February 11th – I need to breathe

0

I am struggling and I don’t know what to do. I am pissing myself off with my inability to grab things head on and deal with it. To me, my struggling is a weakness I abhor.

I want to reach out to someone and tell them that I cannot cope, but I don’t know who to turn to. I don’t want platitudes, meaningful quotes written in script on a sunset background. I don’t want to hear that everything will be ok, everything happens for a reason, these things make us stronger. I am tired of having to be strong, of swimming against a never ending tide that washes away the sand from under my feet, leaving me constantly unstable.

All I want to care about right now, is meeting my basic survival needs, but in order to do so I have to make myself ill working a job, in order to earn enough money to almost meet my survival needs. The rich care about money, I do not. If I could meet my needs without it, I would. My soul is trapped in an ever tightening cage, I feel crushed and in pain, I want to neither exist nor not exist. I just want to be able to breathe.

I have always had ambitions, not ones important to anyone else, but ones for myself,  becoming self sufficient, self employed, free from the chains of capitalism to whatever degree I can manage. But now even these thoughts give me no pleasure.

Some people may wish to be at home to rest and recharge from these things, but I hate my home. It is a prison, a symbol of everything in my life I want to get away from, the reason I need to earn so much money, and for what? Four walls I don’t wish to be inside. A glorified shed for belongings I have no time or desire to touch. It is the guarantee that for the next month I shall have a roof over my head. But the price, is wishing I didn’t.

I find myself floating from friend to friend, telephone conversations about nothing, attempts at socialising face to face, to take my mind off it, to fill the hole of loneliness, but this only serves to make me feel isolated even further. But if I reject these interactions I fear I will lose my brain completely into a pit of nothingness.

To think of the future before, gave me hope. I had a passion, something in my present to fight against, and the idea that in the future would lie my freedom. Now I do not know what the future holds, I am struggling to see a way out, so all that fills the gap is the day to day strangulation of my being, stretching out to eternity in front of me. It may be easy enough to say, “do not think of the future, concentrate on the present,” but if I have nothing to look forward to and to live towards, what is the point in living today. Every now and then, if I find myself in a lighter mood, I daydream of a potential future, one that I would like to have very much, but the path there seems so obstructed that what should be a pleasant daydream leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

I simply wish to be able to breathe again. This isolation, much my own doing, is not good for me, but I don’t feel able to connect with anyone, or know where to start, as I don’t want to drag anyone into this pathetic fuckery. But if you feel like someone has your back, you can tackle anything that is thrown at you, but if you don’t feel like you have that, then everything can so easily overwhelm you and make you feel like you are breaking.

I am proud of myself for not resorting to drinking through it at least. Every cloud…..

 

 

Mendacious Human Race

0

No bigger fool exists, surely, than I.

I do not wear rose tinted spectacles, I see reality for what it is, in all its putrescence, but I have a rose tinted brain and choose to ignore this reality. The pain of the truth is too much to bear, so my brain softens the blow. Tells me it’ll be fine. Whatever your gut instincts are telling you, I’m sure there’s an explanation. Just keep going. This can’t possibly be the truth of the matter, because that would be too painful. If this is the truth of the matter, what is the point in living. That people do not even have enough self control to question their base desires and consider them, consider another persons feelings and the consequences of their actions, nor the integrity to be honest in the first place. Surely this should be the deviation from the norm, and not the norm itself. Despite my rose-tinted brain, my gut instincts are usually amazingly spot on from the word go. And yet I never fucking listen.

I once read that the sadness of life is that no matter how good your heart is, eventually you have to start treating people the way they treat you.

I have never subscribed to this. Living to some code of honour and self respect, holding my intentions above the mendacity of humans, convinced that by living the right way, there must be some end game reward.

That’s bollocks. Perhaps all there is in life is base desires and chaos and feculence. The turgid, tumescent writhing masses of the human race, a plague on this planet, a scourge and an insult to the very universe itself, caught up in their pathetic petty fuckery, stabbing at each other in the dark like blind babies whose mummies and daddies didn’t love them enough. Perhaps I should be playing the villain, instead of the self-righteous protagonist. I have the capacity to be a truly malevolent and pestiferous monster, something that I bury, in favour of the code of honour, but if there is no end game, does it really matter.

