As we say goodbye to 2014, I want to share some of the moments from this year that have stuck with me. I want to remember the hurt, the pain, the weird, the wonderful because it all meant something. I want to spend this last day of the year reflecting and remembering what I can of what 2014 gave me. It's been the worst but the best year of my life and throughout the year, I had a note open on my phone where whenever I remembered, I wrote down something that happened. Now I am going to share these for the first time ever...
January 2014. It's the 2nd day of this new year and I am sat on a train, audibly sobbing to a train of people pretending they can't hear me. My destination is a private London hospital where I have been admitted to and I am feeling a fear I could never have comprehended before this moment. I'm scared of how alone I feel. I'm scared of what is waiting for me. I'm scared of getting better. I'm scared of the fact I know I will be leaving a substantial amount heavier than I am right now. I'm scared of what the other patients will think of me. I'm scared of how worthless I feel.
July 2014. London is having the most insane thunder storms, there's 3 different ones in 3 different directions, I go outside and put my arms out, stare up at the sky and feel incredible.
April 2014. It's the early hours of the morning. I don't know what day it is. I don't care anymore. I've never felt so scared and alone in my entire life. I feel like a failure. I've lost everything. I've given up on myself. I spent hours prior having incredibly vivid hallucinations about throwing myself in front of a tube, a car, a bus, anything that could wipe out my existence in one step. I've taken too many pills. I'm dragging a kitchen knife along the centre of my veins as though it's a game of operation, I hit the edges and I'm out. The blood smells like burning metal and feels somewhere between relief and giving up.
November 2014. She tells me she's in love with me and I realise that every moment of the pain was worthwhile.
June 2014. My best friend and I are stood at the front of a sold out Islington Assembly Hall seeing Sara Bareilles live for the third time together. Her arms are around my shoulders and I'm wiping tears from my face as she plays the opening chords of "December" and I'm really, really fucking glad that I'm alive.
January 2014. It's my first night in hospital and I can't sleep. All I can hear is the girl in the room next to me screaming and shouting. She says she wants to kill everybody. She is a Persian Princess and is biting, kicking, screaming and spitting at everybody who comes into her room. I pull the covers over my head and cry wondering what I am doing in a place like this. It takes 3 hours for her sedation to work. The next morning when we pass outside our floor's kitchen at 9am, she hugs me and gives me a cornetto ice cream, I take it off her and she watches as I open it and take a lick. Her eyes are like a child giving someone a present, holding a breath, hoping that they'll like it. I say thank you, head back to my room, throw it in the bin and spend the next hour purging. I don't feel anything.
February 2014. Oh my god, Taylor Swift was metres away from me performing my favourite song of hers "All Too Well" I'm so overwhelmed I think I'm going to pass out.
May 2014. I'm walking out of the apartment I'm staying at and a dead pigeon falls out of the sky at my feet. I trip over it and spend the next 45 minutes wondering if having a dead bird fall at your feet is sign of good luck. I never did find out.
June 2014. Two of my friends have come over to the apartment I'm staying at for an impromptu Tony Awards viewing party. Jessie Mueller and Carole King are performing together and I can't stop crying because it's so amazing.
October 2014. She takes 3 buses across London at 4am just to come and be with me whilst I'm hurting. I can't describe this feeling.
August 2014. Two months ago I started watching the TV show "Pretty Little Liars" and I've just finished binge watching five seasons, because why the hell not!
September 2014. I'm hanging out at my friend Becka's friend pub in Soho with her, our friend Kerison and my cat who is on a leash fast asleep on a lap. We're drinking gin and it dawns upon me that I am sat in a pub, with my cat on a lead and somehow this doesn't even make the top twenty of most ridiculous things to happen to me.
May 2014. It's a Sunday afternoon and I'm lay in the bathtub of my hospital room's en-suite listening to Joni Mitchell's album "Blue" at full blast, the sun is shining and I realise that not everything has to hurt.
July 2014. I'm sat in my new favourite writing spot in Soho, I'm writing about him, and then a song comes on that just makes me know that he is with me. All the time. He lives in my heart.
December 2014. It's early in the morning and for some reason I'm the first of us both to be awake. This is rare. I'm lying listening to the rain with the love of my life nestled into my side with her arms wrapped protectively around me. Life is so beautiful.
June 2014. The Red Arrows are going to be flying over Buckingham Palace. I don't usually care about things like this but I'm staying around the corner of Buckingham Palace and as soon as I hear the helicopters in the distance, I'm filled with this childlike excitement and grab the keys and race up onto the roof of the apartment in just a towel with soaking wet hair and watch them fly past with a trail of red, white and blue smoke. Wow, I suddenly realise that I'm LIVING in London and this is just a casual day for me.
September 2014. I'm wrapped up in a throw, roasting marshmallows over a bonfire in my friend Victoria's garden and drinking gin. Life is good. Little do I know what is waiting for me around the corner. It's only going to get better.
October 2014. Lindsay Lohan tells me my outfit is cute.
April 2014. I want to change everything about myself. I hate myself and I hate the traces of who has been left on me. Hair. Hair. It has to start with the hair right? I go and get inches upon inches cut off my hair had my hair and am now fashioning a shoulder length bob. I feel free. This is liberating.
July 2014. I accidentally get a kitten.
May 2014. It's a terrible night. I'm exhausted and my head is screaming at me. I've gained a huge amount of weight because of the medication that I'm on and I've just had enough of it. I spend the day in bed refusing to leave or eat anything. Nurses have been trying to coax me out of bed or to eat something all day and evening. One of my doctors enters my room for the third time that day and I just lose it, I start screaming and I'm howling with sobs. I can't breathe, I can't feel anything. I wake up 13 hours later to find that I had been sedated.
December 2014. I'm at the Harry Potter Studio Tour with the love of my life. Could life get any better than this?
April 2014. I'm back in hospital, after a gruelling group therapy session which I have stormed out of, I'm sat crying, when a very famous musician sits down beside me, puts his arm around me and just sits there in silence with his arm around me whilst I cry. People are really special.
October 2014. It's Halloween. We're hand in hand walking around London's Southbank. My heart is so content. I can't remember a time before she existed. I didn't know it yet, but I'd found her.
June 2014. I tell myself I'm enough, and I almost believe it. This is progress.
September 2014. I start a new job and gain a new family.
June 2014. An entire outdoor weekend of free theatre proves to be just what the doctor ordered.
November 2014. For the first time in a very long time, I pick up a razor and don't see it as a weapon to hurt myself with.
July 2014. I'm at an event photographing Keira Knightley. My love for portrait photography has flooded back to me.
October 2014. I have my own flat. My very own place to call mine, finally.
September 2014. I'm browsing Etsy and I never realised how much I needed a taxidermy rat dressed as Captain America until right this very moment.
21st October 2014. My life is changed forever. For the better.
November 2014. For the first time ever, somebody has the ability to bring me out of a panic attack. She holds my hand, strokes my face and looks into my eyes and suddenly I can breathe again.
December 2014. I'm seeing Taylor Swift with my favourite person on the planet.
23rd November 2014. Love, just love.
December 2014. The most romantic night of my life. I'm so in love. I'm the luckiest person in this universe and my life is incredible. What difference a year makes.
Showing posts with label bipolar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bipolar. Show all posts
Wednesday, 31 December 2014
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
my mind is somewhere hazy
There are some days, like today, where I actually wish that I was ill again. It was so exhausting and lonely and killed my spirit. But fighting it? This is equally as exhausting and lonely.
