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He Promised Me a Conversation First

“Some promises hurt more when they’re broken than if they were never made at all.”

I thought I had felt it all.
The butterflies.
The magnetic pull.
The way the world fell quiet when our eyes locked.
All the clichés I used to scoff at - I lived them.
And I thought that meant it was real.

But what I really felt… was hope.
Hope that this one was different.
That this one would stay.
That this one would love me through it, not just love me when I was easy to love.

I showed him the darkest parts -
the corners of my story I usually keep hidden,
the jagged truths I never speak out loud.
And he didn’t run.
He did just the opposite.
He leaned in.
He comforted.
He promised.

Not just to stay -
but that if that time ever came,
if distance ever threatened what we had,
there would be a conversation first.
A moment.
A warning.
A chance to not be blindsided.

But there was no conversation.
There was no warning.
Just silence.
Just the slow realization that he had left me emotionally before he ever physically did.

And the part that hurts the most?
I believed him.
I let go of my fears because I thought—for once—I was safe.
That someone had finally seen me and didn’t want to leave.

But now I know.
Some people say things not because they mean them,
but because they know you do.

#BrokenPromises #lossandlove #writingthroughgrief #emotionalabandonment #SurvivorVoice #mentalhealthmatters
#Stillhere #SurvivorStory
#healingjourney
#ThisIsWhy
#EndTheStigma
#LiveAnotherDay
#youarenotalone
#FromDarknessToLight
#strongerthanmystormm

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Basket of Markers: A Post Spravato Revelation

🧺 The Basket of Markers: A Post-Spravato Revelation

Tonight, I got high.
Not just “I’m giggly and everything feels soft” high — I mean clarity high. The kind that creeps up when you’re just living your weird little life, surrounded by your weird little things, and suddenly boom — therapy-level insight smacks you in the face with a Sharpie.

You see, I’m kind of a hoarder. Not the kind they make TV shows about (yet), but close.
Especially when it comes to stuff that makes me happy. Craft supplies. Journaling pens. Markers. Planners. If it comes in all the colors, I want all the colors. And not just want — I obsess. I organize. I keep things forever because I swear to myself, I’m gonna get back into that someday.

I don’t just have one planner.
I have five.
Each has a purpose, a location, and they’re all synced up like the Pentagon of personal organization. That’s how I work. That’s how my brain has always tried to create control out of chaos.

And then there’s my marker collection. We’re talking gel tips, fine points, Sharpies, off-brand craft store specials, and yes — I recently bought a 262-color mega pack because apparently, I like to own coloring even though I do it maybe three times a year.

But here’s the thing.

Tonight, I bought a new basket.
A Longaberger — because yeah, I collect those too.

And instead of separating every marker by brand, as I’ve always done, I put them all together.

Still color-coded (duh — I’m not a monster).
But for the first time, not by brand.

All mixed up.
All in one basket.

And in that quiet little moment, I realized:

This basket is me now.

Before, everything in my life was separated:
🖤 Before trauma / after trauma
🖤 Before the pain / after the breakdown
🖤 Before Owen died / after the world collapsed

I kept it all compartmentalized — like trauma Tupperware. Neatly labeled. Sealed shut. Keep the mess contained.

But since starting Spravato, something shifted.
My thoughts are no longer all-or-nothing.
My identity isn’t black-and-white.
And my healing doesn’t need labels.

Just like those markers, I can exist in the same basket.

The grief.
The growth.
The obsession.
The creativity.
The sadness.
The sparkle.

It all goes together now.

So maybe I’m still a little OCD, and maybe I’ll still color-code by rainbow arc because I like pretty things. But I’m not organizing by trauma anymore.

I’m organizing by joy.
By who I am now.
By what makes sense in this moment.

And that’s not crazy.
That’s recovery.

So yeah, maybe it’s just a stoned night with a bunch of markers and a woven basket…
Or maybe it’s Sigmund Freud meets radical self-love, with a gel pen in hand and a giggle in my throat.

Either way, I’m keeping the damn basket.
And I’m keeping all of me in it.

By Jenn
🌈 Color-coder of chaos. Hoarder of hope. Marker-wielding warrior.
#postspravatolife #healingoutloud #ocdbutmakeitart

#postspravatolife
#Stillhere
#healingjourney
#EndTheStigma #youarenotalone #FromDarknessToLight
#WhenNothingElseWorked
#GriefIsLoveWithNowhereTo #GriefIsLoveWithNowhereToGo #mentalhealthmatters #SpravatoSavedMe #writingtoheal #strongerthanmystorm #SpravatoHope #healingjourney #EndTheStigma #keepgoing

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How “El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes,” Revived by Selena Gomez, Held My Melancholia—And Made Me Feel Again.