I create these rules to keep myself in check, but maybe it’s just all a shit show.

I am aware that my BPD can cause me to swing violently from “This is amazing and everything is going to be great” to “This is terrible I need to get the fuck away from this situation now”. Because of this I find it hard to know what thinking is rooted in rationality, and what isn’t. I try to share with others, in as much of a non-biased way as possible, to try to get insight into whether my reactions and thoughts are valid. But this isn’t always easy. And because I swing so quickly from one to the other, it is hard to ever make a concrete decision regarding a situation, because my outlook is ever shifting. I have always wished I could see the end result, so I would know which decision to make, what is worth investing my time in and what isn’t. But I don’t have this power, none of us do. So we blindly stumble through life, trusting the wrong people and branding our ever shrinking hearts with the deceit and betrayal of others.

 

 

 

 

December 2018

2

I haven’t written on here in over a year.  A lot has changed.

2017 was a year of discovery, hope, breaking out, finding myself and new experiences.

2018 has been a year of depressions, difficulties, reality checks and avoidance. Also a few good bits.

I lost the house that I had so badly needed. My finances have been in tatters. I have withdrawn from social situations.

I discovered that I am not as strong as I thought.

Currently, I am low and struggling. I have made the decision to once again leave the boat and get a house. It is not going to be easy, my finances are going to be tight, but i know it is the right decision.

The relationship was too hurtful, and after 11 years I could see no way of undoing all that had been done. But I didn’t know the half of it. I assumed as I had put up with this over the course of the 11 years, that I could handle it. I have discovered that it has actually left me a very broken person in many ways.

I am more fucked up than I thought.

This is impacting those around me, and more importantly driving me insane.

I have sought help , which will begin in the New Year. In the meantime I want to purge.

Purge my possessions.

Purge my emotions.

Purge my past.

Purge my brain.

I want to scream and throw things and cry and paint and empty my brain.

Maybe I need to acknowledge my past. Acknowledge the hurt and the damage. And realise that it does not reflect me. It is not me. It is part of my past. I am a different entity to my pain.

I feel that I need to pour it out. Verbally, write it, scream until the pain is at the surface. I have pushed it down for too long and now it has become my foundation.

Now I feel at risk of ruining something that has the potential to be awesome. My inability to get out of my head and be present with the situation is making things awkward. The onus is not completely on me, there are other parties who are complicit, but their deal is their deal. They can choose to get out of their own heads too, that is not down to me. But I can help by doing my part for my brain.

I want to regain what I used to be. I used to have life sparkling in my eyes, everything was mischief and nothing in the world was too serious. I have been through so much throughout my childhood and teenage years, and yet I never let it rob me of who I was. But now I feel like a shadow. A spectre wearing her face, her clothes, whispering through her life.

It is my life. And I want it back.

 

 

Imposter Syndrome

1

images

Wiki describes Imposter Syndrome like this:

Impostor syndrome (also known as impostor phenomenon or fraud syndrome or the impostor experience) is a concept describing individuals who are marked by an inability to internalize their accomplishments and a persistent fear of being exposed as a “fraud”.

“Despite external evidence of their competence, those exhibiting the syndrome remain convinced that they are frauds and do not deserve the success they have achieved. Proof of success is dismissed as luck, timing, or as a result of deceiving others into thinking they are more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be.”

Impostor syndrome is particularly common among high-achievers, but it is said that 70% of us will experience it at some point in our lives, so it is more common than first thought. It is true though that those who are more brilliant tend to suffer from it more extremely.

I can only speak for myself, but imposter syndrome is something I have encountered at every step of my life. In every job I have ever had I have never been able to shake the feeling that they are going to rumble me, and that I will be fired for not being good enough. That one day someone will request a meeting with me and say “You shouldn’t be here.” Every time that I receive praise on how well I am doing I smile awkwardly and try to give them an excuse as to why I “appear” to be doing so well.

