward addictive behavior. It isn't there fault. I'm not saying that is makes it okay. I'm not saying that they should keep going with the behavior because it's what they were born with. But it does make it a true battle they have to fight all the time. It's like any disorder in that it takes over their life completely. Through rehab and therapy they can get through it. But it is a serious problem. And the way you would treat anyone with any type of disorder is how you should treat someone with addiction.

http://www.helpguide.org/topics/addiction.htm
http://addictionhotlines.net/

Abusive Relationships

Relationships are incredibly powerful. They have the capability of being the most beautiful thing in a person's life. But they also can become the most destructive thing.

As humans, we tend to lean on people that we love, and become dependent of co-dependent on their love and support. It feels safe. It feels comfortable. Knowing you have something to fall back on is one of the best feelings in the world, and I strongly believe that is how a lot of the greatest people in the world became great: they had that knowledge of the support around them, so they felt comfortable jumping forward.

But that great support, that safety, it only is helpful if it's genuine. If it comes from a place of love, a place a compassion, a place of deep caring for the other person's well being, then it's fantastic. But if it's not genuine, it's more damaging than not having it at all. It's like offering someone who fell down a well a rope to climb up, but then snapping the rope when they're half way up. They end up more injured than they were before, and unlikely to trust the next rope that comes along. In some ways, that describes abusive relationships.

So many beautiful people everyday are abused by the people they love. They are taken advantage of, disrespected, physically and/or emotionally hurt... and they tend to stay in that situation for a while. NOT because they are stupid. But because it's hard to leave. Because it feels safe, it feels comfortable. Maybe they are a little naive, thinking "it won't happen again" or maybe they just don't know what a healthy relationship can be like. And a lot of the time it might be confusing, because the abuser might be amazing for a day, and then be horrible and scary the next day. Maybe they are insecure and/or don't believe they are worthy of a healthy, loving relationship. But NO ONE deserves to be in an abusive relationship.

The abusers themselves may have only had experience with abusive relationships. It's that gift that keeps on giving. They may be sub-consciously trying to get back at the people who abused them, or maybe they're trying to earn forgiveness, but they aren't sure how to do that. Abusers get cast in a bad light for obvious reasons. But they are often just as needing of emotional support as the abused. Everyone has their problems. And they all need help getting through it. Even if they did some awful things, they still deserve help.

Here's what relationships SHOULD be like:

• They should make both people happy
• They should involve compromise
• They should help both people discover more about themselves and become more independent
• They should be based off of mutual respect and trust and love
• They should have their ups and downs, but those ups and downs can be resolved with mutual effort
• They should be that thing that they can fall back on
• They should feel safe, comfortable, and enjoyable.

If a relationship makes either person feel insecure, unsafe, dependent, or lacking in some way or another, that is a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes relationships can be healthy eventually, they just need some work. But abusive relationships will not get better. It's best to just move on. 

If you or someone you know is or might be in an abusive relationship, please TELL SOMEONE. Get help. And be safe. You deserve it. Abusive relationships are extremely damaging, even if they abuse is not physical. Please get the help you deserve. You can go to a friend, family member, co-worker, boss, teacher, social worker, call the hotline, etc. The list goes on. Get the help you need. 

1-800-799-SAFE

Anonymous Story #25

 Hi my name is Karla. I'm 13 years old, 5'3 little girl. I'm not gonna say my weight because I'm so ashamed of it. For years now I been having a battle in my head. A battle of what I should or shouldn't eat. A battle of what I can or can't wear. A battle of Food, Weight,Anxiety,Depression, etc.
So my story is:

