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Beautiful Contemplations – That beautiful fear remains me. I so desperately want to survive this pain.

“A pattern of raised crisscrossed scars, some old and white, others more recent in various shades of pink and red. Exposing the stress of the structure underneath its paint”
― Amy Efaw.

Holding my arms together, side by side; representing polar opposites. On my left arm, old, faded scars- episodic visions of terror and distress are hidden beautifully by the tattooed words ” You are loved. My right hand however, displays the happenings of my latest episode…. caused by silence, those voiceless feelings that tell you there is no other option; destabilized rationality tell you that even if you had a voice, it would not be heard.

After the storm, after it is done.

I shake in a beautiful fear, that remains me. I am human and that indeed I so desperately want to survive this pain. . . Gently calming myself, I am sorry baby. . . I sing to myself:

hush little baby, put down that razor, don’t harm yourself. I express to myself how I live the life of a child. My life representative of an inner child in need of protection. My rational self vows never to hurt myself because after all I am just a child, my sensibilities are that of a child.

I pray so beautifully that my irrational self will never again come to the surface, a reality I know is all too good to be true. I can only hope that next time I will be able to fight my irrational self just that little bit more.

Read the rest of the story! Visit That beautiful fear remains me. I so desperately want to survive this pain. | Beautiful Contemplations.

Trigger Warning: Talk and images of self-harm

Normal in Training – Sensitivity

On the one hand, I recognize that it is a gift to have such a keen sense of empathy. I know I have helped a lot of people because of it. But I am also easily thrown off balance when the people I care about are in pain–especially since I am also prone to depression and anxiety. I have always assumed this meant that I was weak. Fragile. Too sensitive.

I spent time with my brother this weekend–the only one of the four siblings who does not have a mood disorder. In talking to him, it was clear that he does not experience his feelings as intensely as I do. He does not get his feelings hurt very often. He is better able to maintain distance from family drama, and his advice really is to tell them to suck it up.

I envy him for this, but I cannot be him. I can only be me. I feel things intensely. My feelings get hurt easily. And when someone is in pain, I feel what they feel and try to help them, even if it hurts me.

But rather than berate myself for it, I am learning to accept that this is who I am. We all have different vulnerabilities. Some people may be prone to heart disease. Other people have diabetes. I am a hyperempath with depression and anxiety. Therefore, I have to be sure to take care of myself in certain ways: make alone time a priority, set boundaries, and be more selective about who I spend time with.

Read the rest of the story! Visit Sensitivity | Normal in Training.

Beautiful Contemplations – The Story of An Orchid; The vicious cycle.

I am not particularly proud of the way I have handled myself lately. . . I am never proud of myself, I cannot believe how incredibly sick I have become in the time period that six months that is:

26.7 weeks, 182.5 days, 4380 hours, 262800 minutes and 15768000 seconds.

During the 15768000 seconds, pain has fulled my heart. During the 262800 minutes, I have been holding myself up grasping for air. Those 4380 hours, many of which have equated to sleepless nights, dissociation’s, flashbacks, destabilized routines and distorted rationality. Ah the 182.5 waterfall like days, they have been beautiful but such an vicious cycle from mania to excessive depression. In those 26.7 weeks, I have lost so much, it is so hard to express. I have lost my sense of self and I am fighting incredibly hard to get it back; let’s be honest now:

The reality is that life is incredibly hard at times and I truly am trying to do my best with the circumstances I have been given. But there are times where I question just that. sigh. But I also question if my life will get better, all I ever want to do is write honestly on my blog:

All I want is to be loved, to know that i will be missed. To have someone be kind to my heart. All my life I have felt like an experimentation, like I was on display: my legs and body sliced open for all to see in its raw entirety, robbed of my childhood and aspects- my best friends were nurses, occupational therapists, physios- I felt like I never had a voice, and when I did it was never heard. The truth is I am hurting more than ever and in therapy we have discovered that I am an Orchid.

