journal

Exploring the Stupidity of Emotional Dysregulation 

I’ve recently experienced so many fucking emotional flashbacks that it has been unreal. 

I’ve had to delete my whatsapp and disconnect my phone because the very idea of having to communicate with another human being while in this state of mind has been strenuous. Strenuous due to the high levels of just pure anxiety it provokes. 

I should start with the fact that during the weekend I went back down south to see old flatmates and make new ones. But I was just… I completely checked out. I couldn’t process through anything, I was feeling so stupid, so embarrassingly stupid because I didn’t know what I was doing. 

The thing is, what I usually fall back on are pre-existing experiences, copying what I did there so that they still come across authentic and then applying them in a chosen situation. However I couldn’t. I had never experienced house hunting or anything of that nature. 

I found that I was frustrated with myself, my internal critic gabbering on and poking fun at me. All the while physically, my face was completely blank and any affect in my voice was barren. I realised in that moment I was dissociating. I was internally reverting back into that little traumatised girl, having the same emotional capacity, believing that I was beyond a disappointment, failing everyone around me. 

I was walking around with the belief that I was, am, inferior and that I was a defective human being that deserved to die. 
Now, this didn’t start – or rather restart – this weekend, it started about a week ago  (shout out to that boy Bobby Shmurda). This idea had been cultivating inside my own mind for so long and I had decided to – whether passively or actively – ignore what I was feeling. In doing that it had found a way to thrive into this toxic energy that not only effected my own esteem but also the way I interacted with others. 

I am so sure that I’m fucking up every single relationship – friendship or otherwise – that it seems impossible to see a way out. Now, that may just be the depression talking but it is scary and I am scared. I am frightened being in this head space, during which I’ve suppressed so many emotions that now they are coming to the forefront of my mind and just burning there. And it feels so entirely uncontrollable. 

This is what emotional flashbacks feel like. And this is what emotional dysregulation looks like for me.

Because last week was where I was completely checked out, completely numb and dissociating all the time for the slightest reason. Now, I’m feeling excessively depressed, like I want to harm myself in any sense of the word. But in the next two weeks, I’ll be as right as rain, brighter than the sun, smiling all the time, having forgotten what this pain feels like. No longer as distressed, and I’ll be happy. 

until the next time where the process 

                                                                      Starts

                                                                                  Again. 
Nakedstreetkid out x

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Flashback, journal, moments

Flashback: A letter to my brother

Dear Brother,

You had made all these cross-wired connections that were illogical in nature but made sense out of context. Like, I could understand what you were feeling but the why was so over the top that I couldn’t fully grasp.

However, in a position where I was so vulnerable, self-esteem so low it was drooling past the depths of hell, where the flashbacks were hitting me full force with their penetrative glares and living from day-to-day was becoming harder. Where I looked up to you so much and treasured and held true every word you said, I, for a minute, broke.

I broke down.

I cried. Wanting to kill myself. Believing the words you spoke – saying that I was selfish, that how dare I serve myself for a second instead of you, how dare I not sacrifice my wellbeing for your own, how dare I?
But, how dare you.

How dare you ask that of your little sister? No, of another human being, of any other person, to give up themselves so completely to serve your every whim and wish.

Especially when you treat them like the shit on your shoe, only to condescendingly pat them on the head for doing exactly what you feel you needed.

I, for months, despite everything you said, dismissed all those evils you committed onto me. I continued to believe that angels shone out of your arse, them being the ones blessed to touch you, that God worshiped you and Satan cowered in fear every time he heard your name. And, most importantly, that I was the one completely in the wrong. That everything that happened was my fault and only my fault when let’s be real here.

Let’s be real.

The more that I took the responsibility for the faults that happened on that day, the more I serve to negate from the fact that you are a flawed human being like the rest of us.

Because guess what? The sun does not shine to greet you every morning, nor does thunder and lightning boom and bend to your will. You are human. You deserve to take some fault of your own onto shoulders too proud to slump, onto the flattened circumference of your mind crushed away by your demons that you indulge yourself in. I’m just sick of it.

I’m sick of how you’re all too ready to announce to the world how you’ve had it harder than any mere mortal who has experienced pain or anguish. That you believe yourself bigger than what you are. More superior because you choose not to understand what others go through but instead enjoy swimming deep in a sea of your own self-pity.

It’s silly.

Can the idea that someone else may feel pain without you having to make it a competition exist? Because God knows that when I feel good and happy I don’t go comparing it and stopping myself because someone else may be happier than I.

I don’t make it a competition. I just feel happy. And have enough sense to respect other’s happiness, the same way you should respect other’s pain.

I wish you could just see the truth and grow up for once. Because it’s not grown up to give people the silent treatment, it’s not grown up to expect family to serve you unconditionally – love you unconditionally, yes, but not serve. And finally, it’s not grown up to push everyone in your life away just because they communicate with you they do not agree with the way you treat them.

