Through out this semester I have tried to motivate myself to study by writing positive encouraging things to myself and repeating them in my head. So I thought I'd include one of these as a blog.
Lauren. It's not too late. All is not lost. You have absolutely nothing to lose. You may as well try and get something in. Just one sentence at time. Take it paragraph by paragraph. You can do it. You can do this. You're not stupid your brain is just slow this semester because you short circuited it with that massive panic attack. You are capable of critical thought. You can do this. It will be OK. It's not too late. All is not lost. Give it a go. Just start from the first sentence and take it one tiny baby step at a time.
I would continue saying these things to myself until I felt a bit better about approaching the work. Sometimes it worked to make me study, other times not so much.
Wednesday, 16 November 2016
Tuesday, 8 November 2016
and finally a glimmer of hope
6:04am Still no work done, but I have a plan to finish a French essay by midday, temporarily putting aside the two editing assignments. My plan involves printing out the story, reading it at a cafe of sorts and making notes and constructing an essay plan then reading through the lecture notes, including those ideas in my plan and then writing out my essay at first in english and then in French.
After writing this plan down I've decided to instead go home and do my readings in bed with home made coffee. As soon as its appropriate I will message my mother and ask of her assistance tonight so that we can do my editing assignments together. Ok Plan! it only took me 6 or 7 hours, but I am finally motivated. One step at a time, One sentence (to be read or written) at a time. This is an achievable task that I will throw together and then I have passed one of my four subjects.
Bolero is currently playing in my headphones and I couldn't think of a better soundtrack to the slow but steady montage of study I am picturing over the next few hours. I can smash it out. It will be fine. Everything will be fine. It is not too late. All is not lost. Coffee, popcorn, reading in bed, potentially a pastry or two. all is well.
After writing this plan down I've decided to instead go home and do my readings in bed with home made coffee. As soon as its appropriate I will message my mother and ask of her assistance tonight so that we can do my editing assignments together. Ok Plan! it only took me 6 or 7 hours, but I am finally motivated. One step at a time, One sentence (to be read or written) at a time. This is an achievable task that I will throw together and then I have passed one of my four subjects.
Bolero is currently playing in my headphones and I couldn't think of a better soundtrack to the slow but steady montage of study I am picturing over the next few hours. I can smash it out. It will be fine. Everything will be fine. It is not too late. All is not lost. Coffee, popcorn, reading in bed, potentially a pastry or two. all is well.
I think because I'm so used to this part of the semester being such a highly anxious one I've started to rely on those feelings of anxiety to motivate me into doing stuff. Who cares if I hit myself, and smash my arms on the hard tiled floor until they swell massively - I get work done once the crying stops.
But now I just feel so calm (Potentially my body has finally realised that to protect itself from harm it must not allow stress in, not to mention how sick i've been because of stress this term)
So now I have to figure out how normal people do this study thing. How they just sit down and do an assignment because its due and don't have a bunch of mental problems to flourish in spite of.
But now I just feel so calm (Potentially my body has finally realised that to protect itself from harm it must not allow stress in, not to mention how sick i've been because of stress this term)
So now I have to figure out how normal people do this study thing. How they just sit down and do an assignment because its due and don't have a bunch of mental problems to flourish in spite of.
Snap out of it!
3.32am
Lauren! What the fuck are you doing? There is no excuse, your head is clear, you are not sick or cripplingly depressed right now - all of the previous obstacles are not currently an issue. You are going to fail. Snap the fuck out of whatever is going on and get some fucking work done. The pressure is building
Lauren! What the fuck are you doing? There is no excuse, your head is clear, you are not sick or cripplingly depressed right now - all of the previous obstacles are not currently an issue. You are going to fail. Snap the fuck out of whatever is going on and get some fucking work done. The pressure is building
last ditch effort to motivate myself
It is now 2:57. Still no work but decided to look up music I like to make myself feel more positive and look up inspirational quotes and such. I could always just do the work regardless of how I'm feeling.......
....but i think I'll try this way for another few hours before I resort to such things. I shall start with that song from matilda and look up quotes from my favourite authors.
....but i think I'll try this way for another few hours before I resort to such things. I shall start with that song from matilda and look up quotes from my favourite authors.
Even this blog doesn't help anymore
Study log 2. The very last minute seems to be running out quickly. It's 2.30 am, I'm at uni, I napped from 5pm until 10 and came to uni for my last all nighter. So far no work has been completed. My blog used to help me see the bigger picture for my degree. Not anymore I guess.
This semester is a disaster
This semester has gone so badly and there is still a big chance I could fail everything as I have one or two significant assignments/exams to go for each. I'm so close to the finish line, I've put so much.. not so much effort as stamina into this semester. The entire time I've been crawling on hands and knees, making my fevered, foggy brain concentrate and scraping through every task, every test, every social interaction.
Firstly there was China. The most amazing experience which I have failed to write about yet. It taught me to see the world as beautiful again and when I got back my perceptions were opened up and I found it difficult to shut off the influx of sensory data. Colours looked brighter, the distant crosings down the streets were no longer background but crawled to life with pedestrians and dogs and cars, walking down rundle mall changed from navigating my way through to noticing everyone's facial expressions. At first I appreciated this, I could look at things and just love how this colour juxtaposed with that one, how that couple's argument was cute and funny, but soon it became hard to look up without there being 20 or more things for my brain to process, sitting in cafe's became hard as one conversation nearby would be layered by another one the next table over, and then everyone in the cafes, murmuring and chinking spoons on cups, the traffic outside, and the coffee machine hissing and churning out freshly ground coffee and chairs scraping and the sounds would keep building up until it felt like screaming.
And of course after a high of travel there is always a low of once again being stationary. This low was harder to deal with because everyone just put it under the 'post-travel-blues' category and it wasn't that at all. I was deeply sad because I knew that my new perceptiveness and outlook on life wouldn't last and even though it became a burden, I anticipated and mourned its inevitable loss.
There was another aspect of China that impacted my return significantly which was around the theme of boys. It wasn't a crush so much as a genuine experience of what being in a relationship (as travel buddies make a lot of codependent decisions) felt like. But I will go into that another time.
The next two significant things that happened this semester was my leaving home and my getting the implenon. Moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do to your body and brain. The implenon is significant in all the rumours or scientific research into their suicidal side effects.
I haven't been so suicidal since Courtney and Josh refused to break up for me. I felt so empty and un ambitious, I no longer desired things for my life, I resented Josh for all the things he did to me and got super bitter about no one loving me, and became completely hopeless that anyone would ever love me. Study was no longer something I found self worth in and it wasn't that I wanted to die, but I started to see my death as something unavoidable, even telling my mum that I wasn't sure if i'd make it til christams. This made studying extremely difficult, because not only was I super fatigued all the time and had very little brain capacity for completing tasks, I had absoloutely no desire to do anything to better my future. My Canadian ex, with whom I remain friends helped me a lot through this time, my calm strong voice that I lay my head to rest on and that comforted me and kept me here. One day my mum prayed for me and the severe depression went away - I felt ambitious again and from then on it was only mild depression and bad anxiety that I had to deal with, like normal.
But it was already pretty far along in the semester. I missed a week at the start of term with China, and the depression knocked me out for about 4 weeks (I still attended but barely did any assignment work) so I was very far behind. Being so stressed and so sad for some reason meant that my body could not handle illness and I had a cold for most of the first half of semester, tonsilitus twice and the last two weeks of term I contracted some sort of flu which made me miss a few classes and then downed me for a week (the week that I had set aside to do all of my assignments.)
I'm not a very organised student at the best of times, but contracting an illness in the last minute stages of assignment due dates means I'm an even worse student. This whole semester just hasn't been fair. And I've lost the capacity to concentrate for long periods of time. Everything exhausts me and I just don't really feel like doing any of my work. My future is so shaky, I have no idea what I'd like to do and if I do want to do further study I have a lot of work ahead of me and its so uncertain that that is really my path. Thinking about my future and being ambitious used to pull me through, but I've grown so bitter about everything its hard to see anything positively.
So here we are, two days before my french exam, for which I have not begun to study, three assignments due or overdue (two of which I have not started) and one more exam for the weekend ahead, which I have at least read the books for. I don't know if I'm screwed. I might not be, everything might be ok. But I don't know.
I keep telling myself over and over it's not too late, you can do it, its ok, all is not lost, there's nothing to lose. The first steps are to write out sentence by sentence my research essay. Can I do that? Is it Ok? Is all really not lost?
