An anonymous place of escape.

I blog about things like doctor who, harry potter and pretty much any other fantasy; sherlock and similar dramas; mental health; funny stuff; diabetes (i am type 1 diabetic); and basically anything that i find interesting/escapist.

(Trigger warning: some content may be upsetting for those with issues like depression/eating disorders/self harm/suicidal feelings.)

ialwaysfeelinvisible:

emaciated-mind:

ialwaysfeelinvisible:

This is for the anon who made the first cut. Who decided to take a blade to their skin. These are my thighs, this is my arm. I have more scars and cuts on my upper arms and lower legs. This is what you will look like if you cut again. Because it is addicting, and you will fall as hard as the rest of us. The first cut I made was very shallow. Barely bled. I didn’t make more than two that day. When I tried again, I thought I could control it, that I could keep it contained, as long as it helped me not hurt so much inside. I read stories of people battling this addiction, begging others not to do it, but I thought I was stronger than them. I’m not. Nobody is. Seeing the blood and feeling the sting is so madly addicting. The endorphins. The relief. The cuts slowly go from once a week to every few days. Then every day. And suddenly you cut morning, afternoon and evening and your thoughts are consumed by how badly you miss the feeling, how much you need to cut to breathe. Most of the time, you’re not even sad. You just need it. You want it. Now, consider this. You’ve cut, gotten into it for a while now. Let’s say six months. You’re properly addicted now. The scars piled up, you couldn’t keep it in one area. You look like me. You go shopping. You might once have loved shopping, maybe you always hated it, but you don’t like it anymore. Maybe it’s summer and you’re sweating in your hoodies and jackets and cardigans. You spot an adorable dress, white with flowers and ruffles and straps and you pick it up, feeling the fabric. It’s perfect. You know that that dress and a vest you own would go really well together. But you can’t show your arms, because you’re ashamed of what you’ve done to them; what the addiction has done to you. So you hang the dress back in place. Maybe, if you’re male or don’t like dresses, you found a shirt. But when you put it on it goes too far up your arm. So you put that back too, and you look for more cardigans and long sleeved things. One morning it’s warm outside. You always loved swimming. You used to when you were little, but perhaps you lost confidence in yourself and you haven’t worn a bathing suit or a bikini in years. But you want to swim. Who cares if you have a bit of flab some places? It’s Summer! But wait… You can’t. Because you carved cities into your thighs, you wrote death on your legs in your own blood. So you just daydream of how the water used to feel in your hair. Because you can’t get yourself to show your body. Simpler things, your parents ask you to help with the dishes and you have to focus on keeping your sleeves down. You take off your jacket and you’re paranoid your cardigan reveals the angry red marks on your shoulders. You panic when someone knocks and wakes you in the morning, because what if your cuts show? You lose any confidence you ever managed to get, because you’re so scared and awfully addicted. When I showed my mother my arms, she called me “my daughter, my birch tree”, because birch trees have so many discolored marks on the white bark. Imagine how sad that made me. I can’t imagine anyone ever loving me enough to see past my scars. You will be ruined and broken from this addiction, and when you finally decide enough is enough and your path is recovery, you have enough stories on your skin to fill a library.
Please, I’m begging anyone considering this, anyone new to this and anyone old to this: stop, don’t do it. It’s not worth it.

This made me cry

Reblogging myself because it’s something you should read and consider. Please don’t ever do this to yourself. You’re too beautiful to do this to your own body.If you’ve already begun, you’re just as beautiful, and you’re strong enough to stop. I love all of you.

reblogging fresh scars as a reminder to self.
plus for that wonderful comment.

ialwaysfeelinvisible:

emaciated-mind:

ialwaysfeelinvisible:

This is for the anon who made the first cut. Who decided to take a blade to their skin.
These are my thighs, this is my arm. I have more scars and cuts on my upper arms and lower legs.
This is what you will look like if you cut again. Because it is addicting, and you will fall as hard as the rest of us.
The first cut I made was very shallow. Barely bled. I didn’t make more than two that day.
When I tried again, I thought I could control it, that I could keep it contained, as long as it helped me not hurt so much inside.
I read stories of people battling this addiction, begging others not to do it, but I thought I was stronger than them. I’m not. Nobody is.
Seeing the blood and feeling the sting is so madly addicting. The endorphins. The relief.
The cuts slowly go from once a week to every few days. Then every day. And suddenly you cut morning, afternoon and evening and your thoughts are consumed by how badly you miss the feeling, how much you need to cut to breathe. Most of the time, you’re not even sad. You just need it.
You want it.
Now, consider this.
You’ve cut, gotten into it for a while now. Let’s say six months. You’re properly addicted now. The scars piled up, you couldn’t keep it in one area. You look like me.
You go shopping. You might once have loved shopping, maybe you always hated it, but you don’t like it anymore. Maybe it’s summer and you’re sweating in your hoodies and jackets and cardigans. You spot an adorable dress, white with flowers and ruffles and straps and you pick it up, feeling the fabric. It’s perfect. You know that that dress and a vest you own would go really well together.
But you can’t show your arms, because you’re ashamed of what you’ve done to them; what the addiction has done to you.
So you hang the dress back in place.
Maybe, if you’re male or don’t like dresses, you found a shirt. But when you put it on it goes too far up your arm. So you put that back too, and you look for more cardigans and long sleeved things.
One morning it’s warm outside. You always loved swimming. You used to when you were little, but perhaps you lost confidence in yourself and you haven’t worn a bathing suit or a bikini in years.
But you want to swim. Who cares if you have a bit of flab some places? It’s Summer!
But wait… You can’t. Because you carved cities into your thighs, you wrote death on your legs in your own blood.
So you just daydream of how the water used to feel in your hair. Because you can’t get yourself to show your body.
Simpler things, your parents ask you to help with the dishes and you have to focus on keeping your sleeves down. You take off your jacket and you’re paranoid your cardigan reveals the angry red marks on your shoulders.
You panic when someone knocks and wakes you in the morning, because what if your cuts show?
You lose any confidence you ever managed to get, because you’re so scared and awfully addicted.
When I showed my mother my arms, she called me “my daughter, my birch tree”, because birch trees have so many discolored marks on the white bark. Imagine how sad that made me.
I can’t imagine anyone ever loving me enough to see past my scars.
You will be ruined and broken from this addiction, and when you finally decide enough is enough and your path is recovery, you have enough stories on your skin to fill a library.