It's so hard to fight against every single thought you have. I put up such a bright and bubbly front all the time, but underneath it all, I'm not this "recovered" person. I have to fight against almost every single thought that comes into my head, my automatic thought processes tell me to self destruct, that I'm not worthy of simply existing, and I have to fight that every second of every day, and it drains me.
Today my brain actually aches because of everything that has gone on. It's hard to fight the thoughts when your brain is completely drained of any kind of energy or motivation.
In a bizarre series of events, the song "Days" by Kirsty McColl just came on in the restaurant that I am in, a song that I associate with the loss of the greatest light in my life, my heart and soul. It's been seven long years without him, and my grief got tangled up amongst eating disorders and depression and self loathing.
Grief poured out of me disguised as blood. It was grief trying to get out. It's still trying to get out. It buried itself so deep within me that it became a part of me. There are shrapnels of him inside of me.
How do you allow yourself to move on? To grieve seven years worth of mourning. The more the issues that were tangled together with the grief get dealt with, the more the grief has to come out of hiding.
I can feel his hand in mine as he slipped away, it's so real, all the time.
I think it's a sign, I really do. I think it's a sign to deal with it and to fight. Maybe once I've began to tackle this, the feelings of wishing I was ill again will go away. Maybe.
Today has been a bad day, those days that you know will happen but dread it and fear will set back your entire recovery process. I thought it was important to just have some kind of record that I am here in a bad day, but I am okay.
I am okay.
I am okay and I am enough.
What I am doing is good, I'm conquering a lot of things, but I'm also recognising the falls and the mistakes. I've made many, but we can only keep moving forward can't we? I need to keep telling myself, forward is the only way, well, as the song by Yazz says; "the only way is up"
It's so hard to fight against every single thought you have. I put up such a bright and bubbly front all the time, but underneath it all, I'm not this "recovered" person. I have to fight against almost every single thought that comes into my head, my automatic thought processes tell me to self destruct, that I'm not worthy of simply existing, and I have to fight that every second of every day, and it drains me.
Today my brain actually aches because of everything that has gone on. It's hard to fight the thoughts when your brain is completely drained of any kind of energy or motivation.
In a bizarre series of events, the song "Days" by Kirsty McColl just came on in the restaurant that I am in, a song that I associate with the loss of the greatest light in my life, my heart and soul. It's been seven long years without him, and my grief got tangled up amongst eating disorders and depression and self loathing.
Grief poured out of me disguised as blood. It was grief trying to get out. It's still trying to get out. It buried itself so deep within me that it became a part of me. There are shrapnels of him inside of me.
How do you allow yourself to move on? To grieve seven years worth of mourning. The more the issues that were tangled together with the grief get dealt with, the more the grief has to come out of hiding.
I can feel his hand in mine as he slipped away, it's so real, all the time.
I think it's a sign, I really do. I think it's a sign to deal with it and to fight. Maybe once I've began to tackle this, the feelings of wishing I was ill again will go away. Maybe.
Today has been a bad day, those days that you know will happen but dread it and fear will set back your entire recovery process. I thought it was important to just have some kind of record that I am here in a bad day, but I am okay.
I am okay.
I am okay and I am enough.
What I am doing is good, I'm conquering a lot of things, but I'm also recognising the falls and the mistakes. I've made many, but we can only keep moving forward can't we? I need to keep telling myself, forward is the only way, well, as the song by Yazz says; "the only way is up"
people are better in the abstract
There is a certain amount of recklessness that comes with despair.
I show myself to people, I give them little glimpses, I show them little fragments of myself that I assume to be true pieces of me, who I am inside.
It takes so much out of me to be able to do that; to show myself to someone and allow myself to be judged, or worst, abandoned.
On paper, it seems like it should be easier to hold people at arms length, to choose not to show them the little pieces of who you are, because then you can't get attached and then they won't leave you.
If only life was that simple.
We gravitate towards different people, we merge, we collide... We can try to stop ourselves from letting people in, we can build our walls thick and high, we can turn ourselves into an insurmountable mass. But all we gain is loneliness and self destruction.
You turn inwards and when all your walls cave in on you, it's you that is left in the centre of it. You're the burnt out grenade canister, the wreckage is around you. So why not have other people there to help you sift through it all.
I've learned the hard way that people are just temporary. Some people come into our lives for a very short amount of time, and then they're gone again. It's as simple as that. We can't grasp onto people for dear life, people will come and people will go.
It's a really hard lesson to learn, I've lost my most favourite of all human beings, they've gone and I'm still grieving for those each and everyday. It dictates every connection I make, every piece of myself I show to others.
Recovery is teaching me to show myself to more people and be more open, I'm trying to harness all of what I've learned and am still learning but sometimes I get it wrong. I'm going to slip up and I'm going to make mistakes, I'm allowed to do that and I absolutely hate that I feel like I have to justify myself.
I don't even know what this post is, I just needed to write something and this is it, I hate it and will probably delete it, but for now, whilst I sob in a coffee shop, take this post.
This was the end of this entry, until:
Tonight, a combination of things happened and so many things just fell into place.
I have had an awful day, I've cried, I've screamed, I've cried some more... But then I didn't. Things felt better, things felt more manageable, things felt within reach.
I learnt some stuff about myself. I met up with a friend and at one point she had an anxiety attack, and I felt like Rogue from X-Men (she can gain the super powers of anybody she touches, for non nerd folk) and I just seemed to absorb all of her anxiety. It filled every single part of me, and it consumed me in a way I can only describe as a tidal wave, because after it had flooded every single part of me, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
I had a similar experience an hour later, where I met someone who is such a beautiful and happy spirit, and her happiness just consumed me.
What I said earlier about people colliding... We stumble upon people and sometime's their impact is profoundly important to us, maybe it's a sliding doors situation, if we hadn't had that one tiny interaction with them, everything might be different. It's so weird to think about.
I show myself to people, I give them little glimpses, I show them little fragments of myself that I assume to be true pieces of me, who I am inside.
It takes so much out of me to be able to do that; to show myself to someone and allow myself to be judged, or worst, abandoned.
On paper, it seems like it should be easier to hold people at arms length, to choose not to show them the little pieces of who you are, because then you can't get attached and then they won't leave you.
If only life was that simple.
We gravitate towards different people, we merge, we collide... We can try to stop ourselves from letting people in, we can build our walls thick and high, we can turn ourselves into an insurmountable mass. But all we gain is loneliness and self destruction.
You turn inwards and when all your walls cave in on you, it's you that is left in the centre of it. You're the burnt out grenade canister, the wreckage is around you. So why not have other people there to help you sift through it all.
I've learned the hard way that people are just temporary. Some people come into our lives for a very short amount of time, and then they're gone again. It's as simple as that. We can't grasp onto people for dear life, people will come and people will go.
It's a really hard lesson to learn, I've lost my most favourite of all human beings, they've gone and I'm still grieving for those each and everyday. It dictates every connection I make, every piece of myself I show to others.
Recovery is teaching me to show myself to more people and be more open, I'm trying to harness all of what I've learned and am still learning but sometimes I get it wrong. I'm going to slip up and I'm going to make mistakes, I'm allowed to do that and I absolutely hate that I feel like I have to justify myself.
I don't even know what this post is, I just needed to write something and this is it, I hate it and will probably delete it, but for now, whilst I sob in a coffee shop, take this post.
This was the end of this entry, until:
Tonight, a combination of things happened and so many things just fell into place.
I have had an awful day, I've cried, I've screamed, I've cried some more... But then I didn't. Things felt better, things felt more manageable, things felt within reach.