Firstly there was China. The most amazing experience which I have failed to write about yet. It taught me to see the world as beautiful again and when I got back my perceptions were opened up and I found it difficult to shut off the influx of sensory data. Colours looked brighter, the distant crosings down the streets were no longer background but crawled to life with pedestrians and dogs and cars, walking down rundle mall changed from navigating my way through to noticing everyone's facial expressions. At first I appreciated this, I could look at things and just love how this colour juxtaposed with that one, how that couple's argument was cute and funny, but soon it became hard to look up without there being 20 or more things for my brain to process, sitting in cafe's became hard as one conversation nearby would be layered by another one the next table over, and then everyone in the cafes, murmuring and chinking spoons on cups, the traffic outside, and the coffee machine hissing and churning out freshly ground coffee and chairs scraping and the sounds would keep building up until it felt like screaming.
And of course after a high of travel there is always a low of once again being stationary. This low was harder to deal with because everyone just put it under the 'post-travel-blues' category and it wasn't that at all. I was deeply sad because I knew that my new perceptiveness and outlook on life wouldn't last and even though it became a burden, I anticipated and mourned its inevitable loss.
There was another aspect of China that impacted my return significantly which was around the theme of boys. It wasn't a crush so much as a genuine experience of what being in a relationship (as travel buddies make a lot of codependent decisions) felt like. But I will go into that another time.
The next two significant things that happened this semester was my leaving home and my getting the implenon. Moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do to your body and brain. The implenon is significant in all the rumours or scientific research into their suicidal side effects.
I haven't been so suicidal since Courtney and Josh refused to break up for me. I felt so empty and un ambitious, I no longer desired things for my life, I resented Josh for all the things he did to me and got super bitter about no one loving me, and became completely hopeless that anyone would ever love me. Study was no longer something I found self worth in and it wasn't that I wanted to die, but I started to see my death as something unavoidable, even telling my mum that I wasn't sure if i'd make it til christams. This made studying extremely difficult, because not only was I super fatigued all the time and had very little brain capacity for completing tasks, I had absoloutely no desire to do anything to better my future. My Canadian ex, with whom I remain friends helped me a lot through this time, my calm strong voice that I lay my head to rest on and that comforted me and kept me here. One day my mum prayed for me and the severe depression went away - I felt ambitious again and from then on it was only mild depression and bad anxiety that I had to deal with, like normal.
But it was already pretty far along in the semester. I missed a week at the start of term with China, and the depression knocked me out for about 4 weeks (I still attended but barely did any assignment work) so I was very far behind. Being so stressed and so sad for some reason meant that my body could not handle illness and I had a cold for most of the first half of semester, tonsilitus twice and the last two weeks of term I contracted some sort of flu which made me miss a few classes and then downed me for a week (the week that I had set aside to do all of my assignments.)
I'm not a very organised student at the best of times, but contracting an illness in the last minute stages of assignment due dates means I'm an even worse student. This whole semester just hasn't been fair. And I've lost the capacity to concentrate for long periods of time. Everything exhausts me and I just don't really feel like doing any of my work. My future is so shaky, I have no idea what I'd like to do and if I do want to do further study I have a lot of work ahead of me and its so uncertain that that is really my path. Thinking about my future and being ambitious used to pull me through, but I've grown so bitter about everything its hard to see anything positively.
So here we are, two days before my french exam, for which I have not begun to study, three assignments due or overdue (two of which I have not started) and one more exam for the weekend ahead, which I have at least read the books for. I don't know if I'm screwed. I might not be, everything might be ok. But I don't know.
I keep telling myself over and over it's not too late, you can do it, its ok, all is not lost, there's nothing to lose. The first steps are to write out sentence by sentence my research essay. Can I do that? Is it Ok? Is all really not lost?
Monday, 26 September 2016
The rush, the thrill, the overdue assignment.
Today my counsellor told me that because I was bright when I was younger, and because I often left things til last minute (which I then got good marks for) I would associate that feeling of rushing with the feeling of success and achievement. This is so true it hurts. Its not just the association but I actually don't feel all that achieved if I hand something up with plenty of time to spare, even if I get amazing marks for it. Well I do feel good, but not as good as if I had that badge of honour of "oh yeah, that thing? I totally did it the night before".
So now I have part of my french oral presentation done, but none of the translation and I still have an entire modernisms presentation to start AND finish but for some reason my brain has decided that 5 hours is more than enough time, and not nearly little enough time to stress me out enough to actually get things done.
I actually feel like I'm being birthed right now. Its a strange analogy for anxiety, but I feel like there is a ridiculous struggle that I have no choice but to get through (so thats tomorrow where I have not one but two group oral presentations) and then everything will be better once I'm out the other side, 6pm after my class.
I know that I need to take this task one step at a time, I know that I can't possibly sleep or find other ways to procrastinate, I know that that is absolutely not an option, but I just don't wannnnaaaa...
Another thing that I need to work on is persevering through my work when it gets boring. After like an hour I get so bored of one task.
So I had an undeserved "break" and closed my eyes for like 2 seconds. An hour later and I'm back, disoriented and not ready to work at all. This semester is a disaster.
So now I have part of my french oral presentation done, but none of the translation and I still have an entire modernisms presentation to start AND finish but for some reason my brain has decided that 5 hours is more than enough time, and not nearly little enough time to stress me out enough to actually get things done.
I actually feel like I'm being birthed right now. Its a strange analogy for anxiety, but I feel like there is a ridiculous struggle that I have no choice but to get through (so thats tomorrow where I have not one but two group oral presentations) and then everything will be better once I'm out the other side, 6pm after my class.
I know that I need to take this task one step at a time, I know that I can't possibly sleep or find other ways to procrastinate, I know that that is absolutely not an option, but I just don't wannnnaaaa...
Another thing that I need to work on is persevering through my work when it gets boring. After like an hour I get so bored of one task.
So I had an undeserved "break" and closed my eyes for like 2 seconds. An hour later and I'm back, disoriented and not ready to work at all. This semester is a disaster.
Tuesday, 14 June 2016
Made up of words
Often when I write down and analyse my various states of being, I am unable to see the temporary nature of these states and assess them as if they have always been there and will always be there. When I felt hopeless the other night, the deep depression I felt inspired me to philosophise over my absolute and final loss of hope.
But that feeling didn't last. I pushed myself to work, got too tired, went home to sleep for 3 hours and accidentally slept for 9, worked a little more, became extremely anxious and had my mum sit with me while I finished off my assignment and then experienced a rush of happiness and ambition after submitting (which I think is related to being free of Matt's friendship).
I wrote a list of all the things I hope to achieve, I cleaned out my wardrobe, I again felt like my life would be worth living. But I didn't take this feeling for granted, like I did with the depressed one. Perhaps there is something inherently sticky about the nature of depressed feelings which blocks out any realistic or in fact alternative perspectives.
I'm currently taking a course in self-writing, well I just completed it actually, shout out to my mother for her help. In this course we learned about the different ways to express the self and how over history their has been an evolving definition of what this self actually is. The course emphasised the process of writing as a sort of self discovery process to get at your true self; who you really are hidden under all that cultural influence and societal construct.
This blog presents a disjointed, contradictory girl who doesn't want men to dictate her life, but makes choices based solely on men, who "never" leaves her state of depression but at the same time samples from the lighter end of the emotional spectrum. Who hates study, can see no value in it, but also loves what she's learning and is ambitious to do well.
All these contrary parts of me, somehow fit together and make me who I am, and one day this will be all there is of me... creeeepy.
I am fond of this idea of using this as a self record, for my own gain to explore what it means to be me. I very much like the idea of noticing things about myself that I wouldn't have otherwise noticed.
The first self-aware observation I would like to make is that when I am depressed, I look inward and I look back and I process, and I process, and I wait to be lifted out, sometimes its awhile but my mood is consistent in its seesaw motion. On the other hand, when I am happy, I look forward, I make plans, I have ideas, and I look at the actions I can do, not looking outward but more just focusing on the task at hand. This mood I can slip very easily out of, like a slippery dip of realisation that happiness is fleeting, but this happens less than it used to. In happiness I can become lazy and too content and instead of waiting to be pulled up, I get distracted and before I know it I look around and see that I've been pulled back down; my mood is consistent in its seesaw motion.
But that feeling didn't last. I pushed myself to work, got too tired, went home to sleep for 3 hours and accidentally slept for 9, worked a little more, became extremely anxious and had my mum sit with me while I finished off my assignment and then experienced a rush of happiness and ambition after submitting (which I think is related to being free of Matt's friendship).
