Catching up!

Hello! My apologies for the lack of posts and content lately. I’ve recently been hit by one of many life’s curveballs…. right in the gut, or so it seems. It has taken it’s toll on me emotionally and physically over the past few weeks. Since then, life itself really hasn’t been easy lately, and I’ve found it difficult to find the motivation to continue to pursue all of the great things I had in front of me. After feeling so down and beaten up, I realized that I couldn’t continue to feel defeated from things that were out of my control. I must use my passion to give me drive when I feel stranded in the darkness. With that I am moving forward with my personal passion and drive! 


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Giving Up & In

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I have lost the will to be anything other than me.

The weight of the mask bears too much on my fragile heart.

I’m not a terrible person; I am a person who seeks love and belonging.

I search despite the fact I feel as though I am unworthy for it.

I have grown sick of the twisted melodies flooding my mind every single night.

I no longer wish to hide from the world for it has already consumed me to a morsel of dust.

Dear mind, please let me be me for once.

I no longer wish to fight this losing battle.

Set me free from this disguise so I can finally heal from my seeping wounds.

I deserve to have a chance too…


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Life is filigree

Dark spots show more than light ones.

Sadness is my art.


Is life just a test?

If so, I’m sure I’m failing.

I can restart, right?


I don’t lie dear friend.

What I feel right now is real.

I feel nothingness.


Why do you smile friend?

What is there to smile about?

Please tell me dear friend.


My head is a mess.

Where do I even begin?

Sanity is gone.


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(You don’t have to do this alone… HELP is always within your reach!)

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Fatal

63e4107d1925c588057a05dbb39d3132The true monster lies within my head.

I know damn well that it wants me dead.

I feel as though I’m dangling from a single thread.

Sleep has never really been my thing…

I can’t feel joy whether if I write, dance, or sing.

I don’t want to answer the phone when it rings.

It’s ridiculous, no I’m ridiculous!

Take a good look at me.

What is it that you can see?

Maybe if you tell me the truth then you can set me free.

But I know it cannot be… the only one who can tell the truth is me.


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Dream Journal- The Black Eyes Are Ripping me Apart

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The other night I had a nightmare that left me drenched in a cold sweat, hyperventilating. It was extremely intense and graphic for a mostly non-lucid dream. This is an actual nightmare I had that is still hanging around in my head. Its driving me absolutely insane and I hope writing it down will help me process it.

I was at work walking back and forth past the front doors while I was on my break. I came back from the bathroom when one of my co-workers pointed out that the tail-lights and something else was out on my car. They told me they thought I should know before leaving so I would be safe on the road. Part of me felt like going outside was going to be a bad idea if I did it alone, but I did it anyway. One of the managers tried to stop me and the same person tried to urge me to go with them, but I insisted that I would be right back. It was overcast outside and the parking lot seemed to be dead. I for some reason had a flashlight in my hand like as if I knew it was going to be dark soon. It rapidly changed from an overcast parking lot full of cars to a pitch black void of parking spaces. I went to my car and that is when all hell broke loose. I saw a black eyed woman, probably in her late teens, early twenties. She wore a light jacket, jeans, and converse. I didn’t even see that she had black eyes until after speaking with her for a few moments.

Things at this point started to get a little bit scrambled and dodgy. At one point the scene flashed to me going into an office on a grassy hill with my managers. My back and chest was covered with only a towel while I wore pants. I was absolutely soaked and drained of energy. A few kind ladies where in dully designed office were helping me, trying to calm me down, yet they were completely oblivious to what was really going on. I tried to warn them not to go outside and yet… they still did.

Again, I was snapped back into the dream where I had seen the same co-worker being dragged off by more of the black eyed mutants, yet it seemed as though he got away for a brief second. I couldn’t necessarily tell for sure if he got away until later on towards the end of the dream. Majority of people were cornered by humanoid black eyed beings and were either hidden, ripped apart, or blasted into bits of bone and dust. It was an absolute gore fest as I could only stand outside amongst the blackness, helpless, unable to save my friends. Soon, I wasn’t able to comprehend what the black eyed girl said to me. A few others tried to come my way and talk to me. I ran past them and knew immediately that I just had to do something. I ran past all of the stores in the strip, jumping from platform to platform, listening to the godawful dying screams of my friends. I tried to keep my eye on what I needed to do and there was an ancient vault across the street, behind where I worked with which I knew the answer to this would be within my grasp. I was desperate to find some solution.

