feelings don’t define me

I am a hypersensitive being.  I feel.  I move my way through the day feeling in my heart, almost intuitively.  I feel hard.  I fall hard.  I also fail hard.  I fail to use the tiny amount of logic I have, in the moment.  It takes every bit of strength I have to not react immediately to any situation that I am in.  I also find it really hard to not assume that everyone is the same as me.  It isn’t fun, navigating life through the heart only.  It isn’t fun navigating every situation with my feelings surfacing before my logic.  I react fast, often expecting that my particular train of thought is obvious to all around me.  It never is.

I wont tolerate someone throwing me under the bus though.  No no no.

I have had a really rough couple of days.  I am paranoid about a particular situation and it makes me second guess my intuition.  It makes me second guess my self.  I’m not always right and I am ok with that.  I just wish others were honest, to the core, with what their intentions are.   Mainly because I know what those intentions really are before they finish their sentence.  Because I navigate my life in a different way.  I sense things.  I am rarely wrong when I have that sense.

I have been really emotional and last night, well, I was completely irrational.  Thank the universe that my mother is on speed dial because I needed her last night.  I was completely gutted, hurt, torn apart.  

So why do I invest so much in others?  Why do I invest so much in the idealistic life that I want to have?  Why do I assume that others will understand that I just want to go about my life in a non-dramatic manner?  Why do I expect honesty, when that is how I navigate my day?  Why do I care so much.  WHY?  At the end of the day I don’t need to be accepted.  I don’t even need to be liked.  What I do need though, is respect.  Respect the fact that I live in an honest manner and expect to be treated that way.

Honesty has helped me survive until now.  And tomorrow it will keep me moving.  Remove honesty and I have paranoia.  Paranoia is not fun.  Second guessing other people is not fun.  So why not just be honest?  Isn’t that just better?  It might be hard to begin with but in the end, it is freeing.  The truth shall set you free and all that.

So I guess what I am trying to say is just tell the freaking truth.  Be straight up.  Don’t assume that the other party believes you, if you are not upfront.  Lies are so transparent.  Deception is always shown up in the end.  And don’t treat me like a fool under the pretense of ‘protecting me’.  That is offensive.  I am a big girl and I have big panties.  And my life has thrown me enough to deal with anything, anything at all.  Trust me.  

Clearly I am paranoid right now, you are thinking that, yeah?  You are right.  Because true honesty is hard to come by.



Some sagely advice

Do you love someone with depression?. This is fantastic advice. We lost a very well known woman today to depression, who was struggling for so long. Charlotte Dawson not only suffered, she was cyber bullied by trolls incessantly. Instead of support and love, she was at the receiving end of hate and harassment.

Nobody chooses to be depressed. Nobody IN THEIR WELL MIND commits suicide. People who are unwell in their minds do this, they take themselves away from this cruel world because they feel like they have no better solution, no better choice. This is why I say that Charlotte died from depression. It is so real, and we all have the power, as individuals, to make a change.

If you see something isn’t right – ask about it. If your friends behaviour changes – ask about it. If you know your friend is struggling – check on them, as often as you can. My friend saved me. Your friend might save you. You may save someone.

And finally, the biggest change we can make is to not accept the disgusting bullying behaviour. The people who hide behind their keyboards ARE cowards and ARE to blame. It is not right. And before you say ‘just ignore it’ – no. People who have unwell minds can’t ignore it. We have a tape recorder in our brains on repeat. Repeat repeat repeat. Of course people with mental illness are great actors. We are awesome at pretending everything is dandy. Great at making excuses for not leaving the house. We are good at hiding. Suffering in silence. It isn’t fair.

Depression, like all mental illness, is invisible. Yet it takes so many souls away. Make a stand and protect the ones you love. If we all protect the ones we love maybe, just maybe, more people will be saved.

RIP Charlotte Dawson. I loved your powerful personality, your take- no-prisoners attitude. May you rest in peace now you have your wings.

doin’ the dance of millions

I cannot be the only person feeling this way.  It is not possible.  I am not special nor am I unique.  The feelings I have are not bizarre.  They are not ‘just mine’.  For some reason I feel comfort in that.

It has been awhile since I wrote.  I had been ‘doing well’.  I spent the first nearly 10 weeks post hospital in a great place.  Then as per usual it all swirls about and I am in the middle of some kinda Soda Stream whirlpool.  I have energy.  I don’t.  I want to be there, with those people who are friends and care.  Then I don’t.  I wonder if that is normal.  I fucking hate it.  I am right now overhauling my house.  Again.  For who?  Because I have few visitors.  Because I am paranoid.  Because mess.  Kids.  House.  Crumbs.  Under the lounge is filthy.  Again.  HOW.  Then all of the other things.  The freaking dog pissed on the carpet again.  I am excited that I get to use my carpet shampoo machine.  I have so much going on.  Yet nothing.  I don’t want to die tomorrow  because honestly I know I have not lived nearly the life I need to live.

So my partner went for a partners interview with my psychiatrist.  I now see my doc fortnightly.  Which is good on one hand – I freaking need it.  On the other I feel helpless.  Like I am unable to make confident and just decisions about my mental health.  Ultimately I am grateful that I have my partner looking out for me like this.  I don’t know how he stays with me.  How he puts up with me.  I am hard work.  I know that.  I am even hard work for myself.  If that is even possible.

So, yeah psychiatrist fortnightly.  Dietitian because I have put on 9kg in 12 weeks and cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror.  I might seem confident but I feel like utter shit and look like a fat balloon.  And I feel bad  because once upon a time, when I was thin, I judged people who were well rounded.  I fucking JUDGED THEM.  And now I am ‘well rounded’.  I feel like shit.  I judge myself.  All day.  Then I feel like a selfish bitch.  Usually I just feel like shit.

I am feeling like the blog posts will be coming on hard and strong in the next while.  I just hate, hate, hate myself and feel ridiculous.  And awful.  There is no way to explain it without sounding like a complete fuckhead basically.  I put up a wall and I sit on my fat ass behind it, ignoring what is going on, on the other side.