Life With A Purpose

It all just feels so pointless. I try to look at things the way everyone else does and I just can’t. I look at all these people with their happy lives surrounded by people and things that matter to them and I feel like when I look around my own life I see nothing. It’s just me. And even though deep down I know that there probably are people who care about me, in my head it just feels like no one REALLY does. I’m scared of growing older and hating my life more than I already do, and regretting the years I spent as a teenager in my own little cocoon stuck with my terrible thoughts. But I can’t break out of this cocoon that holds me in. It feels like an impossible task. And every time I have a good day, like I did yesterday, and the day before, it gets countered with another shit storm that just overwhelms me until I forget that I actually felt happy yesterday and that I was having fun.

I suppose you might be wondering what triggered this breakdown I seem to be having at this very moment, and let me tell you, it’s one of the stupidest reasons I’ve ever gotten depressed.

Yesterday I watched Spider-Man Homecoming and I really loved it. And when I really love something I REALLY love it. So I went through the usual routine that I do when I become a little obsessed with something, I watch bloopers from the movie on Youtube and interviews that the actors have done, and usually this makes me happy and fulfills that feeling I have after ending a tv show for more. But this time it just made me long for more. And I started to become a little bit TOO obsessed and I went into this whirlwind of videos and websites about the cast until I looked at the clock and realised it was 2:00 am and I’d been doing this for over 4 hours. So I just decided to go to sleep, feeling fine, until I started to think. And think. And think until I literally couldn’t stop the thoughts that were flooding into my brain. I wanted more, I craved more, but then I started to realise that I wasn’t craving more funny moments from Tom Holland or Zendaya, I was craving the life that they have and that I will never get to live. I watch them dance around their living rooms and laugh at themselves failing a stunt and be witty and confident on a talk show and think ‘I will never be that’. And I want to be so badly. I’m not saying I want to be uber-famous or anything but I just want to live a life where I feel appreciated and like I have a community and amazing friends that I could tell anything to but still laugh with uncontrollably. I want to be able to be truly happy, like how these celebrities look. And I know in my heart that these celebrities have problems too, and some of them have probably suffered with mental health issues just like I do, but I still can’t stop thinking about all the things I won’t ever get to do. And it makes me feel like my life is so pointless and worthless.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this, but for a long time now I’ve wanted to work in film as a director or a producer. I day dream about it basically every day, because if that dream became a reality I think I would feel so much more purpose in my life. I want to be able to create things that will make people laugh, cry, smile or just even to let them live in a safe haven of another world for an hour or two until they’re ready to come back out again. Because that’s what tv and movies do for me. They give me an opportunity to stop thinking about all that I hate in life, and just to be in this fantasy world and feel happy and safe. If I could supply that safe haven for even one person, my life would have an amount of purpose that I could never ignore.

I know I probably sound bat shit crazy in this post, but this blog is all I have to vent my thoughts to and even if no one ever reads my posts, it’s not really for you guys anyway, it’s for me because it lifts a little bit of the weight off my chest so that, even for just a few hours, I can feel a little bit lighter, a little bit freer.

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The Downfall of Me, Myself and I

I’m lying on my bed with the familiar cream coloured sheet pulled over my head, a sheet that has been with me since the beginning, since I first laid my imaginative, functioning eyes on the world.

But instead of cuddling me into a peaceful sleep tonight, they are shielding me – or rather imprisoning me – from the thoughts that bounce around my head and fill the gaps between every bit of bone and muscle in my body.

It’s 12:38 a.m.

Mum came in a few hours ago telling me to go to sleep. But she doesn’t get it. I can’t.

I’ve turned the torch light on my phone on now. I feel like I’m in my own little cocoon, lit up with a beam of bright white light casting shadows of my hands onto the cocoon walls.

I had a little moment earlier today. I went into a stage where I felt…nothing? But it wasn’t nothing.

The best way I can describe it is that I felt nothing and everything at the same time.

It was like my mind had gone into overdrive and every emotion that you could possibly feel was spilling into my brain but at the same time I felt a numbness that surrounded me in a storm of nothing.

So I decided to go for a walk. It was raining but I did it anyway. I went into a field where I tried to climb into a little ravine but fell and hit my head hard on the damp ground. I sat there in the dirt for a while, holding my head in my hands and wanting to cry but not being able to get anything out. Eventually I got up and sat on a little hill for a while, watching as little birds tweeted as they jumped from branch to branch in the tree above me.

