Yunno when you have something really good in your life. But your brain tells you it’s going to end and that you can’t keep it up. Eventually the real you will come through and break this picture of perfect happiness. So you push it down and down, this little voice in your head. But… then there’s this little trickle of doubt that the voice has created. Over the duration of the day things happen which add to that doubt. To others these things may seem inconsequential and unimportant. To you they seem like huge craters laying claim to your plan of perfect happiness. So you start to numb yourself. Layer by layer, the walls go up. Your heart has a coat of pure ice around it. Your brain switches. You know the consequences. You know you’ll regret it later. But you can’t stop yourself. You can’t reach that happy place. You can’t find logic. You can’t reason with you brain or think about the outcome. You know it’s bad, but you just can’t find it in you to care. So word by word. You build up that barrier. Insult after insult, you build the gap that will be set in stone after you return to normal. After, you start to think again in you regular pattern… the damage is done though. Those hurtful comments. Those things you dug so deep into the coldest, darkest part of you to say to someone. They haven’t disappeared. You have returned to yourself. The aftermath is all around though. Your path of destruction has stolen those closest. You’re left empty. Desperate for some kind of second chance. Though you know it’s undeserved. As you’ll do this again and again. For it’s all you know. It’s all you can do. Put it off as you might. It always comes back to this. You will always be alone. People can try. You’re too damaged. How can you return to normal after you acted so horrifically, towards someone you cared so much for. I wish I had the answers. I fear I never will. I fear I shall forever be this way, and that I will never have a friend or a partner. I am incapable. Happiness is something I can’t live with. I’m forever anticipating the end of it. So much so, that I bring the end upon myself. I hate myself more than anyone else ever could. I hate the person I can be. I HATE THAT I WON’T EVER LET MYSELF BE HAPPY.
It’s been a while. I’ve contemplated coming back for some time. I planned on writing why I’ve been absent. For as long as i can remember I’ve wanted to blog. Maybe though, i need to be a little less negative and more bright and hopeful instead.
I love that i have the ability to capture, describe, and explain something in a way that expresses it clearly, respectfully and honestly to people. But seriously i need brightness. I need lighter things in my life. I am so proud of how well i can portray the low times. Showcasing the lonely things in my life. I’m beyond happy that doing so helps others. However sometimes, it doesn’t help me.
To combat this I’m going to be exploring my mental health in a different light. Maybe there will be deeper, more upsetting posts… but for me, right now i need to focus on the positives.
Sharing my scariest and more disheartening moments online was a brave thing for me to do. I found comfort in it. It was a safety net, my support. I discovered great people through doing so. I felt a sense of community. I felt less alienated. I love encouraging people and opening up about my experiences as to reassure others.
That said i need something new. Moving onwards, seeing the good in life. Allowing myself to see things from a more promising perspective. Favouring an optimistic view in contrast to my previous vivid, yet somewhat distressing and cynical posts.
My posts will still be vivid. Hopefully so, i just need something. I have yet to explain the reasons behind my temporary leave. I may do in time. I will say this, it makes it difficult for me to write sometimes, as i feel i can’t use certain words. This vagueness may become clear in time. For now i can’t quite describe it. I just felt i should write something. So this is me writing as best i can.
The amount of weight that lies within each decision. It feels the easiest option is to just opt out. Not make the decision. Elude it. For each choice i commit to has an outcome that will in turn have an impact on something else… I read into each consequential action that could occur by making a resolution.
Scrutinising. Analysing the ramifications of each choice is catastrophic. It’s imperative that i come to a conclusion for each decision residing in my mind. Crushed beneath the importance of it all. It’s both unimaginable and unexplainable, but nonetheless crucially and painfully present.
It’s just too much. The overbearing significance of each selection that is presented to me for careful consideration, antagonises me. Too much pressure, too much doubt. I sit and will myself. I attempt to be pro active. To find a slither of motivation. I just can’t.
One final decision; i must succumb to the hopelessness. I relax, feel the last bit of self worth and dignity leave my body. For if i do not agree to this i will surely submit to the pressure, and suffocate in options and decisions. I feel myself slump back into my bed, i just give up. Evading and hiding once more. Safe for another day.