Grow up.

Grow up before everyone that you still love grows up and away from you.

Yours truthfully,

Your excommunicated sister

Continue reading “Flashback: A letter to my brother”

Flashback, journal, moments, Poetry

Flashback: My First Swear

pexels-photo-192560

Time stalls on the window sill

My tiny feet grips past the gloss, straight onto the flaking wood, face pressed onto the window, hands by my side

Laughter from the living room reminds me of their harsh words

Their intent to scare me, to remind me that I was no more than a common fool a success

Tears work its way down my cheeks

My warm breath dents the cold glass as a silhouette shaped like my chin and nose forms as the rain on the other side collect into droplets

 

Finally, I let the pain go and give room for anger to emerge

It wrestles my body into havoc as I begin to kick out against the window, punch away the fabric within the curtains and let my tongue boil out a single word

“Fuck”

I scream it

Then stop cold in my tracks

Did they hear?

Did they hear their 8 year old sister collapse into a word forbidden in this household

I wait

I listen

And nothing.

So I say it again

Nervous giggles jolting the words out in a quiet whisper

The word feeling oversized but good, easing away my anger

 

Better.

 

I feel better again.

Continue reading “Flashback: My First Swear”

Uncategorized

RESTART 

There was a point this month where I told myself that I would blog everyday this month. And that point happens to be on the 1st of November.

Between then and now I’ve seemed to somehow lose the want to do that – to do anything in fact and while I would like to blame it all on being depressed, that would be a lie. 

In truth, I believe the reason why I have avoided writing is because I am petrified to get it wrong and not do well. A feeling similar to not handing in a piece of homework because you know that at most, you will get a C in that assignment. Now, A C isn’t bad in itself, it’s only when you get a consecutive string of Cs while wanting to get just a little higher than that for once.

I know this just sounds silly because reading that back, I know the problem lies in not trying. I don’t try hard enough to become better.

Aye, back now anyway. 

Talk later, 

Nakedstreetkid out x  

journal, random

Self-doubt and other tribulations 

So, I’m experiencing this period of real self-doubt, where I can’t seem to believe that I am good enough for the course I have chosen for university. 

I feel that in some ways I’m not adequate enough, that I’m not good enough or prepared enough for a future in this career. And somehow through that, I feel as if this experience is completely individual to myself – that no one else in this world could possibly experience this level of doubt before they go into university. Which is of course false. 
Everyone experiences this doubt, whether founded in truth or not. 

But the thing that people forget is that everything is temporary. That what may be true today may not be true tomorrow and that there is always time to change your mindset and thus, change your outcomes in life. 

The truth is that I’m afraid right now. I’m afraid that my place in university may be revoked because of previous mental health issues that occured within the last year. And because I was so honest and so open, they now know everything and that could work against me but I hope it doesn’t. I hope they see my honesty as me taking responsibility for my actions and my future. 

Because at the end of the day, that is the most anyone can do. And self-doubt isn’t going to help me as all it can do is alter the way I behave and will work against me. 

So, in this case, I’m going to peel off the veil of self-doubt and have a little bit more confidence in myself. 

Because then,no matter what happens, at least I’ve shown my true self. 

Nakedstreetkid out xx 

journal

What to do? 

I’ve been crying a lot lately. 
Ever since my 20th birthday, I’ve become increasingly depressed. This depression stems from me having a mixed bag of both successes and failures in the past month, and my inability to focus on the good. 

The long and short of it is, I’ve been focusing on the bad. All the mistakes I’ve made, all the risks I’ve taken and the negative consequences as a result has knocked back my confidence. 

I’m back to questioning “Am I good enough?”

To which the answer has been a deep, resounding “no”, and that is terrifying. 

Over the past couple of months, I’ve made huge strives in recovery. I’ve stopped self-harming, I talk more openly with friends and family, and I am taking deep control and responsibility for my future. 

But that feels like that is no longer the case as I am going through another bout of depression and thus going in and out of dissociative states. 

To be honest, I haven’t a clue of what I should do to feel better, but writing has always helped in the past so… I hope this works. 

Nakedstreetkid out xx

random

Waving My White Handkerchief

I have this permenant hatred for myself that despite me constantly trying to work on myself, never seems to quite go away. And maybe the reason it never goes away is because I’m always working on myself. 

Strange, right? But think about it.

In my mind’s eye, constantly working on myself has convinced my instinctual nature that something is inherently wrong with me.

And guess what!?

That can really lower my already horrendously low self-esteem! (Yay!)

Which turns out to make me sadder and sadder until low and behold, I’m staring at the face of depression as my barely visible hand in my crowded mind spasms a wave of a white handkerchief. 

Point is, I’m not happy.

I’m not happy one fucking bit.