      Years ago when I was really young I had great parents . It was a good life actually. The only problem was my dad was on drugs. After getting drunk a lot my parents separated  All I knew was I was missing something in my life. So I hit depression while my dad was getting drunk and my mom was cheating. It broke my heart to see that. So I turned my pain towards food and body image. Years passed, my family was together after lots of shit that had happened. I started going to school where girls would be very mean to me, calling me fat, ugly etc. All I would do is cry . I had no friends . No one at all. I was alone so, so I turned to food. I started eating a lot but I would feel so guilty afterwards. I would look in the mirror, crying, hating myself. Then there it was: a never ending cycle called my eating disorder. My mom called me fat; I starved myself to lose weight and I did. Not a lot, but a few pounds. We moved and it all happened again. I was bullied from 2-6 grade. "Your a lesbian " "Fat ass" "Ugly" Fake" "Loser." Everyday. My eating disorder was always there. Not binge eating. Not binging on and on. until I hit 11. I gained lots of weight again up to 145 lbs. My depression hit hard. And then another thing came up: self injury. It was the first time I had cut myself and since then it became an addiction. My family called me fat again; I went on a "diet'' that became extreme. I lost lots of weight and ed kept yelling louder and louder. This one day someone called me fat. My world shut down. I went home sobbing that day, thinking why couldn't I be skinny why couldn't I be pretty. Ever since it was hard for me to look at food. I couldn't resist it. I got full, way too full. Months passed, and I started purging. Everyday I was purging. Every single little thing I ate I purged. My parents were noticing but I kept quite. Years passed . I hit rock bottom year 2012 . My ed was the worst. I couldn't eat. I just couldn't. My mom took me to the doctor. They said I had something. I denied it . My mom forced food on me. I would cry because i didn't want to get fat. Months passed I was always cold it was extremely hard, but I couldn't get away from eating because of my parents so I began to purge again. After everything, even a single apple. One summer I couldn't stop binging and purging. I also over used laxatives  My parents found out about the laxatives  I denied it. My mood was always horrible. I would isolate and scream at anyone who came even a little close to me. Once again I started restricting and purging everything ate. 

Normality

Let's come back with the interesting idea of normality. What is normal, really? Is it truly possible for anyone to be normal? And is normal a really good thing to be?

Here's what I think: In general, I think being normal is completely overrated. We should be happy with whoever we are, regardless of what anyone else says. But if you really want to be "normal," to me it means being healthy, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It means being able to enjoy the beautiful moments of life as well as cope with the difficult days that try to trip you up. Being content with whatever you do is what I think normal is.

In life, however, people don't always look at normal that way. They see normal as being whatever the social norm is at the time, especially teenagers. Wearing Toms and Sperry's or Forever 21 and American Eagle and having an iPhone makes you "normal." Being thin if you're a girl or muscular if you're a guy makes you "normal." If you're a teenager, going to high school and going to parties makes you "normal."

But here's the thing-- Social norms change. You might be "normal" when you follow them one day, but you are "weird" when you continue to follow them a year later. One hundred years ago it was "normal" for women to cover their knees at all times. Now it's "normal" to see much more than just their knees, especially in the summer, but even in the winter. Things change, times change, people change. So why waste all of your time trying to be "normal" when no matter how hard you try, you won't be able to stay there? Nor will you be happy being someone you're not.

Be yourself. Be who you want to be. Love what you do, what you wear, what you work for. All you need to be normal is to be okay with yourself. Do what makes you happy and live life as you want to live it. No matter how "weird" other people think you are, know that you're enjoying your life a lot more than they are. There is nothing more anyone could ever ask of you than for you just to be you. Enjoy it.

