Morning Edition: Living in Mr and Mrs. Beakerston’s Laboratory

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Today is in a way a test-run to see how well I handle being alone for a week. I have to take care of sweet puppies, clean, do my homework and study for tests. It was very nice until I I started to cook breakfast.
The coffee maker was easy enough, I’ve used it before. What I wasn’t expecting was the Psycho Sensitive Smoke Alarm. I put the bacon in and maybe two minutes later it starts wailing. It does the three times. THREE TIMES. There very few noises that I truly hate and hearing that first thing in the morning before I’ve even had my sanity (coffee) is a bit much.
So what did I do? I ended of fanning away the non existent (you couldn’t see a damn thing) smoke with… a cutting board. A six inch cutting board. I think at some point I started hopping up and down to “help” appease the alarm. The best part? My coffee was cold by the end of this.
How does Mrs. Beakerton cook in the house?

That was this morning’s adventure. Expect two more posts–afternoon and evening edition.

NAC and Paranormal Group.

At the moment, my medicine isn’t working as well as it should be working all because of one of them decided to be an asshole. It has gotten to the point where I had to leave my Paranormal Investigating team. I fucking hate that I had to do that. I felt like I belonged there and then… issues.
     I was hallucinating and hearing things which turns out it was a combination of forgetting to take NAC (it repairs neurons) and staying up late for investigations. On top of that I am struggling with trying not to cut and not relapse into being anorexic. Also I am rapid cycling and by rapid I mean every five minutes it’s a new emotion.  It’s so much fun.
     I want to go back to the team but I don’t know. Part of me says that they are better off without me and the other says they seemed happy to have you there.


I feel like shit without my group and really stupid that I wouldn’t have left if I had known about my NAC.

Oil Cleansing Method

Since I have a photoshoot (yes, someone actually wants to photograph me as a model) I decided I needed to take care of my skin and lips. My skin was pinple ridden and red while my lips are flaky. I tried the Oil Cleansing Method which is where, for my skin type that is prone to acne and dry, I take 3:1 ratio of castor oil and olive oil.
First, I get  my oil ready and then I open my pores by pressing a hot rag to my face. After that, I run the oil mixture into my face for a minute in circles. Then I take a steaming rag and place it over my face for about a minute, maybe two. After all that, I wipe off the oil and put Jojoba oil on as a moisturizer.

Here is me the first day:



And here is me today 




This stuff is amazing. I have heard about OCM but have been wary of it. My skin is flaky, oily, and dry. Why would I want something like castor oil on my face because I once put it in my hair and it was a mess. However, this stuff works! So does the fabulous olive oil and sugar lip scrub from Pinterest! 

If you had my problems– nothing worked–I suggest you try to OSM. 


I used to be the kind of writer that would air my dirty laundry whenever I had any but I’ve changed. I’m not entirely sure when and how it happened. Now, I hardly write on a public platform but instead in paper journals. I will often start to write about my day here and just stop because I don’t see the point. Who would want to read it?
As far as dirty laundry goes, I prefer keeping my thoughts to myself now and a new problem has arisen: worsening anxiety. Since I’ve stopped talking, my fears have gotten worse. My mind is a constant whirl of thoughts and I feel as if my head will explode.
The good thing is I’m starting to let go of things and people that were bad for me. Hurtful words don’t have the same effect on me as they used to. The harmful people I once had in my life I have finally let go and I never thought I would feel so peaceful. Before, it was beyond painful to even think of letting go of people and I couldn’t grasp letting go of words. I’m different now– I feel new and I feel able to write about the day-to-day things. The happy things. Tomorrow will mark a new chapter in my writing.

How I Survived.

Not many of you know that I tried to commit suicide two weeks ago but I didn’t. In the instant I tried to breathe in water, I was reminded of everything I loved, of every person I loved. It was their voices, faces, the memory of their hugs and words encouragement against my depression that really pulled my head above water. They have always been the ones that have kept me going no matter how low on fuel I am.

“You are my best friend.”

“You are amazing. You are incredible. You are worth a bazillion everything.”

“I’ve heard of you and I don’t know who Norman Reedus is so in my imaginary world you’re way more famous than he is.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“You are intelligent and talented and beautiful. In short, you are amazing. Never forget that.”

These people believe I am amazing but the truth is, they are more amazing than I will every be. They have been my wings when I needed them the most. They have never feared my depression, self-hatred, or my lack of belief in their words. However, from this point onward I will believe, like you do, that I am worth bazillion everything, I am amazing, I am intelligent, and that it will be okay and that I am loved.   

Later, I decided I would share my story last November with  My friend, Dese’Rae L. Stage. During this interview for Live Through This, I was having trouble remembering things I wanted to say and she said, “You’ll remember it when we’re done.” She was right, I remembered more what of what I wished I had said. I remembered what I was afraid to say because it might be triggering for some. I remembered the feelings I had the night I tried to kill myself.

I have always thought that depression felt like ice wrapping itself around my shoulders and knife in my chest. Except the  knife would never reach my heart nor would the ice fully cover me even though I wanted them to.
I didn’t want to be alive. I didn’t want to have other people’s thoughts and wishes in my head anymore. I didn’t want to think of the hundreds of ways that I failed. I didn’t want to let people know just how badly my rape had hurt me. I had felt that way for a while but that night was the final straw.
Everything ached and I was having trouble breathing. I was convincing myself out of hurting myself, like I had promised my family. I promised I wouldn’t cut. What I decided to do was far worse: I began to fill my bathtub with only one motive.  I was going to drown myself in the one place I often sought comfort. What was ironic was that as I watch the bathtub fill, I tried talking myself out of doing it but I was failing because of memories. Memories of bad test scores, disappointment from my parents and teachers, my embarrassment, and being raped by someone I thought loved me thus making me unworthy of love of that kind. All of them at once like a very ugly movie. It was enough. I was done. I pulled myself above the water and here I am.

I wish I had remembered to say that.

One Word.

Cut you out of my heart
So I can be as indifferent as you
I wish it were possible
Oh, love has sunk its teeth
Straight through my core

Please respond to me
Call back to my cry
Let down your walls
Show me what’s eating at you
I promise I won’t hurt you

It saddens me that this is goodbye
One word would’ve prevented the end
So long my old, dear friend