Grief During the Holidays

There is nothing that breaks a heart more than missing out on special moments with special people. Holidays are meant to be spent with loved ones - whether that be your family, or friends. With loss, holidays seem more empty than full.

Grief can come in many forms, and loss can sometimes break you. It can come in the form of shutting down, lashing out, isolating yourself, etc, or everything all at once.

After losing my mom back in January of 2020, my first year of holidays felt empty. Every time a moment came by my heart ached for my mother. All I could feel was grief in the form of a hole in my chest. I let myself feel what I need to feel when it comes to grief in general. There is so much pain in grief, and so much agony in trying to hide the hurt. Luckily I had my sisters to lean on, but that’s not always the case with everyone.

If you’re anything like me, holidays are special in the sense that I get to spend it feeling grateful for the people in my life. I get to celebrate the love in my life, and dealing with loss during a time like that can feel debilitating.

Some things I’ve tried when dealing with grief, is first and foremost letting myself feel it all. Letting it out in whatever way my body needed to do so in whatever moment.

Remembering what you lost does not mean the spirit of them is not all around you. Remembering them in a way where you celebrate the good times can help battle the pain that comes with the memories. My sisters and I share videos and photos of our parents, reminding ourselves of what we once had, while celebrating what we have now. When we take on the holiday spirit in the way of loving remembrance, the beauty in grief can be found.

Holidays are not easy for everyone. This could be someone’s first season without their loved one, and taking time to be there for those people who may be in your life can be a gift of its own. Remember that in grief, there is great loss, but there is also so much love. To grieve is to have loved in the most beautiful way possible. So let yourself feel, let yourself think about those holiday memories. Let yourself find that love you thought you lost when they left. Chances are you’ll realize that the love you felt for them is still there, and in place of grief, you’ve found a way to hold onto the good, beautiful moments, and hope for a more positive future.

Love, Bailey

Self Love Take 2

It’s hard looking at everyone getting everything you’ve always hoped for. It’s hard seeing people with the body, or face, or anything someone else has that you wish you possessed.

Social media is an incredible platform in multiple ways, yet when I try to use it that way I often times feel disheartened.

There’s so much exposure through social media. You get to peek into everyone’s lives and judge based on what you perceive. Everyone’s a victim to it, there’s no denying that. Some people just handle the idea of perception better than others.

Awhile back I wrote an article about self love in the age of social media. This is a fresher take on that.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m the first person to claim self acceptance while I simultaneously suck in my stomach in photos of myself. Okay maybe not the first one ever, but it’s something I find myself doing all. the. time. I’m never satisfied with my body, or my image.

I scroll and I scroll through thousands of photos of beautiful people of all shapes and sizes. All skin types and colors. Yet as I say to myself how incredible these people look, I stare at myself with a form of hatred one only grows from within.

I’m not here to tell you to love yourself, because it’s hard. I know it’s hard. But if you’re trying then at least you’re doing better than me.

I may portray a life of self love and acceptance, and recovery, but deep down I know there are many things I’d change about my appearance and my past. Who out there doesn’t have something they wish were different in life?

Overall, I guess I’m trying to say that there is no timeline or guidebook on how to love yourself. It’s something you’ll stumble through for the rest of your life. Falling in holes and then digging yourself out of them, just to fall back in again. A cycle of highs and lows.

There are many things in life I wish I had that I don’t. There are many things in life I wish I could change but I can’t. This life was meant to be played out the way it has for a reason, and if I keep telling myself that then one day I’ll believe it, and maybe then I’ll find peace in a body I have hated for so long.

Bailey

“I am Not a Legend I’m a Fraud”

It’s a bad mental health day. I feel like life is stacking on top of me, and I can’t bare the weight.

I mean, who am I to use my platform to spread awareness of mental health when I don’t have mine wrapped up in a bow like I make it seem. Where is my footing here?

Do I belong in this world? Do I belong to this platform? Do I belong at all? I wonder if my words are useful at all. Do they make a change, or do they get looked past?

Halsey said it best, “I am not a legend I’m a fraud.” I am not an advocate, I’m a victim of my own self sabotage. I don’t personally know if my head exists in the world of advocacy at all. I mean, how could it? My head is filled with all of these thoughts that I can’t always articulate.

I come on here giving advice that I don’t always take myself. Who wants to read that? Who wants to believe in that? A world where a positive mindset can coexist with mental health. Maybe I’m okay. Maybe I’m not. I don’t know anymore.

I’ve always vowed to be transparent with my blog, and this is me doing so. Maybe this is my bipolar talking. Maybe it’s the truth behind a facade of smiles and words of affirmation. Like I’ve said in the past, it’s okay to not be okay. But today, it doesn’t feel okay. Today it feels like there’s weight on my shoulders, pushing me further into a hole I can’t climb out of.

I’m not sure my existence has been helpful at all, and I don’t think I’ll ever know that for sure. Part of me will always question my worth. Part of me will always run when it gets hard to breathe the air of a world that exists to put me down.

Happiness is fleeting. So hold onto it while it’s still surrounding you. Savor the taste it brings you. Stitch it onto your sleeve, and wear it like a heart. Shield your eyes from the sun, and soak the breathe of its everlasting heat.

I wrote this a few days ago, and just today had the courage to post it. Even if today is bad, there is always tomorrow.

Always, Bailey

Reflection

As I came across my 25th year, I began to reflect on the growth I’ve endured in the past 5 years alone.

When I was 20, I thought it was going to me my year. I had high expectations, only to be met with the pain of personal growth.