I learnt some stuff about myself. I met up with a friend and at one point she had an anxiety attack, and I felt like Rogue from X-Men (she can gain the super powers of anybody she touches, for non nerd folk) and I just seemed to absorb all of her anxiety. It filled every single part of me, and it consumed me in a way I can only describe as a tidal wave, because after it had flooded every single part of me, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
I had a similar experience an hour later, where I met someone who is such a beautiful and happy spirit, and her happiness just consumed me.
What I said earlier about people colliding... We stumble upon people and sometime's their impact is profoundly important to us, maybe it's a sliding doors situation, if we hadn't had that one tiny interaction with them, everything might be different. It's so weird to think about.
Sunday, 2 March 2014
this slope is treacherous.
Wow, it's been a while since I wrote on here. Everything got very dark and my depression spiralled to a very, very dark place. In November, I felt at such a loss with myself and with this illness that I couldn't see any way out other than to take my own life. Thankfully, I was taken into hospital and have begun a degree of trying to build myself back up.
I saw this blog as a reflection of how ill I actually was. I had the "fake it until you make it" philosophy ingrained in me, so I felt the more I tried to show that I was okay, or making progress then the more progress I would actually make. But that isn't how life works.
One lie of "I'm okay" created so many webs of lies about my recovery that all got entangled and meshed together. No I was not okay, no I was not making all of these epiphanies and discoveries, they were just small recognitions in my thoughts. I've felt like a fraud. Writing comes so naturally to me, I figured I could write myself out of my disorder. That in itself is a huge signal of how ill I was. I was sat at my computer, writing away under my middle name Bella, preaching about epiphanies I had had about my disorder, when my mind was still consumed with self loathing and hate. People who love me were reading my blog and not able to connect the words with the girl who wrote them. I was trying so hard to "fake it till I make it" that I was just faking it and making it less and less.
My situation has changed dramatically since I was last here, I spent months as an inpatient after an overdose and I can, hand on heart, say that I have made some progress at least. At the moment, however, I'm really struggling,.
It's so hard to keep your head above the tide. It's so hard to not let the darkness consume us. It's a huge fight to not succumb to the bad thoughts and feelings, but doing so is an incredible feat. I am proud of myself for the days, even the moments, when I can keep my head above water, and laugh, and smile and feel something. Something that isn't pain. I have felt joy, I have felt joy and I am fighting to keep those moments alive. I want that joy in my life, I want it to stick.
I am going to continue to keep writing under my middle name Bella, because that way, I can remain anonymous. I started to use that name because I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin at all, I hated every part of myself, down to the name, but now I'm learning to feel comfortable and it's so hard. I have been having bad day after bad day, but I've got a support network who are going through what I'm going through and know exactly what I'm feeling, and just having people there with that ability has made the most enormous change in me.
I am under no illusions that this is going to be a quick process and that I will be "adjusted" any time soon. I'm just doing the best I can. Taking one day at a time is the only way you can do it really and even then, I feel like each day has so many different moments in that it is hard to class a day as a "good" or "bad" day really.
I guess I'll just have to take it as it comes, but I want to steer clear of writing about my feelings in a public forum, because I still try so hard to keep up this illusion that I'm okay and to commit myself to recovery, I have to be honest and open in every single aspect of my life. I will return to this when I feel I'm in a place where I don't have to hide parts of myself away and give an illusion that I am somebody I am not.
Thank you all for your continued support and messages, I have seen that over 8,000 of you have been reading my little blog and I am sorry to anybody that I have let down who has believed in me. I just want to believe in myself and not see myself as never being good enough.
I saw this blog as a reflection of how ill I actually was. I had the "fake it until you make it" philosophy ingrained in me, so I felt the more I tried to show that I was okay, or making progress then the more progress I would actually make. But that isn't how life works.
One lie of "I'm okay" created so many webs of lies about my recovery that all got entangled and meshed together. No I was not okay, no I was not making all of these epiphanies and discoveries, they were just small recognitions in my thoughts. I've felt like a fraud. Writing comes so naturally to me, I figured I could write myself out of my disorder. That in itself is a huge signal of how ill I was. I was sat at my computer, writing away under my middle name Bella, preaching about epiphanies I had had about my disorder, when my mind was still consumed with self loathing and hate. People who love me were reading my blog and not able to connect the words with the girl who wrote them. I was trying so hard to "fake it till I make it" that I was just faking it and making it less and less.
My situation has changed dramatically since I was last here, I spent months as an inpatient after an overdose and I can, hand on heart, say that I have made some progress at least. At the moment, however, I'm really struggling,.
It's so hard to keep your head above the tide. It's so hard to not let the darkness consume us. It's a huge fight to not succumb to the bad thoughts and feelings, but doing so is an incredible feat. I am proud of myself for the days, even the moments, when I can keep my head above water, and laugh, and smile and feel something. Something that isn't pain. I have felt joy, I have felt joy and I am fighting to keep those moments alive. I want that joy in my life, I want it to stick.
I am going to continue to keep writing under my middle name Bella, because that way, I can remain anonymous. I started to use that name because I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin at all, I hated every part of myself, down to the name, but now I'm learning to feel comfortable and it's so hard. I have been having bad day after bad day, but I've got a support network who are going through what I'm going through and know exactly what I'm feeling, and just having people there with that ability has made the most enormous change in me.
I am under no illusions that this is going to be a quick process and that I will be "adjusted" any time soon. I'm just doing the best I can. Taking one day at a time is the only way you can do it really and even then, I feel like each day has so many different moments in that it is hard to class a day as a "good" or "bad" day really.
I guess I'll just have to take it as it comes, but I want to steer clear of writing about my feelings in a public forum, because I still try so hard to keep up this illusion that I'm okay and to commit myself to recovery, I have to be honest and open in every single aspect of my life. I will return to this when I feel I'm in a place where I don't have to hide parts of myself away and give an illusion that I am somebody I am not.
Thank you all for your continued support and messages, I have seen that over 8,000 of you have been reading my little blog and I am sorry to anybody that I have let down who has believed in me. I just want to believe in myself and not see myself as never being good enough.
Friday, 25 October 2013
the price of love is loss.
There is an enormous amount of love in the world. I think if we were to really look at humanity, look back at important events throughout history and the present, one thing that would stand out is love. It's out there, it's always been out there, but sometimes it can be really hard to find. We are a species that create war, who kill, who discriminate, who abuse, who hate. But we are also a species that has love in abundance. You look at tragic events in history, or even just in the news, and one thing that you won't hear about is a lack of love or the lack of an outpouring of help and community that derives from that. I've seen it over and over again first hand.
Maybe that's why I am the way I am. I wouldn't quite classify a pessimist, I'm trying to bring myself out of that way of being (as hard as it is) I would like to be an optimistic person in everything. I'd like to say one day that I am an optimist, but I've had simply too many bad things happen to me again and again to have the mentality of an optimist instilled in me over a short amount of time But I am happy to say I am trying, and my god, I've seen some pretty amazing things.
For all the negative in my life, there is a positive that outweighs it. Control is outweighed by love. As simple as. I am at a place right this second where I'm perplexed and amazed at myself. Something has happened, and I'm too tired to go into it. But it's a negative force that has hit me many, many times. Now go back 6 months, and what has happened would have affected me so badly that I can guarantee you, I would have stopped eating because of it. I would have let the words stick with me, I'd have scrutinised every single meaning behind them and punished myself. Badly. I'd have been unable to see past them. I'd have replayed the words over and over again, getting more upset and agitated each time. I'd have let them get to me so badly that I would believe they were a truth, I'd believe that the mindset caused by them was "normal" and I'd have allowed my control and my self worth to slip. I would have believed I was a failure, I was this ridiculous, inane, pathetic excuse of a human and that would have been the tipping point for me. What was once a huge trigger, is no more.