There’s a kind of sadness that wraps itself around you like a velvet fog—soft, lingering, impossible to shake. I’d been moving through that fog quietly, unsure of whether I was feeling too much or not enough.

Then I heard Selena Gomez’s revival of “El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes.” I’d never heard the original, but this song carried something eerily familiar. It didn’t just play—it echoed. It held me. It stirred something quiet and buried, a sorrow I didn’t realize was still awake inside me.

I’ve felt this before—through music that presses its hand to your chest like it’s trying to resuscitate something. This one did exactly that. It brought up unlived emotions—sentimientos compartidos—grief I didn’t know was mine but somehow felt like it belonged to me. The kind of sorrow that doesn’t ask permission—it just rises.

Since I started listening to it, melancholia has settled over me. Not just sadness—but something deeper. That slow ache that lives in your chest like a ghost of something you never had but still mourn.

I spoke to a friend about it. She said I was experiencing depression. I told her it felt like something else—something heavier, more haunting. I called it melancholia. She brushed it off, said it was all the same. But I disagreed.

Depression is absence. Numbness.

Melancholia is presence. Longing.

It’s grief laced with beauty. Pain that almost feels sacred. It’s nostalgia for a moment in time that doesn’t exist. A hunger for something you can’t name, only feel.

This song didn’t fix me. But it did something else.

It reminded me—I still have a pulse.

I’m still here. Still aching. Still hoping for something. A glance. A connection. A sign that I haven’t disappeared under the surface of my own silence.

I said this to someone:

“I feel like I am the girl with the sad eyes. Diving deeper and deeper into a melancholic state, wanting so badly to find a spark. I want my heart to be shocked back to life.”

And they told me:

“You’re not lost. You’re becoming.”

So this is me—becoming.

Still tender. Still searching. But no longer asleep.

There’s a spark out there. I don’t know what it looks like yet. But I know I want to feel it.

I used to not understand my cousin when she’d listen to sad songs while feeling low. I thought it was like pouring water on a drowning heart. But now I understand. Sometimes the saddest songs are the only ones that know how to hold us.

So if you're reading this and you feel it too, know this: You are not alone. There is no shame in aching. No weakness in longing. Feeling deeply means your heart is still beating.

Let it ache if it must. Let it rise. And when you're ready, follow the faintest flicker of hope. Even if it's just a breath. Even if it's just a song.

You're not lost.

You're becoming.

And somewhere ahead of you—maybe just beyond this fog—there’s a spark.

And this time, it’s for you.

💓💓💓

If this resonated with you, like, share and comment. We weren’t meant to feel this alone.

#melancholia #MentalHealthAwareness #Stillhere #emotionalhealing #youarenotalone #healingthroughfeeling #theacheandthehope #griefandgrowth #musicheals #SelenaGomez #elmuchachodelosojostristes #musicandmentalhealth #becomingnotbroken #quietstrength #louderthansadness #letitrise #melancholia #Stillhere #MentalHealth #mentalhealthmatters #Grief #elmuchachodelosojostristes

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Up early and grateful

So I didn't really sleep a wink last night, but that's okay. This morning I'm grateful to still be here, watching the sunrise and waiting for my mother to awaken so we can eat breakfast and drink some coffee together. I don't know if the hell of the last several months is over yet or not, but for now I'm still here. And that's something to be thankful for. #Depression #Anxiety #MentalHealth #Stillhere

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Taking My Power Back! (Is soo tiring)

So I started the hardest process of my life..
I gave my first video statement about the horrific ritualistic, sexual, physical and psychological abuse I lived through from 0-8.

It will take a series of interviews to tell the whole story.. 8-9 separate interviews maybe more!
It's taxing in a way I can't explain.
There is NO other situation that someone would speak to that way about your trauma.

Also the terms I have to use are soo uncomfortable. Having to name exactly what body part touched what.
You can't just say "then he raped me" you have to explain to them exactly what rape means!

I know through this process I'm taking back my power and hopefully stopping the abuse and murder of children.

