journal, random, Tideous Tuesdays

An update: Impossible illusions imagined

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I feel lost, unloved, unguided and lonely. Quite a self-deterministic mouthful, so, let’s get onto it.

First off, I’m pretty much done with being alive. I look all around me and all I am blinded by in my waking moments is a consumerist lifestyle that continues to propel me into my student loans. And when that is washed down the drain by my heavy, unbridled spending, I can stitch my eyes closed even further to the increasing debt as I dip my sticky fingers £2,000 deep into my overdraft.

All great. All deconstructed.

Let’s move on.

Since engaging in this broadcast state, where every self-obsessed waking thought is living and breathing on instagram, Facebook and so on; where you can see from the comfort of the own phone, which are all in their own self-righteous way apparently smart, what Jessica had for breakfast 2 seconds ago, I find it particularly difficult to allow anyone past a superficial level into my life.

Even so, I will always be envious of those who have the opportunity to be vulnerable with each other. To let people into their lives, knowing full well they will experience so much pain. An easy trade I believe if you understand the full scope of the liberation pain can bring. Healing rarely occurs without some form of pain beforehand and so in that sense, it is completely worth it. Scary in its own right. Not so common regardless but still, because of it, I feel indefinitely unloved as this is not something I have obvious capacity to achieve any time soon.

In the meantime, I’ve joined websites that will support my eccentric lifestyle of consuming drugs, both prescription and otherwise. A website where I will have my internal needs of being able to dump my emotional baggage onto another, a steady flow of validation despite the absolute ridiculous turmoil bouncing against my heart, all met.

An impossible illusion? Perhaps. I’m laughing.

Anyway, where was I?

Put simply, if I can get paid for giving away something that is becoming increasingly meaningless to me – that is sex – then why the hell not? I would prefer it. So, emotional needs met? Check. Physical needs met? Check, check.

Hm, so that’s dealing with or rather, addressing my feelings of being unloved, possibly feeling of how “unguided” I feel, maybe a tad bit of feeling “lost”.

And now, the loneliness:

Well, let’s be honest, I was born to be lonely in a room full of people. (Self-pitying, I know but please, bear with?) Four other siblings, countless cousins, a hundred or two of possible peers to make friends with and not one of them ever wanted to play when I was younger? Long story short, I was never comfortable with being alone but I certainly adopted mannerisms which I thought would hopefully fool those around me otherwise. I mean, the reading, the silence, the headphones always in – all ways to push and pull away from those around me.

It’s hilarious because I haven’t even gotten into how that has translated into my adult life now. Let me digress for a second. When I feel a friendship is being threatened by outside forces, I will keep that friend at arms length while mentally straining not to pull them closer and never let go. The fear is real. The anxiety deafening. I’m a bit of a maverick in that way. A bit destructive. Ready to overdose on my own medicine.

Should I even continue?

My point is: Life is going swell. My self-destructive behaviour is reeking havoc in my mind’s eye, colouring everything distasteful and breeding a weird brand of distrust between me and my surrounding environment.

Oh, and I’ve taken up smoking. It’s lessening the anxiety to be honest. Or making it worse.

I forget.

Really,

I do.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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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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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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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 😛

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Learned Response

It’s funny because I’m getting super reflective because the year is almost up. I’m realising that I’m not happy with who I am and what I’m doing right now. Like, I am actually physically upset with who I am. And I’m recognising that and that makes me happy.

In the past, I have just ignored all of that. I have ignored that I’m upset with who I am and what I am. And if I would pay even a bit of attention to the fact, it would be to put myself down. But, at least I’m finally recognising it and instead of berating myself for the fact, I am actually being kind to myself.

That’s what my therapist always says just before we finish a session, she says “be kind to yourself”. I’m still unsure how to feel about that. There is a part of me that is quite automatically against the idea of being kind to myself. Wouldn’t I be kind to myself if I deserved it? But because I’m not instinctively kind to myself, I don’t deserve kindness, do I?

But then, I know now that is flawed within itself. Me being self-critical is a learned response to traumatic situations which I have carried forward to day-to-day life.

I don’t know, guys, I feel like I’m beginning to realise all of this and that is making me happy.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Exiting the whirlwind of emotional constipation

Because I’ve only just started exam season and my brain has already entered a deep, dark whirlwind of endless torment, I feel it is befitting that I start to plan and see my future.

By future, I mean summer and such. I’m far too emotionally constipated to begin to think further than that (like, oh, university matters and such). So, let’s go.

What do I wish to do during Summer?

GET A JOB.  I want a job, I want experience, I need money. I guess this, in a way, is thinking about my future further than just Summer. It’s thinking about the perplexity of supporting myself during University as well. But only superficially. I also need it for the socialising. I’m not sure yet, how frequently I’ll be able to see my friends, one of them is already leaving the country during Summer. For work, in fact, in the Alps! Can you believe that? Isn’t that just so cool?

Anyway, secondly, I WANT TO GO TO PARTIES. And in order to go to parties, I need to be invited to parties. And in order to be invited to parties, I need to have friends which are going to parties. Which hopefully isn’t impossible. I really do hope after all the “no, no, no’s” I’ve been giving everyone during exam season, they’d still invite me, you know? Well, we’ll see when the time comes. Anyway, the reason why I want to go to parties is because I need to be experienced about the do’s and don’t’s of party life. I’m not a frequenter at parties, so I don’t really know the rules and such. Hopefully, the Summer will reverse that, so that when I go to them, I’ll be well versed enough that I can go to them during Uni.

Thirdly! I don’t really have a thirdly. I just feel like everything good in life comes in threes. I guess the thirdly can be all the little, necessary, unthinkable things that I must think about during the Summer. For example:

  • Buying everything I need for uni
  • Going to results day to actually make sure I go to uni
  • Obviously spend time with my best friend
  • Maybe a bit of travelling
  • Seeing the friends I care about
  • Obviously catch up on all the TV shows I have missed over the last few months
  • And not so very obviously, go to the GP to start looking after my mental health

That type of jumbled up, crazy going, casual riding mess can only be dealt with at the time. And may change, depending on numerous factors.

Anyway, let us hope that everything goes well and I exit this hopeless, dark and scary whirlwind of doom and come out the other end unscratched. Kind of like a piece of corn, coming out from your buttocks.

TMI?

TMI.

Nakedstreetkid out ;P

xx