I wrote a list of all the things I hope to achieve, I cleaned out my wardrobe, I again felt like my life would be worth living. But I didn't take this feeling for granted, like I did with the depressed one. Perhaps there is something inherently sticky about the nature of depressed feelings which blocks out any realistic or in fact alternative perspectives.
I'm currently taking a course in self-writing, well I just completed it actually, shout out to my mother for her help. In this course we learned about the different ways to express the self and how over history their has been an evolving definition of what this self actually is. The course emphasised the process of writing as a sort of self discovery process to get at your true self; who you really are hidden under all that cultural influence and societal construct.
This blog presents a disjointed, contradictory girl who doesn't want men to dictate her life, but makes choices based solely on men, who "never" leaves her state of depression but at the same time samples from the lighter end of the emotional spectrum. Who hates study, can see no value in it, but also loves what she's learning and is ambitious to do well.
All these contrary parts of me, somehow fit together and make me who I am, and one day this will be all there is of me... creeeepy.
I am fond of this idea of using this as a self record, for my own gain to explore what it means to be me. I very much like the idea of noticing things about myself that I wouldn't have otherwise noticed.
The first self-aware observation I would like to make is that when I am depressed, I look inward and I look back and I process, and I process, and I wait to be lifted out, sometimes its awhile but my mood is consistent in its seesaw motion. On the other hand, when I am happy, I look forward, I make plans, I have ideas, and I look at the actions I can do, not looking outward but more just focusing on the task at hand. This mood I can slip very easily out of, like a slippery dip of realisation that happiness is fleeting, but this happens less than it used to. In happiness I can become lazy and too content and instead of waiting to be pulled up, I get distracted and before I know it I look around and see that I've been pulled back down; my mood is consistent in its seesaw motion.
Sunday, 12 June 2016
giving up matt and trying to care about uni
and its down to the last minute again and I am so under-prepared and have so little motivation to finish. I don't want to do it. There is nothing in me that makes me want to do this.
I spent all of last night waiting around for Matt, getting upset with how little he considers me, finally talking to Matt and then deciding to never see Matt again, writing a letter to Matt telling him how much I care about him and then getting sad about Matt again. I feel like I can heal from him now though, so that's nice. No more thinking about Matt!
How can I push myself to do this work? I still want to get super hot and amazingly cool so that next time I see Matt - probably in a year's time, maybe in 5 months he is attracted to me.
It just occurred to me that I may never see him again in my entire life. That fact is really hard to swallow. He said if I needed him I could always call but the only thing I need from him is his love, and that is not on offer. What's the point of trying to get hot if I know that I'll never see him. Is that how shallow I have become? Is that how reliant on his approval I actually am. Ok I'll make a pact with myself that if I haven't seen him for a year, I will go visit him. That way its not such an indefinite separation, and it will make it easier to bear. We will always be friends, but I will always love him, so I don't have to worry about him not seeing me when I want to see him, because of course he will want to.
No more thinking about Matt! seriously considering a one night stand so I can move on properly. But I don't know how to instigate that.
So is there anything inside me that wants to pass my subjects at uni? Do I have any inspiring force within me that wants a degree, or wants a good life with a successful career? I think my problem is that often what I use to motivate me is this feeling of hope that's buried deep down. Hope that life has meaning, hope that what I do will impress someone else, or help someone else, or will in some way be relational so its not just me screaming into an empty room. Hope that one day my life will be about finding the beauty in everyday and living in the moment (eg learning to cook, hosting dinner parties, living in and exploring the city) but that source of hope is hard to find when I'm depressed. How do I tap into something that isn't there anymore.
I need something more substantial, something more external, something I can actually control. A time-frame, rewards, no I need something that will inspire me to get it done. I just care less and less about everything around and inside me its hard to make me care enough about this.
Ok. I've got it. I need to pretend its a job. Its my employment and my boss needs me to finish off this essay by tomorrow at midnight. Too bad if you're job sucks, if you don't do it, you'll get fired. Ok so the first thing that happens at a job, is I get a list of tasks to complete.
Right now I need to compile this list. I can do this, one step at a time. One teeny tiny baby step at a time. Fuck.
I spent all of last night waiting around for Matt, getting upset with how little he considers me, finally talking to Matt and then deciding to never see Matt again, writing a letter to Matt telling him how much I care about him and then getting sad about Matt again. I feel like I can heal from him now though, so that's nice. No more thinking about Matt!
How can I push myself to do this work? I still want to get super hot and amazingly cool so that next time I see Matt - probably in a year's time, maybe in 5 months he is attracted to me.
It just occurred to me that I may never see him again in my entire life. That fact is really hard to swallow. He said if I needed him I could always call but the only thing I need from him is his love, and that is not on offer. What's the point of trying to get hot if I know that I'll never see him. Is that how shallow I have become? Is that how reliant on his approval I actually am. Ok I'll make a pact with myself that if I haven't seen him for a year, I will go visit him. That way its not such an indefinite separation, and it will make it easier to bear. We will always be friends, but I will always love him, so I don't have to worry about him not seeing me when I want to see him, because of course he will want to.
No more thinking about Matt! seriously considering a one night stand so I can move on properly. But I don't know how to instigate that.
So is there anything inside me that wants to pass my subjects at uni? Do I have any inspiring force within me that wants a degree, or wants a good life with a successful career? I think my problem is that often what I use to motivate me is this feeling of hope that's buried deep down. Hope that life has meaning, hope that what I do will impress someone else, or help someone else, or will in some way be relational so its not just me screaming into an empty room. Hope that one day my life will be about finding the beauty in everyday and living in the moment (eg learning to cook, hosting dinner parties, living in and exploring the city) but that source of hope is hard to find when I'm depressed. How do I tap into something that isn't there anymore.
I need something more substantial, something more external, something I can actually control. A time-frame, rewards, no I need something that will inspire me to get it done. I just care less and less about everything around and inside me its hard to make me care enough about this.
Ok. I've got it. I need to pretend its a job. Its my employment and my boss needs me to finish off this essay by tomorrow at midnight. Too bad if you're job sucks, if you don't do it, you'll get fired. Ok so the first thing that happens at a job, is I get a list of tasks to complete.
Right now I need to compile this list. I can do this, one step at a time. One teeny tiny baby step at a time. Fuck.
Monday, 30 May 2016
I'm reinventing myself..
Things have been moving too slowly, and I have not had ambition for some time, so this surge of whatever this is, motivation, unexplainable genuine contentment, sugar rush, I'm going to grasp it by the horns.
I started the way any 20-something woman begins a journey of this callibre, by doing a face mask and hair mask and whitening my teeth. That reminds me I should probably do some power posing so I can conquer the world with posture as well as complexion.
It's my birthday, I have the best day full of free birthday deals and bouncing and laughing, planned. But I need to complete my homework before I'm allowed any cajoling. Why aren't I doing it now, instead of this blog post you ask?.. good question! but I'll have you not interrupt me while I'm going through multiple epiphanies.
I want this writing thing to start growing in momentum and it seems to have slowed down a lot due to laziness and ingenuity.. no wait the other one, that means the opposite.. ungenuity? Not having any ideas.. So my plan is to live blog post all of my birthday happenings, firstly because writing makes me so happy and I want to spend my birthday doing only things that make me happy, and secondly because it's just the type of push I need.
Each blog post I will set a challenge for the next post, to keep the momentum going. (I will possibly just do some boring writing exercises at some point). So my next challenge (which will wait until after my homework) is to write a list of blog post ideas that I can complete today.
Strap yourselves in everybody. This is going to be CRAZY!!
The scales tipped back to positive
I've been slowly but surely feeling more positive about life. This positivity has ebbed and flowed and never overwhelmed me enough to inspire creativity (specifically in the form of blog posts) and so it seems a stark contrast to the bleak shit I've been posting recently. But sure enough my scales are tipping back to even, one happy thought or sad acceptance at a time.
I've picked myself up against the weight of university stress (well, I do nothing on my own, truth be told) by imagining each task I accomplish as a physical weight off my shoulders, and once its done I breathe deeper and say 'see, look how much more room for air there is in your lungs now'.
I picked back up a series that I left off before I knew any of the men that now worry my heart, and before I had tasted any of the rejection that's bitter taste is still on my tongue. It reminded me that I was a whole person before they took some of me, and that I can be that person again, and take joy in little things like television drama.
