On being our ‘real’ selves

You know when you do something sporadic and one of your close friends immediately says something along the lines of “that was SO not you” and you just go with it and think, actually, yeah that was really out of character for me… the real me would never do that? That situation is pretty much what this post is about. I’m finding it hard to believe that any single person on this planet is able to exist in the same characteristics for every second of their lives. Our personalities are not constant. We are forever changing in our habits, our beliefs, our desires; it’s impossible to be exactly the same person for the rest of our lives. So why the hell do we label our personality traits and bundle them up into a tiny little jar and claim that the combination of those traits equal our ‘real’ selves? Obviously, it would be impossible to quantify one’s real self when in actuality our continuously altering beings could never be simplified in such a manner. It’s ridiculous. We’re ridiculous. We should simply ignore it when others question our ‘uncharacteristic’ behaviour, stop trying to ‘find’ ourselves and define our undefinable, overwhelmingly complex personalities and instead just simply allow ourselves to be whoever it is that we want to be in every single changing moment of every single day. We would be so much happier that way.

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Ramblings of the emotionally unstable

Before I begin, I’d just like to say that I am not going to kill myself and this is not a suicide note. These are just my thoughts. And lately my thoughts have been centred largely on death. I’m fairly certain it’s related to the suicide of my friend. I mean, it’s unlikely to be a coincidence that two weeks after her death my mind is suddenly filled with thoughts of dying, thoughts that are all too familiar. I think it’s because I’ve been down the same path that drove her to take her own life. It was only a few years ago that I tried to take mine. My attempt was unsuccessful and I’ve been so grateful for that, until now. Now I find myself wishing that it was me in that grave, not her. She deserved more, she deserved happiness and I don’t doubt that she had the potential to go far in life. Me on the other hand… I am probably the most insignificant little blip on the infinite radar of this universe. And I’m not saying that to be melodramatic or to attract sympathy. It’s simply a fact. I have many friends, but none of whom I actually connect with on a deep and intimate level. Sure, my death would make them sad, but only for a few days or so. It would pass, my memory would die and their lives would go on unchanged. That’s simply a fact. And I’m not saying they’re selfish or bad friends because they aren’t. It’s just that my existence is insignificant whereas that beautiful girl in that grave, her existence was of real magnitude. So why is she dead and why am I alive? I feel like that’s an injustice to the world; depriving us of an incredible soul while a minuscule one continues to exist. Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was my own journey of attempted suicide because it’s not something that I feel I can share with the people in my life. That’s what makes this anonymous blog so great – no one in my life will ever know. It’s not that I fear their reactions or their judgements, it’s just that I’m ashamed of that part of my life. I know there are so many awareness campaigns encouraging those with mental illnesses to reach out to their loved ones and make their troubles known, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Partly because I feel like no one would care. Like I said before, I don’t really matter to anyone. And again, that’s not an attention grabbing ploy, it’s just a fact. I feel helpless to the labyrinth of my own mind and I know that no one else can help me because I can’t help myself. I just feel like I’m drowning again, like I did all those years ago. Alone, defeated, overwhelmed and so incredibly small in this sea of existence. It’s all just a giant tangled web inside my head and I can’t escape it. Mostly, I’m afraid that I’ll go on my entire life without anyone knowing these crazy thoughts because the longer I spend withdrawn from the rest of the world, the harder it becomes to voice any of it. And if I’ve learned anything from all of this, it’s that I don’t want to die alone and unbearably sad and in anguish like I know she did and like I almost did. So how does anyone stop being this way? Is it even possible? I hope it is possible because I know without a doubt that I don’t want to be this person anymore.

For her, who took her own life and deserved so much more.

