Olivia. Twenty Two.
Sydney, Australia.
♬ Music Theatre Graduate.

In 'recovery' from:
· Suicide Attempts (Overdose)
· Rape
· Chronic PTSD
· Non-Purging Bulimia
· Major Depression
· Self-Harm (Cutting)
↳Weapon of choice: razor/scalpel
· Perfectionism
· Abortion

Psychiatric Ward Admissions: 4
Total Hospitalised Days: 117

I'm so used to talking about the intimate details of my life to psychotherapists, psychiatrists, psychologists, counselors, mental health nurses or doctors suturing my wrists, that it hardly seems strange to be divulging this to an internet full of strangers.

This blog is about things that make sense on the inside, when they don't on the outside. I think too much, I indulge in my flaws and I'll stand up for justice until it ruins me.

These are literally the pages of my diary. I do not post to glorify any part of my 'illness', behaviour or experiences, rather to seek comfort and support from those who understand, and perhaps can guide me on the path of recovery. I actively encourage all those suffering to seek treatment as I have.
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Well, today marks the day I officially stopped being a child and started being the adult taking care of my parents.


I don’t need therapy.

I just need to binge watch a season of SVU a week.


Lying awake in bed, tossing and turning over all those thank you notes I never got around to writing.

(Source: Flickr / dangershark, via roselynnstonefox)


I do not know what is in my exam tomorrow for the one subject I may have a chance of passing, or even what time that examination commences.

But I do know that I have lost 2 kilograms since this time last week.

I’m trying hard not to draw parallels between my behaviour now and 2009, but obsessions are growing again and I am unable to stop watching SVU.


(Source: marleens-diary)


(Source: fffffffffffffffxn)


(Source: weheartit.com, via blue-rhapsodies)


(Source: revealing-affection, via superficialrepentance)





Oh yeah, and I had majorly vivid cutting dreams when I napped today.

I have found that there is little more depressing than leaving the house so early in the morning that the sun has not even graced the world with its presence, especially when you are less than enthused about your destination. To arrive at my practicum school by 8am (half an hour before school starts) I have to wake up at 5am and leave the house at 6am while the neighbourhood is still cloaked with the night.

Every morning I fight a war with myself just to get up out of bed. The battleground is always in my mind, fighting that voice that tries to convince me that I can sleep in longer, or do without that morning shower, or call in sick to work. This morning the onset of a mild cold did not help the fight, but I know I can not afford to miss any prac days as I do not have time to make them up later on.

I am so overworked and ridiculously exhausted that today I drifted off in one of the classes I was observing. It is getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open and continue on playing this role.

I am tired of life. But not in the same way as before. When I was suicidal I was tired of life full stop. The difference is I am tired of my life.



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