Journal Journeys

Depression is growing bigger, having eaten Alice's fantasies. It's the demon in Spirited Away. A monster glutinous for pain.

The truth is: You can probably make me feel bad. You can probably succeed in making me cry or have an anxiety attack. I might be incapacitated by it. But I’ll pull through, I always do.

I think I should be different by now. That I should be better by now. And I don’t want to reveal the extent of my struggle because I feel ashamed. I’m embarrassed.

I drift through the days, counting. I count the hours until the next meal, class or nap. I count the days until the next trip to town, the weeks until I am home, the months until I turn twenty-one, the money in my wallet, the crackers left in my room. How much longer until something else happens?

Sometimes one thing that frequently makes me happy will be completely joyless and painfully uninteresting on another day. Which is a hindrance for trying to create a life that allows me to follow my bliss in my work.

These thoughts are dark. The shame is so big that it tries to stop me from talking about the thoughts, which prevents me from processing the pain.

I want children of my own, but for the past few years I have been afraid that I would pass this on to my offspring. I feared how will my body and mind handle it?

I’m in Cozumel. It’s my first time here. I’m lying on a towel in my black and white retro high waisted bikini–lathered in sunscreen, of course–already dry from a long swim in the ocean.

Now that I’m here, I really want a drink, but Alejandro won’t let me. I’m so nervous and anxious. Lost. My thoughts are circling, and I can’t stop the spiraling repetitiveness of my obsessions. I’m afraid.

I second guess everything that I choose to do. No matter what it is. Why can’t I chill out and just do something? I'm just trying to understand anxiety.

My depression is really bad lately. I find everything meaningless. I don't even feel happy in a quiet bit of nature. I hate having depression.

It was the longest period of time I have gone without a psychologist appointment since I first began treatment three and a half years ago. And I was getting weird, real weird.

Depression isn't weakness, but I don't feel strong. Depression is clawing her way back into my consciousness. Usually she dwells in a spot hidden away, and when I put her back she stays there for a while. This time, it's like the lock is broken and she is not staying put.

I allowed a seed of anxiety to grow and take roots in other parts of my psyche. It is kind of like when a tree brings water up through its roots to nurture itself, only in a much more fucked up and non-poetic kind of way.

I still don’t like speaking of it, of this fear, I don’t want people to become intrusive about me. I don't want the worry of people who don't understand because they've never felt this way.

I can’t say anything. He wants me to tell him if I’m ok and I am trapped in my head, but not in my body. I can’t move my eyes to look into his.

As they walked away the baby girl watched me and smiled and then started giggling with joy. As if our encounter had tickled her as much as it did me.

I think I’m emotionally eating. I really need to not do that. I have to be really careful with addictions. I could very easily become an alcoholic I think. I need to be so careful to never do that.

TW: Suicidal ideation. Raw, honest, painfully real journal journey to a dark time of suicidal thoughts. Get help at suicidepreventionlifeline.org call 1-800-273-8255

Nothing negative is happening. I mean, no big things are occurring that I should feel threatened about. This anxiety and fear is coming from someplace else. I can’t sleep. I wake up every hour and am having vivid intense dreams and nightmares. What is wrong? It isn’t easy to deal with stresses again without my…

Lying so often feels like the easy way out, but I've been learning the hard way that honesty is the only way to face demons and beat them. To learn from the shit in life and to handle the pain of the world, to see the good things and not just the bad.

Standing on the platform, I try to ignore the thoughts about what I look like and focus on something else. Anything else. At least I know that the reality is, I don’t know these people and they don’t care about me.

I hate admitting this, it’s unspeakable, and writing it down makes it even more real. I’ve been thinking about killing myself a lot. If I didn’t know the horrific trauma that death causes on the people who love the dead person, I think I’d have done it already.

If you are hopeless, want to give up, or are contemplating suicide. Please take a minute to read this and call someone. You aren't alone. You don’t have to go through this feeling alone. You are stronger than you know and more incredible than you believe.

Every day I struggle to get up and go to class. I find no meaning in anything I do and I go to a counselor here on campus, but I still feel the same.

Angry at myself. I’ve been drinking every single day for like a week. I know why I’m doing it. Without something to confuse my sense, I don’t have to deal with this internal struggle.

From a young age, I learned that writing about my pain was like talking to a friend. My journal has traveled as far and wide as I have.

