In The End, It Doesn’t Even Matter

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In The End, It Doesn’t Even Matter

“Hey Siri, play Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park.”

I loved that album. Perfectly mixing the clash of drums, distorted guitars, and iconic new metal disc scratching, all overlayed with a vocal combination of rap, rock, and a touch of screamo. But the lyrics, they were something else entirely. It felt like they were pulled straight from my mind. Perfectly expressing the confusing feelings of rage, fear, dissociation, suicidal ideation and anger I felt. Anger I directed at myself and the anger I directed at the world.

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If You Want To Be A Good Writer DON’T Do NaNoWriMo

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If You Want To Be A Good Writer DON’T Do NaNoWriMo

Or do it & stop taking writing advice from mediocre bloggers like me …

As NaNoWriMo approaches unsuccessful writers all over the blogger sphere will be attempting to cash in on your dreams.

They know it’s hard to write a novel, so hard in-fact that they have given up trying. Instead they are here to you offer you advice on how to complete their lost dreams…

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Why A Blank Page Is The Perfect Therapist

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Why A Blank Page Is The Perfect Therapist

I am not in a good way right now. My social anxiety is through the roof, I am struggling to look people in the eye, and I am having panic attacks while shopping. I find myself staring at a blank wall, for minutes on end, attempting to decompress from even the most mundane interactions or setbacks.

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Frozen In Time - The Life Long Impact Of Trauma

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Frozen In Time - The Life Long Impact Of Trauma

Somewhere along the line I lost contact with myself. Trauma froze me in time. This made me withdraw from people.

Connection now scares me.

Being thus frozen, my way of looking at the world, from a relationship perspective also froze. At the time of the freeze I was young. At that age, socialising is often facilitated by the adults for the child, it’s rarely done directly.

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Death

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Death

Despite everything that happened, I loved my father and still do. To this day my biggest regret is not connecting with him more. I do not forgive him for what he put my brother and me through, but I regret not trying to get to know him on a deeper level, particularly as an adult. When I talk about my childhood, people always say something along the lines of:

“But you were just a child and he was the adult. He should have done more; it was his fault that your relationship fell apart.”

Yes, he was the adult and I was the child. But that truth does not change my role and my actions towards him. I still made the choice to limit contact. I still made the choice to become emotionally distant. I still made the choice to stop seeing him altogether for years. Despite all that he was and all that he did, I still played a role in our relationship, or lack thereof.

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Who Let The Bum In?

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Who Let The Bum In?

By the end of year seven, I was starting to realise just how different my father was from those of my friends. He rarely worked in a conventional setting, and I had never known him to have a full-time job. Thinking back, I am not sure if he had ever held down full-time employment in his life. I only remember him working here and there, helping his friends with basic labouring or graphic design work. That, and the drug dealing.

The lack of a role model demonstrating the dedication needed for full-time employment has left me struggling with employment issues of my own. I know it is illogical, but I can't help but almost envy what he had, the 'freedom' of his lifestyle. Yes, he was very poor, but despite only having possessions of modest value, he had one thing that most people seemingly did not have. Time. Time to spend on projects, artwork and gardening. Time for personal development, for friends and family. Time for anything other than the monotony of the daily grind. Maybe that is just a rose tinted version of the truth.

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Finding the Balance Between Mania and Creativity - Words from a Mentally Ill Writer

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Finding the Balance Between Mania and Creativity - Words from a Mentally Ill Writer

It is 4am as I write this, I am slightly inebriated and my brain is buzzing. I have been up all night writing and I am still going. I can’t stop.

I must keep writing. When I get on a roll I can’t help it. Something comes over me and I must get it out. It is an affliction. This has happened before and will happen again...

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How Antidepressants Saved My Life, But Didn’t Make It Worth Living

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How Antidepressants Saved My Life, But Didn’t Make It Worth Living

Despite being great at keeping me alive antidepressants are certainly not ideal. Regardless of the type I tried, I faced the same issues. First were the debilitating side effects ...

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