Anonymous Story #24

        I’ve had self-destructive thoughts almost my whole life, as a child thinking about dying and thinking about hurting myself were just things I thought about sometimes. I never considered that that wasn’t normal, or that it was bad, I just thought that’s how everyone thought.
When I was in grade school I was in what would be called the loser fried group, there were the 5 of us, all the odd ones out of the popular kids. We pretended not to mind but inside each of us we all wanted what the popular kids had, friends and power. It isn’t like the kids outrightly bullied us but they avoided us, made fun of us, ignored us, wouldn’t play with us. The whole picked last for kickball thing, that was my childhood in a nutshell.
Jr. High is where I started taking my thoughts seriously, not just having them and moving on, but seriously contemplating suicide. That was when I self-harmed for the first time. 7th grade, I took a cookie sheet out of the oven, and on sheer impulse pressed my wrist against the burning metal and seared my skin. I loved it, I began to burn myself, with matches, lighters, even heated blades. Then I got caught by my parents and had my first bought with psychiatry. My fascination with death took a few months hiatus and it wasn’t until freshman year that the thoughts began to creep in again. Pieces of it were because I was watching my parents’ marriage crumble. I then swung into a deep codependency rut with my current boyfriend, codependency is something I still struggle with. He was my life, the reason I woke up in the morning for 2 years until he ended it. Then I felt I lost it, I had nothing left. I threw myself into an addiction of self-harm, self-destruction and marijuana. This continued to spiral out of control until one night I decided to try to end it. I took all of my anti-depressants and all of my sleeping pills and waited to die. I woke up in the hospital later that night and went in and out of consciousness for the next two days, physically I survived, but mentally I was dead. I spent the next week and a half at Linden Oaks Hospital recuperating. I defied all the rules, blatently disrespected the staff. I was on a rampage, I was manic and enraged. I hated every breath I took. I hated every damn visit from my estranged family members. Every moment I was alive hurt. Then, my psychiatrist finally found the right combination of medications, and I could breath. I laid in my room and cried for an hour before a staff came in and asked what was wrong. All I could say was that I felt “okay”. Not happy not suicidal not manic not angry, just okay. That day was probably the best I had felt in a long time.
I want to explain what my thoughts really are. They are voices, now I’m not schizophrenic so I don’t audibly HEAR voices. But the thoughts that I think, they speak to me like they are someone else. And they have a different voice then my own. 
“Gertrude” as my therapist affectionately dubbed them. The things they make me think about are self-defeating. In Gertrude’s eyes I am never good enough, I am always wrong.
I am the type of person who waits for shortcuts, I don’t want things to take the time they need. I want things to happen right away, right when I need them. Like getting better, I drive myself crazy making decisions that will make me better in the long run. But I always do what feels better in the moment. Even still, I’ve “tried” to get better, but really all I’ve done is a lot of thinking and a lot of lieing.
Even to this day I drive myself crazy, I know the right decision, the right path. I know what steps to take, I just won’t take them.
I’ve lived a fine life, my parents both love me, my sister loves me, I have a less then sane family sure but they all love me and care about me and each other. The common denominator in my equation is me, I’m the problem, I’m what needs to be fixed. I take it one day at a time, when I have suicidal thoughts I just breath through them, I rarely feed the fire anymore. I do the same with my self-harming thoughts. I don’t believe that they will ever go away one hundred percent, I’ll always have “Gertrude” whispering in my ear tales of sweet release. 
I’m still on the fence about whether or not I’d like to survive, but for right now in this very second I don’t want to try to die, so for now that will have to be enough.

Anonymous Story #23

In 2010 I was obese I always wanted to be skinny and I also liked a lot of boys, but none of them liked me. I thought it was cause I was fat and ugly. All my friends were skinner then me and I constantly felt so bad about myself. Then one day me and my friend baked cookies and we ate to much cookie dough and I felt so sick to my stomach. So I went running to the bathroom and kept trying to throw up cause I felt sick. Then I stocked my finger down my throat and puked it all up. Then a thought crossed my mind.... I thought "I just made myself throw up" and then I thought "I could do this after every meal. Feel full and lose weight" so I did.... So I did that for 2 years. I did lose a lot of weight people noticed. Guys actually liked me and I actually liked them, but the one guy I had the biggest crush on and I thought he'd like me after all that and he didn't. In fact he was into more bigger girls... Like his girlfriend. I was so hurt when I found out who his girlfriend was and that he had one. My goal was to lose weight and get the guy, but that didn't happen.

Then one day my Mom noticed how pale I was and how after every meal I'd run to the bathroom and try not to make it obvious. One day I was walking to her and I just tipped over to the side. I blacked out and my Mom was freaking out! She said "You have to go to the doctor" I said no I don't want to I'm fine and she said if it happens again she will take me. Then one day I was eating dinner and then of course after that I went to the bathroom, but this time I got caught. My Mom ran upstairs and said "Why are you throwing up!?" I just said "I'm sorry" "I have heard you do this multiple time, but I've never said anything. Clean up and come down stairs we're going to talk to Dad." So I did and basically they didn't really help. They just said I'm disappointed in you and kept threatening me to take me to the doctor. My dad said you're no longer going to throw up. You're going to eat you're food and keep it in your tummy.

The next day he had healthy meals planned out and everything. I was supposed to eat 1,200 cals everyday. That was way to much for me. So I made my own meal plan. Which contained 400-800 cals a day. I do not know how I did that cause that is not enough calories for me now. I still felt weak, light headed, shaky, and cold.

But of course I fell back into the Bulimia. I thought I'm starving and I can't eat; at least when I had it was never hungry. I lost more weight. Seemed like no matter how low the number was it was never low enough. The lowest I have ever weight is 103.2 pounds. This shocks me now. I can't believe I ever weighed that much. My Mom and Dad were both working so it was so easy to do it without anyone noticing.


