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 


Nakedstreetkid out x


Redecorating a stupid room

I’m having this annoying “conversation” with my sisters about redecorating the room. And this time, they say, we will do it. This time we will do it. Every bloody time I suggest that we should do something to the room it gets shot down. Even when I clean it up, give them my ideas, sketch my ideas, it has all been futile. So, how can they say now that they want to redecorate now? It’s stupid.
I share the room with two of my other sisters but when I was a child I used to share the room with 3. I remember when we were kids and we used to think about ways we could change our room to make more space. Make it feel like there’s more space. But it has never worked. Everything ended up destroying the room somehow and our mum would come back screaming at us.

Funny times but right now? Ugh.

I hate this right now. We’re planning for a future that’s not going to happen. We have been planning this future for almost a decade now. Remember I’m 17. We’ve been having the same conversation for almost a decade and I can’t be bothered anymore. It’s the hope that something will change. That we will make that change. That stupid, horrible hope that seems to plague their minds that something will change. But nothing has! And nothing ever will! Otherwise we wouldn’t be having the same conversation every bloody year. We wouldn’t be having the same conversation that we have been having since childhood! We wouldn’t be having the blasted thing.

What’s the point in change when everything has been atrociously constant for 17 years of my life?

Maybe I’m just being negative. Possibly verging on the edge of a spoilt child.

But bloody hell, it’s annoying me.