I'm slowly becoming okay with my imperfections, I covered it up before by assuring myself that I could be a model if I just lost a bit of weight (20 kgs) and tried harder with my appearance, but that did nothing to solve the underlying problem, it just left it til later. I have a scar above my right eyebrow (your left) that's not going away, I'm beginning to get cellulite, and apparently varicose veins are a thing in my gene pool and they're starting to show up. This particularly disheartened me greatly, because I still have that fear that I'm not attractive enough to attract the type of man I want in my life. But at least I know now that I need to accept what I have and not compare myself to my model sisters, and that feels better than hoping (in vain) to look like them (you know, as soon as I can figure out how to contour)
I think I was too quick to speak about the lack of effect giving up trying with guys had on me. Now that I've given it more time to settle in, and gotten used to not jumping straight onto tinder as a coping mechanism, I feel like it was a good choice, and that it will allow my head to clear and my brain to focus on more important things than validation, like ambition and passing uni and being faithful to my friendships and growing in my understanding of and relationship with Jesus and becoming a kind and considerate person again even when its not seemingly making a difference to anyone (this one is an enormous struggle)
To continue this positive vibe, this is a poem I wrote about poetry for my poetry class.
It's called "Poetry Is"
I've picked myself up against the weight of university stress (well, I do nothing on my own, truth be told) by imagining each task I accomplish as a physical weight off my shoulders, and once its done I breathe deeper and say 'see, look how much more room for air there is in your lungs now'.
I picked back up a series that I left off before I knew any of the men that now worry my heart, and before I had tasted any of the rejection that's bitter taste is still on my tongue. It reminded me that I was a whole person before they took some of me, and that I can be that person again, and take joy in little things like television drama.
I'm slowly becoming okay with my imperfections, I covered it up before by assuring myself that I could be a model if I just lost a bit of weight (20 kgs) and tried harder with my appearance, but that did nothing to solve the underlying problem, it just left it til later. I have a scar above my right eyebrow (your left) that's not going away, I'm beginning to get cellulite, and apparently varicose veins are a thing in my gene pool and they're starting to show up. This particularly disheartened me greatly, because I still have that fear that I'm not attractive enough to attract the type of man I want in my life. But at least I know now that I need to accept what I have and not compare myself to my model sisters, and that feels better than hoping (in vain) to look like them (you know, as soon as I can figure out how to contour)
I think I was too quick to speak about the lack of effect giving up trying with guys had on me. Now that I've given it more time to settle in, and gotten used to not jumping straight onto tinder as a coping mechanism, I feel like it was a good choice, and that it will allow my head to clear and my brain to focus on more important things than validation, like ambition and passing uni and being faithful to my friendships and growing in my understanding of and relationship with Jesus and becoming a kind and considerate person again even when its not seemingly making a difference to anyone (this one is an enormous struggle)
To continue this positive vibe, this is a poem I wrote about poetry for my poetry class.
It's called "Poetry Is"
A deep breath finally exhaled after
months held inside
letting yourself be lost or found,
having tried so long to hide
that soft shoulder that makes it all go
away
your convoluted point finally
conveyed
stepping into the last gold rays of
light
hitting city walls and bouncing off
grey pavements
stepping out of the flash of flickering
fluorescent
seeing the orange amber sun sucked
under ocean line
after staring at a screen all day
drinking in colour after all those
different shades of grey
noticing that small child shrieking at
the birds reactions to tiny bits of bread
after days of suffocating in, being
blinded by, the negativity of your own head
pushing everything off and letting only
the swaying shadow of tree branches burden closed eyelids
brief snatches of gentle singing that
cause you to pause at your sisters door and be lifted
the sun warming your back on a bitter
cold day
the cooling breeze that you open your
door to at the end of a boiling one
its the slow and sure untangling of
confusion and despair with words
knowing yourself more, exploring that
and sharpening the blurred
its looking at the untangled string in
sad and steady acceptance
the laughter held back and burst out in
the middle of a fight
the hours spent practicing getting the
wording just right
being entirely you and letting that
flow from your mouth, your pen
Wondering at and appreciating the good
the bad, the now, the then.
Sunday, 22 May 2016
I'm giving up
I know how dramatic it sounds, but I am so done putting effort and emotional energy into this dating thing. Its making me become super sensitive to the slightest rejection. That guy on the train didn't choose the empty seat next to me, must be because I'm weird and give off a desperate vibe and probably look a bit intense of a person and he doesn't really want that kind of drama in his life right now, plus I smell bad.
I don't try and dress nice when I go to cafes anymore. I don't smile at strangers, I can't let my hopes get up in anyway because it hurts more and more every time they crash to the ground along with my dignity and self worth.
I thought this would free me from getting sad about guys, but it turns out I only feel more depressed. I've given up hope, I've stopped trying to get validation from guys but I still care deeply when I don't get it. I don't really know how to describe this feeling. But I know that all I want to do is lie down and stare into space until I fade out of existence. My brain can't focus on one thought for any long period of time, its all just kind of foggy.
I feel so low, I can't study, I can't concentrate or feel in any way motivated or hopeful that I will succeed at uni this semester.
Maybe its not that I'm a perfectionist, and so would prefer to fail something than hand up something mediocre. Maybe its that I have no desire to succeed, because it won't bring me joy, because nothing brings me joy or satisfaction or fulfillment anymore.
Metaphors for how I feel. A cup with a crack in it, thats being filled slower than the water is leaking out of it. A bird without feet to land on. floating in the ocean but whenever i try and swim to shore i get further away, so there is a violent struggle every few minutes and then I give up because my efforts are not only futile but negative, and i can only float, waiting to die, A jar thats saved for some mysterious purpose but never used. A young 20-something girl who has no idea what she wants in life and so spends her times flitting between passions and goals never being able to settle on one and so ends up exhausted and nowhere. Someone who can't decide between chinese or indian food and so walks back and forth between the two restaurants for hours.
Limbo, I'm in limbo between so many different destinations. I don't want to be single, but I don't want to make an effort to date. I don't want to fail uni, but I have no real desire or motivation to succeed at uni, I don't want to be isolated but I don't want to embarrass myself socially and beat myself up for weeks afterwards (aka be social), I want to be self destructive and make myself fat and ugly but I also want to get fit and be confident. I don't want to live at home anymore but I don't want to leave.
I don't try and dress nice when I go to cafes anymore. I don't smile at strangers, I can't let my hopes get up in anyway because it hurts more and more every time they crash to the ground along with my dignity and self worth.
I thought this would free me from getting sad about guys, but it turns out I only feel more depressed. I've given up hope, I've stopped trying to get validation from guys but I still care deeply when I don't get it. I don't really know how to describe this feeling. But I know that all I want to do is lie down and stare into space until I fade out of existence. My brain can't focus on one thought for any long period of time, its all just kind of foggy.
I feel so low, I can't study, I can't concentrate or feel in any way motivated or hopeful that I will succeed at uni this semester.
Maybe its not that I'm a perfectionist, and so would prefer to fail something than hand up something mediocre. Maybe its that I have no desire to succeed, because it won't bring me joy, because nothing brings me joy or satisfaction or fulfillment anymore.
Metaphors for how I feel. A cup with a crack in it, thats being filled slower than the water is leaking out of it. A bird without feet to land on. floating in the ocean but whenever i try and swim to shore i get further away, so there is a violent struggle every few minutes and then I give up because my efforts are not only futile but negative, and i can only float, waiting to die, A jar thats saved for some mysterious purpose but never used. A young 20-something girl who has no idea what she wants in life and so spends her times flitting between passions and goals never being able to settle on one and so ends up exhausted and nowhere. Someone who can't decide between chinese or indian food and so walks back and forth between the two restaurants for hours.
Limbo, I'm in limbo between so many different destinations. I don't want to be single, but I don't want to make an effort to date. I don't want to fail uni, but I have no real desire or motivation to succeed at uni, I don't want to be isolated but I don't want to embarrass myself socially and beat myself up for weeks afterwards (aka be social), I want to be self destructive and make myself fat and ugly but I also want to get fit and be confident. I don't want to live at home anymore but I don't want to leave.
Sunday, 8 May 2016
The immense complexity of life and how all I can talk about is boys
The more beautiful, amazingly crafted, intelligent novels I read, the more inadequate I feel to in any way attempt to become a writer. That poorly constructed sentence should really be evidence enough.
I have recently been worried that there aren't enough beautiful things in the world to wonder over, and there aren't enough complex emotions to explore, and that all of the stories have been told again and again, and there is nothing worth writing any more. But what it actually is, is that I'm blind.