I need to attempt to keep reminding myself that I am a good person. I am a kind person. I am a worthy person. I'm fragile, I shouldn't be punished for simply stumbling as I move forwards. I need to really believe that.
There are people out there who choose to be my family. Who choose to love me. Who choose to be there for me. Who choose to pick me up when I fall, hold my hand whilst I stumble, and bask in the joy alongside me when I feel it. They are the people that count. They are the ones who mean the most, who have furthered me along in this incredible journey. It's down to them that I am here now. One of them sent me this beautiful poem in the week;
The sun will shine tomorrow
The rain will somehow end
This is not only a promise
It’s just the way it is
Bad times don’t last forever
The tough times they never stay
The heartache and the let down
Will soon go away
In times of deep sadness
The pain is all too real
And it’s hard to believe
That with time the hurt will heal
The dark clouds that hang above
Will eventually move on
And the storms that dance around
Will soon be gone
Stay strong and keep in mind
That again, the sun will shine
Isn't that beautiful? I am so grateful that there are people looking out for me and who think to send me beautiful things like that.
My outlook changes each day, some days I feel like giving up, but today, I have felt so in control and so overwhelmed at the love for me that I am proud of myself. And others are proud of me too. People I love being proud of me for good reasons is incredible.
Monday, 21 October 2013
all at once my heart took flight.
Sometimes, I forget that my mind is constantly at war with itself. The white noise very quickly became a normality to me, and scrutinising every thought and every interaction, and the constant self criticism became a part of daily life. I fought, but I never won the battle, let alone the war. There was always some part of me that could not get out, no matter how hard I tried to swim, the current of fragmented, disordered thinking patterns and behaviour held me under.
When I can have these tiny, fleeting moments of joy, the noise inside my mind stops. The self criticism and doubt, the black and white thinking, the pain... It all just temporary subsides and and something else is begins to filter through for a brief moment. It's taking a huge gasp of breath and breathing life into you.
It's like the feeling of finally getting water after days in the desert, it's like being wrapped up in a warm blanket after getting soaked from the rain, it's like finally you're warm inside, your brain quietens down and your mind, body and soul are able to soak up positivity. Sometimes, it's just for a few seconds, but my god, those seconds are worth it. I revel in each and every second. I live those moments, I let them in, I let them in through every pore in my body, I live them with every fibre of my being. They are the moments that make this battle less treacherous.
Sometimes it is impossible to see beyond the sadness and the pain. When there is a voice constantly in your head telling you that you are nothing, nobody, that you are a burden to everybody around you, that you deserve the pain you feel, that you should be punishing yourself for simply existing, and that you would be better off dead, it's incredibly hard to block out. But just getting a few moments of relief from that, for muting the voice, and letting happiness in, creates a volume switch in your brain. You are able to turn the volume of the voice down slightly, even by a fraction. One good moment can set a series of doubts to what that voice is telling you. The more you get, the more you start to realise that the voice isn't telling you the truth. You are worthy.
I can't feel love because of that voice. I can barely feel anything at all, and when I did feel, all I felt was sadness, pain, self loathing and shame.
I have had the most incredible few days in the last week, where I have actually felt joy. My intake of love is increasing by the day.
When I can have these tiny, fleeting moments of joy, the noise inside my mind stops. The self criticism and doubt, the black and white thinking, the pain... It all just temporary subsides and and something else is begins to filter through for a brief moment. It's taking a huge gasp of breath and breathing life into you.
It's like the feeling of finally getting water after days in the desert, it's like being wrapped up in a warm blanket after getting soaked from the rain, it's like finally you're warm inside, your brain quietens down and your mind, body and soul are able to soak up positivity. Sometimes, it's just for a few seconds, but my god, those seconds are worth it. I revel in each and every second. I live those moments, I let them in, I let them in through every pore in my body, I live them with every fibre of my being. They are the moments that make this battle less treacherous.
Sometimes it is impossible to see beyond the sadness and the pain. When there is a voice constantly in your head telling you that you are nothing, nobody, that you are a burden to everybody around you, that you deserve the pain you feel, that you should be punishing yourself for simply existing, and that you would be better off dead, it's incredibly hard to block out. But just getting a few moments of relief from that, for muting the voice, and letting happiness in, creates a volume switch in your brain. You are able to turn the volume of the voice down slightly, even by a fraction. One good moment can set a series of doubts to what that voice is telling you. The more you get, the more you start to realise that the voice isn't telling you the truth. You are worthy.
I can't feel love because of that voice. I can barely feel anything at all, and when I did feel, all I felt was sadness, pain, self loathing and shame.
I have had the most incredible few days in the last week, where I have actually felt joy. My intake of love is increasing by the day.
Sunday, 13 October 2013
it's cloud illusions I recall.
I always seem to accidentally preempt bad days by talking about the good ones (though I'm not going to let that stop me) today was a bad day.
I had another slip up. When you wake up with low self esteem and feeling like the world is pretty much against you, it's almost impossible to change your outlook. No amount of CBT tricks can override that feeling for me. I just have to roll with it. So I did, I hauled myself out of bed, endured a panic attack, faced the struggle of doing my make up and hair with one hand (I had to take a trip to A&E yesterday due to an accident at work which has damaged the nerves in my little finger so it's strapped to another finger and pretty much immobile) and made my way to work.
I can sense when it's one of those days that won't really get better, unless a miracle comes along, so I try not to push anything too far. I did some meditation, I took my valium on the train, I listened to music, I didn't rush, I went at my own pace, and I thought about all of the positives in my life.
I had potential things to look forward to after work, if not the following day, and also on Tuesday. I thought if I focus on them if trying to "be present" didn't work as well as it could, then I'd be okay.
Over the few hours I was in work, my skin got thinner and thinner. My self loathing grew larger and larger. It was like I was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, any second I was just going to erupt and the tears would come and wouldn't stop.
Thankfully, they held back until I'd at least finished work. Then, not long after, sure enough, I was walking through my town's city centre and I had never felt more alone. I felt unwanted. I felt like I was nobody. I felt like I was some kind of monster for being so difficult and such hard work to love. I felt like everybody was staring at me, pitying me. I thought about how my illness has affected me, how my life is so different to other people my own age. What a failure I've been. How I wasn't even able to finish my A Levels because of my illnesses. How I am too sensitive and how I let myself upset over the most innate of things.
I spent my entire bus journey quietly sobbing. Gaining even more unwanted attention. I just listened to "Glory and Gore" by Lorde and prayed to God that I would be home as quickly as possible.
Thankfully I was, but I was so angry at myself for being so self loathing and sensitive and just annoying. So I went and threw up. And it felt great. It felt like I finally had some kind of control over what I was feeling for the first time all day.
But then the guilt hit me. It hit me hard. I felt disgusted with myself. I felt so terrible that I'd allowed myself to "give in" I just cried even more and I could feel a vicious cycle coming on. So I just got into bed and I slept.
I feel so much lighter now. So much clearer. The fog that I woke up with wrapped around my brain, has gone, and I feel like myself again.
I got myself out of it as quick as I got myself into it. It's something I now have proof of, I can do it, however rapidly I'm spiralling, I can change my course. It is possible. When I'm bad, my mind keeps me in this illusion of an infinite dark sky where there's never any cracks for the sunlight to get in. But that isn't true, and once I'm able to show myself that is not true, and what I'm feeling is just an illusion my brain is playing on me, I can make my way through.