Real Leaders, describe Orchids as individuals with super sensitive genes, but us Orchids can thrive beautifully and be great successes with ‘the right amount of water, nutrients and heat’ …meaning.. that given the right support we can flourish, that indeed does provide me with hope.

Read the rest of the story! Visit The Story of An Orchid; The vicious cycle. | Beautiful Contemplations.

The Elephant in the Room – My Second Skin

I feel like there are two very different sides to me. There is the me that most people know, “the show” the people who see this side think I’m doing great, they think I’m happy and doing well. But as this blog has displayed that is just a front that I put on so as not to worry people. I spoke before about how I put people’s feelings first, this includes me pretending I’m fine so they don’t worry. But there are a “lucky” few people who have seen the “real me” the me that really isn’t all that happy and hasn’t been for a long time now.

My depression has evolved since its debut in my life, back then it was something that made me want to be alone and listen to sad songs, I didn’t understand what made me want to do this at the time, I thought I just liked sad songs, but I see now that it was at this point I developed my second skin. My depression skin. . .

I’m not sure what, aged about 5 made me listen to a CD of folk music by a band from the 60′s but I did, and I enjoyed it. As the years went on I kept going back to this CD. And there was one song that for some reason really stood out for me and I would listen to it on repeat. And I completely forgot about that song until very recently when I wrote a post called “More Than Glad to be Unhappy” which is a line taken directly from one of the Mamas and the Papas songs. Writing that post got “Glad To Be Unhappy” stuck in my head so I dug out the CD and had a listen. When I heard the song “Look Through My Window” I suddenly had flashbacks to sitting on my bedroom floor listening to the song on repeat. It’s a real typical depression song. You know on TV when you see someone depressed looking through a window whilst it rains? Well, that’s basically the idea of the song. It’s funny how something that seems so insignificant as a child really was the point I started to grow my second skin.

And so, it’s been 20 years since I was 5 years old. I always thought I got depressed more around the age of maybe 8 or 9, but maybe not. Maybe I have always been depressed. It seems depression has become my friend not my enemy in my journey through life. Its become a bit of an influence, a soul shattering, mind numbing inspiration that has helped me express things in a way I never thought I would be able to.

Read the rest of the story! Visit My Second Skin | The Elephant in the Room.

Beautiful Contemplations – Getting used to new meds; offering a perspective on living with mental illnesses- my message.

Living with a mental illness, is extremely frustrating. Some days, I feel like I am inside another body, as though the body I am in isn’t mine- I find it easy to describe it as though you are looking in on your own life. You get up each morning and take your cocktail of drugs. Scoot around your room, searching for objects that you may injure yourself with, and if you have the strength- throw them out; if you don’t you find yourself at odds with your irrational and rational self. You may cry because you don’t want to inflict pain on yourself, but you also cry because you need to do it to escape pain. . .

If it is a good day, you are able to function; get in all your assessments, shower, eat, brush your hair and teeth. . .

On an average day, you do all of the general hygiene tasks but head back to bed unable to face people. On a bad day, you are fighting to be alive; you sleep all the time, disconnect yourself from the world and lose all sense of yourself. Let me remind you that for me the day may have elements of the latter within it. Welcome to the world of madness- A world that has for the last few years become my reality.

There are few places where I can be honest about my experiences of mental illness, but on my blog through my writing is one of the places where my beautifully raw journey is laid out by me for all to view. Talking about the voices I hear (inner voices, in many circumstances), the dissociations I experience, my instances of self-harm is something that I am not ashamed to speak of. One of the messages that I want to get across to everyone reading my blog is that mental illness is not a condition to be ashamed of, it is after all something that does not discriminate; I am in fact quite a successful young lady yet have ended up with several mental illnesses. It is never your fault, you are beautiful, you are brave, it is okay- you can still lead a productive life despite having a mental illness.

Read the rest of the story! Visit Getting used to new meds; offering a perspective on living with mental illnesses- my message. | Beautiful Contemplations.

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm