Be you: accepting the life you have been given

I think one of the most aggravating things in the world is thinking about something that isn’t worth your precious time. Wasting time and head space on thoughts and not being able to make them vanish is frustrating in general, never mind the fact that the issue you have been pondering isn’t exactly pleasant in the first place. I suppose I am being rather ambiguous here, but I can’t help but be angry at something so valueless in my life, yet it makes its way through my entangled synapses to surprise me when I least expect it. One of the things that rack my brain is my father. Yes, I am one of those girls with “daddy issues.” Hallelujah, let’s categorise this bitch and leave her in that box. First of all, before I continue with my rant, “daddy issues” has a particular implication that I am weak, vulnerable to men and overall an easy person. Let me say that I am the opposite of all of those barely stereotypical accounts of a girl without a dad. I do not let people take advantage of me, and yes I do admit to being manipulated every once in a while, but I assure you that everyone has fallen for manipulation: that is how power is made. The amount of rubbish I have to deal with because people enter my life assuming that I need a father figure and they are the perfect person is not even comprehendible. I mean shut up. Those thinking that they are perfect for anything are usually the most narrow-minded, if not empty headed people in the world. The amount of men that stumble into my life’s path and believe I will fall to their feet and praise their existence is something I have lost count on. Honestly, the last thing I need is a colossal fakery drumming up lies to make me fall in love with them. Real people. Raw, scarred, lively people are too rare within society when we desperately need them.

Okay, now that that is out of the way, let me get to my point. There have been plenty of times in my life where I have sat and given a sigh of relief that my father is no longer playing pinball in my brain. Pinball was such a great game though, I shan’t lie, that is my childhood right there. Anyway, I believed I had accepted abandonment and abuse, I believed I was a strong person able to forgive. Well that was all bullshit. It’s amazing how well you can lie to yourself. I convinced myself that I could overcome pain on my own.  You really cannot, because as much as you try to suppress your thoughts and your pain it will always come back, and this took me almost eight years to realise. Most of my anger grew from the amount of times those thoughts and memories floated around my head. It’s frustrating. The anger is self-harm to an extent because instead of dealing with how you feel, you would rather push it aside and scream at it until it goes away. Now, I am in a more comfortable space. I have fully accepted the road that I have to travel on. The only way I learnt to properly accept my circumstances and not let them define me, was to understand them. Understanding and acknowledging your situation is difficult, however it is worth it when all the weight you have been carrying with you is gone. Trust me, for those of you who know me, you will probably notice that I am a lighter person when I walk because I don’t carry that anger with me anymore.

Even though I understand and have accepted my father’s chosen path, I have not come to the point of forgiveness. Many people say that forgiveness is the key to moving on in life, I don’t believe that at all, I believe accepting and being honest with yourself is the only way you will ever be free from those thoughts. My father’s path in life is something I fully understand considering his psychological state of mind and the space he was or is in. I accept that that is who he is, and  I cannot change that. I do not forgive him though. Nobody deserves to lose a parent. Whether it be divorce, abandonment or death, losing that parent causes grief. If you have ever experienced grief, you will understand that it is even worse than depression. Forgiveness is not on my bucket list and never will be when it comes to my father. Cruelty, no matter the form, is not worth forgiveness just as much as it does not deserve to travel through your brain and affect your heart. As much as I understand why he disappeared into thin air, there is a degree of choice that we are all offered in this life. That choice, to abandon your only daughter, tell her how much of a disappointment she is and then throw a brief sms at her on her birthday telling her how much you love and miss her is not something to be forgiven. If no remorse is given, no forgiveness will be received. Rather than forgiving, I am grateful for the troubles I have lived through. I have gained perspective, perseverance and respect for all people’s circumstances no matter how large all small.