When I was 20, back in 2017, I found myself in and out of hospitals trying to work on my mental health, and get a proper diagnosis and medication. By 2018 I had already been hospitalized 4 times, and I had learned so much in that period of my life. Although it was hard, it helped set me up for a brighter future.

In 2018 I met my fiancé, who has changed me for the better. He gave me hope when I didn’t have much of it. He helped to build me back up when I didn’t believe it was even possible.

With the help of my loved ones, and my own will, I grew in ways I never thought were possible. I grew stability in a chaotic world, and felt real love for the what felt like the first time. I gained strength in myself, and learned healthier coping mechanisms.

Although I still have bad days, they are fewer than they’ve ever been. I’ve found happiness in day to day life. I owe a lot to the nurses and doctors who helped me get on a medication regimen that helps me feel stable and “normal.” I feel thankful for the spot that I’m in today, where I can be transparent about my past, and hopeful about my future all at the same time.

Reflection is a beautiful thing. Especially when you get the opportunity to look at your past and say, “I’ve grown from that.” I’ve outlived myself, in the sense that in the past I never saw a future. Today, I see so much to look forward to, and I’m so grateful for all the steps I took to get to this point. All the people I’ve met that have shaped me into the woman I am today. So so grateful. 20 year old me couldn’t even dream about where 25 year old me is at, and that’s something I don’t take for granted. So make sure to take time to reflect on your progress and reward yourself for all that you have become. The past will forever live in the past if you don’t let it torment your present, or break into your future. And remember that tomorrow is a new day, and even when times are tough, you can always find something to be grateful for.

Always,
Bailey

I’m Right Where I’m Supposed to be

You know that gut feeling you get when you’re right where you’re supposed to be? I have that.

It feels like everything I’ve been through, every obstacle, every challenge, every hardship, has led me right here. I’m in a good position with work. I’m engaged to the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I have my family and friends’ full support.

It feels like the universe lined up a quarter of a lifetime of pain, to bring me forever wrapped up like a dream. To be able to reflect on my past, and know I’m right where I’m supposed to be feels like the biggest flex.

Now don’t get me wrong, I still struggle. Life isn’t easy, and times are still tough, but I’m not in it alone anymore. It took me awhile to realize that, but I have support. I have my sisters, my best friends, my fiancé, my employers. The position I’m in feels like a granted wish.

I think back to 18 year old me. Scared. Feeling like she had to deal with everything on her own. Feeling insecure in herself and her relationships. Feeling pressured by someone she thought she loved. I think back to 18 year old me and can’t believe the growth I’ve had in such a short amount of time.

7 years since my world turned in on itself. 7 years since my minds chemistry altered in ways I never thought I’d have to learn about. 7 years and I genuinely have something to show for it. My strength.

Some find it to be a weakness that I am so open about my trauma, and my struggles. Some find it inappropriate. But in reality I’m just a girl working through life altering situations in the only way she knows how. I don’t share myself so publicly for pity, or for prayers. I share myself so publicly so that my trauma holds nothing over my head. So that my trauma doesn’t continue to live inside me, and eat away at my core.

You may think what you want about me. But I’m happy. For once, in a long time, I am so fucking happy. Never in the world did I imagine myself here, with someone who loves me so deeply the way that my partner does. Never did I imagine myself here. Just HERE, alive, and well. I spent a long time planning for an end, expecting the worst, and preparing to execute what my thoughts were feeding me. And to stare at myself in the mirror and think about a future for the girl staring back at me feels like something I never thought would happen.

So say what you want. Think what you want. I know where I’m at, and I know how hard I worked to be here. You’ll find it a lot harder to kick me when I’m no longer down. So that gut feeling? I deserve to have that, and nothing is going to take it away from me.

Learning to Open up About Trauma

Living day to day with imbedded trauma is equally as traumatic as the event itself. For some people,  (me), the trauma comes in waves of intrusive thoughts and flashbacks. Though I don’t know much about trauma itself as far as it goes psychologically, I do know that holding it in will only make it worse.

Recently I opened up to a friend about my past and it scared me. I was afraid (still am) that my personal trauma would be exposed to people who’d abuse it. Trust is something that is earned, not given. Putting my trust into this person scared me, but I felt it needed to be talked about. And in doing so I found clarity over the situation too, making it easier for me to work towards letting it go.

Now being open with my partner has helped our relationship grow in such a healthy way. I’ve expressed everything about my past to him, and he’s been more than empathetic about it with me. He’s there when the flashbacks hit too hard, and he’s there when my thoughts turn into my emotions. Having that safety net has helped me heal a little day by day.

Although I don’t think my trauma related ptsd will ever go away, I do think I will find acceptance in it. Facing the things I tend to hide from is not easy, but it is necessary. Just remember that healing isn’t linear, it has it’s ups and downs. But progress is being made, and with that knowledge you can find your strength. In the meantime if you ever need support, I am always here.

Bailey

Mental Health Awareness Month

With May being mental health awareness month, I feel the need to come on to this platform and give a “speech” so to speak. Something uplifting, something informative. But at this moment in my life, I just can’t. 

2021 broke me, and I spent the year chasing something that never came. 2022 is going so fast, and I feel like I’m still stuck in the past. Losing my mom, feeling an overwhelming sense of grief. Being hospitalized again under suicide watch. It feels like it never ends. 

I sit and I write constantly, and my zine was a baby of that art. Dream Girl Diaries was my soul put into words. Writing that, and putting the pages together gave me a sense of purpose. And to have so many people support me and buy a copy, and help fund the book entirely is incredible. 