When I first started my therapy practice it plagued me more than ever. I was convinced that one day a client would look across at me and say, “Who the hell do you think you are, trying to help me with my problems? You are a liar and you are going to jail for being a fraud!”

That was my honest thought on the subject. I seriously believed that I was going to get into trouble for setting up my business, despite being fully qualified, and achieving high results on all my studies, because I felt like a total fraud. It is a feeling that I still haven’t quite shifted to this day, but one that I manage a lot better.

If we take my therapy practice for an example (I even have trouble typing the words and calling it that because a little voice in the back of my head says “it’s not really though is it? It’s not a real one is it so you can’t call it that.”) I actually found that my attitude was starting to sabotage sessions. It was minute, almost imperceptible little things, but I noticed. My lack of confidence in myself was communicating to certain clients, who I could see starting to shift in sessions, no doubt unconsciously picking up on this and implanting that doubt in their own minds. I realised that if I wasn’t careful and didn’t deal with this issue, I could turn my irrational thought into a truth. I wouldn’t be good enough to do my job, and it wouldn’t be through lack of knowledge or training, or not being able to do the job well, but it would be through letting my own mental processes interfere with the work that I was supposed to be doing. I had to do something about it, but what is there to do?

I began trying to talk to myself and motivate myself before sessions. I began “rehearsing” sessions with a non-existent client. I re-read study materials (that I knew like the back of my hand) and did old exercises from modules. I even sometimes would ask a client to close their eyes to do an exercise because their inability to watch me doing what I was doing helped me relax. I began going to any little course, seminar etc to make myself feel as though I was doing something, reigniting and maintaining my frame of mind. It helped, and little by little I didn’t need to do quite so much to feel more at ease. I still go on courses and to seminars etc as I feel that really helps to keep my mind keyed in to what I am doing and boosts my confidence.

I am really good at what I do, and always have been. It was only my own mind I had to prove that to.

I know that it won’t be the last time I encounter this problem, and I know that I am not the only one who does. I think thoughts like these can rot away at the base of your brain, undermining everything you do and ruining your chance to be happier and perhaps to excel. I know I have been afraid in the past of trying something, of pushing myself, because I thought I would fail because I wasn’t good enough. But through trying different things I have found ways that help me, and if more of us spoke about these things, maybe they wouldn’t knaw away at us, and maybe more people could feel happier.

 

The Unexpected Benefit of Unemployement

0

images2QT63GLW

On Monday I started a new job.

It was a relief after spending 7 1/2 weeks unemployed. I still can’t afford to pay the bills that have piled up angrily through my letterbox, but I will soon.

I hadn’t planned on being unemployed, it was sprung upon me last minute, and unfortunately unemployment isn’t something I handle very well.

I spent my first few days in my new  house waking early, getting coffee and sitting at the laptop full of productivity and enthusiasm for job hunting and getting things done that I hadn’t had time for whilst working. 7 days later I was heading out to Berlin and spent six days chilling out, and simply enjoying existing. It was wonderful and I didn’t want to go home. A few days after getting back home I suffered 9 days of excruciating toothache, and I mean bad. It was pain the likes of which I have never felt which reduced me to a whimpering crying wreck. Needless to say that during this time I got absolutely nothing done other than laying on the couch trying to distract myself with Netflix and feeling incredibly sorry for myself. Then I was off to Lollapolooza in Berlin, and despite experiencing some pain the first night and day, I was relatively pain free for the rest of my time there and able to enjoy myself.

Once back home again the crushing reality of the nothingness ahead started to creep in. I applied for jobs, watched Netflix, wandered around aimlessly, all the while refusing to acknowledge the bills that I was powerless to deal with.

