Feeling really welcome.

Today’s been weird as fuck.

I guess I feel depressed, but at the same time I feel really really empty, like I’m hollow. But it doesn’t hurt, not that it feels nice either. I just feel nothing. I couldn’t give two shits about anything at all. everything just seems hopeless, worthless, empty.

I’m sleeping at home today with my better half, and my step dad made us feel soooo welcome there (Sarcasm intended), I almost started crying several times. Tried refusing to eat by giving my food to my boyfriend, but sadly my mum picked up on it and gave me some more. Needless to say that I have him half of it. I’d rather he gets to fill his stomach than me.

I want out, but at the same time I couldn’t give two shits about what happens to me.

E wants me to curl up with him, cry my eyes out, and then do it again. M wants me to ignore him, just keep writing, distance myself, hopefully start feeling really shit. I don’t even have my blades with me, not that it matters, I’ve got so many options, at least in this room.

But I can’t do anything, if I did, that would be breaking the promise. I don’t break promises. They’re meant to be kept. If you can’t keep them, they shouldn’t have been made in the first place.

I get teeny tiny hints of emotions, just flickers really. Desperation, depression, annoyance, hopelessness, things like that. And at the same time, I’ve never felt so alone. I want to cry, bawl my eyes out, but I can’t. I’m too empty to even cry.

I don’t like being at “home”, it feels so unwelcome, in fact I despise it. I don’t feel like I belong here, I don’t fit in. But then again, I never did.

I just want to come home to someone who’s happy to see me, that says that they miss me even if I were to be gone for just a few hours. Someone who’s genuinely happy to see me. Someone who makes me feel welcome and loved.

Too much is going on inside right now. I have no idea of how to deal with it. I want out. I want it gone. Everything is too much.

How can it be so, when at the same time I feel like a mess, but at the same time I feel nothing at all? I’ve never ever felt this empty, border-lining to serene. It feels strangely familiar, in a very scary way.

I feel really unwanted.



And the time has yet come to write again, it’s been far too long since the last time to be honest.

It’s been two crazy days (Friday, Saturday), it seems like my mum’s trying to make me as uncomfortable as possible.

She knows I slipped (Thursday) and is craving to see my arms, but I won’t let her, and I think it’s pretty frustrating for her, because I don’t say no often, but I figured that now was the time to set my foot down.

Yesterday I had had enough; I escaped out of the house, telling no one where I was going, the only answer they got was “Out”.

I put my phone on silent, so I wouldn’t hear if they called or texted me, which they did, a lot, but to be completely honest, I didn’t care, I didn’t give a rats arse about if I worried them or not, they deserved to be worried after what they put me through.

I was so angry, frustrated, I didn’t know what to say or do. I know they’re trying to help me, but it’s not helping, for me it feels like I’m being pushed to the edge of a breakdown, like they’re trying to break me sort of, I don’t know. But what I do know is that it’s not helping, whatever they think they’re doing, it’s not.

The anger I felt made me push almost everyone even further away, they didn’t understand because they didn’t want to, all they did was drawing their own conclusions.

Why does everyone have to say one thing, then mess everything up when they’re doing the complete opposite?

My mum made me really want to hurt myself, sort of to punish her, only that I would be the only one knowing, and the anger almost made me do it, but I got out and escaped for about five hours or so, nobody knowing where I was at, and it felt great. Nobody I had to worry about, because I honestly didn’t care, at all.

To be careless for a while is great, but then again, it’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be, but at that exact moment, it felt relieving.

They don’t want me in my room, they think I’m isolating myself from the world, but I’m not, sure I might be hiding a little, but I feel safe in here, this  is my space. I want to be alone, to escape my family and their questions, because I can’t handle them.

I just hope they’ve given up their crazy ideas that they think are helping, because I don’t know if I can handle it, it makes me more resistant to people helping me, makes me push them even further away from me, close up inside.

And if this goes on with the same intensity as is has these last two days, then who knows what the outcome might be.




Bekka – InsideOut


I want to stop, I just don’t know how.

Written 2Pm

Loads of thoughts strike me, I don’t know if they’re ”mine”,  or if it’s the voice in the back of my head speaking, I really don’t.

I’ve begun to wonder if they’ve started to blend together, turning into one.

Or is it just that I’ve become too tired to fight it, to resist.

I have all these questions that I just have to get out, and I know that you guys probably can’t answer them, but they need to be asked.

In my last post I wrote about my mum’s lack of interest in me, and things’ bothering me and it still does bother me. But I’m wondering  (This is just a random thought) if  I’m sort of punishing myself for not trying harder to get her interested, I don’t know.

I don’t really know how to explain this, but I’ll give it a try; Lately I’ve been giving in to the urges that drives me to harm myself, and it’s frustrating, it gets deeper than before, and I can’t do anything about it. Every time I harm myself I’m okay for a while, but then the voice in the back of my head keeps reminding me that it should’ve been deeper, and maybe next time it will?

