i promise.
This too shall pass
My name is Jenn, I have been cut free for 5+ months. My ask is ALWAYS open. Stay strong, beautiful. I genuinely care about all of you so don'y ever be afraid to come to me with your problems.
This too shall pass
Hey beautiful, I know you’re hurting, but please stay strong if not for you, but for me because I care. Never doubt that.
the-one-you-would-least-expect:
Dylan Lynn, January 7th 1996 - September 25th 2012
Dylan commited suicide last tuesday after receiving news that his father had been released from jail. Throughout his whole life Dylan had been sexually assaulted by his father and was made to feel like less of a human through physical and emotional abuse. Both him and his sister struggled every day and out of fear told no one. Through councilling and therapy he was diagnosed with ptsd, depression, and borderline personality disorder. He began to realize that he was attracted to men, and when others found out he was bullied for this. Although things started to look up when his father was being sent to jail, it had a great tole on him and his sister and she wound up in the hospital after having a mental breakdown. While his sister was away in the hospital he planned on taking his life through self harm. After being talked out of it, he tried to work towards being happier. With his father out of his life he could start a new beginning. If all went to plan, he wouldve moved in with his aunt in Toronto Ontario this fall, but with issues with the court he was put into foster care. I may not know all the facts, but I know he deserved better. He deserves to have his story told. Out of fear, Dylan took his own life. He was one of the kindest souls you would ever meet. May he rest in peace and may his father get the justice he deserves. He may not have had many followers like Olivia, but he suffered just the same, from the same haunting disorders, the same psychosis, the very same personality disorder that breaks down your sanity bit by bit. HIs tumblr was http://ripeassbanana.tumblr.com/ lol i love how it can still make me laugh. Ill miss you.
This needs more notes </3
This deserves so many notes, no one should have to go thought that. May he rest in peace <3
Rest is paradise darling<3
rest in peace baby :( <3
rest in peace omg. he’s perf.
Rest in peace Dylan.<3
Rest in peace xx
![betterthandarkchocolate:
]TW: self harm, scars, bullying, suicide attempt]
xedgemodificationx:
dirtyscratches:
‘Bullies made me do this to myself’
Bobbi Black’s scarred skin is a constant reminder of her tormented teenage years. Now she’s stopped self-harming, she bravely reveals the devastating effect it’s had on her body
By Karen Lipton
April 17, 2011
‘Running my fingers along the hundreds of translucent scars that criss-cross my body, I know that people must wonder what has happened to me.
They might think I’ve been in a car crash or a really bad accident. They might pity me or think I’m brave.
But I did this to myself. From the age of 11, I cut my skin with whatever sharp object I could find.
As the blood seeped out of my jagged wounds, I’d feel relief. Relief that I had some release for all the pain inside me. Relief that I was feeling something.
Growing up in Middlesbrough, I was always shy and a bit lonely. My parents were separated and my mum, Sarah Jane, 42, sent me to a different school from my primary school friends when I was 11.
Because I had no friends there, I was an easy target for the bullies, who used to steal my lunch money and torment me for being overweight. I was a size 12-14 when I was 12 years old, and to escape the taunts of ‘fatty’ during the day, I would comfort eat at night.
I asked my teachers for help - but it made things worse. Too embarrassed to confide in my mum or the few mates I did have, I grew more miserable.
The first time I cut myself is etched in my memory forever. I’d had a particularly bad day, and after school I lay on my bed sobbing. But crying wasn’t enough. I spotted a rectangular glass plate and I ran its sharp edges across my forearm until I drew blood. It hurt like hell, but at the same time I felt a massive release. It was like the blood was draining away all my hurt.
After that, I’d regularly self-harm. At first it would be once or twice a week, but it soon increased to the point that I’d self-harm every day.
I’d use anything sharp I could find. Broken CD covers, razor blades, pins… I’d even burn myself with lighters or lit cigarettes.
The blood was draining away my hurt
I continued doing this for almost two years, cutting the tops of my arms and thighs - places I could hide. I thought no one knew, but one day my home-economics teacher kept me behind after class. She’d spotted the scars on my arms, and was so sympathetic that I ended up confessing everything to her.