I find myself in what appeared to either be an ancient vault or tomb within a warehouse across the street. The walls were lined with thousands of pictographs and symbols I could not recognize. Jewels and fine crystals lined this vault-like marking on the wall which held a very strange artifact. It was a golden oriental Japanese fan. Suddenly, a large mass of jagged, growling, demented beings tried to intimidate me from grabbing the fan. One of them hopped out from the crowed and tried to bribe, threaten, and persuade me from grabbing it. I did it any way and flew out of there free from their grasp as I could hear their dying screams. It was music to my ears to hear the shrieks from hell bound beasts for I knew it meant I was starting to succeed past their evil.

I found myself change shape. I wasn’t Alex anymore, but I was a crane like creature that could use the fan to fly. I knew that I needed to fly out of there to get help while I still could. I could hear encouraging cheers and support from the ones below me. I had to jump from platform to platform in this such bizarre place. It was a set of buildings, old and new, built above a set of small creeks and rivers. It was absolutely beautiful and as soon as I reached the top, I could see beyond the horizon. I was so close to victory knowing I could save so many people and beat these bastards. Unfortunately, that was taken from me too soon when I was gearing to fly off when I heard a scream for help, and that scream asked for me. I jumped down believing I could save them, but as I got down there, I was knocked down and overrun by a few of the black-eyed mutants. They seemed zombie like in appearance and stone cold hearted like a hell frozen over parasite. The sky and everything around me turned red and the screams got louder. I could hear shards of glass and small explosions breaking out. I jumped onto a higher platform to try to get away, but one of the more aggressive ones hopped up and ripped my right hand off, the one that held the fan. The fan’s magical powers stopped working and the banshee could not get it from the hand it held. He tried to bargain with me, and I bluffed it and ran. After that, I woke up absolutely drenched in sweat and consumed by fear.


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World of Psyche- Unmotivation

I still have yet to fully grasp what the true meaning of unmotivation; however, I do know that at one point or another it affects us all. Its that overwhelming shadow that weighs over us, causing us to feel so low to where even doing the things we love doesn’t seem appealing at all. And when it hits you, it hits hard.

Everyone goes through this, everyone. I don’t want anyone to believe that they are alone with this. To me, this is an on and off issue. I can’t quite pinpoint what causes me to feel unmotivated other than stress. When I’m stressed and overtired, it makes me really not want to do much of anything. It really affects me when it comes to the fine arts aspect of me. I absolutely love art, and I hate it when I get demotivated or get ‘artist’s block’. 

Unmotivation seems to very well be an aspect of Depression. Regardless, this is something that I know very damn well that this is an obstacle that we can ALL overcome. I believe there are a few things that can be done to help this problem:

  1. Step back from the overall situation to gain some perspective.
  2. Take a break from whatever project(s) you are working on (even if its just a brief one).
  3. Breathe. Always remember to breathe.
  4. The last thing you would ever want to do is to make it worse. Fighting it and beating yourself up is only going to make the problem worse.
  5. Have faith and hope that our motivation and drive can and will come back.

In the end, it all works out, believe it or not. Its ok to feel tired, worn down, depressed, unmotivated. We weren’t born to be or feel perfect. Nor were we created to be happy all the time. Always remember these things: Give yourself some credit and a pat on the back for a job well done with everything you do, Breathe calmly and deeply especially when stressed out, Don’t beat yourself up over something you have no control over, Lastly, always remember to look forward.

-Alex

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World of Psych- Phobias: Emetophobia

I believe that fear is just an aspect of life. We all have our own doubts, insecurities, worries, and fear. Fear is an important emotion to feel, especially when there are situations that are dangerous which would kick-start the fight, flee, or freeze defenses. However, fear and anxiety can become unhealthy depending on the cause. 