I’ve definitely been focusing on my art lately. Both my illustrative drawings, and my poetry. I’m just writing and writing and hoping one day to put them all into an actual PUBLISHED book! A girl can dream. 

So I can’t say life is only bad. I have some highs, I have some lows. But being borderline, and bipolar, those highs and lows are more extreme than the average human. 

Most days I daydream about a world without me in it, and it feels so nice. I know there are a select few people who would care if I left, but overall, in the grand scheme of things, time will go on, just like it always has. 

To sum this up, I am not okay. But I am trying to be the rock my family and friends needs me to be. It’s an awful feeling, to be tied down to something when all you want to do is leave. I hope one day this will all be over. Whatever that entails. 

As always, thank you for reading. 

Love, Bailey

How to be Okay, When You’re Not Okay

“Being okay is overrated,” is something my mind often tells me. It’s quite a habit of mine to lie to myself about how I’m feeling. Whispering between sobs, “you’re okay,” as I feel like my world is falling apart. Not accepting the fact that I’m not okay, and that that is also okay. 

I’ve been reading/seeing a lot of inspirational quotes on Instagram lately. Stuff like, “Trust that what belongs to you will always find you,” and, “There is love in holding on, and there is love in letting go.” I chose those two examples because they speak to me. Lately I’ve felt such an attachment to something that doesn’t exist anymore, and I’m working on letting that go. 

My attachment lies with the idea of someone, some year, some feeling that will never be alive again. My therapist tells me it’s my want to be the person I was when all of this happened, but I think it’s more than that. If it wasn’t, then I don’t think my emotions would run as deep as they do. How do I be okay when I’m not okay here? How do I find the love in letting go?

One thing I’ve learned after everything my mind, body, and soul have been through, is that standing up is also a positive. Brushing your hair is good for you. Hell, getting up in the morning is considered a win. Often when you’re battling a mental illness, you forget about these tiny wins. These tiny accomplishments. Your mind is too busy focusing on everything that’s bad, so that when your day of not crying doesn’t feel like something to celebrate. 

The other day I had my first bad ptsd attack in awhile. My coworker, the angel that she is, sat with me while I cried into the palms of my hands. Telling me I was safe, and trying to help me breathe again. This moment made me realize that I am not okay, but I still got up and went back to work. 

So, how do you be okay when you’re not okay? The answer can be quite simple as, “Focus on the good, and the good will focus on you,” (That’s another inspiration quote from Instagram.) But I feel like being okay when you’re not okay is more complex than that. I feel like being okay at the hand of someone else’s perception of you feels better than letting them see what’s really going on. I’ve grown victim to this plenty of times. Being hospitalized and telling my mom that I was okay, though I had just attempted suicide. Then I go to having a breakdown in the back room of my job and apologizing for it because someone finally saw me. 

It’s okay to not be okay, you don’t have to apologize for it. You don’t have to pretend for other people, and you definitely don’t have to pretend for yourself. Let yourself let go of the idea of playing mentally stable to the public when you’re not actually okay. It’s okay to ask for help, and this is something I even need to work on. 

How do you be okay when you’re not okay? Just simply be.

An Open Letter to my Father Figures

Matt — 

When I was younger, you were everything. You were the only man I have ever called “dad.” After losing my real father before I even turned 1, having you meant everything. 

I remember you fondly, taking me on father daughter dates to McDonalds of all places, and out for ice cream. I remember you taking me to work with you, and how cool I felt riding in a tow truck, the smell of grease coating the interior. 

I was so young, and in my eyes you were my father. Even when my mom and you divorced, and she remarried, I still called to you. Up until third grade you were one of the only guy in my life that meant something.

But then you left. With no reason, out of nowhere. I remember the day you called me while I was at my friends house, letting me know that you were moving to Florida and I’d never see you again. I remember falling to the floor of her bedroom, just crying, thinking, “How could he do this to me?” You were the first man to break my heart. 

The little girl in me will always call you her only daddy, but to me now, the only part of me that still exists, you are nothing.

Ryan —

You’ve been a gem in my eyes since I was four years old. I’ve always looked up to you. You were my brother long before you married into the family. 

I remember cuddling with you, in between you and my sister. I remember you taking photos of me on your film camera for some high school project. I remember you taking me fishing with you, dressing me up in gear you had lying around. I remember the times you took me snorkeling at the river, and how excited I’d get just to see a fish beneath me. 

You’ve always been a father figure in my eyes. Someone to toughen me up, yet always remind me how loved I was. I remember how jealous I was when you had your daughter, thinking it would ruin the relationship we had. I didn’t realize our bond until I was old enough to comprehend it. 

The amount of respect I have grown for you is insurmountable. Thank you for teaching me my worth, and how to not let anyone treat me otherwise. I hope one day I’ll have you on my arm, walking me down the aisle when I get married. I love you brother.

DD —

You are one of my best friends. I truly believe the universe knew we were meant to be in each other’s lives, and just handed us to the world. 

I know growing up we butted heads. I was a loud, mouthy, and opinionated little girl. I aimed for attention, and I always got it. You were quite a snob in my eyes (don’t hate me for saying that), but yet I was always attached to your leg. I adored the sound of your laughter — and still do. 

I loved that you let me draw with you, and always told me my art was fridge worthy. I loved your Star Wars figurines, yet never understood why you kept them in the box to where I couldn’t play with them. You’d always play legos with me, and commend me for my amazing ability to build a color coordinated house. 