Why is Depression so heavy? Hanging around in the pit of my stomach, a pulsating orb, a cancer re-emerging after remission. The sorrow is physically manifested in my gut. I feel a deep discontent. A piece missing or shifted into the wrong position. A heavy weight, crushing. Like soaking wet wool fabric, clinging to my…

Mom liked to redecorate and renovate. She decked out the main bathroom in blue and put up yellow and blue wallpaper. The dated linoleum floor was replaced with one to match the new décor. The bathtub had always been blue, now the rest of the room was too.

I prefer to go under the radar than let people get close and reject me once they get to know me. I am afraid to be honest.

No matter how ready this anxiety is trying to make me, there is no way to prepare for doom. Living in fear is a kind of hell.

I'm not incredibly sad all the time. I don’t feel much of anything most of the time. I’m not just sadder than I used to be, I’m less everything.

Up and down emotions. One moment I feel excited and ready to try something new, and the next I am afraid of rejection and hide back in my bed.

Where is the inspiration I used to have? It feels weird to be an adult and sometimes feel like the same sad little kid I once was.

Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay moves at a slower pace and is a much needed sanctuary from the never ending commotion of Buenos Aires, across the river in Argentina.

The air. The air is always different. Buenos Aires air is heavy. It's a city without a filter. Loud noises. Chaotic sidewalks. And a brilliantly blue sky.

Cloaked in a yellow dusty light was the pueblo of Tilcara. All I will say for now about camping in Tilcara during Carnaval is this: Don’t do it.

Intense Carnaval under Tilcara's bright sun, Incan ruins, eating llama, camping in the cold Andes, and viewing the Hill of Seven Colors. There is much to tell.

My anxiety was growing and I did not know what could relieve it. I visited Posada Itaca, an oasis of a farm only an hour and a half from Buenos Aires.

The wind was beautiful and soulful, light yes riddled with gusts of beauty. On the walk to Mount Shannon I heard Irish ancestors speak to me in the mist.

The Himalayas were always releasing snow and pouring it down the mountainsides, keeping the stream behind the nunnery filled with fresh water.

Autumn, 2011 Belfast’s kind strangers We’ve all had those days where everyone seems to be out to get you. It happens when you travel too. When I lived in Oxford, England I was on my lunch break and popped over to the train station across from work to use the passport photo booth. On my…

No, this isn't some city girl complaining about a small town. Easiest way to express how much you don't want to move? Call everything crappy.

December 2010 Poland: Scary Roads and Christmas Time In a couple previous posts I wrote about being in Berlin for the first time with my friend Olivia in December 2010. After staying in Berlin for a couple days, Olivia’s uncle picked us up and drove us to Wroclaw, Poland. The roads were covered in snow…

May 2007 Making traveling friends in India Previously, I wrote about touters and haggling over rickshaw prices in Agra, India. It wasn’t always such a hassle to get around and I wasn’t always alone. I made friends with some fellow travelers. Flashback to visiting the Taj Mahal, I had just walked away from a man who…

Why, when I am in the midst of an amazing, beautiful and rare adventure am I paralyzed by myself? Why do I fear life? I drift through the days, counting.

May 2007 Navigating India, Haggling & Cultural Barriers “When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not designed to make you comfortable. It is designed to make its own people comfortable.” – Clifton Fadiman India was truly life changing for me, but it was not easy. Without the challenge I would not have grown into the…

Adare, Ireland Literally, written out plans. It was 2006, I was 19 years old and on my first overseas adventure. I’m a highly organized person when it comes to paperwork and planning, so before I took off for Ireland, I created my very own travel packet with information on all my prebooked accommodation, bus schedules,…

The Taj Mahal Let me take you back to Agra, India and the insanity of being a naive 20 year old navigating a country she knows very little about. Oh, and did I mention this was her second time ever traveling abroad and she was traveling alone? Wild kid. I went downstairs a little too…

Cooking in Ireland I kept a journal the month I spent in Ireland when I traveled around and volunteered on the organic farm Sunrise Farm in Whitegate, County Clare. When I was there I wrote down some delicious recipes and so today I’ll share them, hopefully I’ll have a more in depth blog entry for…

Lost and ignorant in Delhi There are a lot of monkeys in Delhi. I’m a seasoned traveler, now, but 6 years ago on my second international excursion that was definitely not the case. I went to India back in 2007, I was going there to teach but I wanted to travel before my volunteer program…

The symbolism that saturates daily rituals in the nunnery may be religiously profound, but they are also just ordinary experiences to the people who live there.