I can definitely say for myself that I have some phobias or things that I have anxiety about which are not things that would or should normally kickstart the survival instincts within us. I never even knew I had this particular fear until I heard a narration about a Nightmare Fuel story on Youtube. Emetophobia was loosely mentioned within the story. I was curious to see what it meant so I pulled it up on Google. The fear to vomit, vomiting, or seeing others vomit. 

I have had this fear for years without knowing what this meant until a few months ago. I do not agree with labels at all whatsoever. But in this situation it helped me find a name and a face to this fear so I can conquer it. Anyway, I believe this fear is linked up to something that I haven’t faced from my childhood until now. I watched my parents, especially my mom get sick all the time when I was growing up. It seemed oddly normal, which I knew deep down that it wasn’t (especially seeing my mom fighting cancer on and off during my late teens). I know a lot of it had to do with lifestyle, stress, and a few other factors. But, I was constantly so afraid that I was going to ‘catch’ something that I couldn’t even control. I had always feared that if I got sick then something bad was going to happen, but I can’t say what for certain. I also remember whenever I got sick and had to go home from school, I felt so guilty. I was afraid that it would cause problems between my parents, which is something that I never wanted. 

Whenever I was around someone who was going to throw up or had thrown up, I would freak out and try to get away from them as fast as possible. It didn’t matter if it was at school, hanging out with my friends, or out and about, I just wanted to get away. I never really knew why and felt so bad whenever I did try getting away from it all.

I guess I could say besides facing Emetophobia, I had also been fighting OCD and Germophobia. I was afraid of getting sick, period. Nevermind getting the fly or throwing up. Any form of illness made me quiver in fear. When I was first beginning to go to community college, I constantly bought all kinds of things to keep things at my childhood home clean and free of germs. Disinfectant wipes, sprays, hand sanitizer, you name it. I used to disinfect everything. Door knobs, edges of cabinets, light switches, my phone, my computer, my backpack, my own clothes, and even myself. I used disinfectant cleaner on myself, which I knew was bad for me, but back then I didn’t care. Every time I washed my hands, I would use disinfectant soap and wash with scalding hot water. My hands would be red for minutes. If I felt ‘warm’ I would take my temperature. If I ever had a stomach ache, I would take antacids right away and do anything in my power to make it stop. If I saw that the thermometer had been used recently, or any talk of someone in the house being sick, I panicked. I would keep myself in my room all day and keep away from all people. I hated the way I felt. I wanted it to stop, but I couldn’t. I even freaked out about cooking anything because I wanted to make sure everything was cooked and cleaned properly.

Somewhere down the line, the fear started to settle down. I stopped disinfecting everything and wasn’t afraid to cook or clean so much. It seemed as though all of my hard work with my therapist and psychiatrist paid off. I was still a bit OCD about some things, but it wasn’t so bad. Now that I am living on my own, the fear seems to be non-existent over time. However, sometimes it still hits me like a brick. When I first started working retail, I used to fear getting sick. I used to fear having to call in if I needed to or if I let any of my managers know if I was unwell. My fear seemed to take a weird turn for now I am finding myself doing rituals that are far different from what I used to do.

Now I am anal about making sure everything that could be locked, needs to be locked. I keep everything set for the day before work or school. If things weren’t ready like how they should be in my mind, I would get over stressed or angry. Oddly I still sometimes freak out about cooking and whether everything is done how it should be or not. I still sometimes disinfect stuff from time to time, but not nearly as much as I used to do. When I don’t sleep at night, I make sure all of my alarms and scheduled reminders are on the dot. I have a bad habit of checking my phone either for the time, checking the schedules and alarms, or making sure I had enough battery power for it to wake me up in the morning. I still keep trying to rationalize why I am doing this, thinking that its all psychosomatic. But, I’ve realized that maybe there are deeper roots to this problem that I have no idea about. 

I know damn well that I will get through this and beat it. And for those that struggle with OCD, Germophobia, and or Emetophobia should know that you can get through it too. I also want whomever is reading this know that I can fully empathize with you and that you ARE NOT alone.

Much love and light to everyone this evening,

Alex

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