I had another slip up. When you wake up with low self esteem and feeling like the world is pretty much against you, it's almost impossible to change your outlook. No amount of CBT tricks can override that feeling for me. I just have to roll with it. So I did, I hauled myself out of bed, endured a panic attack, faced the struggle of doing my make up and hair with one hand (I had to take a trip to A&E yesterday due to an accident at work which has damaged the nerves in my little finger so it's strapped to another finger and pretty much immobile) and made my way to work.
I can sense when it's one of those days that won't really get better, unless a miracle comes along, so I try not to push anything too far. I did some meditation, I took my valium on the train, I listened to music, I didn't rush, I went at my own pace, and I thought about all of the positives in my life.
I had potential things to look forward to after work, if not the following day, and also on Tuesday. I thought if I focus on them if trying to "be present" didn't work as well as it could, then I'd be okay.
Over the few hours I was in work, my skin got thinner and thinner. My self loathing grew larger and larger. It was like I was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, any second I was just going to erupt and the tears would come and wouldn't stop.
Thankfully, they held back until I'd at least finished work. Then, not long after, sure enough, I was walking through my town's city centre and I had never felt more alone. I felt unwanted. I felt like I was nobody. I felt like I was some kind of monster for being so difficult and such hard work to love. I felt like everybody was staring at me, pitying me. I thought about how my illness has affected me, how my life is so different to other people my own age. What a failure I've been. How I wasn't even able to finish my A Levels because of my illnesses. How I am too sensitive and how I let myself upset over the most innate of things.
I spent my entire bus journey quietly sobbing. Gaining even more unwanted attention. I just listened to "Glory and Gore" by Lorde and prayed to God that I would be home as quickly as possible.
Thankfully I was, but I was so angry at myself for being so self loathing and sensitive and just annoying. So I went and threw up. And it felt great. It felt like I finally had some kind of control over what I was feeling for the first time all day.
But then the guilt hit me. It hit me hard. I felt disgusted with myself. I felt so terrible that I'd allowed myself to "give in" I just cried even more and I could feel a vicious cycle coming on. So I just got into bed and I slept.
I feel so much lighter now. So much clearer. The fog that I woke up with wrapped around my brain, has gone, and I feel like myself again.
I got myself out of it as quick as I got myself into it. It's something I now have proof of, I can do it, however rapidly I'm spiralling, I can change my course. It is possible. When I'm bad, my mind keeps me in this illusion of an infinite dark sky where there's never any cracks for the sunlight to get in. But that isn't true, and once I'm able to show myself that is not true, and what I'm feeling is just an illusion my brain is playing on me, I can make my way through.
Friday, 11 October 2013
the winds of change are blowing wild and free.
A sweeping sense of solitude has washed over me. There are moments of pure unadulterated clarity, where I see myself as a "survivor" someone who is overcoming demons that have haunted me for too long, someone making their way towards the light. But then there are moments, like today, where I just pull the panic cord and go into a complete state of "but why?" every single one of my senses are heightened and my mind turns into an emergency check point, combing through every little detail of anything that passes through it, scrutinising it down to it's very last inch, checking it over and over to make sure I didn't miss anything.
You get stuck in this infinite state of questioning. Not just questioning where you are and how you got there, but why you feel the way you feel and why certain people arouse such a variety of emotions within you. There is never an answer. There is always another "but why?" to any form of answer you can derive.
I will not apologise for the fact that peoples actions and behaviours have caused a subconscious series of emotions and behaviours that are triggered when I am in their presence. It's not something to criticise or tell me to "snap out of" it isn't that simple and I'm working through it. But they didn't come from nowhere, sometimes the harder people try to help in their own way, the worse they make a situation.
I have faced let down after let down, I haven't even had any kind of expectation with regards to certain people, because I get lulled into a false sense of security that maybe, just maybe, this time they may have changed. But then, there they go again and let me down all over again. Except I told myself I wouldn't get let down, because I was anticipating it, it was to be expected. But it still hurts each and every time, no matter how much you anticipate it.
I am a strong believer that people can change. I can see change within myself daily, I like to give people a chance, because I would like to think that people would give me one too. I know how hard I can be sometimes, how difficult and exhausting I can be, I'd like to think that if I let someone down when I was in one of my "episodes" that they would be understanding and would be willing to give me a second chance. "Treat others the way you wish to be treated", isn't that how the saying goes? I think for me, there is some element of that in how I go about my daily life. But I also think that we all have an obligation, as human beings, to show care and love to the people around us. Those deserving of it. It doesn't take a lot of energy to be kind to someone. Showing kindness to somebody you care about, or love, should be a reflex, it shouldn't be something that seems like too much hard work.
It's taking me a long time, and a lot of therapy, to at least recognise that loving somebody and pleasing somebody isn't the same thing. They do not go hand in hand. Trying to constantly please somebody and adhere to what they want, isn't love. You can love somebody and not constantly alter yourself or what makes you happy to try to please them. You cannot please everybody, I have to train myself to stop trying to please certain people or worry about other people's judgements. You just have to please and look after yourself. As long as you aren't hurting yourself or others, it's okay. If other people don't like it? Tough. It's still taking me a really long time to distinguish it, but I think I'm getting there. It's not being selfish, it's not loving those people any less, it's knowing more about who you are and what makes you happy and not letting others dictate your happiness and control what you do.
We're all unique. We don't all occupy the same brain, the same heart, the same religion, or have the same principals or beliefs. Some people look down on what they don't understand, but all we can do is help them understand, we can show them what we feel, what we think, we can talk about it, put it out there. People have a right to disagree with you, but they do not have the right to make you feel inferior for whatever you do (as long as no harm is being caused to anybody)
I don't know where life will take me, where my mind will take me, which days will be bad days, which days will be good days, which side effects my next lot of meds will bring me, which path of treatment I am headed onto next. But what I do know is that I can get through it. I can fight against the current and win. Even when I feel like I can't, I know that I was in a much darker place twelve months ago and I made it through those.
Sometimes the people that help us the most aren't the people you expect. Sometimes it's hard for other people around you to understand that despite the fact they're your parent/family/spouse/lover/sibling whatever, they aren't necessarily the person that can fix you. I'm sure it must be a hard thing to deal with, especially when all they want to do is help.
But at the end of the day, the only person who can really fix you, is you. Some are lucky enough to find somebody along the way, in whatever form of love, that mends our broken parts. That helps fix you, that provides strength as you become the glue as you piece yourself back together. If you have somebody in your life who is as instrumental in your recovery, please, treat them well, let them know that they too are loved and that you are so grateful for them.
Sometimes people come along once you've started doing the repair job. I've seen it happen first hand. Nobody is ever alone in recovery, in putting themselves back together. There is always support out there, even if it's through a computer, there are still people who want to help you and love you, and help glue you back together. Even if it's just through listening.
You get stuck in this infinite state of questioning. Not just questioning where you are and how you got there, but why you feel the way you feel and why certain people arouse such a variety of emotions within you. There is never an answer. There is always another "but why?" to any form of answer you can derive.
I will not apologise for the fact that peoples actions and behaviours have caused a subconscious series of emotions and behaviours that are triggered when I am in their presence. It's not something to criticise or tell me to "snap out of" it isn't that simple and I'm working through it. But they didn't come from nowhere, sometimes the harder people try to help in their own way, the worse they make a situation.
