I am becoming increasingly aware that I am writing increasingly useless things on my blog, such as posts about cheerios and cat poo. I want to write something interesting, as real writers should, but a relatively mundane life (i dont work and I dont get out much) means that sometimes interesting content is hard to come by. Also, it is sad, but I cant read much, so I dont really know what people want to read, if u get me.
Luckily, I have the 24/7 loud thoughts and chit-chat in my head to guide me on the path of ... enlightenment (unlikely).... or crazy cat ladydom (likely).....or interesting blog content (wishfully).
AT the end of 2011, I wanted to write a review of 2011. At the end of 2011, I was a) too exhausted to do this b) to busy to do this, what with needing to rest between each gift wrapping and c) too un-brain-together to do this. It is a little overdue than I would have liked, but right now in 2012 I am tired but brain-awake to do this. I figures a reflection on the previous year could help with the goals for another year as I pickle my way onwards on this journey they call life.
..well I cant really remember if I set any goals or was even aware that another year had passed...My main goal in life was probably along the lines of soon dying a sweet and painless death, such as being hit by a bus or accidentally falling off a cliff. Either that, or to wake up as someone else and be normal and not lonely and hold down a job and 'snap out of it'.
On reflection, 2011 turned out to be a pretty good year. Maybe the first in a long time.
I had recently moved into a brand new flat following living in a shitty emergency bedsit where there was green stuff stuck to the bath and i could reach the kitchen from my bed and spent most nights sitting wide awake with my eye on the rattling handle as drunken men started fights outside my door, which they liked to piss on. I was alone and it was cold, and I didnt eat much... but I was glad to be there since it was better than the previous.
But I was really scared and I thought I was better but was still pretty sick...
Mental illness is a horibble thing. I felt trapped in myself. I tried to talk but the words wouldnt come out. I felt empty. Everything was dark. The noise in my head and the noise outside was overhwelming. Panic would rise up from my belly and into my chest and constrict my lungs and my voice was lost. AND i COULDNT BREATHE. I felt pain...a great big gaping hole where my heart should be and an ache in my chest so deep that it hurt to breathe. A cocktail of medication didnt work, not when I took them as prescribed and not when I overdosed to try and end it. I would only end up in a hospital bed with a drip stuck in my arm and sticky pads dotted over my body, which was wasting away under the pressure of life and self-punishment through starvation and scarring, wired up to a machine that tracked every painstaking heart beat.
I hated the pain all around me, and I couldnt stand the pain I was in.
This might all sound a bit dramatic. Blame it on the Personality Disease blah or PTSD blah whatever...but this is how I felt. I was not crying out for attention, I was not deciding to opt out of life for a while. I was broken inside and everything felt wrong. Nothing was fun, colours were in sepia, nothing was interesting, spaces were empty.
i got two meddlesom cats called Bert and Ernie, and resolved myself to the fact that it is better to just take my meds, i started drawing and writing. I started to accept myself.I started to turn my life around.
So I think i might write about that tomorrow, since now after waffling for so long about more useless and probably uninteresting things, not as a real writer should, I am far too exhausted and brain-wonky to do this now. since one of my goals in 2012 is to write more on my blog, because it made for a better year and started me on the journey through my soul that I am determined to end in a full recovery from mental illness or chronic fatigue.
Off to feed the cutey cats now, then bed. So here ends my practically life story review of my life, which I was not planning to write. Crazy cat lady returns tomorrow for a (probably long and waffly and equally useless but purposeful to me) review of 2011.
Thanks for reading, Bernie say bye xxx
Luckily, I have the 24/7 loud thoughts and chit-chat in my head to guide me on the path of ... enlightenment (unlikely).... or crazy cat ladydom (likely).....or interesting blog content (wishfully).
AT the end of 2011, I wanted to write a review of 2011. At the end of 2011, I was a) too exhausted to do this b) to busy to do this, what with needing to rest between each gift wrapping and c) too un-brain-together to do this. It is a little overdue than I would have liked, but right now in 2012 I am tired but brain-awake to do this. I figures a reflection on the previous year could help with the goals for another year as I pickle my way onwards on this journey they call life.
..well I cant really remember if I set any goals or was even aware that another year had passed...My main goal in life was probably along the lines of soon dying a sweet and painless death, such as being hit by a bus or accidentally falling off a cliff. Either that, or to wake up as someone else and be normal and not lonely and hold down a job and 'snap out of it'.
On reflection, 2011 turned out to be a pretty good year. Maybe the first in a long time.
I had recently moved into a brand new flat following living in a shitty emergency bedsit where there was green stuff stuck to the bath and i could reach the kitchen from my bed and spent most nights sitting wide awake with my eye on the rattling handle as drunken men started fights outside my door, which they liked to piss on. I was alone and it was cold, and I didnt eat much... but I was glad to be there since it was better than the previous.
But I was really scared and I thought I was better but was still pretty sick...
Mental illness is a horibble thing. I felt trapped in myself. I tried to talk but the words wouldnt come out. I felt empty. Everything was dark. The noise in my head and the noise outside was overhwelming. Panic would rise up from my belly and into my chest and constrict my lungs and my voice was lost. AND i COULDNT BREATHE. I felt pain...a great big gaping hole where my heart should be and an ache in my chest so deep that it hurt to breathe. A cocktail of medication didnt work, not when I took them as prescribed and not when I overdosed to try and end it. I would only end up in a hospital bed with a drip stuck in my arm and sticky pads dotted over my body, which was wasting away under the pressure of life and self-punishment through starvation and scarring, wired up to a machine that tracked every painstaking heart beat.
I hated the pain all around me, and I couldnt stand the pain I was in.
This might all sound a bit dramatic. Blame it on the Personality Disease blah or PTSD blah whatever...but this is how I felt. I was not crying out for attention, I was not deciding to opt out of life for a while. I was broken inside and everything felt wrong. Nothing was fun, colours were in sepia, nothing was interesting, spaces were empty.
i got two meddlesom cats called Bert and Ernie, and resolved myself to the fact that it is better to just take my meds, i started drawing and writing. I started to accept myself.I started to turn my life around.
So I think i might write about that tomorrow, since now after waffling for so long about more useless and probably uninteresting things, not as a real writer should, I am far too exhausted and brain-wonky to do this now. since one of my goals in 2012 is to write more on my blog, because it made for a better year and started me on the journey through my soul that I am determined to end in a full recovery from mental illness or chronic fatigue.
Off to feed the cutey cats now, then bed. So here ends my practically life story review of my life, which I was not planning to write. Crazy cat lady returns tomorrow for a (probably long and waffly and equally useless but purposeful to me) review of 2011.
Thanks for reading, Bernie say bye xxx
4 comments:
I always find your writing moving, inspiring and entertaining.
Thanks Abnormal Andrew...Are you back home now? Sorry didnt see you over xmas, hope to see you soon.
Hope you also know that I dont really think of you as abnormal, but a lovely lovely human being x
Shalom Laura,
Real writers write. You're writing, therefore you are a real writer.
Let history worry about the other stuff in a hundred years.
B'shalom,
Jeff
Shalom Jeff
THANK YOU.
B'shalom and other lovely things,
Laura
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