The struggle mentioned in my previous post may have just been solved, temporarily atleast. You see i love writing, i honestly do, so i stopped to think and realised again that nothing is original. It’s all just re-ordered words, notions rephrased slightly. The intention the same, just redecorated a little, renovated if you will. Brought into the times, modernised. I guess it could be concieved as interesting, since it means each person who recycles these thoughts, makes them they’re own. Puts their own individual mark upon them. A different twist, a change in perspective.
But thats when i realised, that’s it. Thats my post. Thought. It’s everywhere. Thoughts can be borrowed and improved, exchanged and expanded upon. They develop and evolve. A traveller experiencing the world. A thought progressing from person to person, picking up souvenirs along it’s journey. Each person that bears that thought, leaving their perception upon it as a parting gift. This thought it starts out small, and with love and attention, curiousity and devotion it transforms. It has the ability to see so much. Experience it all. From every persons view. This thought has an unabridged comprehension, a complete perspective, insights from all walks of life.
The thought prides itself on bringing people together. It’s a spark uniting unaware humans, compelling them to speak. Creating bonds, or even just a fleeting connection between two passers by. Two people sharing a brief encounter. That thought spreads, dispersing inspiration as it goes. Leaving in it’s wake this unified community, thriving with positive ideas. A bold and beautiful image. The beauty deepening and strengthening with each person that welcomes it. Embraces it, nurtures it and lets it free into the world once again.
A thought might not be original, but peoples imprints, effects and influences are. Individuals breathing creativety into this world. Revitalising each day with their brave and encouraging words. No matter the number of people they pass on this thought to, the significance doesn’t waver. It’s the intention and the will that counts. All these interpretations and views being traced back to the one original thought. It’s a masterpiece. A thing of sheer admiration. The paths it’s created, forging it’s own history and future. Mesmerising as both it’s simplicity and complexity, compliment each other perfectly.
All of this from a short glimpse of a single notion. Now this diverse network has formed. A work of art. For all to experience.
I can’t. I have tried to write so many posts and it’s just too hard. Nothing measures up, nothing satisfies, inspires, nor interests me enough. I don’t have the inclination to discover the motivation needed to see it through. There’s no passion, atleast not enough to carry me to the end. Why? Why do i find myself here? When nothing fits and i just struggle. Everything i write seems terrible, useless, meaningless. I’m disgarding so many posts. I’m urging myself to write one more word. Write another, form a sentence. Somehow convince others you’re somewhat good at this writing business.
Strangers stare as I step on. What if I trip up before I even get on the bus? I bet they hate my clothes. Head to toe in black; this is why I’ll never fit in.
Bus driver said, “Morning”. This is new. Of course, my brain fails me. I cut straight to the exchanging of money and the name of my desired destination, ignoring his attempt at polite small-talk. I seem impolite, as usual. Poor bus driver.
Wrong money. Too much, not enough – it’s bound to be off somehow. I counted it twenty times. They’ve changed the price. Great, now I look like I can’t count. Like I’m cheap. Quickly, I just say thank you and hurry for my seat.
Worse. What if when in my rush to be seated, (so i don’t fall when the bus driver inevitably pulls away while I’m still in the walkway… resulting in me being catapulting into the nearest victim), someone sits by me. Their leg against mine. My brain screaming at me the entire journey. Are they as aware of this as i am?
Worse still. Having to stand. Gripping on for dear life onto the hand holds dangling down. I’m highly un-coordinated. I’m in the way. My fat arse, and a huge bag filled with objects that I don’t feel safe away from home without. I’m falling again. Being a nuisance.
Desperately trying not to make eye contact. Ignorant.
Not wanting to seem impolite. Not wanting to give enough of a reason for someone to comment. Smiling too much. Always end up rudely staring. Zoning out. Or observing… always observing. Far too invested in people’s conversations. Constantly watching people like they’re my own personal TV show. Watching how people engage. Watching their mannerisms. Fascinating.
They all look so natural in this environment. They all know their part to play in society. They portrey it well. Perfectly executed.
What if I look weird? Besides the obvious zoning off and staring. I look weird; visibly nervous. What if they think I’m up to something? What if they think something is wrong with me?
What if someone strikes up a conversation? My mouth full of unfocused, meaningless sentences. Feigned interest written all over my face. Can they tell? I have little to no desire to converse with these people. Just let me enjoy watching you. Don’t make my brain have to work, just let me switch it off.
I’ll only say something inappropriate, damaging their perfect facade with my jagged, nonchalant responses. So just save us both the worry and don’t interact with me.