I have faced let down after let down, I haven't even had any kind of expectation with regards to certain people, because I get lulled into a false sense of security that maybe, just maybe, this time they may have changed. But then, there they go again and let me down all over again. Except I told myself I wouldn't get let down, because I was anticipating it, it was to be expected. But it still hurts each and every time, no matter how much you anticipate it.
I am a strong believer that people can change. I can see change within myself daily, I like to give people a chance, because I would like to think that people would give me one too. I know how hard I can be sometimes, how difficult and exhausting I can be, I'd like to think that if I let someone down when I was in one of my "episodes" that they would be understanding and would be willing to give me a second chance. "Treat others the way you wish to be treated", isn't that how the saying goes? I think for me, there is some element of that in how I go about my daily life. But I also think that we all have an obligation, as human beings, to show care and love to the people around us. Those deserving of it. It doesn't take a lot of energy to be kind to someone. Showing kindness to somebody you care about, or love, should be a reflex, it shouldn't be something that seems like too much hard work.
It's taking me a long time, and a lot of therapy, to at least recognise that loving somebody and pleasing somebody isn't the same thing. They do not go hand in hand. Trying to constantly please somebody and adhere to what they want, isn't love. You can love somebody and not constantly alter yourself or what makes you happy to try to please them. You cannot please everybody, I have to train myself to stop trying to please certain people or worry about other people's judgements. You just have to please and look after yourself. As long as you aren't hurting yourself or others, it's okay. If other people don't like it? Tough. It's still taking me a really long time to distinguish it, but I think I'm getting there. It's not being selfish, it's not loving those people any less, it's knowing more about who you are and what makes you happy and not letting others dictate your happiness and control what you do.
We're all unique. We don't all occupy the same brain, the same heart, the same religion, or have the same principals or beliefs. Some people look down on what they don't understand, but all we can do is help them understand, we can show them what we feel, what we think, we can talk about it, put it out there. People have a right to disagree with you, but they do not have the right to make you feel inferior for whatever you do (as long as no harm is being caused to anybody)
I don't know where life will take me, where my mind will take me, which days will be bad days, which days will be good days, which side effects my next lot of meds will bring me, which path of treatment I am headed onto next. But what I do know is that I can get through it. I can fight against the current and win. Even when I feel like I can't, I know that I was in a much darker place twelve months ago and I made it through those.
Sometimes the people that help us the most aren't the people you expect. Sometimes it's hard for other people around you to understand that despite the fact they're your parent/family/spouse/lover/sibling whatever, they aren't necessarily the person that can fix you. I'm sure it must be a hard thing to deal with, especially when all they want to do is help.
But at the end of the day, the only person who can really fix you, is you. Some are lucky enough to find somebody along the way, in whatever form of love, that mends our broken parts. That helps fix you, that provides strength as you become the glue as you piece yourself back together. If you have somebody in your life who is as instrumental in your recovery, please, treat them well, let them know that they too are loved and that you are so grateful for them.
Sometimes people come along once you've started doing the repair job. I've seen it happen first hand. Nobody is ever alone in recovery, in putting themselves back together. There is always support out there, even if it's through a computer, there are still people who want to help you and love you, and help glue you back together. Even if it's just through listening.
Here are some useful numbers and links:
(US) National Suicide Prevention Lifeline - 1–800–273-TALK (8255)
- (UK) Samaritans - 08457 90 90 90
- (ROI) Samaritans - 1850 60 90 90
Monday, 7 October 2013
something beautiful, a new chance.
Today, I stumbled. Metaphorically, of course, not literally. It was a waiting game really, when I was going to have my first slip, and today just happened to be the day.
But it's okay. I can pick myself back up, dust myself off, and carry on with my journey. I can try to not let it set me back, or let these compulsions and thoughts take over my brain and drag me backwards into the past. There is no point regretting my actions today, I am sad, yes, disappointed, yes. But cycles of behaviour don't just stop, we have to keep fighting them and instilling new, positive behaviours into our life.
I had an interesting discussion about regret in terms of self harm scars a few days ago. I like to think of scars as battle scars. Proof that you fought the fight, and won. That you overcame. A scar, by definition, means that some form of healing has taken place. Wounds have slowly healed over, gained new strength, gained a new layer of skin to them. The human skin isn't an easy armour to carry anyway. Rarely, do we ever "fit" into our own skin, we don't feel comfortable in it, we aren't happy with it. It's is never, ever thick enough. It cuts, it bleeds, it burns, it dies, it scars, but it also heals.
Sometimes a little adjustment is all that is needed to feel acceptance in yourself. Adjust your view, adjust a thought, adjust an outlook; maybe then, your skin, your armour might feel a little more comfortable.
Having thin skin isn't a flaw. It's human. We aren't all capable of being able to let a comment, words, thoughts, anything not get to us. The saying "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is complete and utter bullshit. Words can do more damage than a wrecking ball. It's okay to be sensitive, it's okay to not be comfortable with who you are, or what you look like. It is rare to come across people who were born with the "perfect" layer of skin to be able to brush off negativity.
If you have scars, you have scars. It's an unfortunate consequence. I used to get incredibly self conscious of my scars and cover them up with make up. I remember seeing the horror on someone's face at work when I rolled up my sleeve and they saw my arm had been hacked away at. I know for some people, it's just "another part" of them and I am in awe of their confidence. I would like to think that we are capable of eventually accepting our scars. Metaphorical scars too. We don't have to like them or love them, or think about what lead us to inflict pain upon ourselves. But accepting they are a part of us, is accepting that we have fought the fight against our mind, and we are healing. We may not be healed, we may only be a day into recovery, or a week, or a month. But what we are is better than we were before.
But it's okay. I can pick myself back up, dust myself off, and carry on with my journey. I can try to not let it set me back, or let these compulsions and thoughts take over my brain and drag me backwards into the past. There is no point regretting my actions today, I am sad, yes, disappointed, yes. But cycles of behaviour don't just stop, we have to keep fighting them and instilling new, positive behaviours into our life.
I had an interesting discussion about regret in terms of self harm scars a few days ago. I like to think of scars as battle scars. Proof that you fought the fight, and won. That you overcame. A scar, by definition, means that some form of healing has taken place. Wounds have slowly healed over, gained new strength, gained a new layer of skin to them. The human skin isn't an easy armour to carry anyway. Rarely, do we ever "fit" into our own skin, we don't feel comfortable in it, we aren't happy with it. It's is never, ever thick enough. It cuts, it bleeds, it burns, it dies, it scars, but it also heals.
Sometimes a little adjustment is all that is needed to feel acceptance in yourself. Adjust your view, adjust a thought, adjust an outlook; maybe then, your skin, your armour might feel a little more comfortable.
Having thin skin isn't a flaw. It's human. We aren't all capable of being able to let a comment, words, thoughts, anything not get to us. The saying "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is complete and utter bullshit. Words can do more damage than a wrecking ball. It's okay to be sensitive, it's okay to not be comfortable with who you are, or what you look like. It is rare to come across people who were born with the "perfect" layer of skin to be able to brush off negativity.
If you have scars, you have scars. It's an unfortunate consequence. I used to get incredibly self conscious of my scars and cover them up with make up. I remember seeing the horror on someone's face at work when I rolled up my sleeve and they saw my arm had been hacked away at. I know for some people, it's just "another part" of them and I am in awe of their confidence. I would like to think that we are capable of eventually accepting our scars. Metaphorical scars too. We don't have to like them or love them, or think about what lead us to inflict pain upon ourselves. But accepting they are a part of us, is accepting that we have fought the fight against our mind, and we are healing. We may not be healed, we may only be a day into recovery, or a week, or a month. But what we are is better than we were before.