My narrow view of the world, through this lense that only cares about validation in the form of the approval of men, is making me bored with life. But the world is full of a million things a hundred times more interesting and more important than romantic everlasting love. There is love in all its other forms, there is the feeling of connectedness and belonging to the web of family or society, there is isolation. There are so many feelings that I am completely unaware of. Its like out of all the flavours the world has to offer I've only tasted sugar and vinegar.
I have a friend that's a chef, well friend, ex lover whom I hate, whatever, and he introduced me to all these different spices to cook with and how to mix them together. My life is enriched. I want to find this in the real world, find the tumeric and paprika that I know I'm missing out on.
Turning 24 soon, means that I've already experienced most of the emotions I'm ever going to feel. I've had anxiety which means I experienced ridiculous amounts of panic and fear, I've experienced the confusion of the sudden onset of depression, through which I felt numb, detached and like nothing would ever ground me, where self harm was my only relief, I've been massively and intensely heart broken, I've felt a relief to know what it was to be sad over something tangible rather than the ellusive highschool mental illness, I found that it didn't make it easier, but made it make more sense, I've experienced the depths of depression where at random points I would fall on the floor crying, I've been betrayed and lied to, I've experienced insane jealousy and murderous cravings of revenge, I've been pulled into a spiral of self hatred and and of taking the heart breaker back, which made less and less sense until it was a confusing self destructive love hate torture I would subject myself to, I've experienced being convinced that I would never be happy ever again as long as they remained together, I've experienced cutting ties and the slow process of healing, I've experienced waking up one day to be surprised that I had a whole day happy, I've experienced someone else saving me, I've experienced feeling loved and cared for by my family, I've felt desired by men, I've felt rejected by men, embarrassed, ashamed, guilty, sinful, achieved, excited, overwhelmed, in awe, thirsty, quenched, lost, found.
I haven't experienced grief, no one super close to me has ever died, I've never experienced childbirth or the loss of a child or the joy of having a child, I've never experienced feeling secure in a relationship, or the feeling of someone else loving me, but I have experienced the happiness that comes about with love, and the grief that comes with it being unrequited, and the healthy solid feeling of a proper breakup rather than a cycle of destructive confusion and best friends.
I want to write about what makes life beautiful, and right now I can't see what that is, Because everything beautiful is tainted with death and grief and ugly. Children die, and poverty exists at the same time as multibillionaires, and lovers leave, and your body deteriorates, ever growing closer to death, and the world is polluted and the bees are dying and the love I show other people is wasted and does nothing to help anyone and nothing is new or special or magical anymore, its been shone with the light of cynicism and mistrust.
Happy endings come down to connections and belonging. They love each other, they find their family, whatever they won meant that those people they know get that thing they wanted, they made a difference to someone.
I don't know about my connections. Even from my family I feel detached. A friend attempted suicide for the 2nd or 3rd time and I couldn't feel anything for it, its happened so often (a few times with other friends) with no resulting death. Do I believe in God anymore, well I believe but do I know him anymore, am I in any kind of relationship with him, is He really all that is missing from my lack of connection to the world. Jesus, why did I leave you for mortal men? Mortal men suck, and you have undeserved, unending, unfathomably large amounts of love for me. Sex is a powerful deceiver in that it gives me exactly what I want for about two seconds (or 20 minutes), I get to feel connected and close with someone, and my presence makes a difference to someone. You can't give me that type of connection, you can't even hug me. Your love is better, but different, why do I still crave the lesser?
I have recently been worried that there aren't enough beautiful things in the world to wonder over, and there aren't enough complex emotions to explore, and that all of the stories have been told again and again, and there is nothing worth writing any more. But what it actually is, is that I'm blind.
My narrow view of the world, through this lense that only cares about validation in the form of the approval of men, is making me bored with life. But the world is full of a million things a hundred times more interesting and more important than romantic everlasting love. There is love in all its other forms, there is the feeling of connectedness and belonging to the web of family or society, there is isolation. There are so many feelings that I am completely unaware of. Its like out of all the flavours the world has to offer I've only tasted sugar and vinegar.
I have a friend that's a chef, well friend, ex lover whom I hate, whatever, and he introduced me to all these different spices to cook with and how to mix them together. My life is enriched. I want to find this in the real world, find the tumeric and paprika that I know I'm missing out on.
Turning 24 soon, means that I've already experienced most of the emotions I'm ever going to feel. I've had anxiety which means I experienced ridiculous amounts of panic and fear, I've experienced the confusion of the sudden onset of depression, through which I felt numb, detached and like nothing would ever ground me, where self harm was my only relief, I've been massively and intensely heart broken, I've felt a relief to know what it was to be sad over something tangible rather than the ellusive highschool mental illness, I found that it didn't make it easier, but made it make more sense, I've experienced the depths of depression where at random points I would fall on the floor crying, I've been betrayed and lied to, I've experienced insane jealousy and murderous cravings of revenge, I've been pulled into a spiral of self hatred and and of taking the heart breaker back, which made less and less sense until it was a confusing self destructive love hate torture I would subject myself to, I've experienced being convinced that I would never be happy ever again as long as they remained together, I've experienced cutting ties and the slow process of healing, I've experienced waking up one day to be surprised that I had a whole day happy, I've experienced someone else saving me, I've experienced feeling loved and cared for by my family, I've felt desired by men, I've felt rejected by men, embarrassed, ashamed, guilty, sinful, achieved, excited, overwhelmed, in awe, thirsty, quenched, lost, found.
I haven't experienced grief, no one super close to me has ever died, I've never experienced childbirth or the loss of a child or the joy of having a child, I've never experienced feeling secure in a relationship, or the feeling of someone else loving me, but I have experienced the happiness that comes about with love, and the grief that comes with it being unrequited, and the healthy solid feeling of a proper breakup rather than a cycle of destructive confusion and best friends.
I want to write about what makes life beautiful, and right now I can't see what that is, Because everything beautiful is tainted with death and grief and ugly. Children die, and poverty exists at the same time as multibillionaires, and lovers leave, and your body deteriorates, ever growing closer to death, and the world is polluted and the bees are dying and the love I show other people is wasted and does nothing to help anyone and nothing is new or special or magical anymore, its been shone with the light of cynicism and mistrust.
Happy endings come down to connections and belonging. They love each other, they find their family, whatever they won meant that those people they know get that thing they wanted, they made a difference to someone.
I don't know about my connections. Even from my family I feel detached. A friend attempted suicide for the 2nd or 3rd time and I couldn't feel anything for it, its happened so often (a few times with other friends) with no resulting death. Do I believe in God anymore, well I believe but do I know him anymore, am I in any kind of relationship with him, is He really all that is missing from my lack of connection to the world. Jesus, why did I leave you for mortal men? Mortal men suck, and you have undeserved, unending, unfathomably large amounts of love for me. Sex is a powerful deceiver in that it gives me exactly what I want for about two seconds (or 20 minutes), I get to feel connected and close with someone, and my presence makes a difference to someone. You can't give me that type of connection, you can't even hug me. Your love is better, but different, why do I still crave the lesser?
Saturday, 23 April 2016
I don't sing anymore
I used to find every opportunity I could to sing, be it in my car, practising scales, singing Disney in the shower or belting out Les Mis when no one else was home. I loved it, and the louder the better. I don't do this any more. Whatever spark was inside me that inspired such an outpouring of my soul is now dulled beyond comprehension. Is it just the guy thing? I put a lot of emphasis on connections and relationships and making someone else happy seems to be at the top of the list of things that make me happy, so the fact that nobody likes me kind of tears away at the very centre of my being.
Or is it something else? Each time I pick up the guitar now I just think what's the point and end up throwing it down and lying on my bed for long periods of time.
I have a theory I've recently developed that when people lose hope in the world, or faith in humanity or become cynical beyond repair, its not because not enough people were nice to them, or they didn't witness enough decent human beings, but it was that their own acts of kindness made no difference to anyone, and the friend they tried to help remained unhelped and their encouragements fell on deaf ears.
Maybe this has something to do with why I'm down. Theorising over my depression is probably not the most helpful thing to do psychologically speaking, as in the process means I have to dwell in this darkness rather than try to find a way out. But I want to understand it.
Last Christmas I realised that I was no longer a nice person. This used to be my main identifier, the one adjective I could feel confident everyone agreed upon about me. But not realising that I wasn't even that any more. The ground felt as if it was being pulled from underneath me, I didn't know who I was and it feels like I've been living in this empty shell trying to fake the person I used to be ever since. Maybe this has something to do with my depression. But even in that state I would still sing.
I'm losing more and more parts of myself, I've stopped smiling at strangers, and I smile at friends less and less.