I’m scared to be honest, and I thought that would stop me from harming, but I was wrong.  I’m afraid that I won’t be able to stop myself before it gets dangerous. It’s like I give in, like I don’t give a rats arse about what’s happening to me, or what I’m putting others through. Even though there are just two people in my life aware of what’s going on.

I want to stop, find another way of dealing with things, but to be completely honest, cutting was the first thing that worked, so I just kind of stuck with it. I’ve read about things you can do that really doesn’t harm yourself, just puts you in the pain that you’re after to find some relief. But I haven’t tried any of them, it’s like I’ve been telling myself for so long that they won’t work, so I can’t get myself to try either, I always come up with excuses to why I shouldn’t, to why I can’t.

The weird thing is, there aren’t many times I could find reasons not to harm myself, and now, there are only one that I can think of; it could be dangerous.   But that doesn’t stop me either.

I know that my parents need to know, and I wish that they did, but what are they supposed to do? They can’t stop me from doing it.

God I feel so guilty, selfish.

Right now I feel like I haven’t even tried, and the reply I get from myself is that; If you haven’t tried, why start now?

I honestly don’t know what to do, and it’s..  I can’t find a suitable word to describe it.

I’m scared, I wish I could just crawl under someplace and hide from it, but I can’t hide from myself, can I?

“Cut deeper, harder, what else are you supposed to do?”

Anything else but that..

Bekka – InsideOut


[No title]

I’ve been having a rather lousy day today, a bad day you could say.

Annoyed by everything and everyone, yet somehow I managed to keep myself from yelling at everyone.

I had my second session with Monica today (My therapist), and it wasn’t as scary this time, like I knew what I was going to, and the first time I didn’t.  And to be honest, her eyes aren’t as scary as they appeared before, this time they were more worried and studying, trying to figure me out.

I told her about what I had been doing lately to myself (harming), and for some reason I felt like I could tell her anything because she were really listening. I also told her about how my parents took it, confronted me with it, and how they weren’t really listening.


I can honestly say that I like her better than my last one, she takes time to ask questions, to hear me out, listen and ask questions after. I were pretty critical about the last session, but now I think it might work, that I will get through this with help from her, and maybe understand it more. But I’m afraid to get my hopes up, and still I can’t help but thinking, what if it doesn’t help, what if I don’t get through it, then what?

I know it’s wrong to think that way, but can you blame me? Doubt is what makes people human.

I told her that I wasn’t sad when I did what I did, that I had so many emotions inside me at once that I couldn’t handle, that I gave in to the voice inside my head that convinced me to give in, take the easy way out.

For some reason I’m not ashamed of it any more, but I’m not proud either. I can’t walk around and show everyone my scars, it will freak them out, and I wouldn’t feel to comfortable about it either.

“If you’re not lost, I guess that makes you found” – Newton Faulkner ~ Lullaby

If I could have the feeling I’m having now, every day for the rest of my life I would be happy. I feel like everything might work out, you could say I have my hope back ( :

I’m trying to hold on to this feeling as long as I can, and hope that it stays.


Smile to the world, and it will smile back at you.

3 days! ❤


This is me






I’m scared, nervous, everything at the same time. I just found out that my psych evaluation or what to call it has been moved to Wednesday next week, I don’t know what to think of it.

I guess it’s a good thing that everything’s happening so fast, but still I’m frightened, and what goes through my head right now is that “what if they don’t take me serious enough? What if they just think I’m an attention seeker?”

Some people might say I’m an attention seeker, but I know I’m not. I went out with everything because it lifted a rock off my shoulders.

Sure it was scary, but it helped. I felt like I didn’t get anywhere by just talking or writing to myself, so I started the blog to make it easier on me, to feel like I got somewhere, I answered my own questions, or got answers from others.

My mum told me she can’t make it, so I have to go alone, and that’s what I wanted, but I feel vulnerable again, so insecure. It’s all so new to me, yet so familiar. I’m scared of be let down again, that someone will give me up again.

How can something that’s supposed to help me be so scary? It’s like I’m walking on insecure ground, frightened that before I know it, it will fall apart underneath me, and then what?

As you can read, see whatever, I’m completely confused about this, isn’t this what I wanted? I wanted help; I want help, so how come I’m so scared of it?

Maybe it’s the idea of a total stranger analyzing every word I say, judging me before even knowing anything about me? And with my lack of explaining skills I know that whatever I say to her will just be wrong. I can’t explain anything without causing confusion or a misunderstanding.

People think that just because you don’t harm yourself anymore, that it’s over, the problem’s solved, but it’s not. Just because you try not to harm yourself it doesn’t mean that there still isn’t a chaos inside of you threatening to eat you up from inside if you don’t pay attention.

I push everything away, and sometimes I don’t pay attention to what’s happening for just one second, and boom, there’s everything in my face.

Sometimes it helps with talking it out, someone telling you to be strong, that it will work out somehow, that usually works, but sometimes you just give in to the pain, the doubt, and the voice inside your head telling you that you deserve it.

This is me