When my mum came to pick me up, she was distraught to find out that I’d been doing this so long, and she hadn’t had a clue.
I was referred to a psychiatric nurse, and the school arranged for me to see a counsellor once a fortnight. I was also prescribed antidepressants, but none of it really helped and I kept on cutting.
Meanwhile, the bullying continued. After my 14th birthday in July 2004, I read a message scrawled in the school toilets: ‘Bobbi is a stupid cow. Why don’t you just get on with it and die?’
I decided I didn’t want to go on any more. Back at home, I took all the pills out of our medicine cupboard and swallowed them.
The next thing I remember is my mum screaming, shaking me awake. I was rushed to hospital, where I stayed for six weeks. They kept me in because I kept saying I wanted to die - and I meant it. I was then sent to the adolescent psychiatric unit in Middlesbrough, but I was still cutting myself. It was the only way I could cope with the way I felt. But finally, after 13 months in hospital, thanks to a combination of medication and therapies including art therapy, I slowly began to recover.
I’d always been artistic and I started to find drawing a real distraction. I hadn’t completely stopped cutting myself, but it wasn’t as severe as before.
In February, I was discharged, just a few months before my 16th birthday. I felt elated and wanted a fresh start. So I enrolled at college to do art and design as well as photography. I also found a flat share with some girls on my course.
Of course, it wasn’t easy to make friends initially. I still felt so shy and uncertain, but I learned that not everyone was a bully. Some people actually liked me, and I started feeling quite optimistic.
It felt so good to be putting my energies into something creative. While I was drawing or painting, I’d forget completely about the cutting.
When I found out I’d got a place at the University of Westminster to study art, I was ecstatic. Three months after moving to London I felt strong enough to come off the medication, and gradually the self-harming stopped.
It’s been 10 months since I last cut myself - the longest I’ve ever gone. Like any addict, I can’t promise I’ll never do it again. But it used to be the first thing I’d turn to, and it’s not any more.
As for boyfriends, one ex did see the scars. I was nervous about showing him, but he said they were beautiful because they were part of me.
I’ve been happily single since moving to London, but when I meet someone I like I know I’ll have the strength to look him in the eye and tell him what I’ve been through.
When my new friends have asked about my scars, I’ve simply said: ‘I used to self-harm,’ and left it at that. They don’t ask prying questions, but some have confessed how awkward my scars used to make them feel.
I don’t ever flaunt my scars on holiday - I would never wear just a bikini, I always cover up with a kaftan. So posing like this was a nerve-racking decision. But being able to do it just shows me how far I’ve come in the past few years. And if it makes other young girls think twice about self-harming, then it’s worth it.
I’m now 21 and it’s still hard for me to look at my reflection without feeling regret. But as much as the scars bother me, I also know that the intense misery and pain that I used to feel have faded. For me, that’s what really matters.”
Self-harming: the facts
Almost one in three young women have tried to self-harm.*
People who self-harm are 50 times more likely to kill themselves.*
The UK has one of the highest rates of self-harm in Europe, at 400 per 100,000 of the population.*
‘A physical wound is easier to deal with than an emotional one’
Dr Charlie Alcock is a clinical psychologist, and founder and CEO of the young person’s mental health charity MAC-UK.
“When someone goes to the extreme of self-harming it’s usually because it’s the only way they can deal with a stressful or upsetting situation.
They may feel they can’t control what happens around them, but they can control what they do to their body.
As it’s generally quite a secretive illness, it’s sometimes hard to spot a self-harmer. They often hurt themselves in places that can’t be seen, so only they know they’ve done it.
If you’re worried that someone you know is self-harming, get help. The main port of call should be a GP, who can refer them to a trained expert. But if the sufferer doesn’t feel ready to talk about it face to face with someone there are many online support groups. If an injury is severe then always go straight to A&E.”
For help and support, visit Selfharm.co.uk, Mind.org.uk or MAC-UK’s site, Musicandchange.com. Alternatively, call the National Self Harm Network on 0800 622 6000.
gorgeous <3](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyp1nzfMKj1r8cl63o1_500.jpg)
]TW: self harm, scars, bullying, suicide attempt]
‘Bullies made me do this to myself’
Bobbi Black’s scarred skin is a constant reminder of her tormented teenage years. Now she’s stopped self-harming, she bravely reveals the devastating effect it’s had on her body
‘Running my fingers along the hundreds of translucent scars that criss-cross my body, I know that people must wonder what has happened to me.
