An awkward conversation

I had to explain to someone why I felt it necessary to slice myself to pieces. I had to describe why I was feeling so bad I had to make myself bleed. People never tire of asking yet I exhaust myself of having to explain even once. People often don’t understand how someone who was feeling so good 2 weeks ago can now feel so bad that they can’t possibly go on. Back to long sleeves and excuses. Back to stained clothing and sharpener screws. Back to hurting and crying.

I’m not well. Too many people are trying to convince me I’m not ill enough and are trying to push my boundaries. You need to understand that my limit and tolerance isn’t high anymore and you knock me off the edge so fucking quickly.

I’m too alone in my head and my bad day goes from a really bad day to a bloodbath. It goes from a slight criticism to you but all I hear is “You’re a worthless piece of shit”.

This is raw – I’m always sugar coating it “I’ve relapsed” “I’ve done something silly” “I’m bad again” that’s the problem people find it a joke when phrased like that. How about I sliced myself to pieces and there’s no skin left? How about I look like I’ve been mauled by a wild animal? How about I’ve self harmed till the point of no return?

Is that easier for you to understand? Have you stopped laughing yet? This goes out to those that find our conversations too awkward because they’re consisting of how shit things are for you but neglect to realise that they’re just as shit for me.

I didn’t want to ever be this brutal but some people seem to forget that it’s not this glorified fashion statement some make it out to be. Its serious and people need your help before it is too late.

#mentalhealthawareness

–@thegirlwithabipolarmind

I don’t know when I’ll be ready

It’s been a while. Feels like forever and I am sorry.

So much has happened in such a small amount of time. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about most of it. I’ve not even had therapy for the most of it yet so definately not ready to share it all.

What I am ready to say is I have been very lucky.. for a little while now I have been staying with some friends who have been my saviours. I don’t think they quite realise what they have done. They have given me two months of normal. Two months of happiness. Two months of life. There aren’t enough thank you’s in the world to give them. To be looked after, to be given stability and kindness is something I’ve not had. Until now. I’ve had bad days, yes. But for the best part I felt ordinary and that is something that I will never ever forget. To be part of a family for once was incredible. To be cared about and loved is something that I strangely grasped onto quickly. I’m so scared to let go of that. But I am so thankful. I always believed I never deserved the treatment they have given me in this time. What they have done is remarkable and without them during this time of grief and heartbreak for many different issues, I wouldn’t be here. That’s not just an off the cuff remark but it is very true. I wouldn’t be here. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. I’ve also developed a friendship with the young warrior of the family who I am extremely proud of and hopefully she reads this and takes those words in. I will be here come rain or shine for you.

I need you all to know how much you mean to me and everything you’ve done to make me feel wanted and cared for.

It’ll stay with me forever.

@thegirlwithabipolarmind

What day and age do people think we’re living in?

So I’m scrolling through Facebook right.. first thing I come across is a post from a friend of mine. Lovely lady – kind heart and has two beautiful and sweet boys. I read the comments and she proceeds to say how her SEVEN year old son was called a N**** by another child at school.

Firstly, why is this still a thing? We live in the year 2018. It’s a new day and age which should be made of love and acceptance. Not looked down on for skin colour or origin. I’m not ok with that. What on earth was the point to all of the historic men and women who fought for equality and change? Rosa Parks fought for black lives and to cut down on racial barriers. Martin Luther King fought to overturn discrimination and we will forever remember him for the speeches he made that have now gone down in history. Nelson Mandela who bought together a nation that was once divided.

The black men and women who will forever be a part of our history because they did the things that 50 years ago couldn’t have been done. Just to name a few, Mohammed Ali, Usain Bolt, Michael Jordan, Ida Wells, Oprah Winfrey, Maya Angelou, Whoopi Goldberg.

Do not tell me EVER that black lives do not matter. Do NOT tell me that it is normal it ok to call a 7 year old a N****. It is not.

His skin colour does not mean anything other than something that he should be proud of. We all bleed blood the same damn colour. We all have a heart that beats and a brain that thinks. So I suggest that you all educate your children and the people around you to let them know that this is not ok. This is not acceptable. It will never be acceptable.

Can’t you see that it is not ok to treat people like this? You can’t discriminate on someone because of their skin colour. Or anything else for that matter.

Just a note for the boys – be proud of yourselves darlings. You are beautiful inside and out and I’m proud of you. I know you shouldn’t have to but you will overcome this and be the stronger ones for it. If you’re anything like your mummy you’re about to tear down walls and conquer the world!!