Knowing I would have to go back to the condiments of my house and my room and the questioning tones and looks of my family made me want to jump into the ravine headfirst – which I did consider doing for a while as I stood at the very edge of it and stared down at the muddy bottom.

But I walked home. I did it because I knew I had to. For me, there was no other option.

But I just felt – NO, I feel – helpless. Like I will always be like this. Like there’s no end from it. Like I’ll never be normal like everyone else and I’ll never be able to experience things like everyone else.

People always tell you that you’ll be okay and you’ll get through and it gets better. But does it really? Maybe it does from some people. But some people aren’t everyone. Maybe I’ll be that one person who forever lives under a brooding black cloud filled with thoughts of blood and death and fear. Because that’s what this all is.

Fear.

I’m afraid of people.

I’m afraid of embarrassment.

I’m afraid to be alone.

I’m afraid to just be myself.

And because of these fears that I hold, unwillingly, so tightly in my grip, I will never be able to experience the things that normal people do.

I’ll never be able to have a boyfriend for fear of them leaving me, for fear of them hating me, for fear of them ignoring me and disregarding me.

I’ll never be able to truly expose myself to someone like I do on this blog. To openly talk about my feelings and how lost and empty I feel while at the same time having emotions and thoughts overflowing from my brain.

I’ll never be able to be alone and allow myself to be independent and confident.

I might not even be able to have a job as I fear the inevitable embarrassment and awkwardness that I will bring upon myself.

I still crave the blood and the cuts in my skin that I used to have but I try every minute of the day to hold myself back and not let myself be a victim of my own mind.

I should probably go to sleep now. It’s 1:00 a.m. But I probably won’t. I’ll probably sit here for a while longer, disgusted at my own mind and body and the hideousness of it all.

Wish me luck.

Me vs Food

WARING: If you suffer from an eating disorder, depression or if you’re just really sensitive then maybe skip this post. It’s a tough one.

 

 

I feel like I’m approaching breaking point. Everyday is a battle between my brain and my body.

My body says ‘eat’ and my brain replies ‘no. You’ll get fat’.

My body says ‘stop, that hurts’ and my brain replies ‘no. You have to keep exercising’.

My body says ‘you can stop eating now’ and my brain says ‘you have just a little more. It will be okay’.

But none of this is ever okay.

I’m at a point now where looking in the mirror makes me want to throw up. Seeing myself, my face, my body, it repulses me. Every movement I make forces me to be aware of another part of my body I’m unhappy with. Cross my legs: oh look there’s some leg fat. Look down: oh look there’s a double chin.

I try to prevent myself from doing the thing that makes me feel this way everyday and yet everyday I always feel like I’ve failed. Every time I sit down in front of a meal all I want to do is scream and throw it against the wall. I want to never eat again, I want it all to just go away, and yet each time I’m put in a situation where there’s food and people watching me, I eat to my hearts content. At least that’s what it feels like.

Dinner time has become the worst time of day.

The rest of the time I can get away with eating nothing. Spit out the chewed up food into a tissue when no ones looking, take some snacks to my room and stash them away until I can take them away again. But at dinner time there’s no escaping. I kid myself thinking that no one would notice if I didn’t eat dinner. Of course they would notice. Then there would be questions. And questions would lead to discovery. And discovery would lead to god knows what and I don’t want to deal with it.

I’m just done with feeling fat and worthless and ugly. I disgust myself. And I just keep telling myself that if I lose that 5 kilograms then I’ll feel better. All my problems will go away. But deep in my mind I know that 5 kilograms will lead to 10 kilograms then 15 then 20 until there’s nothing left to lose. But I don’t care.

Because if I’m skinny then I’ll be happy right?

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Facing My Anxiety

Recently I’ve been trying to get a hold on my anxiety. One of the many things that anxiety causes me to do is to bail on social interactions. For example, if someone I’m not entirely comfortable with invites me to the movies or to go to their house or something, initially I agree and think it will be fun, but as it gets closer to the date I usually make up some excuse about why I can’t go. This basically always happens. I don’t even know why, even if I really like the person, my brain suddenly goes into panic mode and I start telling myself that it will be awkward, they’ll think I’m weird, I’m going to be left out of conversations, and so instead of facing my fears I just run away from them.