These are all philosophical reasons, but the one I feel most strongly about is the one about boys. I don't know how to try at this whole dating game thing without getting depressed at every rejection. I feel like I want to renounce men completely from my life, because it hurts me so much every time they don't message back, I had someone unmatch me after I said hi on tinder the other day. But the life of loneliness, isolation, and sleeping alone with no one who cares about me and no one to care for, is laid out before me whenever I consider that option and I don't know what's worse. It seems that the only two options I have are constant embarrassment, rejection and feeling unworthy in the impossible-to-win dating game, or a life alone, and devoid of love or meaning.
OK I'm starting to understand my depression a little more now,..
...Yay ...I feel sooo much better now.. (deep seething sarcasm intended).
Or is it something else? Each time I pick up the guitar now I just think what's the point and end up throwing it down and lying on my bed for long periods of time.
I have a theory I've recently developed that when people lose hope in the world, or faith in humanity or become cynical beyond repair, its not because not enough people were nice to them, or they didn't witness enough decent human beings, but it was that their own acts of kindness made no difference to anyone, and the friend they tried to help remained unhelped and their encouragements fell on deaf ears.
Maybe this has something to do with why I'm down. Theorising over my depression is probably not the most helpful thing to do psychologically speaking, as in the process means I have to dwell in this darkness rather than try to find a way out. But I want to understand it.
Last Christmas I realised that I was no longer a nice person. This used to be my main identifier, the one adjective I could feel confident everyone agreed upon about me. But not realising that I wasn't even that any more. The ground felt as if it was being pulled from underneath me, I didn't know who I was and it feels like I've been living in this empty shell trying to fake the person I used to be ever since. Maybe this has something to do with my depression. But even in that state I would still sing.
I'm losing more and more parts of myself, I've stopped smiling at strangers, and I smile at friends less and less.
These are all philosophical reasons, but the one I feel most strongly about is the one about boys. I don't know how to try at this whole dating game thing without getting depressed at every rejection. I feel like I want to renounce men completely from my life, because it hurts me so much every time they don't message back, I had someone unmatch me after I said hi on tinder the other day. But the life of loneliness, isolation, and sleeping alone with no one who cares about me and no one to care for, is laid out before me whenever I consider that option and I don't know what's worse. It seems that the only two options I have are constant embarrassment, rejection and feeling unworthy in the impossible-to-win dating game, or a life alone, and devoid of love or meaning.
OK I'm starting to understand my depression a little more now,..
...Yay ...I feel sooo much better now.. (deep seething sarcasm intended).
Friday, 22 April 2016
Read the other posts - this one is depressing
As this man fades from my life, as his embrace can no longer be recalled upon as a recent memory, I realise how much it was that I actually felt for him, and how hard it is to find someone else to feel the same things for.
I cry over him all the time, it still hurts me inside that he is with other women, or even worse with another woman. I hate this. I am so depressed and its been months, I should be over this by now, but I'm not. I still want him back, why does this hurt so much? I hate that I am so vulnerable and I hate that things like this affect me so much. It means that I can't give my heart away to anyone unless I am guaranteed they will never leave me, and the types of people who are guaranteed to never leave are not generally the ones you want hanging around.
His existence is worse in only memory form because I forget how unreliable and dodgy he was. He does drugs, is an alcoholic, is bad with money, and would constantly prioritise me lower than his friends, his drinking and his travels. He was still in love with his ex fiance. What is the matter with me, how could I possibly find this guy appealing.
But I did, and I do.
And i've failed a lot recently at my other attempts with guys, my confidence with men has never been lower and just the thought of trying again at dating or at tinder, is not only exhausting but brings about those feelings of disappointment, depression, rejection and heart break before i've even met anyone. It brings me so low, where I can't talk or express anything, but can only see my own shortcomings fading to black and can only feel a stabbing pain in my gut followed by numbness.
I asked for someone's number the other day, in a burst of out of character confidence, they seem keen when I'm there (3 times we've met) but have put in no effort to keep in contact with me, I'm 90% sure they are not interested in me, which is a shame because they are one of the most interesting and fun people i have ever met. And then there was my recently single friend who I thought would want to have rebound sex with me, he ended up having to politely tell me he wasn't interested in anything after several of my attempts at hooking up with him (some more drunken and less lady like than others) and the one tinder person I did meet and spent the night with, just cuddling and a little fooling around, because I don't like opening myself up to new people (my heart or my legs), and he never messaged back after two attempts on my part.
This whole not having a partner thing feels important and it feels like the longer I wait the older I'll look, the looser my skin will be, the more cynical, and the less appealing I will be to the opposite sex. So basically with every year that goes past I have not only less options, but less chance at making someone like me.
I know that there are good, likeable points about me, and I can't see what I'm doing wrong. I am growing more and more frustrated at how much I fail at this and I'm losing my ability to be happy and cheerful in group situations, like going out to town, and no one wants to hit on a depressed person.
I cry over him all the time, it still hurts me inside that he is with other women, or even worse with another woman. I hate this. I am so depressed and its been months, I should be over this by now, but I'm not. I still want him back, why does this hurt so much? I hate that I am so vulnerable and I hate that things like this affect me so much. It means that I can't give my heart away to anyone unless I am guaranteed they will never leave me, and the types of people who are guaranteed to never leave are not generally the ones you want hanging around.
His existence is worse in only memory form because I forget how unreliable and dodgy he was. He does drugs, is an alcoholic, is bad with money, and would constantly prioritise me lower than his friends, his drinking and his travels. He was still in love with his ex fiance. What is the matter with me, how could I possibly find this guy appealing.
But I did, and I do.
And i've failed a lot recently at my other attempts with guys, my confidence with men has never been lower and just the thought of trying again at dating or at tinder, is not only exhausting but brings about those feelings of disappointment, depression, rejection and heart break before i've even met anyone. It brings me so low, where I can't talk or express anything, but can only see my own shortcomings fading to black and can only feel a stabbing pain in my gut followed by numbness.
I asked for someone's number the other day, in a burst of out of character confidence, they seem keen when I'm there (3 times we've met) but have put in no effort to keep in contact with me, I'm 90% sure they are not interested in me, which is a shame because they are one of the most interesting and fun people i have ever met. And then there was my recently single friend who I thought would want to have rebound sex with me, he ended up having to politely tell me he wasn't interested in anything after several of my attempts at hooking up with him (some more drunken and less lady like than others) and the one tinder person I did meet and spent the night with, just cuddling and a little fooling around, because I don't like opening myself up to new people (my heart or my legs), and he never messaged back after two attempts on my part.
This whole not having a partner thing feels important and it feels like the longer I wait the older I'll look, the looser my skin will be, the more cynical, and the less appealing I will be to the opposite sex. So basically with every year that goes past I have not only less options, but less chance at making someone like me.
I know that there are good, likeable points about me, and I can't see what I'm doing wrong. I am growing more and more frustrated at how much I fail at this and I'm losing my ability to be happy and cheerful in group situations, like going out to town, and no one wants to hit on a depressed person.
Tuesday, 16 February 2016
Love Might Be Vision Impaired
I never understood the phrase love is blind. First of all love is a concept, or a feeling, and doesn't actually encompass a physical body, let alone have eyes to not be able to see with. And second of all I always thought the point of love was that you loved in spite of people's shortcomings (you can't spite things you can't see, I've tried, it just doesn't work).
However as I am falling out of love I'm beginning to understand. I'm pretty sure that's what I was in, love. It was yet to fully bloom when cut short by the "I can't do this right now" conversation and about 1600 km between us, but the bud was there, that warm happy safe feeling, somewhere between elation and contentment. I would never admit this to mr 'lets just keep things casual', mind you.
As this feeling is slowly dying, and by that I mean all of those warm fuzzies have turned into fuck you's and facebook stalking and drinking too much and hating every other girl he casually sees and getting way too concerned whether or not he actually could "do this right now" but just not with me, I'm starting to see how blind I was.
There is a chance that if he liked me as much as I liked him, then the issues that I swept under the rug, the not messaging me back when he knew I was hanging around near his hostel waiting for dinner plans, the leaving me waiting in my car for 40 minutes because he got caught up with a mate, the not following through with calling me "in a bit" so i'm left waiting around like an idiot, there's a chance that they wouldn't have existed, because in his brain or his heart if you want to get sentimental (I know I do!) he would have naturally thought to put me first, and would have naturally been more considerate of my feelings, or even my existence.