Then one day I took this class and I met this wonderful guy. I was really shy to talk to him at first, but gradually over time we became really close, like brother and sister. I told him I was bulimic he has no clue what it was. He googled it and was so sad that I did something like that to myself everyday. He said is there anything I can do to help and I said just check on me every night and ask me if I have throwing up. From that day on he kept asking me if I was. He occasionally does now, but he knows I'm okay, Which I am. We're now a strong couple and his my rock and everything. If you do have any kind of eating disorder tell a close friend and ask them to check on you. It really helps. I could have not over come this horrible time period in my life without him.

I have been clear of Bulimia since August 2012. I do get thoughts of throwing up now and then but I just always say I can get through this. I am healthy as I ever was. I have a appropriate weight for my body and I no longer feel dizzy all the time, and I enjoy my food an appreciate it more and the people that surround me with such love and understanding.

Promiscuity

There are some people that are very sexual in nature. They may have sex a lot, they may flirt with people a lot, they may "mess around" a lot.

Who cares.

Let's say there's a girl in high school. She flirts with all the guys. She has sex all the time, sometimes with people that she doesn't know, sometimes with people she does know. Maybe she does it because she is insecure about herself and needs the physical expression of love to make her feel better. Maybe she does it because she wants to be cool, and think that doing that will get them where they want to be. Maybe she does it because she has daddy issues. Maybe she does is because she has other issues, maybe with her self esteem, maybe with self worth, maybe with something else. Maybe she does it because she just likes sex.

Who cares.

This is the life of guys and girls a like. For some reason girls get demonized, they are called sluts, whores, hoes and such. They get taken advantage of. Boys do as well, but girls are statistically more hurt because they are promiscuous.

Do what makes you happy. Don't judge what you don't understand. You don't know what other people are going through, you don't know what they are thinking or why they do what they do. Why should it matter what they do? As long as know one gets hurt, it shouldn't be a problem.

But if you are doing whatever you're doing because of some of the issues above, I would suggest seeing a therapist to get past some of those. Do what makes you happy. But make sure you're healthy as well.

Be safe. Be happy. You are loved.

Anonymous Story #22

So it all started freshman year. My best friend who is a year older had hung out with all the black kids at the school, so I wanted to hang out with them too.

Well they were awesome they didn't judge me for how I dressed or anything and I dressed weirdly. When 8th grade summer came along going into freshman year I started smoking weed and drinking a lot and hooking up with different guys.

They were all black of course and they all told me I was too skinny and I needed a bigger butt, so I started to binge eat for a long time to gain weight.

Well I was "perfect" when freshman year came along and more guys wanted me for themselves. One guy that I hooked up with told all of his friends that I sucked his dick and to this day they yell across the halls " Ooo, am I next"

It was terrible and I hated everyone calling me a slut and stuff but it made me feel good at that time. Anyways, I still had a lot of guys messaging me because they had heard that I sucked this guy's dick an they wanted in.

I didn't know that one guy wanted me for that, and I met up with him at the Darien fest because I thought we were going to get to know each other and smoke pot in his car. So horny teen me went with this shady guy to his car. 

He kept saying to "do him a favor" and I kept saying no . No. No I'm leaving. He grabbed me and pushed me down and grabbed my hair. He forced me to put my mouth on his thing. Iit was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced.

When I realized this was happening I bit down and he let go and I ran as fast as I could away to find my friends. This is really disturbing but I got a throat infection a couple days later, it was nasty.

Well, then my "boyfriend" who had hooked up with other girls while we were going out got really angry and said it was my fault.

Whatever I was in love with him, so I stayed with him, I don't know why.

He would always harass me about how I wasn't fit and I should work out with him.

At the same time this kid at school bullied me everyday about what I wore and said I was ugly and fat.

I usually can ignore people who bully me but this guy really got into my head

I would cut out carbs then sweets and then I just stopped eating.

So I stopped eating and started excersizing ALOT i would excersize in school and after school to keep me busy from eating...my diet would be gatorade water mabey fruit one day and back to Gatorade

I lost a lot of weight I was 5 7" and 105 pounds, which is very unhealthy

Well I started to get really sick all the time and I couldn’t exercise because everything would hurt really badly

and I'm getting better slowly. I'm still under weight, but I feel fat every time I eat so I only eat a meal a day which is better.