But this time was different. I’ve made quite a few new friends this year and we kept saying that we wanted to do something together for ages, and so finally we made plans to go to one of our friends houses and hang out. At first I was really excited to, as always, but then Ash and P, my two really good friends that I’m super comfortable with, said that they couldn’t go and I started to panic. I’m good friends with the other girls that are going but because they’re not my really close friends I started to panic. So I messaged them and said I might not be able to go. But then after a few days I started thinking about it and I thought to myself, I always do this. I always bail on plans I make. But I’m never going to get better and beat my anxiety if I continue to do it. I have to actually try and face my fears. So I messaged them again and said never mind, I can go now. And I feel really good about myself. I’m still a little bit nervous and the odd thought about how they don’t like me and they’re going to ignore me pops up, but I just keep pushing it down and telling myself that it will be okay and it will be fun.

So yeah. I’m pretty happy with myself at the moment. I’ve been planning on doing a post talking about all the affects that anxiety has on me and my life but I’m kind of struggling to write it because it feels very personal and it really dives head first into my psychological wellbeing. To be honest it’s kind of scary. But I really want to just get it done and post it because I do really think it could help some people who suffer from anxiety to understand their brains better and identify all the things that trigger anxiety. So that post should be up soon.

Lastly, I just want to say that I want all of you to do something like I did. Face your fears, even if it’s only something small like doing something independently or resisting urges that you get to do something. It makes you feel really good about yourself to take a stand against a mental illness or an addiction or whatever problems you have in your life, and that’s all some people need to lift them up. Just one moment where they do something good for themselves and get to feel in control again.

Take a step forward, be brave, and don’t look back.

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Numb and Empty

I don’t know what it is or why I feel this way but recently I’ve just been feeling really…off. And by recently I mean literally the last few days. I just feel so done and over everything. It’s like I don’t care anymore and all I want to do is just lie in bed and think about nothing. My favourite part of the day is getting to lie down in bed and fantasise about a life that I’ll never have and I’m starting to realise that it’s probably not very good for me. I still want to hang out with friends and everything and sometimes I love life and I’m thinking that I would never swap my life for anyone else’s but then suddenly it’s like a switch is flipped in my brain and I’m plunged into this endless wormhole of darkness. And it’s not like I feel angry or anything I just feel…nothing. It’s like I’m completely numb. I’ll be walking in the hallways at school, looking into the darkness of my locker and I’ll just be somewhere off in my mind where all I can see is a blank sheet of paper. And then Ash will come up to me and say something and that switch just turns itself off again and I’m back to normal. I don’t understand what is going on with my brain right now but I’m kind of sick of it and I just want it to stop. It’s not a nice feeling to feel like a completely empty shell of a human being but there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s like my mind literally has a mind of its own.

I’m probably just going crazy.

“It’s Not A Big Deal”

I had the first run in with my anxiety that I’ve had in quite a while today and I really just felt like writing about it, despite my repeated desertion of this blog.

So one of my friends, I’ll just call her P, whom I only met at the beginning of this year, asked me to go to the movies with her and this guy, J, and his friend. At first I was like ‘yeah! This sounds fun!’ but then, as I always do, I began to think. And think. And think. And think and think and think until I couldn’t think anymore. My head was pounding, filled with thoughts of ‘they’ll all hate me’, ‘they’ll think I’m weird’, ‘it’s going to be so awkward’ until my ears started to ring and I felt like I’d swallowed a stone. So I texted Ash, my best friend, and asked her to come with me. At first she said yes and I was feeling much more confident knowing that I would have someone there who could support me, but then we had to change the day on which we were going to the movies and Ash informed me that she would no longer be able to go.

And so started the downward spiral.

I started to panic (to be honest, I still am), thinking that I couldn’t do this by myself, that I was going to have a panic attack, that everyone would think I was crazy. So I started to message Penny, one of my close internet friends who I tell practically everything, spamming her with messages about what was happening and how I was panicking terribly. But then I stopped myself on about the 20th message and began to message Ash instead who I thought might be able to help me in a different way. So I started to confide in her, telling her that I was feeling really anxious about going without her and I didn’t know if I could do it. After an agonising 30 seconds she responded saying something negative about P, instead of trying to calm me down or help me out, which I was kind of expecting. But I brushed it off and continued the conversation, asking her if there was anyway she could come. So we continued to talk about the possibility of some different days that we could go, and she was quite helpful sometimes, saying that if I started to feel really anxious we could catch a bus to her house, but then, for no apparent reason, I started to panic again. I messaged her saying something like ‘One minute I want to go and the next I feel like vomiting from nerves. I don’t think I can do this’. Keep in mind that I really struggle with opening up to people about my anxiety so I was trying really hard to be open with her. But her response was probably the worse thing that she could have possibly said to me in that moment.