Friday, 4 October 2013
random acts of kindness.
Today at work, a stranger handed me this note. Completely out of the blue. What a beautiful spirit. They say "be kind, for everybody is suffering" And I wonder, did he know?
I always think to one of my favourite plays, A Streetcar Named Desire, in one of my favourite scenes, Blanche's final words in the play; "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers" and we do, don't we?
We all start as strangers, each and everyone of us. Circumstance and situations lead us to become something more. But each and every stranger we encounter has their own life, their own world, their own belief system, their own struggles. Maybe just a friendly smile could be the only smile, the only light they see that day. Isn't it just nice to bring a little bit of happiness to somebody, whether you know them or not?
Kindness is underrated.
Sunday, 29 September 2013
everything that happens is from now on.
I've finally done it, I've started to put this blog "out there" so to say. Up until today, only four or five people in my life knew it existed. The only people who knew the real me, what was going on with me. But today I decided it was time to start sharing it amongst people, and the truth be told, I'm terrified.
These are people who call me "constantly happy" "so bubbly" "a ball of energy" these are people who I have spent weeks, months, years fooling. People who think they know me are now going to find out they don't know me at all. I'm not the person they think I am. Are they going to think I'm weak? I'm a bad person for not letting them in? Are they suddenly going to pity me and not have fun with me any more?
So, to all of you who are reading this and thinking "what?!?!" I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to tell you who I really am and share this with you. It doesn't mean I respect you or like you any less. It's just very hard for me to let my walls down, and take this "mask" off.
I just want to make absolutely clear that I am not doing this for me, I'm doing it for other people out there who go through what I go through every day. I've already had messages from people who have thanked me for starting this because they can relate to it and it has caused them to take action and get help. And that is all I want. I'm not doing this for attention, I don't want people to feel like they are walking on eggshells around me now that you know. Just please understand that I have my good and my bad days, I'm not a complete and utter mess trying to pretend to be okay all the time.
life is a beautiful mess.
"These words on a page, carry the pain, they don't free it."
Sometimes I wonder, is writing really a blessing? Or is it a curse? I've had people tell me that my writing is beautiful (I hate repeating compliments I receive, because 9/10 times I never believe them and hate repeating them because it makes me sound pretentious) but my writing isn't beautiful. I write my thoughts, I write my mind, and my mind isn't "beautiful" my mind is a mess. My mind is a maze of twisted complexity, I suffer from black and white thinking, I constantly question everything and search for hidden meanings, I overreact to everything, I can't process any of my emotions at a "normal" (god, I hate that word) rate, and I have negative thought after negative thought.
So when I write, I'm really only writing my mind. A thought. A question. A moment. All of them are fleeting, in the grand scheme of my life, each and every piece that I write is a fleeting moment in time. Do I really want my thoughts, my messed up mind immortalised?
Sometimes I think that when you write about something, it loses it's meaning. The original moment or thought you were writing about diminishes and it becomes quite literally words on a piece of paper, or through a blog, or through a screen. The thought is gone, the inner workings of my mind have changed, that no longer exists in the present now, it's gone. So is writing it down where it can never be forgotten something that is productive?
I haven't suddenly decided to give up on my blog or my journalling or any of that. I'm just thinking through my writing, I guess. I think it's nice to chronicle your state of mind when you're going through recovery, or even anything really, to look back and see how things have progressed, how your mind has moved forward, how you have grown and flourished.
But in reality, do you really need to be reminded of thoughts you had? Do you really need it there to see? Can't it just be lost along with the hundreds of thousand other memories that we create and forget?
Saturday, 28 September 2013
black and white begins to colour in.
"Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life."
My mind is a maze. To me, if I'm not the perfect person, perfect at everything I do, then in my mind, I'm a bad person, I'm a failure and deserve to be punished. There's no in between for me. One mistake, no matter how trivial, means that I'm a terrible person and can't live with myself.
There is no in between with how I react to things. It's either a complete overreaction; sobbing, hysteria, shouting, screaming. Or nothing. There's no middle ground. I can't just take something on board, I have to run through every single "bad" scenario possible and then freak out over all of these imaginary scenarios. It's so unhealthy and it's something that I wasn't really aware of until today. I knew I overreacted a lot, but I never really looked at how or why.
The last few days have hurt my heart a lot. But I think I'm better for it. I'm trying to tell myself that pretending that I'm okay brings a whole new series of problems, it affects every state of my being, it penetrates through to my relationships. It puts too much pressure on those who love me and it leaves them at a loss. Pretending I'm okay brings a whole new cycle of behaviours that have been brought to light to me that I didn't even know existed. When you're so busy putting up a mask, you don't think of the domino effect that it has on your behaviours and emotions. As long as you're pretending that you're okay, it doesn't matter. But it does.
I have been told of the behaviours that I've been displaying, I know need to stop pretending that I'm okay and look at all of the issues that pretending that I'm okay causes for me and the people closest to me.
My behaviour has caused resentment and dislike towards me by people that I adore and who love me and all it makes me want to do is drop my "mask" and just focus on everything that comes about because I have that mask up. It's been so ingrained in me for so long because I've spent so long pretending I'm okay that I've never noticed or been shown the ramifications of what that does.
Mood altering medications do exactly what they say; they alter your moods, they can make you more low, they can bring you up, they can cause suicidal thoughts, they can do a lot of stuff. But I don't solely blame those, I blame the fact I've spent so long trying to keep this mask on - even to those closest to me who I tell virtually everything to, I keep some stuff hidden from them to not cause them worry or pain - that I've failed to see what that has done to me, my behaviour, my thinking and what it's done to those around me. And this isn't something new, this has been ongoing for years.
But how do you just stop pretending and and actually really face up to what you're going through 100% without breaking down and letting it win? I don't know.
Friday, 27 September 2013
when you know, you know.
"We're all going to die. We don't get much say over how or when, but we do get to decide how we're gonna live. So, do it. Decide. Is this the life you want to live? Is this the person you want to love? Is this the best you can be? Can you be stronger? Kinder? More Compassionate? Decide. Breathe in. Breathe out and decide."
Thursday, 26 September 2013
there's beauty in the breakdown.
"So let go, jump in.
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.
So let go, yeah let go,
Just get in, oh it's so amazing here,
It's all right, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown."
Maybe you can't always forgive, but you can forget. Holding onto hate can cause your heart to turn very bitter. No matter the reasoning behind the negative feelings. Freeing your mind of the negative energy simply gives you more room for positive energy.
Build bridges. Bridges don't necessarily have to have the same foundations they once had. Once it's burned, it can never be replicated, it won't be the same, it will be different. But build them anyway. You don't have to love or like the person, you just simply have to let go and move forward.
I made a choice today to try let go of all negative energy to a few certain people who have harmed or wronged me or my friends and family. If it's unforgivable, they don't even deserve another thought, they're forgotten and not forgiven, but I can't hold onto it, it's not healthy. If it is forgivable, I'm need to learn to let it go, I want to attempt to rid all of the negative energy out of my life. I don't want to hold onto grudges or previous wrong doings. We're all human, we all make mistakes.
Saturday, 21 September 2013
one golden glance of what should be.
After a prolonged period of time last night, I found myself holding a pair of scissors with the intention of old habits. However, for the first time ever, I found a part of my brain was overpowering the desire to cut. It was telling me that I was better than this. I was worth more than cuts along my flesh. That inflicting pain upon myself, when my mind causes me so much pain and suffering anyway, wouldn't get me anywhere or help me achieve anything.
