Hi, my name is Leif E. Greenz and I’ve changed platforms! My new YouTube channel focuses on the same subjects as this blog, but the video format gives me the opportunity to be more vulnerable than ever before. I’ll be using Big Mouth to post regular updates about my channel. If time allows, I’ll try to post the occasional blog, too!
Are there any subjects you’d like me to write about? Let me know in a comment or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org ❤
Subscribe to my channel: https://youtube.com/user/leifegreenz
This video is meant to provide an overview of where I’m at and what you can expect from my channel. I talk about being a “stay-at-home crazy person,” chronic unemployment among the mentally ill, and suicide rates in those with C-PTSD. This video the first in what I hope will be a longer series about living with debilitating mental illness.
Check out my other YouTube channel where I post old Y Lime? videos: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCr50Wr9uNiivBtaLBfQc8YQ
Let me write something for you: http://thewritingleif.com
I will never again read a book about mental illness by someone who doesn’t suffer from it. Yesterday morning, I found my mother’s copy of a book on borderline personality disorder that I’ve long resisted reading because of its name: I Hate You — Don’t Leave Me. I decided to peruse a few chapters, hoping they might shed some light on the increased rage I’ve been experiencing. This was a mistake.
A few paragraphs in, the shame was dripping like sweat down my body. The borderline’s outbursts of rage are as unpredictable as they are frightening… Most therapists will, whenever possible, try to limit the number of borderline patients they treat.
It’s been a few months since my last themeless blog post, perhaps because I’m obsessed with attaching meaning to senseless shit
Let’s start with a disclaimer: “Bottle Up and Explode” Syndrome is not a real thing. It’s actually the title of an Elliott Smith song that pops into my head every time I have an emotional breakdown.
This is essentially a grownup version of my emo middle school poetry.
I’m two weeks sober today. It’s not much, but I haven’t been clean for this long since last October.
And I haven’t experienced cravings like this since…. ever.
One of, like, five pictures I took in Barcelona.
I’m shaking in my parent’s computer room, partially because my dad likes to pretend he lives in an arctic tundra in the middle of summer and partially because I am TERRIFIED. It’s happening. In just over 24 hours, I will be playing Tom Petty on repeat in a narrow economy seat on my way back to Barcelona.
I am so fucking glad I came home.
Sex. It’s great, except when it’s not. I love it and hate it, crave and despise it, hide from and run towards it. It’s complicated. It sucks. I’m working on it.