 A couple months back I started to take adderal as a weight loss pill because you don't get hungry.

Once I wore those shinny skin tight high waisted pants. At that time I hadn't eaten for 4 days because I was taking adderal and I didn't get hungry

I realize what I'm doing to my body but I hate not controlling myself.

Anonymous Story #21

      Well..I first noticed that there was something wrong in seventh grade. I was 13. Looking back, I can’t really determine what triggered it.. “It” being whatever my mental issues were/are...But, I just remember spending time with friends, and suddenly, I didn’t enjoy it anymore. They’d all be laughing, having the time of their lives, but for me that wasn’t the case. It was as if it hurt to smile, as if I was unable to have fun doing pretty much anything anymore. So I guess you could say I was sad in seventh grade. But that was just the beginning.

As my sadness grew in intensity and frequency, the distance between my friends and me grew as well. I had to learn the hard way that friends could only be so supportive. They grew tired of me being down and bringing the group down, and our friendship as a whole slowly began to deteriorate. I learned the hard way that friends don’t want to spend time with someone like me, who was, at this point, drowning in depression. So, one by one, my friends gradually slipped from my reach, and I felt more alone than ever, worsening the sadness that was already upon me.

In the fall of eighth grade, still age 13, I had let myself fall into an even darker hole of despair. On November 23, 2010, I cut myself for the first time. Overwhelmed in sadness, isolation, confusion, stress, loneliness, despair, and just about any other form of negativity you could imagine. I just wanted relief. I wanted my pain to matter. It was as if I wanted to prove how significant my pain was..so maybe when I ever spoke about it, people wouldn’t think I was just complaining or being dramatic..it would prove that I honestly had just lost control and the ability to be happy or even just pretend to be happy for more than a couple of minutes. Why did I really cut, though? Truthfully, I wanted to kill myself, but was too afraid to actually attempt it, and I guess, cutting was just the closest thing I could do without going that far. Of course though, my cuts would remain as secret as I could keep them.

By my 14^th birthday, I had let my pain consume me. There wasn’t a day where I hadn’t cried, I was still cutting, and constantly contemplating suicide. I couldn’t escape it. I’d try to think of something else, but I had always found flaws with life and everything in it, which never failed to lead me down the same dark road of torturous thoughts of how meaningless I was in this world and how meaningless life itself was if all there was to experience was pain. But at this point, I was no longer hurting myself, I had also done something to hurt one of my few remaining friends..

It was one of my guy friends. He was nice and easy to manipulate. I felt so worthless, and I really just wanted someone to tell me otherwise. I wanted someone to choose me over anyone else, to matter more to one person than anyone else, to be loved and cared about despite my inability to have fun anymore. So, I had got him to ask me out. He knew about me cutting, and told me I never needed to feel so bad anymore because he cared about me so much. He even told me he loved me, and I had said it back, even though I didn’t. To be honest, I didn’t have any real feelings for him at all except for the love of a good friend. I still lied and used him, and I hated myself even more for doing it.

I cut again one day, doing more damage than I usually would. He noticed. I promised him that was the end of the cutting, and of course, I wanted it stop, but I actually felt like trying to stop and turn things around this time. That Christmas I had gotten all three existing Strokes CDs at the time. I had always listened to and loved music, but when I started to listen to the Strokes more in depth, something came over me. It somehow shed some light on my pathetic situation, and I’d get chills just from listening to it. For once, life had meaning and something was good, and for that, I’m forever grateful. And to this day, I am in love with the Strokes for not only their beautiful music, but for what they stand for, their deeper meanings behind their songs, the empowering feeling they gave me, and especially for, in a way, saving my life. So with this motivation, when I promised my boyfriend of the time that I’d stop cutting, I really meant that I’d try to stop with every last strength I had inside me.

Apparently, he didn’t believe me. He had a close bond with the former band teacher from my middle school and had talked to her about my personal problems. She then reported me to the school counselor, who I never really spoke to. She pulled me out of English class one day and sat me down in her office. She forced me to pull up my sleeves and show her my cuts. I had never felt so insecure in my life. I didn’t know this lady, and I was forced to reveal my deepest inner and outer pain. She told me that if I didn’t come clean and tell my mom, then she would. So that night, I basically bawled my eyes out telling my mom that her youngest daughter had been cutting herself for months now. She was scared. She wanted to take me to a therapist and get me checked out. I said no. And to this day, I remain undiagnosed of any mental condition. After this talk, my mom was always cautious around me, looked at me differently, and I felt like an outsider even in my own home. One of my only joys was locking myself in my room and listening to the Strokes, but my mom wouldn’t allow that either, in fear that with privacy, I’d cut more.