I ran a list through my head of all of the amazing things that have happened to me since I last hurt myself. Of what I didn't gain the last time I did it, and the time before that and the time before that... The release is only temporary. No matter how disgusted and ashamed of myself I was last night, I fought back. I fought my mind for myself. And this time, I won.
Does this mean that I am learning to respect my body more? Am I starting to like myself on even a subconscious level? Is the love that I am receiving from certain people penetrating that deep that it has brought me to here? There are so many thoughts spinning around my mind, but for once, they aren't negative, they're positive.
I achieved a lot last night and I am so proud of myself, as silly as that may sound, the pride I feel has caused me to break down in tears. Even if it doesn't last forever, this feeling of achievement is more than I can even begin to describe.
I ran a list through my head of all of the amazing things that have happened to me since I last hurt myself. Of what I didn't gain the last time I did it, and the time before that and the time before that... The release is only temporary. No matter how disgusted and ashamed of myself I was last night, I fought back. I fought my mind for myself. And this time, I won.
Does this mean that I am learning to respect my body more? Am I starting to like myself on even a subconscious level? Is the love that I am receiving from certain people penetrating that deep that it has brought me to here? There are so many thoughts spinning around my mind, but for once, they aren't negative, they're positive.
I achieved a lot last night and I am so proud of myself, as silly as that may sound, the pride I feel has caused me to break down in tears. Even if it doesn't last forever, this feeling of achievement is more than I can even begin to describe.
Friday, 20 September 2013
when you try your best but you don't succeed.
What happens if we never get where we want? If we strive for something we think is possible, when the reality is that it's unobtainable? Do we give up? Do we keep trying even though we're never going to get where we want? Do we stop striving for the unobtainable and settle for mediocrity?
I'm really struggling with this. I kept on trying. I gave up, I decided you weren't worth it because nothing in your eyes would ever be "right" so I just stopped trying and tried to do what I wanted and not let your opinions bother me. But still, even today, a comment so simple, knocks me off my feet and makes me think that despite the fact I'm never going to be good enough for you, maybe I'll never be good enough for myself.
Maybe I wont. That's a terrifying thought. So what do you do with that? Do you ignore it and keep going and continue to never get to where we want? Do you hold onto it and not even try? Do you just give up?
You're meant to love certain people unconditionally. You're meant to support them not make their lives 10x harder. Especially when you say you love them. Are you seeing the me I see? Does that make what I see a reality and everybody else's views skewered?
I just don't know. I just do not know.
I'm really struggling with this. I kept on trying. I gave up, I decided you weren't worth it because nothing in your eyes would ever be "right" so I just stopped trying and tried to do what I wanted and not let your opinions bother me. But still, even today, a comment so simple, knocks me off my feet and makes me think that despite the fact I'm never going to be good enough for you, maybe I'll never be good enough for myself.
Maybe I wont. That's a terrifying thought. So what do you do with that? Do you ignore it and keep going and continue to never get to where we want? Do you hold onto it and not even try? Do you just give up?
You're meant to love certain people unconditionally. You're meant to support them not make their lives 10x harder. Especially when you say you love them. Are you seeing the me I see? Does that make what I see a reality and everybody else's views skewered?
I just don't know. I just do not know.
Wednesday, 18 September 2013
catch me, i'm falling.
I hate myself.
What is so wrong with me that I have to always do or say the wrong thing. Why can I never do anything right in my life? Why do I have to be so sensitive about every single thing? Why do I manage to annoy everybody all the time? Why am I such a burden? Why am I even here?
Why have I let something out of my control make me so upset and angry? I cannot process these emotions quickly, it takes me a long time and whilst I'm feeling that I then have all of these "sub emotions" that come into play; irrationality, self loathing, paranoia, anxiety, and so many more. It doesn't take a simple "deep breaths" for me to stop feeling these things and understand why I felt them, it can take me hours. This is what I call "the danger zone" it's when I react to those emotions without caution, or without thinking about the repercussions I cut, I purge, I go to some very dark places and it takes me a very long time to get out of that danger zone.
I've been in that danger zone now for seven and a half hours. There has been no light yet. I've felt incredibly alone and isolated, through nobody's fault, and I've quite literally had to sit on my hands for a large portion of the night to prevent myself from hurting myself.
I've had panic attack after panic attack. I' I'm like a wrecking ball. I've gained all this momentum and I can't stop. Where does it end? When will it end?
Bad days can change everything. They can set you back. I'm trying, I'm really trying. I want to keep moving forward, I need to keep moving forward. Help.
What is so wrong with me that I have to always do or say the wrong thing. Why can I never do anything right in my life? Why do I have to be so sensitive about every single thing? Why do I manage to annoy everybody all the time? Why am I such a burden? Why am I even here?
Why have I let something out of my control make me so upset and angry? I cannot process these emotions quickly, it takes me a long time and whilst I'm feeling that I then have all of these "sub emotions" that come into play; irrationality, self loathing, paranoia, anxiety, and so many more. It doesn't take a simple "deep breaths" for me to stop feeling these things and understand why I felt them, it can take me hours. This is what I call "the danger zone" it's when I react to those emotions without caution, or without thinking about the repercussions I cut, I purge, I go to some very dark places and it takes me a very long time to get out of that danger zone.
I've been in that danger zone now for seven and a half hours. There has been no light yet. I've felt incredibly alone and isolated, through nobody's fault, and I've quite literally had to sit on my hands for a large portion of the night to prevent myself from hurting myself.
I've had panic attack after panic attack. I' I'm like a wrecking ball. I've gained all this momentum and I can't stop. Where does it end? When will it end?
Bad days can change everything. They can set you back. I'm trying, I'm really trying. I want to keep moving forward, I need to keep moving forward. Help.
Thursday, 12 September 2013
a lack of colour.
An excerpt from my journal from earlier this year;
I feel that trying to describe depression can be the hardest task. Pair it with trying to describe the grip that eating disorders hold over you and how body dysmorphia prevents you from seeing reality staring back at you in the mirror, then the act of being "okay" when someone asks "how are you?" is a much easier and tangible option.
My mind is vast. My moods are rapid. My thoughts are scattered. I have likened them to a black and white kaleidoscope*. They merge, they alter, they separate.
*I say black and white because I associate kaleidoscopes with exuberant colour, whereas my thoughts are worlds away from beautiful merging colours.
My world is black and white. My thoughts are black and white. All or nothing. No way but one way; one way traffic, a dead end street. Incredibly wonderful or excruciatingly terrible. No middle ground, no grey area, no white noise.
Colourless is a reality. Dark thoughts. Sadness. Pain. Numb. Hurt. Suffering. Even the adjectives themselves juxtapose bright, vibrant colours.
My moods are low and my mindset is bleak. I distort rationality into irrationality. I hate what I see when I see myself. I feel empty, sad, and at times; numb.
There is a roadblock stopping me, paralysing me, not allowing me to do simple things, like get out of bed. The anxiety crushes my chest, weighs me down. I am pinned down by depression like a caged bird, unable to break free, but able to see everything and everyone moving around me.
I get glimmers of colour. Like the early morning rays of sun creeping into the windows and illuminating the specks of dust that, without that light, would remain unnoticed, invisible. I cherish that light. I revel in the colour.
I long for the days when they stay and are not fleeting and sparse. I cannot wait for those days, I cannot wait for recovery.
Some days when I am at my worst, I cannot see beyond that day, but when I am out of it, I can look back and smile and say "I made it through. the darkness slowly started to colour in and I'm back on my feet, even if it's just for today, I made it."
I live for the good days.
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