Flowers

Repeating the same thing,

Every single day.

Lonely when I’m alone,

Even in a crowd of people.

Then I remember that everything is in transit,

Everything reaches an end and somehow that’s comforting. 

 

Sundays always come too soon,

The weekend speeds by,

Until the new week begins,

The same, the same again.

But change is the only constant in life.

 

I can never get my head on right,

Everything moves so fast.

Time cannot be controlled,

Cannot be contained.

My thoughts swirling down the drain,

Slipping away.

 

I send out so many letters,

I write even more.

But no post is for me,

Only bills and weeds.

Useful for cleaning up the stains.

 

So many games, so many rules,

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Everything’s written down,

But not everything is followed.

Whichever suits the suitor and their tailored ways,

A tuxedo, a three piece or maybe mourning.

 

I bought my own flowers,

I could have chosen better.

But my hands are cold,

and the soil was futile.

They manage to bring some comfort.

 

 

The Void

“I feel very alone”

“I’m having a bad day”

“I like being alone but I hate feeling lonely”

“I’m sad right now”

“I am surrounded by people and yet feel very alone”

These are all things I’ve put out onto social media at some point recently. Or as I’ve started to think of the varying platforms: The Void. The definition of void that I’m referring to here is defined as “a completely empty space” because I can say or shout or whisper or yell whatever I’m feeling or thinking on whichever platform I choose, and I mainly throw those thoughts and feelings out there so that they’re not manifesting themselves in my head.

I know that there is a chance that I’ll get a response from someone and occasionally I have received some but what I’ve mostly found is that when you try to tell people that you need company, in whatever way you word it, they make excuses or say, “yeah, we need to catch up soon!” but you know they don’t mean it.

In many ways I can’t blame them because they have their own things to deal with, even ones that I may know nothing about. However, when I’m feeling the way that I am when I throw those thoughts and feelings out there, I take those rejections personally. Especially when they come from people that say that they’ll be there for you and support you no matter what. There are always exceptions.

Reading over this post it feels quite dramatic but at the same time this is how I feel when I feel this way and if you know you know. If you don’t know maybe you do now.

Lizzie X

 

Consent

In any given context, a person is said to consent when something is agreed upon in advance in the same sense. In common speech, “consent” can also mean “to give permission”, or “to yield”. Consent can be given or taken away at any time. But only by you.

Your body and your mind belong to you and you alone. No one can demand or take or pressure you to give your consent, it is yours to give freely to whomever you want, whenever you want.

You do not have to yield to anyone you do not wish to. It’s easy to forget but try to remember.

I’m not only talking about sexual consent but consent in general. Consent to let someone into your life, to share your thoughts and feelings with. To share your life with. To share yourself with.


This is something I wrote back in February 2016 that I recently found and decided to share. I can’t believe that the concept of saying no can be so easily dismissed by some instead of accepted. That the fact that someone can make someone else uncomfortable can be refuted by some. If someone tells you no they mean no, accept it. If someone tells you that you or something you are doing makes them uncomfortable, accept it. There is no refuting their feelings or their declining to give consent, just accept it and move on.

Lizzie X

Do You Feel Depressed?

I’ve taken a really long break from writing on my blog. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write but I’ve lacked any and all motivation to write. Why should I be sharing my boring every day life and thoughts? Who’ll read them anyway? Well, maybe someone will who’s going through something similar; someone who feels quite lost and without purpose and stays up too late because it’s the only time they feel like they can really think but then that late bedtime hinders them the following day? I can’t be the only one who does that.

Skip to almost two months ago when I went to see a psychiatrist (unrelated reasons) and they were more interested in my mood and my socialising habits. They asked me if I felt depressed and honestly what kind of question is that really? I mean, what does depression really feel like? I could use a bunch of metaphors to try and describe what it is to me and how it affects me but to say, “yes, I feel depressed”, seems too strange. Maybe it’s because people will use that term so loosely these days, “I’m depressed, my favourite show got cancelled” or, “I have to work over the long weekend, I’m so depressed“.

Maybe because, to me, depression isn’t a feeling, maybe because, bare with me here, depression is a state of mind because it’s a mental illness. Depression affects your brain and the way your mind works so much that the internal workings, the way you think and function, start to affect how you act and appear outwardly. So why was this person who can diagnose me with depression asking me if I feel depressed? No, I don’t feel depressed, I feel like I always do, tired, stressed, awful, despondent, exhausted, worried, frustrated, drained, pathetic, lazy, worthless, stupid, panicked and utterly useless. Nothing new.