Needless to say, I still wasn’t happy, and because of the even more drama that had just occurred, I broke up with my boyfriend for revealing my private problems to someone that I didn’t trust. Over the rest of the school year, I was still sad, and basically all I could do was listen to music to numb the pain as best as I could and attempt to retrain my brain not to completely shut down every time my life took a turn for the worst. Sometimes when I think about it now, I don’t know how I got through it. That period in my life was a blur. But, hey, I’m alive now, aren’t I?

I started high school that summer with the mindset of starting fresh, like I’m sure most kids do, but mine was more focused on just being “okay” and not giving up on myself. I had promised myself that I’d never let myself get as bad as I was again. First semester was alright; it was dull and meaningless, but it wasn’t filled with that much depression. Then, in February of 2012, I began talking to this guy, and before I knew it, we were dating. When I had first gone out with him, I said to myself, “I’ll give it a month or two.” Boy, was I wrong. I had fallen in love. We had fallen in love. And neither of us had ever suspected that it would happen. I remember just being held, looking into his eyes, and just completely losing myself to all the happiness and love that surrounded me. I knew I was set. I remember realizing that this was what life was all about: living to find someone that you could be with anywhere and feel totally happy, regardless of anyone or anything else bad in the world. And I had it. We’d dream together of the future and always talked about just running off to some place where no one else could find us, and we would just be, in love and together. And for nine months, I was the happiest I’d ever been.

But all great things must come to an end, right? At least that’s been a reoccurring pattern in my life..He had changed into some guy I couldn’t even describe. The break up had been ugly, but because he was such a big part of my life, I figured having him in my life as a friend or just as someone to talk to would be better than not having him at all. But of course, that also fell apart. He threw it all aside, and started dating one of my friends exactly two weeks later. And so, I fell again..really really hard and really really fast. But because I still made that promise to myself, I still refrained from cutting. It’s strange, I was even more depressed following the break up than I ever was in eighth grade, yet somehow I managed to stay away from self harm. I cried for months and months. Even still, I sometimes have bad days. But being so depressed gave me a giant opportunity to reflect on myself and on life in general. The whole experience of not only losing my boyfriend, but also my best friend, and practically my whole life (because he was the one thing that I loved most in this world), tore me down to completely nothing. A lot of people ask me, “if he hurt you so bad, are you sure he even loved you at all?” Yes. I’m positive. Even if he denies it now and acts like I’m nothing, I know that there was a time when we’re equally in love and devoted to one another..and that’s why it hurts so bad, because I knew it was real, and somehow, things just fell apart. But as happy as I was with him being in love, I realize that he was really my only source of happiness. I had such a hard time simply functioning after the break up because I had been so dependent on him for happiness. This will sound very negative and hopeless, but I’ve learned that everyone in life will let you down. It’s amazing to lose yourself in love, but I’ve learned not to be surprised when people don’t quite match the expectations that you’ve set for them. So, instead of depending on him or any guy for happiness, I will depend on myself. I have this sense of determination to fix any other aspect of my life that I can handle myself in order to be happy. I know I can’t let myself down, unless I relapse again.

It’s been almost six months since the break up, and I’ve grown so much as a person. I have changed..but for the better. I’ve faced so many of my inner demons lately, and I realize that even with apologies or trying to make sense of why I’ve experienced so much pain, nothing will change. The damage has already been done, and all you can do with the past is accept it. So many people say to forget the past..but that’s the last thing I want to do. With my last boyfriend who I was so in love with, despite on the ugly ending, I wouldn’t throw away those memories for anything because even though it ended, it’s nice to know and remember that I have known true happiness at some point in my life. It gives me hope that I’ll find even something better. And with all of my dark past, it’s just a reminder of how far I’ve come and how thankful I am that I was able to get to a better place. However, my mind is very contradictory. Yes, I feel a lot better than I used to, I’ve grown a lot, and I have hope and determination to achieve a positive future. But, I do have a very bad habit of still slipping into a negative mindset. The frequency is much less, but they still exist. Somehow, little problems will eat away at me and I’ll get sad and it will all somehow relate to my previous problems that I thought I had already gotten over..this will happen about once or twice a week. But, the intensity is way down, and it’s less frequent than the days where I feel positive or at least okay.

