Stories. Not a blog.

“Do not be so open-minded that your brains fall out.”

After months of obsessively watching Book Nook videos, I finally made my own! It's not perfect, and I can already see myself re-making it in the future, but for now I'm so proud! I did it! I made a piece of art and it turned out quite nice! This was my first attempt at a book nook and hopefully I did this movie scene justice.

Yay! Here is a link if you wanna see it: https://www.tiktok.com/@yawnkeats/video/7143781008976923946?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7101766806524200490

Godspeed.

C. W.

I'm having thoughts about continuing therapy.

Something isn't working. I don't know what it is, but I know it. I feel it. I can almost taste it, too.

Something has changed. Shifted. Morphed.

But I don't know what.

It's strange, because everything started out great. But the more sessions I have, and the more J. knows, the worse I am beginning to feel.

I know. I know.

Things get worse before they get better. (that's how trauma works)

But I'm tired. And time is ticking by.

Godspeed.

C. W.

This is a tiny story about the time I became enemies with my elementary school lunch lady.

Once upon a time, I waited in line to get my food and when I sat down, I noticed my ChexMex and fruit cups were expired. Grossed out, I showed my friends and when they realized theirs were expired (3 days overdue), we let a teacher know. Some kids at the other tables overheard us and checked their ChexMex and fruit cups, too.

Eventually the entire lunchroom realized we had (and some had eaten) expired ChexMex and fruit cups and the head lunch lady was forced to open new boxes. Walking by each table, she placed the expired items into a box and placed teddy bear cookies and apple slices on our plates. When she got to me, however, she threw my teddy bear cookies on my food and tossed my apple slices into my lap. She literally looked red with anger and since then Debby was never the same with me again.

The end.

Godspeed.

C. W.

PS: I’ve FINALLY arrived at the new place and am having an awful time unpacking everything. Wish me luck! Xoxo!

I'm moving at the end of the month and I feel really excited! After 4 torturous years I am saying goodbye to my crappy basement apartment and moving to a third-floor unit on a super busy street! I can't wait to have windows I can look out of, and a heater that works in the winter! The apartment is smaller than the one I'm leaving, but I think the change will be good for us. The aura in this place is so draining, dark and heavy; and I can't wait to leave it behind. Packing has been daunting and stressful, but I am slowly making progress and I'm in a great place right now; thanks in part to my insomnia and 3am packing sessions. Everything looks like a downright mess, but the messier the room the bigger the progress.

I'll update soon!

Godspeed.

C. W.

Let's talk about suicide.

The last time I seriously considered suicide.

It was June 2019. I'd just quit my job and I was feeling more alone than I'd felt in a long, long time. My family had gone out somewhere; the movies, Walmart, I don't remember; but I was alone with my thoughts and the darkness of my room, which did not feel like my room, and which as the minutes passed by, suffocated me more and more, until tears flowed down my eyes and my throat began to hurt.

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Gone, but not forgotten.

Why do I always abandon things I love?

This.

I love this little place so much.

It is my corner. My hideout. My public 'safe space'.

So why did I leave?

Is it because things have been good?

Or better?

More consistent?

I don't know.

And that's why I'm back, I suppose.

To figure it out.

Godspeed.

C. W.

I had a sad dream about a beautiful, pink frog that was the size of a roll of tape. It fit perfectly in the palm of my hand and I took care of it; happily, lovingly, carefully; until it suffered an accident. The wind roared and screamed, and in one big swoop took my little love out of my hands. And then down it went, slamming against sharp rocks; its fragile arms and legs torn from its body as it fell into the water.

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After months of struggling with secondary trauma at work, I will (officially) begin working part-time soon; and there are no words to describe how happy and liberated (and exited!) I feel.

I enjoy my job a lot, but the toll of hearing people’s trauma—and feeling like shit afterwards every single time—has fucked up my mental health in ways I cannot even begin to describe. Their stories and pains are so similar to my own and having flashbacks and physical manifestations of my mental symptoms mid-job has been excruciatingly difficult. And to make matters worse, the boredom and workplace drama that I am forced to witness have not helped, either.

Only time will tell if working less, yet still working (there) will help to improve my mental space (something tells me that it will!). Some drastic changes have been on the horizon for a long time and this one was long overdue.

I shall update soon on how the endeavor is going.

Godspeed.

C. W.

(sorry about my absence; it's been a strange and busy month)

i'm officially in therapy.

i had my first session yesterday afternoon and it was wonderful.

j. was great; she was engaging and attentive. (and although i was terrified i didn't feel like i was talking to a teacher that had forced me to spill the beans because i'd done something wrong. i didn't vanish when she asked me (deeply) personal stuff. i didn't lie—because i didn't feel like a wounded deer in an open field. i didn't do so many of the things i am used to doing in order to protect myself from people.

gah,

it felt good.

it felt the way therapy is supposed to feel like, even though i've never been in therapy (that one time doesn't count) and have no idea of what it's supposed to feel like. (if that makes any sense at all!)

i'm excited. i'm hopeful.

she's kind. the price of it is worth it.

i'm really happy i didn't give up. (on myself on my healing on my search on my future)

godspeed.

c. w.

I’ve been thinking a lot about where I am going—and where I want to be. Part of me wants to be gone from this world forever, but the other part of me desperately wants to succeed—and then some.

I feel that time is flying by (even by my standards it’s going fast) and that is terrifying; but until I finish my endeavor (which is going, going!) it will continue to swoop on by…until what? I achieve my greatest dream or end up dead?

Time will tell.

(gah, sorry for this, I’ve been feeling a bit blue lately)

Godspeed.

C. W.

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