A friend of mine committed suicide two days ago. Admittedly, we weren’t as close as I am with many of my other friends and I hadn’t known her long, but that doesn’t make her loss any less significant. From how much I did know of her, she was a beautiful person; constantly smiling, friendly as hell and so easy to get along with. It felt like I’d known her forever. I didn’t have the faintest clue that she was severely depressed – no one did. I guess she chose to hide that part of herself away from everyone. I wish she hadn’t. I wish she’d opened up to someone, anyone, who could have prevented her from doing it. I wish that I’d made more an effort to probe through her facade or at least made her feel like her life wasn’t worth throwing away. I hate that I didn’t clue on to how much pain she was putting up with. I have depression too, so of all people I should have caught sight of something, some little thing that hinted that everything wasn’t okay with her. But it’s too late now.

It isn’t fair that good people suffer like she did. I hate to think of how alone she was at the end, but can’t seem to get rid of the thoughts. No one deserves to die alone, especially not suffering the way I know she would have been. If only she could have known that things do get better, eventually they do. I understand the feeling of wanting to die, but I guess the difference between us is that I know it gets better, but she didn’t know and now she won’t ever know. I wish that I could have changed things for her so that living was enough. 

I’m not sure if I believe in an afterlife or a heaven or hell. But wherever you are, I hope you’re at peace and I hope you’ve found solace. I’m sorry that you had to go through what you did. You deserved so much more. I hope you’ve escaped from whatever it is that was tormenting you. I wish you nothing but endless happiness. Goodbye, my friend and may you rest in peace. 

Being a girl

I dunno about the rest of you lovely ladies out there, but I seem to have these random days where I just feel a little bit odd compared to usual. It’s like, I don’t feel like doing anything that I normally would enjoy, I have no appetite and I am perfectly content sitting here doing absolutely nothing. Is it a girl thing or am I just kinda weird???

I’ve been sitting here for over an hour thinking that I should probably eat some lunch since I skipped brekkie, but for reasons that I cannot understand, I just don’t feel like eating & quite honestly am not even the slightest bit hungry! So then I started thinking that perhaps I should do something, watch a movie, read a book, go out or anything really. But I just don’t want to. It’s the weirdest mood. I’m typically the kind of person who can’t sit still for very long – I can barely even sit through movies most of the time! And yet here I am, doing absolutely nothing.

So I thought I’d write it all out on here, since at least that way I’m not completely wasting my time. Although to be honest, this is kind of a waste of a blog… it’s not very interesting and I cannot even fathom why anyone (myself included) would want to read it…. Sorry for boring the shit out of any unfortunate souls who happened to come across this!!

Yep, that’s all I have to say. I think I’ll just resume staring into space and daydreaming … (:

Moving on.

I think it’s much kinder to end a friendship or relationship rather than stay in it out of obligation or guilt. Staying in something that makes neither parties happy is just sad and, in my opinion, brings nothing but misery! The longer you hang onto something that clearly isn’t working, the more confusing it gets and the harder it is to get out of it. 

Moving on can be hard because as humans we have a tendency to form attachments. It’s completely normal and totally out of our control, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier to let go and move onto something that is a little more worth our while and brings us a bit more happiness. I think eventually we all have to figure this out for ourselves, one way or another. 

It’s come to that point when we are no longer making new memories, instead we’re just clinging onto the old ones in the desperate hopes that they will be enough to sustain this disintegrating relationship. So today, I’m letting go. Although I will never forget you and I will always cherish these memories, that’s all they are now; just memories. It’s time to move forwards, rather than looking back. 

 

Middle fingers up, if you don’t give a fuck.

So this is kind of my new outlook on life; not giving a fuck. Because apparently five years of committing to something doesn’t mean shit. How is it that all that hard work doesn’t give me any respect and that my opinions or concerns still don’t matter, but someone else waltzing in without having put in any effort whatsoever gets put up onto a throne, which by the way, wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for those of us that have been working our arses off for the past few years…. ‘We built an empire, you took the throne. But you built it from bayonets and sat there alone.’

It’s just so wrong to go around treating people like that and thinking it’s ok. The only thing that’s getting me through this without throwing a few punches is the thought of karma biting them in the butts. I have to believe that one day, they’ll get the same treatment. And in the meantime, I’ll stop trying. Because, clearly, my efforts are wasted in this shithole.