In the presence, I love that you continue to teach me about mindfulness, and how to unlock my inner artist. You always root me on when it comes to my art, and any other endeavors. You’d still tell me my art is fridge worthy if you even remembered that memory of mine. You’ve helped raise me, as a promise to my dad. You’ve given me support to do whatever the hell I want to do. To love who I want to. To make art the way I want to. To find peace in my past. 

Thank you for being my art teacher, and for being my life coach. Thank you for being one of the closest people to me, where I know all my secrets wont be held in vain. I love you, and hope you read this and it makes you smile, or laugh that infectious sound it makes. I’m proud to say that you’re my uncle, and always will be. Always be you, just like you’ve taught me to be. 

Love, Bailey

The Threshold of Life

Living and existing are things that coexist but do not align. I’ve tasted life in it’s many forms, but never truly felt like I was living. Really living. 

When I was younger —pre 18– I went to concerts almost every week. I made new friends, I lost some old, but more importantly I felt alive for the first time in my life. When I was in that room, the air filled with the heavy breathes of people I’ll never know the names of, but all with the common purpose of seeing an artist we loved… I felt like the numbness swept itself away with every beat of the music. I felt like the crowd, throwing me up in the air and guiding me to the stage was my peak in life. 

When I fell in love for the first time the world altered on me. I felt passion for something, for someone. I remember the nights spent on crumpled sheets, and the static in the air that the record playing off my phonograph that filled in the cracks with. The moonlight being our only source of light, while we became tangled up in one another’s arms. I felt the infinity in a new romance, and new experiences. I felt what I thought life was. 

When I was in North Carolina at the beach and I tasted the salt in the warm waters, with my best friend by my side, I felt like the world could try and stop us but it’d never fulfill its destiny. Our white skin tanning under the summer sun, the scent of sunscreen being tossed around, the sand between chipped nail polished toes. In these moments I felt alive with her, and with the body of water we spent hours in. 

When I moved to Seattle, into my first apartment, I felt unstoppable. I felt like the world was finally mine to live for. I felt lost, but so in love with the city — my city. I worked on using a bus for the first time, since I couldn’t afford a car. I worked two jobs, from 7 AM to 11 PM. Opening one job, closing the other. Just to come home to a less than 800 square foot studio apartment. But it was mine, and I felt so proud. I felt like walking along the streets of the U District was a domain I made all on my own. Living there, in a city filled with people like me, I felt alone, but alive. 

When I fell in love the second time it was as if the world put itself on an axis of it’s own. Like time and existence put itself together to have us meet. From a strong, robust love, to a calm, soft love. Sweet nothings, and goodnight kisses. I felt love in a way I had never felt love before. He made me feel like all of my past lived there, and didn’t come along for the ride. He’d kiss away all my worries, and send a tingle along my spine. He made me feel alive.

When I lost my mom, my world sort of stopped. But one thing I’ve learned is that time doesn’t stop for anyone. My world may be crashing, but time will go on with or without me. I felt angry, I felt alone, I felt so so sad. I felt like my mom left before she was meant to. I felt more alive than ever, after losing someone in the sight of my own eyes. Beneath the skin of my own hands. I felt the loss of a beautiful existence in a pace with my own life continuing without her. 

All my life I’ve felt outside and beyond the threshold of life. I’ve felt like I’ve watched everyone around me live while I just existed. Yes, I’ve felt life before. I’ve felt it in the touch of another’s hand against my skin, the way our eyes would lock on one another’s, in the beat of a song ricocheting against the walls of a concert venue. I’ve felt it in kissing my favorite celebrities, in hugging people I look up to. I’ve felt it in my writing, and the way I feel for those I love, and have loved. Life has existed within me, whether my mind agrees with me or not. 

The threshold of life is but a concept. There is no one way to live, and there is no one way to feel alive. Keep that in mind next time you feel yourself wading in the waters of existence. Life is being lived beneath our fingertips, slipping through the cracks between our fingers, and when you look back, what do you see?

Dear High School Self

Dear high school self,

It’s the beginning of your sophomore year of high school, and you decided to overwhelm yourself with honors, and AP classes. You strived for perfection, but all it did was slowly tear you apart as the year went on. 

You started self harming, and writing letters to someone who’d never read them. Eventually it got too bad. You couldn’t handle it, you wanted to die. You didn’t want to be alive anymore, but you kept going. 

You dropped out of high school to focus on your mental well being, and although once graduation came around for your fellow classmates, and you hated yourself for not sticking though, you were at a really healthy place. 

You got out of your hometown, you got an apartment of your own. You started dating for the first time and you were terrified of it. You fell in love, in spite of everything. Yet in the same year had your heart ripped out of your chest. 

You moved to Seattle and fell in love with the city — which you still adore. You made new friends, lost them. 

You were hospitalized a few times after falling off the deep end, but you made it through, in spite of your suicide attempts. 

High school you would be proud of me. You’d be proud I found a good job, a good man, a good life for myself. You’d be proud I’ve taken the steps to take care of my mental health. You’d be proud of the person I stand to be today. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re going to struggle for awhile, but when you finally meet the right person, things will start to look up. So look forward and keep going, it’ll be worth it in the end.

Dear current me, 

Be proud of your progress. Be proud of how far you’ve come in the last 5 years. Through intense heartbreak, to hospitalizations, to difficult diagnosis, to elated feelings that fade to depressive thoughts. 

You are so strong. Even though you don’t think you are. You’ve overcome so much in your 24 year span of a lifetime that some don’t even experience in 50 years. 

Be proud of your progress! Be proud of who you are. Embrace your flaws, accept your mental illness and continue to work towards healing yourself. 