Having said all that, and considering my situation, I wasn’t depressed, sad, unmotivated, or hopeless. I was confident, strong, unaffected and relaxed. I realised that there was a lot of fat that needed cutting from my life, and began to see clearly all the things I hadn’t had time to contemplate when working. I began listing (I do love a list) and created a Bullet Journal, inspired by many Pinterest boards, and a plan started to form. Once I knew I had got the job, I continued with the planning, examining, listing. I stopped taking the pill as it numbs me completely, despite the fact that I know “un-numbed” I can be unpredictable and wild.

It seems as though I will really enjoy this job, it is different and already I am feeling excited about possibilities.

Combined with my planning for the future, I am feeling very positive and motivated, slightly more whole than usual, and content. The time away from work has given me the space I needed to sort out some much needed mental spring cleaning, so as much as I hate unemployment, it would seem to have its unexpected benefits!

Prickle

0

via Daily Prompt: Prickle

download

As I stare at the screen, trying to process what I am seeing in front of me, I feel a prickle at the base of my neck. My whole body suddenly stands to attention and i feel the rush of adrenaline in my stomach. My body starts to shake and I feel the energy coursing through it. I feel sick, my breathing ragged.

That feeling doesn’t go away and hours later as I try to sleep I still shake.

The next morning the shaking is reduced but the adrenaline is making my stomach churn. I can’t get rid of the sick feeling, and every time I think about it my stomach flips again. The constant feeling of the prickle on the back of your neck means you can’t relax, you can’t breathe through it.

You can’t un-see it.

The Void Inside

1

fb_void

 

I have discussed said void before in posts, it is the ever present, ever sucking hole inside of me that I cannot determine. It is the restlessness, the procrastination, the goal that is always planned but not quite begun, the decision that teeters on the edge of my mind, the identity dancing just out of my reach, the achievement mocking me from the corner of the room. It is emptiness, dissatisfaction, waiting, sadness, anxiety and hedonism.

There are a few things that hit it right in the centre. They don’t cause it to disappear, it is still there, but they fill it and numb it. I still feel it, but I feel the fullness of it and there is a release. Those things are:

Being drunk

Having a cigarette

Getting a tattoo

Getting spanked

Orgasms

 

It is a physical feeling of fullness and the release is sweet, but fleeting.

There are however, two things I have encountered in life that have made the void disappear:

Doing a truly spontaneous exciting thing

The excitement of the build up to a first kiss, if it takes weeks or months, even better.

 

These things make the void disappear completely, and for those moments I am whole. I am alive, truly living in the present. I get a similar, if not quite as satisfactory, feeling when looking at something new and being independent on my own on a sunny day.

But how feasible is it to bounce between these things in order to try and feel alive? I have spent my twenties (and latter part of my teenage years) partying, doing these very things in a constant stream, in order to try and feel alive and plug up the inevitable consuming void inside. I cannot carry on like this. My body is starting to show signs of wear and tear form the years of partying, my mind haunted by some of the things I have done.

I read about people who discover meditation and yoga and green juice and fill that hole, but I don’t think that is going to work for me. I have tried it.

I need to find a way of plugging the hole, otherwise, if I carry on like this, it is eventually going to suck me down with it.

 

 

Brain Fog

0

via Daily Prompt: Foggy

images

We’ve all experienced brain fog.

Normal brain fog is usually the inability to think clearly, make sense of a situation or use any problem solving skills. It’s a frustrating feeling, but there is a worse kind.

Emotional brain fog.

This occurs when you are so overwhelmed you can’t think rationally anymore.

I feel like that recently. There has just been too much, and I have reached my capacity. My brain cascades into numbness, I can feel it falling, shutters closing around me and then there is nothing. No errant thoughts and ponderings wandering across my mind, just the screams of the overwhelmed, the whimpers of the tired. I have very little fight left in me. I don’t know how to recuperate anymore. The words start but trail off a few sentences in.

Even writing this is taking longer than usual.

I need a break from everything, but in this modern life when do we get to take a break? I have to be at work at 9am tomorrow. How much of a break can you get in an evening where you have so many things to do, that can’t wait.

If anyone knows the answer, please give me a hint…

Feeling Vulnerable

0

I am wearing a nice dress today (discussed earlier in my post “stop touching my tattoos”), and I look pretty. I felt pretty and I was in a good mood.

