go

do it,

on purpose.

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flash

of a hand;

hands;

suffocation;

crawling.

*a night in the day of – a day in the night of*

random acts of thoughting:

  • does everyone explain themselves?
  • are they asked to explain themselves?
  • why?
  • or why not?
  • why does said explanation not involve … “how are you doing?”
  • i like building stuff
  • so do my mokos
  • just random stuff
  • makes me feel – complete lol
  • i like eating
  • eating is good
  • as long as theres no adverse reaction
  • but even then
  • i still enjoy the eating part
  • i was doing 1/4 antihistamine a day
  • well thats what i got down too
  • now it’s 1/2 every second day
  • which is technically the same?
  • being itchy is a bitch
  • apparently i need to do more self care
  • hmmmm
  • why’s everyone got an opinion on what everyone else is doing?
  • why can’t they just mind their own selves
  • i guess thats an opinion on them though isn’t it
  • oh well, flag that then
  • how do you do self care when you don’t care?
  • hmmm
  • is it compassionate to send: ‘thoughts and prayers’?
  • or is that a cop out?
  • or just a compassionate ‘opinion’ maybe?
  • hmmm
  • i never wanted to go to las vegas
  • it’s too shiny for someone like me
  • don’t want to fucken go now, thats for sure
  • is it worse to be randomly shot at, as opposed to being deliberately bombed?
  • or doesn’t it matter?
  • how did ‘morally shit stuff’, get to be a political debate?
  • i dont think its ok to shoot people
  • i dont think its ok to hurt children
  • i don’t think its ok to hurt people
  • except sex offenders
  • i don’t mind if they get hurt
  • how did prostitution became a viable option for work?
  • thats some fucked up shit
  • how do our new wave feminists not understand that?
  • maybe they don’t know their feminist history?
  • hmmm
  • maybe.
  • when someone starts the conversation with: “I know you mean well …”
  • you know you’re in for a long speech ay.
  • i hate those.
  • if i had’ve said ‘nope, not my problem’; do you think i’d still be complaining now?
  • whats the issue with sleeping?
  • oh thats right, I know the answer to that one
  • so, self care and celebrating your ‘successes’; they’re the same thing right?
  • or is that self care and self encouragement?
  • hmmm
  • when you stop taking painkillers, guess what
  • your body will hurt like a mother fucker
  • i think i’m hungry
  • or maybe i just need more coffee

 

Image

reassessing where i’m at: now

I realised the other day, what a fucked up year its been for Me. By fucked up, I mean good and bad. Not all fucked up is bad 😉

I’ve been tired. Sick. Sick and tired. Generally worn down, and out. Its felt never ending. So, yesterday, I reassessed as I do:

Picked that shit to bits and went over it with a fine tooth comb.

Turns out, I should’ve done it earlier. Which kind of goes with my whole point to myself: That it’s been a funk … a tired monotonous fucked funk.

I was trying to remember when and where I had been feeling pretty content. Cos I know there was a time, quite recently, where it felt like shit was pretty good. Not ‘happy happy joy joy’ kinda good, but … ‘ahhh, I can do this’, kinda good.

It was before my sister died.

I know I had learnt how to calm my farm and breath deeply. I had learned how to manage myself when I went for my walks – and I was enjoying that. I know I had learned how to voice my concerns and not do what I didn’t want to do. I know I had learned when I was on the verge of a panic attack and how to bring myself down or stop it before it blew up. I know, I knew how to deal with shit, Immediately: and not put it on pause.

Pausing,  does not agree with my constitution.

Then somewhere between my sister dying, which I handled pretty well, and just after my birthday … shit got worn down. I remember having two extremely unpleasant and surprising panic attacks. One was when I was talking to the ACC wankers on the phone and trying to walk to the shop. I knew when it happened I had fucked up something, but wasn’t too sure how to remedy it. Well I know now what I fucked up.

I lost control. Not just physically, resulting in the panic attack … but the entire situation from the get go.