Don’t let minor setbacks drain you as much as you let them. Don’t give your demons power over you anymore. Take your life, take everything about you with it, and keep on keeping on. That’s all you can do. 

Accept yourself for who you are (because I know you hate yourself for for how your mental illness can control you sometimes). Accept the fact that you are going to struggle for whoever knows how long, but you’re going to get through it. You always do. 

Your life is in your hands, what are you going to do with it?

love always,

Bailey 

PTSD

PTSD can be quite overwhelming at times. It’s as if there’s a whole other world living inside your head, replaying events over and over. Clouding your mind with lost touches and drastic events. Some days are easy. Some days you get through the 24 hour period without thinking of what caused you harm, and everything is okay. Some days it’s harder. Some days you feel it all. You feel the hands on your body, the car hitting someone else’s, the force of a fist… Some days you just can’t get through — but the kicker is that you DO.

One thing I’ve come to realize when it relates to my PTSD is that I’ve always gotten through it. In the moment it feels like forever. In the moment it feels real. Like I’m inside that car all over again, accidentally running that red light, hitting that car at full force, blacking out and waking up wondering if I just killed someone or not. Like I’m in my bed, and he’s there too. Like I’m 9 and my step dad’s best friend has his hands in my underwear all over again. I got through that. I had the strength to get through that. And I still have the strength to get through the flashbacks that my PTSD supplies me with.

Post traumatic stress disorder is a condition that supplies persistent mental and emotional stress on a person based off of either psychological or physical pain. Symptoms can include nightmares, the inability to sleep, and constant and vivid recollection of what caused the harm to begin with. There is medication to help with the nightmares and flashbacks, I’m on it. It helps me, more so with nightmares than with flashbacks, but it helps.

When I was in third grade I was molested, which I previously mentioned above. I didn’t admit to it at first, cause I wasn’t sure what had happened. So I tucked that memory away until about 10th grade when it hit me in the passenger seat of my sisters car, and I just said “[insert name here] touched me when I was younger.” And I remember her just laughing. Not putting her under a bad light, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about it either. From this event stemmed a fear of being touched, primarily by men. So when I got my first boyfriend, who was young and wanted only to touch, I was scared. I was scared to lose my virginity. I was scared to be intimate. My first time I wasn’t exactly ready. But it happened, and I got through it.

Moral of the story is that no matter how real it feels in the moment, and no matter how debilitating it may feel, it’s not real. Remind yourself in that moment that it is not real. It’s just a memory, a vivid memory, that will pass, and you will survive it. I know it’s easy to say, and easy to read coming from a 24 year old girl on the internet, but I live it too. I’ve felt it too. And I’m still here.

love always,
Bailey

Suicide Prevention Month & Awareness

September is suicide prevention month, and I’d be lying if I told you this wasn’t a constant in my head. Having gone through everything I have and still being here is an amazing thing, yet I still yearn for an end.

With my bipolar depression, ptsd, and borderline personality disorder, I have many aspects of my brain that want me dead (in a sense). That’s just the easiest way to describe it. It’s as if there’s a whole other person inside me that pushes me towards the edge, and that can be very difficult to deal with. To have a constant roll of ways to do it cycle through your brain without the ability to stop it is mentally draining.

Suicide is a dark thing, it’s not light, it’s not an easy topic, it’s difficult for anyone to talk about — but it must be talked about. We can’t just sit here and pretend it’s not real, or that it doesn’t happen in this world. It’s the 10th leading cause of death in the US alone. It’s also more common in men than in women, which is not talked about enough. In 2019 men committed suicide almost 4x as often as women.

I have attempted suicide twice in my life, both taking place in 2017. I ended up in the hospital the first time, and the second time was while I was IN the hospital. I talk about it lightly most days, makes it easier than realizing I got that low. With no regard for my family, I was only thinking of myself and a way out of my nightmare. Suicide felt like my only option, which it wasn’t. But everything felt so heavy on my shoulders and my chest. At the time an event happened that ruined me. It put me in and out of hospitals for 2 months straight. It truly ruined me, and I had never been so low in my life. I called the suicide prevention line, thank god it exists, and they could tell I was in crisis and couldn’t consider myself a safe place. This led to my first hospital visit.

As far as suicide prevention goes, just know there are resources out there. There are people out there that can, and will talk you through your crisis. Think about your family, your pets, your friends. Think about what it would do to them. Because I didn’t.

If you are in a crisis, and don’t feel like you can keep yourself safe — whether that be through self harm, or suicide — just know I am always always always available to talk. If you’re not comfortable with that, I threw in some resources below.
Just know that you are loved, you are valued, and you are important. Don’t let your mind try and convince you otherwise.

Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-8255
King County 24 hour, toll free support hotline: 1 888-427-4747 OR 206-461-3222
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org
bailey@dreamgirldiaries.com

Love always,
Bailey

Me Interviewed by You

I asked you guys to ask me some mental health related questions, and here are my answers. Trigger Warning: Suicide, Self harm

“What’s the biggest lesson you’ve had to learn?”
— That everyone leaves eventually, whether you want them to or not. Everything is temporary, and I’ve been reminded of that more frequently in the last 5 years. After losing my mom, losing best friends, everyone leaves. One way or another.

“What inspires your writing?”
— SOOOOO many things. Love, heartache, mental health, grief. My ex boyfriend has been a really easy topic for me to write about, because we were best friends, and we left our relationship in a deeply negative way, and it’s something I mourn, if I’m honest. With my moms passing, I’ve been extremely depressed, and trying to write about it, and dictate how I actually feel about her death has been both easy and difficult. And as for love, its not as easy to write about as heartache for me, but I’ve gotten a few good poems out of the bunch!