#blacklivesmatter

– @thegirlwithabipolarmind

Even in the darkest of places, the light of you shines through.

I never ‘became’ a writer. I had it within my heart and soul and suddenly it started seeping through my veins one day. I tried so hard to keep it in. I was in an era that poetry/writing wasn’t ‘cool’.

I can’t keep it in anymore. I can write about pain and trauma. I can go to the ends of the earth to write about things that physically and mentally have scarred me. But I’ve always struggled to write about love. Love is such a funny, misunderstood thing. When you know, you know. I’ve allowed things in my past to be shadowed by my love for people. I have allowed abuse, shame and victimisation to cloud my judgements and hurt me.

So when it comes to gentle, warm and compassionate love. I know only the feeling that it cannot possibly exist.

My point is.. when you find someone who, like you, writes. When they choose to put their powerful words in form about you. That is when a writer truly feels love. I can’t honestly explain the real bitter sweet feeling of someone finding inspiration through all the brokenness of your soul. That is what I find attractive.

To live in a world of hatred and violence and misery. To go through day feeling you have no purpose. But then experiencing someone else’s beautifully balanced words to describe exactly why you belong on this earth. That is why I need to exist.

I never ever dreamed or imagined that anyone could ever find me beautiful or worth it. Especially with my list of mental health issues. But I received a poem that made me cry and smile and warmed me throughout my being.

Here it is…

Heart melts heart stops
Girl meets girl drops
Suitcase to be picked up
Life in a case

I ask myself why she leaves in such haste?

Girl hurt and fears harm
I know all she needs is a loving arm
A place to be place to stay
One more fucking chance to get away

She finds it she’s safe and In the right place
A moment to gather her thoughts and feel safe

The laughter it comes but yet at a price
Finding it strange that people are nice

Your safe in our world now you have found where to be
Do you know why?

It’s just you and me.

I am a mess but I am a wanted mess. For that there are no words. None that need to be spoken. But I finally have a bit of self worth and need to be here, on this earth.

– @thegirlwithabipolarmind

I’m trying to find a balance, I’m trying to figure out who I am.

Make friends they said. It’ll be fun they said. No and no. I don’t like people. I don’t like ‘bonding’ or this bullshit known as developing communication.

I don’t see the point. I mean, you’re born alone? (Most of the time, or I was anyway) and then you die that way anyway? Who cares about the inbetween when realistically it’ll do you more harm than good.

Anyone who’s seen me at my very worst and still stuck around deserves an award…

Well.. there is no award. No words or gift I could give anyone. I have nothing in me left to give. People keep using the words brave and strong. They keep saying I’m this great person but realistically I’m the person of their nightmares. I’m the person that they can’t bare to listen to because I have too much self hatred. I am the person that needs reasurrring 20 times before I understand that you’ve said I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the person who laughs nervously and at the most innapropriate things, because sadly I was taught that way. I’m the girl who flirts her way out of awkward situations because it makes people smile along the way. I’m the person who texts you 100 times instead of calls because the voice inside her head tells her she’ll fuck up if she makes a two minute phone call. I’m always the girl that everyone wants to love but can’t. Even when it’s herself. See everyone sees this ‘beautiful’ journey of self discovery and self recovery but they don’t see the bad parts.

Oh how there are definately bad parts… Nobody sees the hours of tears and crying. The hours spent in front of the mirror rocking battling the reflection that is staring back. The hours in hospital convincing your loved ones and the mental health team that you didn’t attempt to end your life. It was merely to feel something.

Nobody shows you the other part of the journey. The bit that isn’t romanticized in movies. The bit that no-one talks about. The whispers of sadness that breaks from lips of the ones too scared to directly ask if I’m ok. I’m the poor girl who unfortunately took a bad turn in life. The unlucky one who had too much bad luck happen to her.

I’m still trying to figure out who I am as a person. I don’t know who that is anymore. Each trauma, each person I have come into contact with has changed who I am.  No-one really sticks around long enough to see the changes. In a strange way I’m glad. I’m not the person in books or movies that gets hurt, gets help and moves on. I’m not this pretty girl that has a life changing experience and becomes president. It doesn’t happen like that in real life.

All I know for sure is I’m writing and writing is the only thing I that I know for sure will never judge me, never abandon me or reject me and most certainly be on my journey with me.

Even in the darkest times

@thegirlwithabipolarmind

Somedays on my journey are good;

Somedays are bad;