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A Traumatic Childhood Relived

The worst experience of my life was, and always will be, my childhood. Although, when people around me claim it was one of the best times of their life, I just nod along like a spineless chicken. You see, if I go against the flock on this one, people would always ask me why and I wouldn’t really know what to say.

How do I even begin to explain the level of emotional and physical abuse at the hand of my father from birth? How do I explain my older sister’s physical abuse against me? How do I explain I was isolated throughout this time by peers in school? How do I explain my very turbulent year of repeated sexual assault from a childhood friend?

The sad truth is: I can’t.

So, I nod along because there is nothing in me that wants to lay claim to these traumatic events. There is nothing in me that wants to relive them over and over and over again in my memory. I just can’t because I don’t want to.

So I paint over these painful memories with the colourful, happy and generic ones that all my other peers share. Because at the end of the day, all I’ve ever wanted was to fit in and left alone.

That is all I want.

Nakedstreetkid out xx

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Spiralling Thoughts and Murdered Truths

I have an interview three days from now and I’m not quite sure what I am to do. I’m struggling the most with getting out of my bed at the moment.

In fact, I’m struggling to do just about anything recently. Because if I can’t get out of bed, I can’t revise. If I can’t revise, I can’t feel confident. If I don’t feel confident, I am less likely to talk. If I don’t talk, I can’t communicate this to anyone. If I can’t communicate this to anyone, I won’t overcome this bout of depression. If I don’t overcome this bout of depression, I won’t get out of my bed, I won’t revise and I will fail my interview.

It’s all quite stressful, actually.

Although, I don’t believe the anxious collection of thoughts spiralling out of control is helping a bit. So, that is most likely the first thing I need to tackle – this level of anxiety and every disastrous thought that comes with it. I think that once I’ve sorted that out, forgiven myself for my moment of anxiety and depression, I can lift my head from the comfort of my pillow and leave the comfort of my bed.

Easier said than done though.

I’ll tell you how it goes.

Nakedstreetkid out xx

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99p is where the heart is

I guess that writing my series ‘Moments’ has been strangely liberating for me. It has allowed me to greater explore my writing style and use of description to paint a fairly ordinary scene.

I really enjoyed that.

To be completely honest, I was inspired my the Great and Wonderful novel by Julian Gough, ‘Juno and Juliet’. One of my all time favourite books. Mainly because it has everything that I have wanted it a novel and far more than what I would have expected that I found in Poundland. It was so gosh darn amazing. It is so gosh darn amazing.

To be honest though, I’ve only read it front to back about 3 times in the last six or seven years. Mind you, I’ve looked back at my favourite parts quite a few times over the years, or I start from a certain point in the book and read it to the end. I love it.

I just love it.

And I don’t think many can understand my love for such a book. So, if you ever get the chance to read it, I would implore you, go ahead and read it. It would be worth every penny.

Nakedstreetkid out xx

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Artificial Teleportation

I discarded my phone quite a way from me as to not connect to the world in my traditional, artificial manner – through the internet. Even so, it somehow was able to make it back to me without much delay from the livingroom to the right-hand side of my bed. Go figure the one time I don’t want my phone is the one time my sisters teleport it to me.

It’s funny, because they’re not inclined to do it any other time but they’ve broken the pattern when I needed them to stay true to it. Ah, well, you win some, you lose some, eh?

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Misdirected Blame and the Sadness of Impermenance

I’m currently in the process of… Well, processing.

Processing what, you ask? Well, a lot of things I suppose. Mainly that of my rampant abandonment issues.

Someone who has proved reliable and important to me and my recovery has recently left to another country. Which I am happy for her as I believe it is what she wants to do, however, my abandonment issues and I are quite resentful of the fact that she has left. It troubles me day and night that she has gone and has left me wondering if it is any fault of my own that she has left. Which, I really have got to stop doing because you and I both know that projecting blame upon oneself does nothing but destroy your internal equilibrium. So, I often have to remind myself that my blame is misdirected. Not simply misdirected, no, that is incorrect, it is more appropriate to say that any element of blame should not exist in the first place.

There is no one to blame.

And I think that’s what I’m having the most trouble with. I’ve gone through numerous cycles in the last two days (I can’t believe it has only been two days, it feels like decades have passed by) where I’ve blamed her and then I’ve blamed myself. My reasoning for blaming her is that she doesn’t have to leave. And my reasoning for blaming myself is that I should never have gotten so close in the first place.

I’ve pointed this out to a friend, that what is the point of opening up to someone when they’re just going to leave eventually anyway. To which they replied:

“Everything in life in impermenant. To not enjoy and engage in the little time we have alive would be a terrible disservice to our own quality of life. People leave, but that doesn’t mean we should live in isolation, in fear of such prospect. We should grow to expect it and in doing so, we will better appreciate the time we have.”

That friend was my little sister.

I’m glad she said that to me, because it’s making me understand more. It still hurts but as I said, I’m processing.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Emotionally Charged and Logically Wasted

I’m going to give up writing casual blogs for now. It feels way too forced and I don’t enjoy what it does to my writing.

Not that I didn’t like it, because I did. I enjoyed sharing my thoughts like I do in my journal – quite a turbulent and unedited mess. It has allowed me to share my experience with trichotillomania, disordered eating (not an eating disorder mind, but that is arguable in itself), my depression and everything that comes with it. I hope that I have shed a light on some of these issues, however, I don’t feel as if I’m doing it justice while writing as casually as I am.

If I die and my many journals are found from underneath my bed, I would much prefer my family to lay witness to when my thoughts were presented with some clarity and insight. Not only the jumbled mess of words that are dictated with incredibly raw emotions. I want them to see both in the same way I would like you to see both. I want to show both the emotionally charged entries which make no sense to the sane eye as well as the logical posts which show some form of reflection.

Most of all, I just want to heal.

I believe by composing my posts in this way, continuously reflecting and evaluating, will provide me with a better chance of doing so.

And that is all that I want to do.

So a bit of both is now in order, one more than the other. But we shall see what happens.

It may be an interesting mix afterall.

Nakedstreetkid out xx šŸ˜›