“What’s it like living with PTSD?”
— It’s rather difficult. I’m more aware now of what the cause was, and what my actions are when it comes to an attack, or a flashback. Like for me I have PTSD over three separate occasions, so it hits me at the most random times. The scent of his cologne, my old journal, driving, thinking of my childhood. I am on medication to help with the nightmares and flashbacks, so those don’t happen as frequently as they used to (thankfully). Living with PTSD is like living with someone who often reminds you of the parts of your past you wish to forget.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your full diagnosis?”
— Ah here we go. Bipolar Depression, Major Depressive Disorder, Anxiety, PTSD, and Borderline Personality Disorder.

“What inspires your tattoos?”
— Art!! Myself! Music, my family, my friends, flowers and plants. Many things inspire them.

“Is Zeppelin your emotional support dog?”
— Technically yes, but also no. He’s a shit ESA haha. He is fullll of anxiety himself, so often times we just feed off of each others anxiety.

”What are coping mechanisms you use to help you deal with it?”
— Writing is my #1. I can find a way to make all of my feelings seem poetic (which I just realized could be a bad thing?). Talking with my close friends, my sisters, and my boyfriend. Watching a movie, or a tv show to get my mind off things.

“What was it like in the psych ward?”
— It was quite a journey. To be stuck on a hospital floor for weeks, one time a full month, at a time with people you’ve just met takes its toll. It’s nice in a sense that you are supposed to be safe from yourself. For me they took care of the bleeding from my self harm wounds, and made sure they didn’t get infected. I had a personal therapist that I met with once a day, to talk about how I was feeling, and to go over a treatment plan.
Most hospitals make you share a room with another patient, and you never know what you’re going to get. One hospital I went to (the one month stay) was filled with all different kinds of cases and diagnosis, and I met so many people, and learned so much. They give you phone privileges so you can contact your loved ones, and that was my lifeline. Overall, I’d suggest it if you feel like you are a threat to yourself or others, or if you feel like you cannot keep yourself safe.

“What inspired Dream Girl Diaries?”
— My love of writing, my need of getting things out of my head, and the idea that somehow it could help someone, somewhere. My ex boyfriend helped inspire a lot of my poems, plus my own mental health journey. My current boyfriend, and my mom also inspired me to just simply write. Write until I got it all out of my head. My BPD, and PTSD, my depression, all gave me reasons to keep writing. And then as far as the page design goes, my friend Alli and I got together back in February to take photos to go along with my poems. Chloe Sheppard’s zines really inspired my page design. Check them out, they’re a fantastic artist.

”Did you consider suicide? If so what stopped you?”
— I actually tried committing suicide twice in the span of 2 months, back in 2017. Once at home, once in the hospital. I wish I could say that I had a reason to stay at those low points, but at the time I had lost the one thing I had in my back pocket that kept me going, and I couldn’t handle it. Since then there have been multiple times I’ve wanted to commit suicide, and in those moments I’ve thought of my niece and nephew, and how ripped apart they would be losing their favorite aunt. I’ve thought about my sisters. And since my mom passed, I’ve thought of suicide more than I have in the past 4 years. But losing her gave me so much pain, and I find it hard to leave my family after that.

Thank you for your questions, I hope it helped you learn a little about me, and who I am. I will always be honest about my mental health journey, and all I hope is that in some way it’ll help someone out there who went through what I did.

Love always,
Bailey

Perception

Perception. Something that has been on my mind lately. The idea of being perceived by the people I encounter frightens me, and makes me anxious. And today I am going to rant about it.

Everyone has their own perception of you whether you want them to or not. Everyone you’ve passed by, or spoken to, or loved, has their own idea of you in their mind. For example, my ex boyfriends perception of me is vastly different from my current boyfriends. My high school friends think of me differently than my friends now. It’s the game of who thinks what, and who’s shared that with who. And I’ll admit I’ve become victim to immersing myself into this game, into this world, and trying to understand what it means to me, and how I am going to cope with the idea of a bad perception of me getting tossed around.

It gives me a great amount of anxiety that shouldn’t ever exist in me when it comes to this topic. To think about how every decision you’ve made has been picked at, and prodded by family, friends, total strangers — whether that be positively or negatively. It blows my mind sometimes when I fall down this rabbit hole.

People will love you, and hate you in different ways, and that’s just a fact of life. Now dealing with the emotions that surround being perceived and perceiving others is a whole other ball game. It kills me to think that someone I’ve loved, and been loved by, could spread a false narrative around of me just because they can. When I think about it like that, it’s when my chest feels heavier about this. When I think of it as a total stranger who’s just walked past me and judged me on my appearance is when I take a step back and think about how superficial perception really is.

Now although the emotions around this can feel a little heavy sometimes, try to stop and ground yourself. Getting yourself out of the mindset of being perceived, and into one that you feel comfortable with yourself and your identity can really change your day around. I’ve heard people use meditation to help with grounding themselves. I think it’s important to let the thought exist, but not to play with it. Let it go through your mind, not through your soul. You may hate being perceived, but it’s going to happen and accepting that is when your mind can begin to heal itself.

Anyway, thank you for always letting me rant about topics that are affecting me, and supporting it regardless.

Always,
Bailey

Grief, in Memoriam of Shaunna Christine

Sitting here today, writing this piece on grief, and my mother, was something I never imagined doing. Just attempting to write has me balling my eyes out. Grief is an ugly thing. It eats you from the inside out, and doesn’t have any remorse while doing so. Grief is an attachment that clings to your darkest thoughts and emotions. Grief is, quite simply a deep deep sorrow.