They might think I’ve been in a car crash or a really bad accident. They might pity me or think I’m brave.
But I did this to myself. From the age of 11, I cut my skin with whatever sharp object I could find.
As the blood seeped out of my jagged wounds, I’d feel relief. Relief that I had some release for all the pain inside me. Relief that I was feeling something.
Growing up in Middlesbrough, I was always shy and a bit lonely. My parents were separated and my mum, Sarah Jane, 42, sent me to a different school from my primary school friends when I was 11.
Because I had no friends there, I was an easy target for the bullies, who used to steal my lunch money and torment me for being overweight. I was a size 12-14 when I was 12 years old, and to escape the taunts of ‘fatty’ during the day, I would comfort eat at night.
I asked my teachers for help - but it made things worse. Too embarrassed to confide in my mum or the few mates I did have, I grew more miserable.
The first time I cut myself is etched in my memory forever. I’d had a particularly bad day, and after school I lay on my bed sobbing. But crying wasn’t enough. I spotted a rectangular glass plate and I ran its sharp edges across my forearm until I drew blood. It hurt like hell, but at the same time I felt a massive release. It was like the blood was draining away all my hurt.
After that, I’d regularly self-harm. At first it would be once or twice a week, but it soon increased to the point that I’d self-harm every day.
I’d use anything sharp I could find. Broken CD covers, razor blades, pins… I’d even burn myself with lighters or lit cigarettes.
The blood was draining away my hurt
I continued doing this for almost two years, cutting the tops of my arms and thighs - places I could hide. I thought no one knew, but one day my home-economics teacher kept me behind after class. She’d spotted the scars on my arms, and was so sympathetic that I ended up confessing everything to her.
When my mum came to pick me up, she was distraught to find out that I’d been doing this so long, and she hadn’t had a clue.
I was referred to a psychiatric nurse, and the school arranged for me to see a counsellor once a fortnight. I was also prescribed antidepressants, but none of it really helped and I kept on cutting.
Meanwhile, the bullying continued. After my 14th birthday in July 2004, I read a message scrawled in the school toilets: ‘Bobbi is a stupid cow. Why don’t you just get on with it and die?’
I decided I didn’t want to go on any more. Back at home, I took all the pills out of our medicine cupboard and swallowed them.
The next thing I remember is my mum screaming, shaking me awake. I was rushed to hospital, where I stayed for six weeks. They kept me in because I kept saying I wanted to die - and I meant it. I was then sent to the adolescent psychiatric unit in Middlesbrough, but I was still cutting myself. It was the only way I could cope with the way I felt. But finally, after 13 months in hospital, thanks to a combination of medication and therapies including art therapy, I slowly began to recover.
I’d always been artistic and I started to find drawing a real distraction. I hadn’t completely stopped cutting myself, but it wasn’t as severe as before.
In February, I was discharged, just a few months before my 16th birthday. I felt elated and wanted a fresh start. So I enrolled at college to do art and design as well as photography. I also found a flat share with some girls on my course.
Of course, it wasn’t easy to make friends initially. I still felt so shy and uncertain, but I learned that not everyone was a bully. Some people actually liked me, and I started feeling quite optimistic.
It felt so good to be putting my energies into something creative. While I was drawing or painting, I’d forget completely about the cutting.
When I found out I’d got a place at the University of Westminster to study art, I was ecstatic. Three months after moving to London I felt strong enough to come off the medication, and gradually the self-harming stopped.
It’s been 10 months since I last cut myself - the longest I’ve ever gone. Like any addict, I can’t promise I’ll never do it again. But it used to be the first thing I’d turn to, and it’s not any more.
As for boyfriends, one ex did see the scars. I was nervous about showing him, but he said they were beautiful because they were part of me.
I’ve been happily single since moving to London, but when I meet someone I like I know I’ll have the strength to look him in the eye and tell him what I’ve been through.
When my new friends have asked about my scars, I’ve simply said: ‘I used to self-harm,’ and left it at that. They don’t ask prying questions, but some have confessed how awkward my scars used to make them feel.