Please, I’m begging anyone considering this, anyone new to this and anyone old to this: stop, don’t do it. It’s not worth it.

This made me cry

Reblogging myself because it’s something you should read and consider. Please don’t ever do this to yourself. You’re too beautiful to do this to your own body.
If you’ve already begun, you’re just as beautiful, and you’re strong enough to stop. I love all of you.

reblogging fresh scars as a reminder to self.

plus for that wonderful comment.

i seem to just shred all of them… i really need to try and keep the good ones.

Me vs. Diabetes - FIGHT

ROUND 1

Me:

That was definitely enough insulin

Diabetes:

LOL NO have fun being irrationally angry and extremely dehydrated for the next two hours! <3

ROUND 2

Me:

I feel pretty good now. My blood should be normal.

Meter:

113

Me:

Oh wait that was the wrong meter, let me just grab the other one and...

Meter:

240

Me:

Wait. No. I'll just wash my hands and—

Meter:

280

Me:

Diabetes:

lol

ROUND 3

Me:

Hey I didn't even feel that injection, I should be fi—

Diabetes:

BLEED

the-fault-in-our-scars:

The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.

I&#8217;ve got this book but I haven&#8217;t read this yet. Boy do I need to&#8230;

the-fault-in-our-scars:

The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.

I’ve got this book but I haven’t read this yet. Boy do I need to…

(via razorblades-and-daisychains)

and they jump on you.
drown you.

and they jump on you.

drown you.

(Source: yourenosaint, via smiling-but-secretly-dying)

oddi-tea:

recovery-and-happiness:

'People need to be aware that EDNOS sufferers aren't just being a 'bit funny' about food. But because it's not as well-known as anorexia or bulimia, some sufferers don't feel people understand or take it seriously. That needs to change….BMI is used as a crude way of rationing services and has no clinical basis'

This is happening to women AND MEN. Relatively, men are ignored more often than women for this because not only is EDNOS a less-recognized illness, but society has a hard time believing that men can suffer from this kind of thing as well. 

this is exactly what i thought about when i first started really struggling with food. my mum said it sounded like anorexia and i looked it up for how a doctor would diagnose it, and it was basically all to do with weight, i.e. if you&#8217;re not skinny you don&#8217;t have a problem.
yeah okay i&#8217;ll go home and come back when all the weight has gone. only, then i&#8217;ll be waaay more screwed than you can ever fix.

oddi-tea:

recovery-and-happiness:

'People need to be aware that EDNOS sufferers aren't just being a 'bit funny' about food. But because it's not as well-known as anorexia or bulimia, some sufferers don't feel people understand or take it seriously. That needs to change….BMI is used as a crude way of rationing services and has no clinical basis'

This is happening to women AND MEN. Relatively, men are ignored more often than women for this because not only is EDNOS a less-recognized illness, but society has a hard time believing that men can suffer from this kind of thing as well. 

this is exactly what i thought about when i first started really struggling with food. my mum said it sounded like anorexia and i looked it up for how a doctor would diagnose it, and it was basically all to do with weight, i.e. if you’re not skinny you don’t have a problem.

yeah okay i’ll go home and come back when all the weight has gone. only, then i’ll be waaay more screwed than you can ever fix.

(via fullbodiedlovin)

sadhacker:

i love physical touch.  like not even kissing and stuff just like.  sitting next to each other with our arms touching or our legs overlapping or walking next to each other with our arms brushing i love knowing im real i love existing with people i love it

(via str0nger-than-harm)

heknowyouknow08:

Is the strongest thing anyone can say, and even if you relapse after one hour free, you are STILL strong. I care about you please take care of yourselves. xxx

heknowyouknow08:

Is the strongest thing anyone can say, and even if you relapse after one hour free, you are STILL strong. I care about you please take care of yourselves. xxx

(Source: lewky)

Things able-bodied people need to stop saying to the chronically ill.

diaryofaspoonie:

• “At least you’re not dying!”
• “You’re only disabled if you let yourself be.”
• “You need to tell yourself you’re going to get better, else you won’t.”
• “But you can’t be in pain ALL the time, don’t exaggerate.”
• “You don’t LOOK ill.”
• “There’s so many people worse off than you.”
• “I’m sure you don’t REALLY need help.”
• “Sometimes it’s easier to just give up.”
• “Stop being so negative.”

this really hits home.

(via ash-a-betic)

except i&#8217;d just be like

bombing:

capitalistpropaganda:

bombing:

daedricsheep:

bombing:

idea: a really big cage

to hold what?

people who question my ideas

not so sure how I feel about this one

i’m going to need a bigger cage

(via healthy-and-thinnn)

steamxlove:

Andre Anderson Custom Knives
I love this image.
I love this image.