I know it sounds rather odd to say I am grateful for my depression, my “daddy issues” and the constant self-doubt that looms over me. The reason for this is because I have witnessed those who live the easy life and they are nothing more than fluffy sheep in a big world of sameness. I have met people who have lived the worst experiences possible and their wisdom and utter confidence in who they are astounds me. Like I said previously, raw people are the most down to earth people you will ever meet. But now I have gone on a tangent that is for another day. Instead of forgiveness I am thankful for the life I have been given, because even though there are some days I really want to jump off a cliff, the most beautiful experiences surprise you and make you realise that euphoria does follow you, waiting for that moment where you let yourself go. If it weren’t for those thoughts milling around in my head bringing me down on a continuous basis, I wouldn’t be able to recognise nor appreciate the beauty and value of life.

Be you and all that is great will follow.

Dear fellow white people: how narcissism drives racism

Dear fellow white people,

There is no such thing as reverse racism. Black people have the right to be angry; the legacy of oppression still lives on. Claiming that reverse racism is a thing is a form of oppression in and of itself. Do not undermine their anger with narcissistic sayings about how the poor white people are suffering. You have not seen suffering. Yes we all have our own form of oppressions and I do not mean to disregard everyone’s struggles; all I am saying is that racial oppression, specifically black oppression, is a lot worse than many other oppressions. White privilege is real.

Recognise it.

Accept it.

Take responsibility for it.

White privilege simply means that you are not discriminated against because of the skin colour you were born with and that you are open to more opportunities in this world because white privilege benefitted your parents, and their parents, and the ripple effects continue down to privilege your generation. I have my own personal struggles, but I know that I am living in a world where my skin colour is more accepted and therefore I am more privileged because of that. Do not tell me it does not exist. Black people simply walk down the street minding their own business and there are fifty wondering white eyes contemplating who they robbed. We do not get that. I speak to all white people and ask them to re-think their perspective on this world. Slavery and Apartheid may be, in theory, over, but black people are still affected by it today. The majority of black people are paid minimum wage and if black people do get a ‘white collar’ job, white people say it’s because of Black Economic Empowerment. (BEE was launched by the South African government to “redress the inequalities of Apartheid”) No. This notion that all black people are the same must stop.

Fellow white people, stop being selfish, this world does not revolve around you. Racism must be recognised. Inequality must be recognised in order to improve this world. Apartheid ended years ago but there is this lingering racism that white people ignore because it does not affect them until there is a Facebook status that insults them. Please. Don’t be so pathetic as to be affected by a status. Do not turn it into something about you; rather understand where it is coming from. How else must we address racism without passive aggressive writings? It’s the only way racism is recognised. Yet white people get all self-absorbed and make it as though they are being attacked personally. Were you walking down the street just yesterday with everyone thinking you were a criminal? Thought not. And that is just one example, there are thousands. Think before you decide how you have been insulted. One insult does not compare to several decades of insults thrown at you because of your skin colour. Sometimes this privilege blinds us. Open your eyes and realise that this is not about you. This is about black people and stopping the racist hegemonic stereotypes enveloping their daily lives.

I’m not sure how else to get this into white people’s heads. Some of my white friends do not even understand nor recognise when they are being racist, yet they claim that they have three black friends so they cannot possibly be racist. Acknowledge the way you treat people. Fix your mind set and put an end to the subordination of black people. Be a decent human being. We are not born racist, we are taught to be racist. You are not special because of your skin colour, your hair or your flat ass. This narcissism drives racism. I beg you to look at other people instead of yourself for just one day. You would be surprised at how different the world will look; it will no longer be bright and sunny with smiling daisies swaying in the breeze. On another note, because you are not racist does not mean that you get a pat on the back for it either. That goes full circle back to making everything about you. Not being racist is basic human civility. Discrimination is not inbred; society shapes you. You have the choice to be decent, make the right choice, but do not use it to make yourself seem deserving of a gold medal.

Remove yourself from yourself.