My mom, Shaunna, died. She passed away in January of 2021, and since then I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces of myself, and my sisters. Her loss is a hard one. It has me fine one day, and a complete mess the next. I am always thinking of her. Her laugh, her smile, the way her voice was slightly raspy. The way she always said ‘’I love you more.’’ She was a beautiful woman, with the biggest heart I’ve ever known.

The hardest part of it all is knowing I can’t just pick up my phone and call her. Or take the 2 hour drive over the mountains to see her whenever I wanted. When problems occur, I don’t have my mom. On the chance I get married, and have kids, she won’t be there to see it. All of it I have been holding inside me, just letting it hurt. Letting myself feel it all.

I think about her final days a lot. Her final moments. I think about holding her hand in the hospital, talking to her, telling her everything I wish I had said when she was awake. How much I loved her, how much I thought about having my father daughter dance with her. How badly I wanted her to open her eyes for me. But I knew. I knew when I talked to her it wasn’t going to change the fact that she was leaving us.

Her final hour was spent with my two sisters, and I holding on for dear life to her hands and arms. Saying our goodbyes through sobs. Playing her favorite songs for her, and slowly watching her leave us there in that hospital room. I watched her take her last breathe, as my dad’s song I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith playing, and I just held on to her hand knowing it was my last time doing so. My mom passed away in a room full of love for her, and the girls surrounding her. It was peaceful.

Shaunna Christine was a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. She was so much to so many people, and yet put her strength forward and built a life for herself. Married the love of her life, lost him early, but bred three beautiful girls. My mom was an animal lover. She passed along her dear cat, Malibu to me, whom I love and adore. Growing up we always had dogs and cats that she cared for. She was a poor cook, but boy did she try for us. She put everything she was into my sisters, and I. My only wish is I could have properly thanked her for all the unconditional love, and strength she built into me.

Momma, I love you more than I could ever express. Everyone loves you so much, and you will be remembered by everything good that you are, and everything good that you did. One of the most unique, hilarious, crazy and wild women I’ve ever met. But I wouldn’t have asked for any other mom.

Rest in peace, my angel.

Love, Bailey.

Anxiety.

Anxiety can sometimes feel like you’re drowning. And you gasp, and you gasp for air that never can quite fill your lungs. It feels like a fist around your neck, growing tighter, with no plan in sight to give in. It feels like the depth of your stomach has found it’s way to the crook of your neck, and you’re scratching to free it. Although I’m giving vivid examples, I know there are still people out there that won’t understand. Or even just feel it differently.

Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the United States alone. With 40 million people affected each year, anxiety has become the reason a lot of people take multiple breaks at work. It’s become the reason people can’t call their doctors to make appointments, or don’t leave their house for weeks on end.

For me, anxiety comes in many forms. A sick stomach, a chest that feels like it’s trying to tear itself from my skeleton. It’s something I feel on a day to day basis, but I’m working on it with the help of my therapist.

One thing that helps me is grounding myself. What does that look like? Quite literally, grounding myself. I put my feet flat on the floor, I close my eyes, and I focus on my feet, and then my ankles, and then my calves, and so on and so forth. Just keeping my attention on my body, and not what’s causing me anxiety helps talk me off the ledge (so to speak).

Often times anxiety comes with a friend — depression. Anxiety and depression go hand in hand, and are caused from a variety of things. Whether that be your personality traits, life events, or just plain ol’ genetics. Anxiety and depression are more common than not. It can cause some confusion with how you’re feeling though. Like that anxiety attack you had in the walk in cooler at the back corner of your job? Was that because you were anxious about something, or are you depressed and some outside factor caused you to break down? The truth is, these breakdowns can feel an awfully lot alike. That month you spent staring at your apartment grow its own filth? Caused by depression, yet continued on with anxiety.

If I’m being honest, anxiety is a hard topic to speak on. It’s such a vast mental health topic and issue that there’s many things one person can feel, and another person won’t. The ways I described it in the first paragraph , might not resonate with everyone. And that’s okay! I don’t expect the way it feels for me to be the way it feels for you. One thing I’ve learned is that anxiety and depression are fully treatable illnesses (even if it feels like it doesn’t). Like take me for example, I’m working on it every single day, but I am on a variety of medications. Which again, is okay! Once you accept that your anxiety will uncomfortably always be yours and yours only, you can move on to heal.

Thank you for reading, I hope this gave some insight on anxiety and all of its factors.

Love, Bailey

Moving On, and Moving Forward — Even When it Feels Impossible

I have been through countless situations that didn’t end the way I felt they were supposed to. It can be hard, depending on how much emotional power it has over you. Whether it be a game you’re playing, an argument with a loved one, a breakup, anything. I’ve had arguments that ended friendships, and made jokes that hurt people. Things don’t always go the way we plan them, but how we go from there is what really defines us.

Something that hurt me for awhile was ending a friendship with someone I considered my best friend. I started the argument, and we both ended it from there. It definitely hurt me for a bit afterwards. Finally I got to a point where I saw both sides, and saw what went wrong. I saw the whole situation in a new light, to where my toxic traits stood out. My awareness really helped me move past it. I understood, and therefore was able to move forward. Today, we are actually friends again. We both grew from the situation, and understood that time was really what we needed in order to have a healthy friendship again.

Trigger Warning for the next paragraph: molestation, and rape.