Who leaves first? Do I wait until everyone has left and look like one of those weirdly, overly nice people? Or do I wait until someone lets me go? What if no one lets me go? What if my preferred seat (second back on the left, for those that care) is taken?
Then I’m at the back. Who lets who off first then? Do I see a gap and run? What if, due to this act of panic, I trip and fall? God knows I’ll be thinking of this selfish perturbation for the rest of the week if it were to happen…
The last worry to top this journey off… what if I’m departing earlier than the last stop. I have to press that damn stop button.
An unnecessarily loud “ping” notifies everyone to prepare for the huge cow to waddle off. Great. I sit anxiously at the edge of my seat. Prepared. Can’t stand too early, I’ll fall. Can’t wait too long, people will be frustrated with me. I stand up at the perfect time, and proceed in the walk of shame down the walkway.
I step out onto the path. I survived.
Now to cross the road.
I post different things on here. Each piece i write is more or less connected to me that the last. What i mean to say is, some pieces are deep and i feel like I’ve poured my soul out onto the page in order to create them. I’ve dug within me to the darkest places, the places people don’t see nor understand, and I’ve shared them. It’s these posts that worry me though. For if people do not like them, in essence they don’t like me. As that post basically is me in writing form.
Other posts i invest less emotion in. Don’t get me wrong i invest in all of my pieces. Some are just general though, conveying anxiety and depression in a way i know most can connect with. Sharing ideas and feelings, that i know most people who read this blog have experienced. The posts where i open up and include personal experiences, (ones that i often hide in my real life) are the issue. I’m not sure so many people can relate to these as they’re not so commonly spoken about.
My “embarrassing” posts shall i call them, as i feel they’re not so acceptable as other topics to discuss, include some pretty awkward facts. They’re unpleasant and sometimes uncomfortable to read. I could write poems to explain how i feel. These other, grittier, real life posts though… they’re truest to me.
If people think I’m wrong for being brutally honest about how depression and anxiety affects me. Well i guess that’s okay, but i don’t think I’m wrong, and judging by the comments I’ve recieved on my previous post… people seem to like this honest approach. I felt so scared about opening up. Fearing that because it’s about things that not everyone talks about when mentioning mental illness. It’s not the obvious sadness and loneliness, it might not be what people feel comfortable reading about.
For so long i have debated. I thought people would think I’m lazy, I’m gross, or plainly just messed up, for both mentioning these topics and also actually experiencing them. I’m going to see the response the more “embarrassing” posts get. Depending on the outcome, I’ll decide whether or not to include posts that tell of my personal experiences more often.
Anyone can feel free to comment whatever they wish. Do not get me wrong I’m not trying to prevent people from having their opinions. I’m not warning people to not comment, infact I’d highly appreciate your input! I simply just need to gauge people’s thoughts on the content i post. I don’t want to share intimate and personal moments, if people aren’t interested. If people would just prefer the more acceptable/relateable content i understand.
It’s just if i can help one person by opening up about something uncomfortable and embarrassing, then I’m okay in doing so. As not only would it help them, it helps me in knowing I’m not alone. I often feel so alienated. Explaining thought processes, and the actions you take due to how your brain functions, is so hard more often than not to explain to everyday people. People that are lucky enough not to have to go through these things every day. The adaptations people who suffer from any mental illness make to be able to survive, and also the sacrifices.
I want this blog to have no feelings of shame, and no negativity… ironic i know since it’s about depression. I mean in the sense of no one will be judged, and if anyone can find help here then I’m happy. I’ve achieved my goal. I don’t want to be ashamed anymore. I’ve lost so many friendships because i couldn’t explain that i need to go to the toilet multiple times before leaving the house, or I’m late because i sat screaming at myself because I’m not normal. I’m different, and i want to try and allow myself to feel comfortable with that. I can make this a safe space where no one has to feel left out. Everybody feels accepted and warrented. We all function differently, we all cope in our own ways and that’s magical. We adapt and survive. It’s beautiful to see how people have soldiered on and come out stronger than ever. All stories and questions are welcome. I want to be able to break down the embarrassment and the feelings of shame we might sometimes feel.
I’ve gone on enough, I’m just passionate about this. I will reply to every comment made on this blog. I want to give myself more purpose. I want to do something good. I also want to help myself, discussing mental health with others who understand is my best way of doing that. So here’s to honesty, safety, comfort, support. I really need a focus in my life and i want this to be it.