But at this moment it seems like its going to take forever, so many interviews needed to recount all the occasions of abuse.. each one taking a crazy amount of energy!

Today it seems like a mountain.
Yet like any task it can only be viewed in chunks.. each interview is another chunk achieved!

Ohh it scares me, I don't trust the police, I feel like what I have to say will be swept under the rug.. but I continue because it's the best I can do.
Come forward and tell the truth; it's their job to do something about it!

It's a really hard time to have had to flee my home city, live in a hostel and be 100's of miles from any of my friends and family!
Im not actually sure How I'm coping right now? But I am!

#CPTSD #PTSD #ritulisticabuse #Survivor #coping #BipolarDepression #MightyU #takingyourpowerback #MeToo #Stress #tired #SexualAbuse #Torture #Stillhere #MentalHealthHero #MightyTogether

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Perks of Being a Wallflower & It’s kind of a funny story

As someone who is a suicide attempt survivor & has been hospitalized multiple times for bipolar depression & suicidal ideation I have to recommend these two amazing coming of age books/movies Perks of Being a Wallflower & It’s kind of a funny story; that discuss being treated, medicated, hospitalized for mental illness, in a way that is honest, heartfelt, painful & yet ends hopeful. These works of art have changed my life for the better & given me the strength to carry on in some really hard times. They both open a discussion about suicidal thoughts & depression as a medical illness & not some weakness or stigma which resonates with me. If you haven’t before you should check them out!

#MightyBooks #Books #Book #BipolarDepression #SuicidalThoughts #SuicidalIdeation #TakeItOneDayAtATime #Onestepatatime #Stillhere #SuicideAttemptSurvivors #Anxiety #PTSD #Reading #institutionalization #MentalHealth

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It’s my birthday, another year still here 🎉🎈🥳

I had a good birthday all things considered. Still going through a lot, still #depressed #suicidal yet I am still here trying to #TakeItOneDayAtATime & I feel like with the fact that I’ve been grappling with #SuicidalThoughts #SuicidalIdeation #Pain #Fibromyalgia #Fatigue #severeanxiety , I’m a #suicideattemptsurvivor & I made it another year is something to celebrate. They say it’s always darkest before the dawn. Perhaps things can finally look up for me. Just with everything going on & everything I’ve been through I feel like I can’t get a break. It seems my mom forgot its my birthday, almost 10pm & I still haven’t heard from her. Oh well, Still here. I just gotta tell myself everything will be alright. One day a time a time, one step at a time.

I deserve love, I deserve peace, I deserve happiness

#Anxiety #PTSD #BipolarDepression #BipolarDisorder #SuicideAttemptSurvivors #ChronicPain #Depression #Divorce #Stillhere #keepgoing #Onestepatatime

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Muse-Dig down

youtu.be/V424znK8m48

When hope and love has been lost
And you fall to the ground
You must find a way
When the darkness descends
And you're told it's the end
You must find a way
When God decides to look the other way
And a clown takes the throne
We must find a way
Face the firing squad
Against all the odds
You will find a way
Dig down
Dig down
Dig down
And find faith
When you're close to the edge
With a gun to your head
You must find a way
When friends are thin on the ground
And they try to divide us
We must find a way
We have entered the fray
And we will not obey
We must find a way
Yeah
Dig down
Dig down
Dig down
And find faith
When they've left you for dead (dig down)
And you can only see red (dig down)
You must find a way
Dig down
Dig down
Dig down
Find faith
We won't let them divide (dig down)
We will never abide (dig down)
We will find a way
Dig down
Dig down
Dig down
Faith
Dig down
Dig down
Faith

#TakeItOneDayAtATime #BipolarDisorder #BipolarDepression #ChronicPain #ChronicIllness #Anxiety #PTSD #Pain #Fibromyalgia #Stillhere #sad #alone #darkness #keepgoing

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#TakeItOneDayAtATime

Dear Person Reading This,
You made it through another year. You made it through the hard times & pain. You made it through all the times when all you wanted to do was give up. You made it. You made it another year & I promise you can make it another year. I am so proud of you!
I deserve peace, I deserve love, I deserve happiness.
#keepgoing #OnedayAtaTime #ChronicPain #Depression #BipolarDepression #Fibromyalgia #Disabled #TheDisabledLife #Stillhere #SuicidalThoughts #SuicidalIdeation #SuicideAttemptSurvivors #ChronicIllness #ChronicFatigue #CheckInWithMe

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