When was the last time you felt happy?” they asked, what?? I don’t know, I don’t keep an actual log of my “happy meter” to tell you the last time I was above a bloody 5 let alone off the charts. Upon thinking that I realised that I can’t remember the last time I was really happy. Maybe if I have to really think about it, it’s been too long?

To cut a long story short, they did diagnose me with Major Depressive Disorder *salutes* and prescribed me anti-depressants that, “may help restore your interest in daily living“. As if it’s a conscious decision, like one day I decided that I had no interest in daily living but I just keep doing it out of necessity. After one month I had to check in and I reported that I didn’t feel any different so they doubled the dosage. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough to say for sure but the extra quantity I’m taking doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect so far. I know that they’re supposed to make you worse before they make you better (I’ve been through this before) but I’m still skeptical on how they’re supposed to improve my life. The brain is a very powerful thing but I have my doubts over whether or not we can control it or “rebalance” the chemicals within it with selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

I have so many thoughts that I thought I ought to start writing them down, so here I am making some kind of log about this round with anti-depressants and my feelings of depression. I honestly don’t mean to be so negative I guess my doubts just really shine through because this is my normal and I can’t see it changing.

Lizzie X

 

Coming Home

 

I can’t believe that anybody,
Would ever want to come home to me
I can’t see myself with with anybody,
Let alone anybody with me

Coming home to my own thoughts,
My own mind, no escape

I am alone, no one’s here
It’s just me, we’ll make it through
The same day, over and over and over again
It’s okay, we’ll make it through

Is this enough? I’ve always wanted more
(I thought there was more)
Dream, plan, wish, work, hope, work
Sleep, worry, work, stress, work, eat, work, work
Maybe more wasn’t for me

Nobody would ever want to come home to me
I can’t see anybody ever coming home to me

I’ll Call You Anxiety

“I’ll call you”, to say this is a phrase that I’m not particularly fond of is an understatement. I do not like telephone calls. They are anxiety inducing for me.

This anxiety can be triggered with the mere thought of having to call someone; talking myself into actually picking up the phone to dial and breathing calmly—breathe in, breathe out—while it rings.

What are you going to say? They don’t want to hear from you. You’re boring. What if they don’t answer and you have to leave a voicemail? Just hang up, it’s not too late.

The instant anxiety of the phone ringing. This is consistent with my own phone or one that I have to answer, but is also applicable to the people or person’s phone I am spending time with. My heart leaps into my throat, palms start sweating and mouth goes dry—breathe in, breathe out—shake it off and answer the phone.

Why are they calling? They’re angry about something. It’s your fault whatever it is. Will I be able to answer their questions? No, your mind has gone blank. What are words?

The sheer apprehension of a promised phone call. The anxiety that comes with waiting for said phone call can make me not want to check my phone and instead distance myself from it. The anticipation of will-they-won’t-they call has my heart racing in the back of my throat all day. Until I pick up my phone, check it—breathe in, breathe out—see there are no missed calls and my heart is allowed to slow down for a few minutes. This anxiety can last all day, depending on what time the phone call actually comes in; the relief that is felt afterwards is so great. However, sometimes that phone call never comes, so after a certain time (when a respectful person will no longer make a telephone call) I allow myself to discard my phone entirely, just in case, and squash the anxiety that has been building up all day as best as I can.

They’ve changed their mind. Why did they want to talk to me anyway? They didn’t, it’s a test. Why couldn’t they just write it down? What are they going to say? Don’t call, please.

The anxiety of actually being on a phone call. The ability for my brain to function and get my mouth to say the words has completely failed me but the ability for all saliva to stop being produced in my mouth is working overtime. If I haven’t prepared dot points to direct the conversation in some way most things that needed to be said will be forgotten. My hands sweat and shake, my skin is itchy—breathe in, breathe out—just say a closing statement and finish the conversation then you can hang up.

What did they say their name was? I wonder if the saliva from my mouth is coming out of my palms? What did they just say? I was thinking about hand saliva. Say something so they know you’re listening. I have to pace now, keep moving. What do they want from me?