If there’s anything you take away from my story I hope that it’s that: 1. Even if you aren’t medically diagnosed with a mental illness, that doesn’t mean that your pain isn’t real and isn’t significant. 2. Never underestimate the power of music. 3. You don’t need to depend on anyone else for happiness because when it comes to people, nothing is guaranteed to be more than temporary. 4. (And this is the most important) You aren’t alone. I hope you could relate to even one aspect of my story, then know things may take a long time to get better, and when they do, they won’t be perfect, but you have the power to change your destiny and make your future brighter. You have the strength, and you are the only person with the ability to truly make your life better. I still struggle everyday to keep in mind to make sure I don’t let other people impact me in such a negative way and to remember that I’m important to this world. Life doesn’t last forever, but I’m determined to make the most of my time while I’m here. It’s not just about getting by and surviving through each day anymore; I want to really experience life while I’m alive. My goal in life is simply to be happy. How I’m going to get there, well, that I have no clue about. But I know I’ll get there. And you will too. Just give yourself a chance because you’re worth more than just the pain you feel.  You’ve been given a chance simply by being alive; you can go far, and you’ll be so proud once you get there..I know I will be too! We’re only given as much as we can handle. All this pain, is just another detail in the story of our lives. Don’t let it define you; let it be a reason for you to try just that much harder. We all have so much to live for. This is just the beginning.

Asexuality

So here's the thing. Some people are honestly not sexually attracted to anyone, regardless of gender. It just doesn't happen for them. And that's okay. Just like it's okay for people to be attracted to people of the same gender or to people of different genders and everything in between, it is okay not to be attracted to anyone sexually.

There are people who are asexual who are romantically attracted to people. They may be in a relationship. They are just completely indifferent to having sex. No, they're not "prudes." They are honestly just not interested. They still have the physical capacity to have sex, they just don't want to. There is nothing wrong with that. It is their own preference.

Maybe this perfectly describes you. Maybe this is exactly the opposite of you. Who cares? Do what makes you happy.

Anonymous Story #20

        The summer of 2009 I started losing weight. I wasn't even aware of how skinny I was until my dad told me how bony I looked. I did NoT have an eating disorder. July 25th I was brought to Edwards hospital for labs showing my blood sugar was in the 500's... It's suppose to be under 120... My pancreas had stopped working and I became a type 1 diabetic. From that moment on my eating, exercise, and life became increasingly more difficult. I began to eat more food when my blood level would drop to low and as months passed and my body went through changes so did my insulin rates. I always felt sick and tired and on top of that I was gaining so much weight. It was at high school when I really started caring and paying attention to what I was eating. I progressively got worse and would even go to the gym twice in one day. I was a exercis-o-holic! Then I would use a calorie counter to subtract everything I ate and when I didn't break even with calories or I felt like I ate to much I would self harm with rage. I was so upset that I wasn't even losing weight and it became my obsession. I continued to count calories but the worse I felt about myself the more more I wanted to stop eating. One night after eating a huge meal I was way above calories so I went for a jog but after I felt so sick that I threw up. A lightbulb had gone off in my head and I thought that instead of starving myself I could still eat but then throw it all up later. This terrible eating cycle was partially recognized by my parents and I was so depressed and isolated from all of my friends I ended up cracking after a terrible relapse and then they helped me make the first steps toward recovery.

Anonymous Story #19

1.       When I enter freshman year, I never thought in a million years that I would be stalked and bullied by one of my friends. I'm a good student, and I participate in a lot of clubs. I meet a guy through a club that I'm in, and we became great friends. A little while later, we got really close over the summer and texted a lot. He told me he's suicidal, and I offered to help in anyway possible. But, over the summer he got worse, aggressive, violent, just scary towards me and any attempt I tried to help him. Eventually at the beginning of the next year I told a teacher to try to get him help, and I though he was getting better. When he came back to school, he shoved me against lockers, verbally abused me, threatened me, and bullied me. He started a face book page about me and posted terrible things. His abuse led to my self harm. I try not to think about the things he said, how he constantly made me feel worthless, how he crushed myself esteem, but that's the thing about your head. Once those thoughts are in, they feel like they won't ever get out.