“You’re so tumblr”: glorifying depression and anxiety

“You’re so tumblr.” – Darling, please don’t romanticise mental illness. Anxiety and depression are not a glorification. Slitting your wrists is not cool. Some people have the strangest minds. A friend of mine was told that her social anxiety was ‘cute’ and so ‘pop culture.’ What does that even mean? What do you think anxiety actually is? I believe these people think anxiety is lying in your bed with your palm over your head complaining about how you can’t cope with your life because you just don’t feel like getting up.  Well let me clarify this for you: Anxiety is nothing like you think it is. You will never fully understand what it is unless you have experienced it firsthand. You cannot use terms such as “anxiety” and “depression” as an excuse for everyday life. These are not loose terms. You don’t see people running around saying, (insert typical bitch voice) “I feel like I have like cancer, I’m just so tired.” Exactly. Romanticising an illness is exactly why people disregard mental illnesses as being unimportant. If you would like this disease you are welcome to have it. Come around at, let’s say five-ish and fetch it.

Please just don’t. Tumblr is not a thing to aspire to be. Be a doctor, be a teacher, be a tarot card reader if you want to, just don’t be that person that glorifies mental illness as something which it is not.  If social media is now a classification system, then I’m not certain as to whether I want to cry or die of laughter. Imagine we walked around casually saying, “I’m so Facebook, I am like that deep status about life,” or “I’m so Instagram, I am like totally always selfie ready.” Pathetic. But now I have gone off track. It’s time we disrupt the notion that mental illness is not a condition; all it does is increase the amount of embarrassment one has towards their illness. The amount of shame I have felt for being depressed is unexplainable. When I was diagnosed with severe depression disorder, I didn’t actually believe it existed. I classified depression as a specific feeling associated with sadness. Believe me, that is more than just incorrect. Feeling such deep pain is crippling. Once I couldn’t even move my arms or my legs for three hours because my depression affected me physically. The worst thing about depression is that it chases you continuously waiting to pounce. Actually I lie. The worst thing about depression is the way you are defined by it. People are blinded by it. All they do is pity you. You become weak in their eyes. Well you know what, I am not weak. I picked myself up off of that floor and continued with my daily life. Yes it took me a while to get there. It took being addicted to drugs and alcohol, attempting to overdose on medication and breaking down in school bathrooms nearly every day to get there, but I did it. Struggles result in strength.

A friend of mine was recently diagnosed with social anxiety with depressive episodes. Today we sat down for tea and discussed mental illness. I wish someone had done that for me. It took me four years to finally figure out how to help myself; this blog is here to help others who might be going through the same thing. After hearing about his/her (I will conceal their identity) battle with anxiety, I felt this deep sadness within me. Why do we have to feel this way? What is this world if pain exists? Driving home I witnessed a homeless man crying on the side walk and this wave of shame came over me. How can I complain about my disease when I have a roof over my head and food on my plate every evening? Sometimes this disease consumes me. Sometimes I forget about everything. Who or what combined narcissism with depression and thought it was a good idea? I sit here and I am just disappointed with everything. I am aware that this is the depression talking and that I will probably break down in the next twenty minutes, but I still can’t help but wonder “why me?”

This is the question we ask over and over again. Why you? Why me? Why is everything the way it is? “I’m so tumblr,” Please take this away from me. Be my guest. All I want is for this weird depression thing to go away. But I don’t know how else to live. Although I don’t want to be defined by depression, it is a part of who I am. I suppose everyone has aspects about themselves that they dislike. I just don’t enjoy it when people try and justify it, “oh you are a creative? That is why you are depressed.” No. Don’t tell me that everything will be okay either. Sometimes it won’t be. Depressed or not, life will not be a breeze. It will sometimes be a violent hurricane that will throw you from side to side in order to disorientate you on life’s pathway. Don’t tell me to breath either. Obviously I am breathing. Let’s be realistic here. We are not living some fairy tale life with pink roses and dancing teddy bears. I’m supposed to end on a positive note here. How must I be positive about depression when people are constantly negative about it? Why are people so insensitive?

“Missing out on life because you are so irrationally afraid” – socialanxietythings.tumblr.com

Shut up.