Today an older man at work, who is in a very senior position compared to me, coincidentally ended up in the kitchen with me twice and made small talk. I’ve been here three months and today is the first time it’s happened. His office overlooks who enters the kitchen, and, therefore, this is a creepy enough coincidence, but what he did shocked me. He looked at me, blantantly, in the chest, eyes skimmed down to my legs, which were in thick black leggings, and back up to my chest. It was so surreal, in the fact that he wasn’t even trying to hide it. I was stunned and didn’t know quite what to do. I have been checked out plenty of times, catcalled, grabbed, hollered at, but never in such a creepy way. I felt so vulnerable. I just wanted coffee, and yet here I was, feeling nauseous and trying to pull my cardigan over my chest, wishing that he would go away. (Note to self, going to grab a coffee at work is becoming a hazardous and infuriating ordeal – see my mansplaining post).

 I pulled my cardigan over my chest awkwardly and felt so ashamed of myself for not doing something, saying something, but I already feel like an outcast, and I need my job. If I was to say something, I knew that it would become a massive issue, and that I would be frowned upon for “making a massive deal out of nothing” when I can just put up with it and ignore him. But that’s not how it should be. That is never how it should be. And in that moment I felt completely stripped of all power. I wanted to snap at him, call him out on his behaviour, but I didn’t. And isn’t that just all shades of wrong there, summed up in a nice nutshell.

Be Unapologetic!

0

Be Unapologetic!

I haven’t written for so long, and I recently came across some articles I had written years ago that floored me. I couldn’t believe how eloquent I sounded. They were professional sounding articles, and I could scarcely believe that I had written them. One of them, a scientific report, was gibberish to me! I had a vague idea of what I was talking about, and I remembered doing the article, but a lot of it went over my head. I remember that it didn’t take long to write, and as I sat there reading, I was filled with a sense of longing. I enjoy writing so much, there is something wonderful to me about the keys tapping away, keeping in time with my thoughts, or the pages of a  notebook getting filled, marked and wrinkled.

So I decided to create this blog. This blog is not a professional space, I have a (neglected) blog for professional work, this is just for me. To write about what I want, to write nonsense sometimes, but to let the fingers roam free as the thoughts come pouring out.

So I have mentioned to a few people that I have started a new blog, and that I am looking forward to getting back into writing again. I sent the link to a few people and asked for input on colours, layout etc.

What came back to me was all very positive and nice, but one thing kept reoccurring – “Don’t get too personal will you?” “Make it sound a bit more professional”.

Whilst I get where my loved ones are coming from, I don’t want this to be a professional blog. In fact, quite the opposite. I WANT this blog to display my flaws, dodgy grammar, typos, undesirables, emotions and imperfections.

I have a professional blog, where I double check my work, make sure it sounds right and perhaps go through two or three drafts before it gets posted.

This I want to be an out-pouring of words. A stream of consciousness. I have ideas that I would like to implement, I quite fancy interviewing some people, I quite fancy doing a few weekly fun things, but these things are 1) For me, and 2) For everyone else.

I am bound and constricted by society, to be something I am not. In my work I have to talk a certain way, behave a certain way, that does not come naturally to me. I have to remove my piercings, cover up all of my tattoos, and hide the shaved part of my head, by wearing my hair over it. I cannot dress how I want, but instead have trawled through charity shops looking for boring work clothes that won’t make me happy, but that I have to spend money on anyway. I cannot be myself around these people, there is a constant message of “Your natural appearance and being is offensive to us, please disguise it”. Now it might not sound like much to some of you, but I assure you it is exhausting.

I have found myself, in so many roles, not just work related, being bound by limitations that I have not imposed, and I find I rarely have a chance to just be me. Having a mental health issue, I spend a lot of the time trying to downplay, or cover this, which is exhausting.

So this blog is just for me. And hopefully for other people to read and enjoy too. All the flaws, mess, beauty, complication, complexity and wondrousness that makes me, me.