There are some exceptions for the telephone call induced anxiety, which include calling a select few people, calling automated machines, answering a call when I know what it will entail such as when making plans or meeting up with them. Calling someone back when I know what it will entail, like after they have left a detailed voicemail or sent a text message that was in no way vague or ambiguous. Adrenaline fuelled phone calls.

The anticipation of a phone call that never comes can at times be disappointing or dejecting but far more often that not it is such a relief. To talk to someone in person, see their expressions and body language, or to have their words to look back over is much more comforting and pleasant to me. Being face to face with someone and occasionally sending someone my words (that I perceive as potentially risky) can bring on their own type of anxiety, but it’s a type that I find I can manage more easily than the kind that comes with telephone calls.

Lizzie X

Repeat

I need people

I tell people

People leave

I get hurt

Time passes

 

I need people

I tell people

People leave

I get hurt

Time passes

 

I need people

But I stop telling people

I shut myself off

I don’t need anyone

Except I’m lying

I’m lonely, I’m struggling

I can’t do this alone

 

I need people

Finally, I tell people

But

People leave

I get hurt

Time passes

Muted

It’s 3:00 pm and I can feel that my brain has been slowly shutting down over the past two hours. It’s quite a scary feeling really. Why don’t I have have control over my own head?

I can feel it getting worse by the second. I’ve gone running up and down the stairwell, I’ve taken a break from the computer, I’ve had water and still I feel as if my brain is slipping away from me. I could just sit and do nothing. I am becoming nothing.

I am not here sitting at my desk, taking notes, doing work, I am sinking  down through the earth. The ground does not touch me but it envelopes me. I am not trapped but I can’t get out. I am safe and it is quiet.

My head is up in the sky but there is no wind. I can’t see for miles. I think my eyes are open but I can’t see at all.

My head is not cold. It is in a charcoal grey cloud but it is not wet. My head is solid but melting. Everything is fuzzy and muted; sounds, smells, sights. Everything is numb.

It tastes like that moment when you realise you haven’t spoken anything or even opened your mouth to pretend to in a very long time. It’s a strange comfort.

I feel if I fell off my chair and onto the hard floor that the jolt would bring my body up out of the earth and my head down out of the stormy rain cloud and they’d be reunited.

But then, what would I be?

 

Lizzie X

Sexuality?

I don’t think I have ever been in love. 

I think at the time I thought I was, so I said it but in retrospect I don’t believe it was love. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be in love. 

I know that sounds pessimistic but I just don’t see love in my cards. I think of myself as a romantic but I’m also a realist. 

I am an introvert. I suffer from anxiety. I am independent. I have trust issues. I’m also lonely but I think I have been for a while now and it’s become the norm. 

I fall in love easily and often but only with strangers. 

I don’t party. I stay in. I fall in love with strangers on the street, in the coffee shop, out at breakfast, on the train, on the internet. But they’ll never know because I’ll never tell them. I always keep my distance. 

I don’t think I’m scared of commitment but I don’t like opening up to new people. I realise that that can come off as snobbish and arrogant but if people that I’ve met in real life and have had a conversation with think that about me, then I’m baffled. 

I have wondered whether I’m demisexual, which I thought made sense, but after doing some research I don’t think I am. I may actually be the opposite. I think I wanted a label for what I’m feeling and how I am but I honestly don’t think there is. So many people don’t like labels but sometimes it helps me to understand myself. 

Or maybe I am demisexual but until I am able to form that emotional connection with someone I’ll only fall in love with strangers. 

Sometimes it makes me feel helpless but mostly I just accept it. 

I don’t mean any disrespect or hate by this it’s just how I feel and my experience with life and “love” or lack thereof. 

Lizzie X

Stay

I was made for

Good books and good coffee,

Rainy days, thunderstorms and autumn weather,

I was made for the moon and quiet nights.

 

I was made to

Be a daughter and a sister,

A cousin, a niece and a friend.

To maybe one day be a wife and a mother.

 

I was made to

Love, to have empathy and compassion, to listen and to learn.

I was made to help others feel less alone.

I was made to survive.

 

I was made for

The clouds and the sky,

For cats and their love, for music and live shows and the arts.

I was made for writing and dancing and travelling.

 

I may not be this person yet but these are the reasons why I have decided, on several occasions, to stay.

 

I stay so that I can become that person, experience these things and live.

 

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