Decolonise H&M: western notions must fall

I would not usually write an article of this particular nature, but I feel as though it is important to address this issue. It disgusts me.

Excuse me Karl-Johan Persson, can you explain to me how being black is negative? Exactly. There is no justification for your twitter explanations and there is no apology in this entire world that can change the disgust South African’s feel towards you. Pack your bags and go. South Africa is a country trying it’s hardest to fight racism and you come in here with your colonised attitude spreading corporate notions of identity that are highly racist. Regardless of race, your company has offended every South African. It is simply rude.

H&M replied to a tweet surrounding the fact that all the models in their Cape Town store are white. Their replies took the form of four tweets which are riddled with heteronormativity.

1. “Essential for us to have a positive image” suggests that white people just because of their skin are more superior and therefore essential to selling your brand. I know many ugly white people, get over yourself. Skin colour does not define beauty, nor does it define positivity.
2. “Show our fashion in an inspiring way,” and “convey a positive feeling,” sorry, are you trying to say that black people are uninspiring and give off negative feelings? I don’t see how this is racist at all. I don’t see how this is offensive either. You know, this is just some radicals over-reacting. No Mr.Persson, de-colonise your Western mind, because you and other Western corporations are the main cause for the reinforcement of racism and heteronormativity. Never mind the fact that you only showcase women with body images that are unrealistic, which brings me to my next point.
3. “Wide range of models and personalities,” excuse me, they all have the same body type. They are all the same race. Not only does your company support racism, but they employ lying to justify a wrong doing. The only “wide range” factor used in your company is the variety of racist notions that you enforce.
4. You failed to realise that listing the branches of your company that construct the brand H&M, imply that your entire company supports discrimination and unrealistic body types. Your company H&M is wrong.

I contemplated writing about these tweets because I believed that H&M is more than worthless if they believe their tweets were a reasonable justification. All women are beautiful. All skin types, all body types and all personalities.

Decolonise Western corporations.

Meet depression: Floors and all

It’s a mystery to even those that suffer from it. Attempting to explain what depression is, is something humanity might not ever achieve. One thing I can clarify though is that depression is not synonymous to sadness. Yes sadness is an element to it, but it isn’t the defining point of depression. I think the majority of people get confused with that. I find it strange how society knows very little about it yet they are quick to hand over their opinion. I can’t give you an exact answer. Loved one’s in my life, namely my mother who is incredibly close to me, get frustrated because she doesn’t understand it and when I can’t explain it to her it ends in me wanting several margaritas, a line of cocaine and three slices of chocolate cake. My mother has no idea what to do. I have no idea what to do. It all becomes a mess. But to those of you that have loved one’s or friends that suffer from depression or any other mental disease pertaining to that of depression, I cannot give you a step by step on how to help them. Everyone is different. The only way to help them and to help yourself cope with that person’s black mood is to simply have patience. Depressed people will find their coping mechanisms along the way. We will probably forget how to use them too.

To those who are depressed, one day you will be standing somewhere and suddenly feel this strange feeling. What is that? Why is it warm? It’s called happiness. And I know we keep hoping for that day. As a matter of fact we are scared of that day because we have forgotten what it is like to feel anything, never mind feeling joy.  Do not listen to other people who have not experienced what you have experienced. You might not understand what depression is, but you know what that pain is. They know nothing. Telling someone to just get over it makes it a whole lot worse. Well slap me silly and call me Mary, I know exactly what it is like to feel stupid because you suffer from a mental illness. I am cringing at the beginning of that sentence. Why I chose to write that no one will ever know. Why people feel depressed no one will know. Yes you could probably get all scientific and provide a medical explanation for all mental illnesses, but let’s be honest, the cause of depression does not change the fact that you are depressed. I think it is best to clarify this to all people, depressed or not, especially to all South African’s: Depression exists. It is a mental illness. It is something people do not choose. It is something that isn’t fixed instantaneously. It is difficult to describe. It is difficult to feel. Most of all it is difficult to accept.

