moments, Poetry

Meeting CharlieĀ 

Dear  Charlie,

we are born into this world on someone else’s terms. Then we are expected to manage its monstrosities, feeding from the hand that they give us.

But if those who birth us tube down our throats that we are nothing but selfish, lazy and ungrateful we are painted the toxic view of the world from that point forward.

We are made to breath down these negative spirals and believe them to be the truth.

However, every time I meet you Charlie, hunched over a card in the bathroom stall of a club vibrating the stench of sweaty bodies and rotten feet, I smile. You make me happy again. You awake my tired body and exalt it with joy, putting a spring in my step as gibberish leaks itself away from my mouth into the atmosphere. You help me to believe in myself and rein my own destiny, a throne in my future.

And then, as suddenly as you come, you disappear again. Hanging me by the arms of a noose, lowering my depraved mass into the body of a dark, dismal well.

Only for me to look up and pray your glorious snow will fall onto me again. Bringing with it you, my dear Charlie, with all your wonderful and splendid hopes, dreams and promises.

Missing you,

the grin of a lost girl
nakedstreetkid out x

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Inhibitions in the Morning

If you check the time I decide to post something, it is in the early hours of the morning. And that is quite often when my inhibitions are low and my thoughts read like an open book. Whether that is a coherent open book or a garbled mess, I can’t always be too sure, but read it does.

I believe that says a lot of who I am as a person. But nevermind that, I think that is self-criticism rearing it’s ugly head.

Anyway, I want to go back to sleep and just sleep all day. I think that’s what depression and anxiety does to you. Anxiety keeps you up right through the night and then it’s friend depression, swaggers along and inhibits you from rising from your bed all day.

Maybe it would be perfect friendship if they did their jobs at different times of the day. And perhaps, at different intensities.

Because what I’m beginning to realise is that it’s okay to feel anxious. It can be the motivating factor to finish a bit of work or get you pumped for an exam. It shows you care. And depression? Well, it’s okay to feel a little blue sometimes, it reminds you about the powers of self-care and balances a good mood. It really makes you appreciate what you have and allows you some rest. But what’s not alright is the intensity of either of them. Now, that can make a frail man’s head spin right off.

And it makes me, quite frankly, feel dismal about the prospect of forever feeling this way. Pulling out my hair when I’m anxious, self-harming when I’m depressed and dissociating when I’m angry.

Turns out guys, that perhaps the relationship between the three, well, it’s not really working out now, is it?

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Suffocating Anger

I don’t think I can go to sleep yet.

I’m so tired, but I can’t go to sleep. My thoughts are spinning a spider web of self-loathing and self-criticism. My therapist says that my self-critical thoughts are the worst for me. And I must agree, especially if they’re keeping me up.

You see, I feel completely terrible for being inpatient with my niece today. Given that she was ill and moody and I was in a completely foul mood, it could’ve gone worse. But I’m still unhappy with the way I treated her. But children, they’re intuitive, aren’t they? She kept trying to make me laugh by doing silly things like playing peek-a-boo with me, or giving me a bit of her food. It was quite sweet, actually. She’s only 12 months old, so it was incredibly kind of her.

But I’m in a foul mood because I’ve been thinking – on and off – about the abuse I suffered as a child today. It’s making me increasingly upset. But I’m trying not to be. I’m really thinking about what my therapist said about 2 weeks ago (by the way, it takes me a while to process through things only because I’m often in a dissociative state in therapy). She said to me what I have suffered in the past was incredibly traumatic and I have every right to feel angry.

But that’s hard for me to accept.

First off, I’ve never actually acknowledged the abuse I suffered as something that could be considered traumatic. Any response I’ve had to it, I have personally marked as weak. Crying, getting depressed, getting angry or anxious, I’ve always dismissed as a weak response.

Which brings me to the whole idea that I have the “right” to feel anger. It’s a frightening concept. Because “anger” in my household meant people got beaten up. Anger meant words that pierced your skin and dug at where it hurt. Anger was a dangerous tool used by the aggressor to fuel another violent undoing. Anger was not your friend. Anger was the enemy.

I don’t understand how to process through anger. I don’t know how to acknowledge it and let myself feel it without fearing myself hurting someone I love.

So I keep it all in, but that’s bad within itself. Because the problem with not letting yourself feel anger is that it means you let it smother you inside out. You allow yourself to be suffocated. Hence the foul mood.

And why I can’t sleep now.

Thoughts are racing and I wish I was better company for my beautiful little niece.

Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about that now. Maybe, I’ll count sheep, read something or watch something boring and mundane until I fall asleep.

I hope your day has been far better than mine.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Insomnia’s anxious depression

It is funny because this week I have just not wanted to exist and fall off the face of the earth. But just for a little while.

This week has been something else. Mainly difficult. But fun also.

I haven’t been able to have a full nights sleep in about a week because I’ve been so incredibly anxious. But because of depression, I’ve been so incredibly tired and the need to sleep has been overwhelming. Which has me tearing right up because I’m in this constant limbo where I am stuck in an exhausted haze of churned up emotions and inedible thoughts. I feel like smashing my head against a wall, if only to finally wake up or fall asleep.
It has reached quite disastrous heights.