I let them control my situation. I felt beholden to their times, their phone calls, their delays … because I needed the assessment (or so I thought), and I needed the extra money (or so I thought). So I Let Them metaphorically, bend Me over and fuck Me up the asshole. I did what I knew I shouldn’t: and shouldn’t, because the long term effects are violent.

The other big ass, take it’s time, panic fuck, was prior to the assessment. I was already fucked. Fucked because of the waiting. Me and waiting also don’t really do well in cohabitation.

And from the phone panic attack till the assessment panic fuck, I had days of shaking, headaches, stomach aches, dizziness, anxiety and panic .. I took more anti anxiety meds during that time than I had in the previous year. I couldn’t breath properly and the sleeping was fitful, again, and full of shit nightmares and waking flashbacks.

But somehow, I just managed … and denied the obvious. That I was crumbling.

Add to all this, my father and his ‘way’. He has unceremoniously fucked with my world in the last year. And I’ve written a shit tonne on him.

But what has dawned on Me, with regards to him,  is the hurt that comes with knowing that my father does not love Me. Does not understand Me. Is unwilling to know who I am.

His interest in Me was only as a replacement for my sister. He wanted Me to be like her. But I can’t do that.

It did make Me realise too though, that there are not many that know Me, and my ‘support’ is little to none. Not because it’s not offered but because the offer-ees really don’t get Me and I frustrate them.

It is easier to try on my own. Except when I get worn down.

I’m going to have to start from the beginning again, because I have gotten to the place I was at a couple years ago … where leaving the house is hard. It’s not as bad as it was, but I can feel myself heading there pretty rapidly.

So in my reassessment, my daily goals have been simplified and adjusted. I need to do only what I want to do from here on in; at least until I can gain some momentum. Because theres a huge difference, for Me,  between Not wanting to do some thing;  being forced to do something and wanting to do something but being afraid.

Much to my disgust, I’ve started taking my anti anxiety meds to take the edge off. I’ll be utilising them more to actually get Me out of the house and past the letter box. I tried it tonight, so I could get down to the beach.

I love the beach.

After taking 1/4 anti anxiety med I was still nervous and shaky. I did the headphones and music; took water and extra meds, and my walking stick and camera.

I’ve missed the beach, and the sunset. I’ve missed going alone.

I got there tonight; slightly wobbly and hazed, but in one piece.

And I smiled my ass off once my nerves subsided. I even talked to a newly married couple that were from South America.

So Slow and Steady is what I’m returning too.

Really Slow.

Really Steady.

here

we

walk

&

talk

in

a

foreign

environment.

a. for

fear.

so brutal.

it’ll fuck you

up the ass,

rip your

asshole open,

and leave

it raw

and bloodstained.

and as that

asshole

starts to heal,

fear

will shred it

again.

and again.

and again.

until your left

with nothing

but a

very

sore

asshole.

dark

the stories

of being born

on a sunny day,

as the trees blossomed,

and the birds

chirped,

is not my

story.

i’m not a sunny one.

being born

under a new moon,

as the elders

sang songs

and did rituals

of blessings:

is also not

my

story.

.

i was

born

under

a

black

sky.

.

no-one

sang.

no-one

smiled.

there

was

no

welcome.

there

was

blood

and

fire.

tears

and

screams.

.

how do you tell

a birth story

like that

at a dinner

party ay?

+

“stay present”.

Umm,

Why?

love?

to be important,

is to be thought of

right?

to be considered?

thats love

aint it?

sure theres

other stuff about

love though?

care

appreciation

listening

leaning into.

yeah?

so what is it

when none

of those things

are anywhere

to be found?

the 3

they may seem –

outwardly,

‘overwhelming’ type

emotions.

but i saw my insides

today.

and i was a

little

surprised.

there is something that

happens,

when you can’t

breathe.

it’s called

dying.

gasping for air

and not finding

it,

is dying.

when you survive

that,

you are left

with

2

things.

possibly a

3rd

if your lucky.

callousness.

everything and

anything

seems

trivial.

fear.

the fear

of being

there

again.

not breathing

that is.

if your lucky.

theres:

appreciation.

for life.

for living.

for breathing.

i have yet

to master

the

3rd.