I don’t ever flaunt my scars on holiday - I would never wear just a bikini, I always cover up with a kaftan. So posing like this was a nerve-racking decision. But being able to do it just shows me how far I’ve come in the past few years. And if it makes other young girls think twice about self-harming, then it’s worth it.
I’m now 21 and it’s still hard for me to look at my reflection without feeling regret. But as much as the scars bother me, I also know that the intense misery and pain that I used to feel have faded. For me, that’s what really matters.”
Self-harming: the facts
- Almost one in three young women have tried to self-harm.*
- People who self-harm are 50 times more likely to kill themselves.*
- The UK has one of the highest rates of self-harm in Europe, at 400 per 100,000 of the population.*
‘A physical wound is easier to deal with than an emotional one’
Dr Charlie Alcock is a clinical psychologist, and founder and CEO of the young person’s mental health charity MAC-UK.
“When someone goes to the extreme of self-harming it’s usually because it’s the only way they can deal with a stressful or upsetting situation.
They may feel they can’t control what happens around them, but they can control what they do to their body.
As it’s generally quite a secretive illness, it’s sometimes hard to spot a self-harmer. They often hurt themselves in places that can’t be seen, so only they know they’ve done it.
If you’re worried that someone you know is self-harming, get help. The main port of call should be a GP, who can refer them to a trained expert. But if the sufferer doesn’t feel ready to talk about it face to face with someone there are many online support groups. If an injury is severe then always go straight to A&E.”
- For help and support, visit Selfharm.co.uk, Mind.org.uk or MAC-UK’s site, Musicandchange.com. Alternatively, call the National Self Harm Network on 0800 622 6000.
gorgeous <3
Favorite quote from this movie.
Cake or
collar bonesdry thinning hair??Pizza or
a thigh gapdry peeling skin??
Ice cream orhip bonesdull eyes??
Food ora nice bodydeath??
Think before youeatencourage others to throw their lives away by posting your pro-ana shit all over the internet where vulnerable naive teenagers can read and imitate your illness that you don’t even possess.this needs more notes
My psychology teacher showed us this picture in class and spent a good 10 minutes talking about how depression is a disorder, a mental disease, not a choice, etc. I respect him so much for that.
This. One thousand times this.
I hate how people are always like “just be happy” or “just stop being sad”. Do you think I chose to be like this? No. It’s something way out of my control.
this
My dad and I just got in a fight about this because he thinks it’s a choice and you just have to “stop being negative” if it were that fucking easy you really think I wouldn’t have don’t it sooner? As if I enjoy feeling like this? What the fuck I can’t even handle the ignorance sometimes.
i need to show this to me mom
This is literally the most perfect post about religion and homosexuality.A group of Christians showed up at a Chicago gay pride parade in July.
They were holding up signs saying “I’m sorry that Christians judge you”
“I’m sorry for how the churches treated you” and “I used to be a bible-banging homophobe, I’m sorry”
Just when you’re beginning to lose faith in humanity, something like this shows up.
Never not reblog
it’s people like these who make the world happier.
Their shirts say “I’m Sorry” omg ;___;
Forever reblog.
Just.
ujiefhdjsk
PERFECTION
Hello Everyone, my name is Danny, I am Katelyn’s boyfriend. Late last night Katelyn was taken back into hospital from an overdose she had taken last week, her organs were shutting down slowly, yesterday, the hospital let her out, thinking everything was okay, but didn’t know she was in severe pain, Katelyn didn’t say anything, it was her ‘back-up plan’ to suicide. So shes drifting slowly, and the doctors said she will not make it. She will be missed, and I can’t cope without her here. I miss her so much already, and love her with every little bit of my heart. When she goes I don’t know what I will do, she is my perfect, sweet, loving girlfriend.
This photo was taken the day she came out of hospital.
I don’t care what fucking blog you have, you have to reblog this right now.
everyone needs to reblog this no matter what
 |
Anonymous whispered: thank you.. :) you truly are an amazing person.. |
You’re very welcome :) thank you, you are too. Good luck with your scholarship test and boyfriend. I hope everything works out in the best way possible!