Oh, and because this exhaustion has overtaken my life, I’ve stopped revising, and because I’ve stopped revising, I’m about a week and a half behind schedule in my revision timetable. Because of this, I’m completely stressed out, but I’m not sure what I want to do because I need to revise but I am finding it so incredibly difficult.

The only thing that is getting me out of bed and moving is my niece. Which is the good bit.

I’ve spent quite a lot of time with her, despite my exhaustion. In fact, she is the only reason I have been able to sleep because I cradle her in my arms and we fall asleep together. Twice a day. Which is great. And then, her and I play catch, read a book (even though she’s not old enough to understand it yet), run around, eat food, crawl until she’s comfortable to walk again, recite our ABCs and 123s and just chill in general. If you’re wondering, she’s only 11 months. A year she’ll be at the end of December.

The really fun bit would have to be work. Work has always cracked me up a bit. Because the people there are hilarious. You slowly begin to learn the jokes that seem to circulate around friendship groups and what not. Which I have to say, are super funny and the more people know you, the less people shout. Which I am a fan of.

Hm…

I guess that is it for now. Trust me, there is far more in my head but maybe I can finally get some sleep after my horrendous nightmare, so I shall see (and talk) later!

Nakedtsreetkid out xx

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The good, the Bad and the Depressed

Hey, guys!

So, what I realised is that everything on my blog as of late has been damn near depressing. And I mean, that makes sense, given that I’m suffering from depression and all, but it’s sad! It implies that I literally do not have a single good day in my life, which is completely untrue. It’s just that, right now, for me, it is hard for me to see the good in my life. Understand that. Let it soak in. Rub it in and marinate your body with that little fact. Because it is going to stop. Or, at least, happen less.

I want to be completely real with you. Writing about happiness, rainbows and unicorns is difficult to do when your head is all over the place and the way you perceive the world is a little skewed. But no matter, I shall try to look at my life a little bit harder and try to find the positives instead of always stewing myself in the negatives. And the positives don’t necessarily have to be amazing, just real enough for me.

But, understand I may not always be able to. Like I said, I’m going to be as real as I can possibly be. And that means I am going to have good days, but more often than not, because I am depressed, I am going to have my bad days. But, hey, that shouldn’t last long because this girl is in therapy and determined to kick depression’s arse!

So, that was a little weird disclaimer that I, for some reason, felt I should put out there.

Hope you all have a blooming lovely day!

Nakedstreetkid out x šŸ™‚

Recovery Wednesdays

Paralysing Procrasination

I’m beginning to find everything difficult again.

I think that, when I started this schedule thing, I began to gain some perspective and motivation but that has reversed slightly and I feel as if I’m back at square one. Which is, of course, untrue. It just feels like it, you know?

I think it may have something to do with my sister checking up with me on a constant basis. Even though I’m sure all she wants is to help, it’s kind of making me feel worse. Because I have to detail to her what I’ve done that day and all honesty, all it does is highlight to me how little I’ve done that day. When I was healthier, I could cram about 3 or 4 big things into my day and that was with the added stress of school. Now that my days are endless, it feels like I’m wasting them. Probably because I am. I’m not productive in any sense.

The thing is, an hour can feel like a minute when you’re depressed. And that is a HUGE problem for me. I can sleep for maybe 3, 4 or 5 hours at a time and feel as if I’ve blinked. And when I awake, it is just that bit more difficult for me to drag myself out of my bed and GET SOMETHING DONE. Because, by that point, I am hyper aware about the fact that I’ve already wasted so much time that it seems so fruitless to do anything else. So, I spend another hour worrying about that and just wanting to go back to sleep, so I do. And when I awake, I’m facing the same problem with even less time to do something than before. So, I spend another hour trying to motivate myself out of bed and by the time I do, everyone is back from school or work and, hand on heart, I can’t deal with that amount of people (I have 3 siblings that live with me), so return to the comfort of my bed.

Not sleeping.

Not even resting really.

Just lying there, thinking and worrying about what I am to say to my sister when she comes to ask me about my day.

When a task seems as big as I amplify it in my head, the pressure to do it the right way mounts up and your ability to do it lessens. And you’re stuck in a state of paralysis, procrastinating because you don’t know what you actually need to do anymore.

It’s so frustrating.

Nakedstreetkid out -_-

Recovery Wednesdays

Sedated rambles from a depressed teen

I think the thing about depression is that it is so hard to pin point when it truly started. It kind of just comes on and continues for such a long time that you don’t quite know when or how you ended up in that state. But you did, or rather, something did. Because more often than not, there is a trigger. No matter how small or insignificant it seemed to be at the time. There is often a trigger, individual to your own depression.Ā 

That is how I started my first session with my new therapist on Monday. Trying to figure out what triggered my depression. To be honest, I was quite sedated on over-the-counter cold and flu medication so, at first, it was quite the bit difficult to figure it out. I think that, even if I hadn’t been as out of it as I was, it still would have been difficult to figured it out because it isn’t something you ever truly think about. It’s hard enough to accept you have depression, let alone figuring out when it came on.Ā 

But we were able to identify when it started. Right now, we figure it must be when my father left the house which would’ve been when I was about 10 or 11 years old. We both understand that estimate can so easily change as we continue to unveil more and more things from my past. Which is nice, because I think anyone can agree that it can be hard to go back on something once it feels set in stone.

I’m glad that I went because it feels like I’m finally making progress.Ā 

Nakedstreetkid out x