But he was not and I'm starting to see how much of a liar he is. I cannot be blamed entirely for my ignorance because this particular gentleman is so genuinely kind hearted. I know, the absolute fucking worst! Where he fails is in his thoughtlessness in what he says and promises. There is no connect between saying we'll catch up that night, and actual intent to catch up that night. He is a compulsive promiser and also bends the truth to avoid confrontation. I think in his simple way he just wants to make everyone happy and not disappoint anyone so says whatever it takes to diffuse a potentially negative situation. Like once over the phone he said he had to go and I responded "aww but I like talking to you". He rushed to promise to call me the next day, thinking he'd upset me by leaving. Credit to him, he actually did that one, but it was a completely unnecessary promise and followed by many others he did break.
It was so frustrating for him to promise one thing, and then completely forget I existed (or completely forget to reply to messages) I felt like such a fool every time I believed him and he let me down, and I did believe him every single time.
Why would I not assume that he was telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
All of this was not an issue for me at all at the time. I was hurt when he didn't think of me, but I'd forgive him so readily and so easily, he'd just have to smile at me and my heart was completely his once again, free from any bitterness or resentment that 'm starting to think he deserved.
So is love really blind, or do the feelings of rejection and jealousy just have amazing vision much too refined and no where near as forgiving as its more amiable counterparts?
However as I am falling out of love I'm beginning to understand. I'm pretty sure that's what I was in, love. It was yet to fully bloom when cut short by the "I can't do this right now" conversation and about 1600 km between us, but the bud was there, that warm happy safe feeling, somewhere between elation and contentment. I would never admit this to mr 'lets just keep things casual', mind you.
As this feeling is slowly dying, and by that I mean all of those warm fuzzies have turned into fuck you's and facebook stalking and drinking too much and hating every other girl he casually sees and getting way too concerned whether or not he actually could "do this right now" but just not with me, I'm starting to see how blind I was.
There is a chance that if he liked me as much as I liked him, then the issues that I swept under the rug, the not messaging me back when he knew I was hanging around near his hostel waiting for dinner plans, the leaving me waiting in my car for 40 minutes because he got caught up with a mate, the not following through with calling me "in a bit" so i'm left waiting around like an idiot, there's a chance that they wouldn't have existed, because in his brain or his heart if you want to get sentimental (I know I do!) he would have naturally thought to put me first, and would have naturally been more considerate of my feelings, or even my existence.
But he was not and I'm starting to see how much of a liar he is. I cannot be blamed entirely for my ignorance because this particular gentleman is so genuinely kind hearted. I know, the absolute fucking worst! Where he fails is in his thoughtlessness in what he says and promises. There is no connect between saying we'll catch up that night, and actual intent to catch up that night. He is a compulsive promiser and also bends the truth to avoid confrontation. I think in his simple way he just wants to make everyone happy and not disappoint anyone so says whatever it takes to diffuse a potentially negative situation. Like once over the phone he said he had to go and I responded "aww but I like talking to you". He rushed to promise to call me the next day, thinking he'd upset me by leaving. Credit to him, he actually did that one, but it was a completely unnecessary promise and followed by many others he did break.
It was so frustrating for him to promise one thing, and then completely forget I existed (or completely forget to reply to messages) I felt like such a fool every time I believed him and he let me down, and I did believe him every single time.
Why would I not assume that he was telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
All of this was not an issue for me at all at the time. I was hurt when he didn't think of me, but I'd forgive him so readily and so easily, he'd just have to smile at me and my heart was completely his once again, free from any bitterness or resentment that 'm starting to think he deserved.
So is love really blind, or do the feelings of rejection and jealousy just have amazing vision much too refined and no where near as forgiving as its more amiable counterparts?
Tuesday, 2 February 2016
and then I met Him
I was starting to get used to casual dating and to going out and partying and seeing where the night would lead me, I started to fall in love with being single and not having any particular guy to centre my thoughts around. And then I met HIM. My carefree attitude suddenly started to care, my anxiety was creeping back in, and I was beginning to follow my old patterns of behavior that I thought I'd shaken. You know the patterns, checking your phone all the time, staring and staring at the same 5 photos, obsessing over 9 words of text and finding significance in whether something was hyphenated or not.
I'm not normally like this. I am a normal, fully functioning, human woman. But as soon as a guy gets in my head, then everything changes, and I forget how long my keys were supposed to be in the iron left on.
I had never been as attracted to 5 photos before in my life. It was his smile, and his hair and his tattoos and his skiny body with lean muscle mass that I just wanted to run my fingers down.. yeah but it was mainly his smile. He just looked so happy and friendly, and his bio seemed super lovely and he was a nerd!! My favourite kind of person (when it is teamed with appropriate social skills that is). This was by far the best thing tinder had ever given me.
We chatted for a bit, and I was trying insanely hard to seem normal and cavalier about all things whilst also being devilishly witty and ever so slightly flirtatious. It was exhausting but I managed to pull it off as he wanted to meet me!! This never happens to me. Because every single guy thus far in my life, I have settled for, deciding to not be shallow or trying to be a good person and learning to love them despite the several personality traits or physical characteristics I'm not fond of (even my first love was "learnt" in this way). Either that or I have genuinely liked someone and they have not reciprocated in the slightest.
This was the very first time that someone whom I had a crush on, RECIPROCATED! The church bells rang loud, and the birds were singing, and there was sunshine and rainbows on every old timey street corner shop with children playing outside and fucking candy and gumdrops and smiles everywhere. It was a good day, but this excitement of mine was slightly stunted by his.. lack of communication skills, shall we call them?
We talked of doing something Saturday night, what? saturday? OK!! shave's legs, hair treatment, choose outfit, put sally hanson on, file and paint nails, all whist singing songs from the 1950's (the happiest era for music). Not even the minor hiccup of him not replying to my 'hey still keen for tonight message' would bring my mood down, except for at 8pm when it brought me down massively. I hid my deep disappointment by going out dancing with my sister, but my nutbush just didn't have the same heart in it. He apologised later and I discovered he had the seemingly legitimate reason of no internet access but what about tomorrow instead?
What? Sunday? OK!! I'm meeting friends at the beach, but you can come too if you'd like! Reshave legs, nails still look amazing, pick most flattering bathers, make sure to not eat anything that will bloat me, actually don't eat anything at all, do hair so that it will stay nice even when it gets wet, drink lots of water so my skin looks nice, pluck eyebrows, bring moisturiser to the beach in case I dry out. "Hey, you coming today?".... hours later.... nothing... "hey, my phones about to go flat, so if you do end up coming, we'll be just near the jetty for a few more hours".... Phone dies. ... and nothing.
Power up. "oh heyy! sorry, I was getting some drinks with friends after work, here's my number, maybe I'll talk to you later."
We chatted for a bit in the much more intimate medium of text messaging, and decided on Monday night plans. It was all set, except a few hours before he mentioned that he wanted to meet a friend coming back from melbourne so asked to move it back by about an hour. I was already in the city for a class, a class that I'd told him about, that one that we'd planned our meeting around, but sure that's fine, I'll just sit in the city waiting around for you. I have a book, so why would that bother me at all. It honestly didn't bother me at all at the time, none of it did, in spite of my bitter tone now, I was just so excited to meet him, and I was rather preoccupied trying to mask the fact that I had a cold, which I did successfully. I was full of joy, and excitement to finally meet the guy I had seen 5 photos of, and he was even more attractive and even more friendly in person. I was reading my book in Rundle Mall, and all of a sudden he was in front of me saying "Lauren?" in his Canadian accent. I looked up and awkwardly found my bookmark and put my things in my bag whilst at the same time hugging him hello, heart pounding so very fast and anxiety ripping at my ecstatic core from every angle I was ready to go on my first date with a man that had no faults of which I could overcome.
I'm not normally like this. I am a normal, fully functioning, human woman. But as soon as a guy gets in my head, then everything changes, and I forget how long my keys were supposed to be in the iron left on.
I had never been as attracted to 5 photos before in my life. It was his smile, and his hair and his tattoos and his skiny body with lean muscle mass that I just wanted to run my fingers down.. yeah but it was mainly his smile. He just looked so happy and friendly, and his bio seemed super lovely and he was a nerd!! My favourite kind of person (when it is teamed with appropriate social skills that is). This was by far the best thing tinder had ever given me.
We chatted for a bit, and I was trying insanely hard to seem normal and cavalier about all things whilst also being devilishly witty and ever so slightly flirtatious. It was exhausting but I managed to pull it off as he wanted to meet me!! This never happens to me. Because every single guy thus far in my life, I have settled for, deciding to not be shallow or trying to be a good person and learning to love them despite the several personality traits or physical characteristics I'm not fond of (even my first love was "learnt" in this way). Either that or I have genuinely liked someone and they have not reciprocated in the slightest.