Now this next topic is something I haven’t quite moved on from, but I have moved forward. When I was in the third grade I was molested by a family friend. I was asleep when it started, and woke up to it. I didn’t know what to do, or how to act. I was so young. I didn’t tell my mom or step dad, or anyone for that matter, up until about 6 years ago. I told my best friend, and it opened the wound back up again. A few years ago I was taken advantage of, and I’ll call it what it was, raped. Though at the time I didn’t want to believe it happened, and I convinced myself I wanted it too. Once I finally accepted it for what it was, I ended up being hospitalized. Which to this day I consider to be a blessing. I was diagnosed with PTSD, among other things. These days my flashbacks are far and few, and I have someone very special to thank for that. If my current partner hadn’t been so loving, accepting, and non judgmental I wouldn’t be at the place that I am mentally. It’s definitely easier now more than it’s ever been, to not only be intimate, but to just function normally. I have a lot of growth left in me with this, but I feel more positive about that now.

Moving on and moving forward can seem quite impossible sometimes. Especially those heavier subjects. But one thing that’s helped me. is changing my outlook. If you change the way you look at a situation, you can change the way it affects you. You can take your steps to moving on. You can heal, and I promise it’s possible to do so.

I have to be honest, opening up in this has been the hardest it’s ever been. I feel a lot of emotions about it, but I know the story needs to be talked about so it no longer holds its power over me. If i triggered you, I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to let it go.

Accepting That Family Can Be Toxic Too

This is a topic I’ve been wanting to touch on for quite awhile, because it truly hits home with me. To be blunt, people can be horrible. Anyone on earth can and will have toxic traits. I even have toxic traits, everyone has them. But there’s a difference between awareness, and unawareness when it comes to your own personality. I am aware that I can be stubborn, I can spiral really easily when I’m triggered, I shut down over the slightest of things, I’m really bad at spending money when I’m sad. I’m not perfect, but no one expects me to be.

Now when it comes to family, they are their truest selves around one another. You get to experience the nitty gritty of those closest to you, and it can be a lot sometimes. Especially those who are opinionated and like to think they know everything. This post is about that. Family, their toxic traits, and knowing when to let go.

Family is a lot of things, but it should not be judgmental. I have family members who all they like to do is judge. Judge me, judge each other, judge things they think they are experts on. They live off of making you feel small. Now when it comes to my mental health, I’ve had quite a journey, and I take pride in my growth and awareness. But there were people in my family who doubted it. Called me attention seeking, and selfish. And it hurt, yeah, but I wouldn’t let them invalidate me. They like to think they know what I really went through, but they don’t, and never will. They weren’t there for the sleepless nights I stayed up crying until I couldn’t breathe. They weren’t there when I would disassociate. They don’t know what it felt like to long for any kind of release from it all. They weren’t there, period.

I had family members who thought my very real feelings and emotions were fake. Even worse, they gossiped among themselves about it, as if they knew even an ounce of what they were talking about. They thought my diagnosis wasn’t real. It hurt, but after awhile I understood that their toxicness was not on me. I know what I went through, and continue to go through is very real, even if they don’t understand. I know what real family is about, and that isn’t it. My real family was there when no one else was.

Growing up I wasn’t surrounded by the best support system, but I managed. I manage now. But I’m much more aware of the people around me now. I’m still friends with those family members on facebook, and I still keep up with them and their lives, but I don’t consider them family anymore. They are being treated the way they treated me, and that’s only fair. It’s okay to let go of toxic family members. It’s okay to put your mental health first, and I fully encourage it. Your happiness and well being is always priority over a family member who only causes you emotional or physical harm. Don’t allow the actions of others to take away from your life. Family, or not.

That’s all on this topic. It was more of a venting session than anything, but I needed to get how I felt and was affected by these people off my chest so I could continue to move forward.

Until next time,

Bailey

I’ve Been Very Happy Lately

I’ve been very happy lately. Things just don’t feel as bad anymore. I wake up easier, I smile and laugh more, and I can’t tell you how good it feels. Though I do owe credit where credit is due. My doctor put me on a new medication, and I can honestly say it’s working to its intended purpose. I’ve felt much more alive on it, more like the Bailey I remember. I also have to thank a lot of it to my boyfriend. He keeps me sane, and has helped ease so much of what goes on in my head. He’s always there to hold my hand through it all, and no amount of thanks could ever be enough. My family, the ones that matter most, have been there through it all from the very beginning. They’ve been supportive and understanding, and my rock when I feel like I’m losing it.

So yeah, I’ve been pretty happy lately. Does it have me wondering when it’ll end? Yes. Does that stop me from living each day and enjoying the feeling I have? No, but it would in the past. I used to live in fear, just waiting for the feeling to end. Then I’d just waste my high. It took having to retrain myself, more or less, to just let it go and live through it the best I could. But once I got past that mental roadblock, I’ve felt much more free.

One thing that has been on my mind though, is the topic of shame, because I’ve been feeling it. Mainly on the topic of my mental health, and my stance on it. I’ve felt myself feeling ashamed at how open I am. I’ve been deleting posts on facebook and instagram, seconds after I post them in fear of people seeing how my head works. I’ve tried to hide it from my boyfriends family because I don’t want them looking at me differently. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s hard to stay as open as I am. I’m sure other people have felt this before too. The idea of being open about your mental health, without the risk of judgment is just impossible, and I need to accept that.

So this turned more into a diary entry than a blog post, but I haven’t shared myself with you guys in awhile and I wanted to do that again. I’m happy right now, and it feels like it’ll stay around for awhile. I’m back!

Lots of love,

Bailey