‘It’s not a big deal’.

I dropped my phone on my bed in shock and disbelief. I started to get the shakes, my head pounding again and my ears ringing. Falling onto my bed, I curled up into a ball, tears in my eyes as those words bounced around in my head until I couldn’t stand it anymore and wanted to claw my eyes out. Not a big deal.

To say that my anxiety is not a big deal is like saying that cancer isn’t that bad. You’ll get over it. And sure, maybe I will get over my anxiety, but saying that to me just made me panic even more. My heart is still racing at 500 miles an hour and tears still keep forming in my eyes. And I don’t want to be that girl who’s all like ‘no one understands me, I’m so alone’, but truly, I don’t think a lot of people understand what it’s like to be afraid to go the movies. The bloody movies. Or the supermarket. Or to see your nan. Or to get on the bus. It’s these stupid everyday things that are always the end of me, and everyone thinks I’m crazy for obsessing over situations like these but they really don’t get it. I’m afraid of going to the movies just like people are afraid to go to a haunted house. Every single time I go somewhere is like stepping into a haunted house. Anything could jump out at me and send me into that hurricane of panic and dark thoughts.

I’m still having trouble even looking at my phone. I keep going to pick it up, then jumping away from it like it’s 1000 degrees. Every time it vibrates I inch away from it a little more because I don’t even want to know what else she sent me. And I know it’s not her fault that she (yes, I am going to use this tainted word) triggered me, but if there was one sentence that would have convinced me to go to the movies, ‘It’s not a big deal’ was the complete opposite of that.

All I want to do is curl up in a ball on my couch with a book and my laptop and sit there until I’m forced to go to school again. I don’t want to have to see anyone or do anything. I’m done trying to confide in people, because it seems that every time I try, nothing good comes out of it. In fact, most of the time, something terrible comes out of it. So I’m done trying. I’m probably going to log out of all my social media for the rest of the winter holidays so I can try to relax even in the slightest.

Anyway, sorry for being a drama queen but that’s how my day went today. I’ll actually put a little bit of effort in this time to keep uploading here and document my somewhat interesting life.

Have a great day everyone.

Oh and for all the 18+ Aussies out there:

VOTE YES!

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My Relapse

Perhaps one of the worst things that could happen when you’ve been clean for 6+ months is relapsing. I’ve done it before, and I’m starting to feel the urge to do it again. But I’m trying to resist as much as possible because these last few months, I’ve felt truly happy. I have a loving a family, friends I can trust and be honest with, a good education and so much more and it was making me feel like a normal person again. But of course my stupid ass brain decided that it was time to feel shitty about myself again.

As I was recovering from all of the shit that happened in 2016 and earlier in 2017, I started to realise what the real cause of my anxiety and depression was.

My body image.

I’ve never been happy with my body and every time I look at it, it makes me feel sick. Every part of my body, I hate. And I think that that’s why I self harmed and obsessed over the tiniest things. For a while I stopped caring what other people thought of my body, and I was mildly happy with it, but I’ve started to become obsessed with weight and food and exercise again. I don’t want to tell you what goes through my mind because I know that if I do that some of you would try to stop me but I really don’t want to be stopped because I’m sick and tired of feeling fat and ugly. I know that I can never change the way my face is and that’s fine I’ve accepted that fact of life. But I CAN change the way that my body looks and so that’s what I’ve been trying to do.

But the reason I’ve become scared about this whole thing is that I’ve started to think about self harm again. I think maybe it became such a norm to me with all the trying to lose weight stuff that as I’ve started to make this whole probably deranged plan in my head, self harm has kept popping into it. But that’s not what I want to do. I really don’t want to have to go through hiding my scars from people and feeling guilty and stupid all over again. It was tiring and draining and I hated it but at the same time, I’m craving it.

Fuck, it’s like an addiction. It seriously is. My hands are shaking, I want it so bad. I really don’t want to give in and let my body do what it wants but I feel like I really really really need to. God, I hate how all this shit makes me feel. I honestly don’t think I can restrain myself. I need to see blood and feel the stinging sensation from hot water on fresh wounds.

I’m sorry. To myself and all of you but I can’t do it. I’m weak and I don’t deserve any of the nice things that I know people will say to me. No one can save me, not even myself because I’m to fucking weak and selfish.

Who knew that relapsing could be so easy.