This was the very first time that someone whom I had a crush on, RECIPROCATED! The church bells rang loud, and the birds were singing, and there was sunshine and rainbows on every old timey street corner shop with children playing outside and fucking candy and gumdrops and smiles everywhere. It was a good day, but this excitement of mine was slightly stunted by his.. lack of communication skills, shall we call them?
We talked of doing something Saturday night, what? saturday? OK!! shave's legs, hair treatment, choose outfit, put sally hanson on, file and paint nails, all whist singing songs from the 1950's (the happiest era for music). Not even the minor hiccup of him not replying to my 'hey still keen for tonight message' would bring my mood down, except for at 8pm when it brought me down massively. I hid my deep disappointment by going out dancing with my sister, but my nutbush just didn't have the same heart in it. He apologised later and I discovered he had the seemingly legitimate reason of no internet access but what about tomorrow instead?
What? Sunday? OK!! I'm meeting friends at the beach, but you can come too if you'd like! Reshave legs, nails still look amazing, pick most flattering bathers, make sure to not eat anything that will bloat me, actually don't eat anything at all, do hair so that it will stay nice even when it gets wet, drink lots of water so my skin looks nice, pluck eyebrows, bring moisturiser to the beach in case I dry out. "Hey, you coming today?".... hours later.... nothing... "hey, my phones about to go flat, so if you do end up coming, we'll be just near the jetty for a few more hours".... Phone dies. ... and nothing.
Power up. "oh heyy! sorry, I was getting some drinks with friends after work, here's my number, maybe I'll talk to you later."
We chatted for a bit in the much more intimate medium of text messaging, and decided on Monday night plans. It was all set, except a few hours before he mentioned that he wanted to meet a friend coming back from melbourne so asked to move it back by about an hour. I was already in the city for a class, a class that I'd told him about, that one that we'd planned our meeting around, but sure that's fine, I'll just sit in the city waiting around for you. I have a book, so why would that bother me at all. It honestly didn't bother me at all at the time, none of it did, in spite of my bitter tone now, I was just so excited to meet him, and I was rather preoccupied trying to mask the fact that I had a cold, which I did successfully. I was full of joy, and excitement to finally meet the guy I had seen 5 photos of, and he was even more attractive and even more friendly in person. I was reading my book in Rundle Mall, and all of a sudden he was in front of me saying "Lauren?" in his Canadian accent. I looked up and awkwardly found my bookmark and put my things in my bag whilst at the same time hugging him hello, heart pounding so very fast and anxiety ripping at my ecstatic core from every angle I was ready to go on my first date with a man that had no faults of which I could overcome.
All The Young Dudes
Well it has been a whirlwind of sexual
exploits over the last few weeks (this was written in September last year) I barely know where to start. My
road trip with the beautiful French man sparked a love of adventure
in me and arriving back to my stagnant life in Adelaide was
disappointing to say the least. So I started to look for new
adventures at least for my heart to take. Yes, you guessed it, I went
back on tinder.
Tinder is a peculiar place where boys
put pictures of their 6 packs online in the hope of attracting a
mate. My general understanding is that guys do it to find a different
mate every night, and girls do it to find the one. I swipe no for
anyone vain enough to photograph themselves topless so haven't yet
found my one true love.
The first guy I had any type of real
conversation with I figured I screwed everything up, because I got
all feminist on him when he made a joke about his penis. I wasn't too
nagging though, I simply asked him if I made jokes about my “friend”,
vagina, whether he'd appreciate it or be grossed out. Unfortunately
he said that it would definitely entice him and so I started the
conversation over with “haaave you met my friend clitoris?” and
he said that I was the whitest girl he'd ever met.
I'm a massive racist, so I took this as
a compliment, and I guess he is too, coz he asked if I wanted to meet
up. My fairy tale dreams really had come true, but would cinderella
be able to get to the ball on time? And when I say on time, I mean
before he starts hooking up with some random Asian chick at the
club.. I mean ball. The answer is no. I was downstairs messaging him
that I'd arrived, and somehow in the ten minutes it took to get
upstairs he was hitting on another girl. Since this was my first
tinder experience I didn't really care, coz I had literally zero
expectations, so I pretended I couldn't see him and then met up, and
hooked up with him later. We actually went on another two dates. One
for coffee, and one where we watched a movie at his. The second one
ended with my clothes on the floor and me awkwardly deciding that I
wasn't really interested in having sex with someone I only just met.
I'm glad I tried it, coz I wouldn't have known that without
experiencing it, but still, its an awkward conversation to have once
your already naked. He was nice about it and helped me find my
underwear, seriously it just happened so fast, I'm still not sure to
this day how all my clothes got off that quickly.
On the night that I met this delightful
human being, I actually met someone else as well. Yep, I'm basically
a slut now that I've slept with more than one person. There's no in
between.
This guy was with a girl and they
invited me to do a shot with them. I just thought they were the
coolest couple ever but it turns out she had a boyfriend, which
turned the situation from possible threesome into getting hit on by
the best wing woman ever. We bonded over SNL and Kristen Wigg for
awhile, and as we went our separate ways he gave me a “kiss”
goodnight, aka we made out for ages. We chatted on good ol' FB after
this, but each time I'd try to see him again he said he was keen but
wouldn't lock down an actual time. The strangest thing is that he'd
talk about sex all the time, like for example in joking about being a
vampire, he'd say he could turn me into one, but we'd have to have
sex for it to work. I'd respond with something cute and witty,
something flirty but coy at the same time, like 'NO'.
I did indicate my desire to hang out
with him, and if he was so obsessed with sex then I don't understand
why he didn't try to meet up more, maybe he doesn't understand that
actually being in the same room increases the chances of any sex
happening by a great deal. So that one kind of just fizzled out.
The next tinder guy was a lot sweeter
and a lot less sure of himself than the first one. He was interesting
and after I figured out SNL man wasn't serious about any of his
suggestive suggestions I asked him to meet up. We had drinks at the
pub. I felt really nervous, but he kept saying and doing things that
were a bit awkward. This made it so much less awkward for me, because
the pressure was off, I could just be my weird, peculiar self. He had
been messaging me throughout the day, which I was annoyed at because
he was using up all the conversation topics that I normally go to
when I'm nervous. There were two or three messages, spread out over
the day where his response to 'what are you up to?' included cider
somehow. I was so scared he'd be wasted when I got there, but he
didn't seem too bad and he bought me dessert, so he was definitely
winning. We messaged for awhile and I decided I wasn't interested
romantically and so let him know. He said he felt the same and we're
actually really good friends now.
Thinking back on it my heart has been
so back and forth, in the last few weeks there was another friend
that has been a good friend for a long time and we hung out for 4
days over a 6 day period and all of a sudden I'm in love with him as
well. I'm not sure what's going on with my body, but there is
something strange happening. Maybe because I was so scared to love
for four years, my heart is making up for lost time by loving
everything that gives me more than one second of eye contact. With
this friend of mine, I decided I didn't want to be in one of those
stupid unrequited love friendships ever again, so I told him straight
out and he wasn't interested and in my mature way, we said our
goodbyes, as in I dramatically left his house crying, saying I never
wanted to see him again and could he please not text me ever.
The last one is (oh yes there is one
more) a story of triumph. So there has been this guy that is so
lovely and interesting and talented and kind, that I've had a super
secret thing for in the back of my head for awhile. Its not a proper
crush or anything, its just my knees go a little weak when he smiles
at me, that's all.
I got rather drunk at my brother's
house warming party and then my friend took drunk Lauren into town. And who did I bump into but that lovely, interesting, talented, kind man. He smiled at me from the line, and I only just managed to remain standing. We
embraced and established how happy we both were to be alive (also known as drunk as fuck).
We all danced together, his friend, me, my friend and him. And then myself and him dove deeper into centre of the dance floor and I grinded
on him and he had his hands on me and then all of a sudden his tongue
was down my throat. It was really fast, it moved around my mouth
quicker than my brain took to register it being there. The energizer bunny comes to mind for some reason.
And then the moment ended, and we went back to our friends and danced crazy again for a long while, we all hung out fort the remainder of the night, there was pancakes involved, and my friend even took them home whilst the sun was rising. I hugged him good bye and can still feel how solid his body is pressed up against mine. I'm fairly certain he doesn't remember that we made out, but I still count it as a win in my books, I made out with one of the most attractive people I know (and I mean attractive in more than just physical ways) *fist pumps*
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