I guess I write this because you all need to know that what you feel, although it is hell and if you could, you would punch it right in the face, pour gasoline over it and watch it burn, it is perfectly alright. Unfortunately it is a part of who you are. Rephrase that: fortunately it is a part of who you are. Every now and again I have to remind myself that embracing it is better than fighting it. Since starting this blog I have received many messages from people thanking me for talking about the silent topic of mental illness. Those I would never have guessed had depression, thanked me for letting them know that they weren’t alone. If positivity can be created through acknowledging depression, the negative notion surrounding it can burn. That is how you watch it fall. I am watching my depression crumble right now. It deteriorates daily. And it is not easy. The amount of times I have ended up on the floor as opposed to my crumbling depression is uncountable. I think my floor is one of my best friends; I’m probably closer to it than most other friends. Kevin Breel, the author who wrote Boy Meets Depression gave me hope that I would one day learn how to pull myself up from the floor, “boy meets depression. Boy then meets floor and stares at ceiling. Boy learns to get off the floor and shower again.” I highly recommend reading Boy Meets Depression. To an extent he demystifies the unknown that holds depression so close in its arms. No one else can teach you to get up from that floor. I think that is the scariest part of depression; it relies on you. You are the only one who can change the way you feel.

Eventually you will find life is worth living. Believe me, I was one of those people that saw no point in living, in fact I am still rather existential to this day. But there is something slightly intriguing about this life. Forget the day to day life you live, but think of all the extraordinary events that have occurred, whether good or bad or even worse than bad. They’re all slightly surreal, laughable really. If there is one thing Breel wrote that stuck with me it would be these two sentences:

“There’s a sort of secret magic to being alive. There’s something inside of me that knows I will never be able to fully get to the bottom of what makes this all so beautiful, yet I am compelled to continue searching.”

Life is just weird. I want to see how this ends though, because the only certainty there is, is that death is inevitable. I might as well search for beauty and try to remember that which is beautiful. Often we forget what beauty is. We are too consumed with corporate identities and photoshopped celebrities that we lose our true perceptions of beauty. Maybe depression is beautiful. Okay Nicole, just yesterday you were saying how horrible this disease is and now you are contemplating its beauty. Isn’t it true though that in all beauty there is actually something ugly? What if the line between both ugliness and beauty is so fine that they are actually one and the same? Probably not, but it’s just a thought. I do believe though that depression may not be beautiful as it stands, but it can create beauty. Think of the arts. Most artists suffer from a mental illness, yet they can use their numbness to construct an image that has layers and layers of magnificence. In its entirety, depression, or any other mental illness, is not a bad thing.

Perhaps depression is a sort of magic.

Mind the thought: suitcases full of contradictions

Now it is day two and I have no idea how to start this post. This is working out well for me. Anyway I have a direction that I would like to go in, I suppose I was overwhelmed by the amount of support I received yesterday that my self-consciousness has taken on a whole new level. I am completely aware that my self-doubt developed because I think too deeply. The thing is though, we all think deeply, just in different ways. I enjoy contemplating life and analyzing myself and others, but often it becomes too much. Thought upon thought upon thought builds up and eventually you become frustrated with how much you are thinking and your synapses feel as though they are burning. Sometimes thoughts can be your enemy. There is no real pride in being a professional over-thinker. No that is a lie. Actually I am not quite sure as to whether I am content with being able to think on a deeper level, or whether I completely and utterly despise it. Contradictions. I might as well define myself as a walking contradiction.

To be fair everyone is a living, breathing contradiction. Sometimes people hate and love things at the exact same time which ultimately proves to be confusing yet completely comprehensible. Who am I kidding, I don’t really care if nothing makes sense. That’s just how things go. Or don’t go. As Rosario from Will & Grace says, “dress slutty, shut up, that’s my motto.” What does that even mean? What am I saying? Nicole shut up and makes some sense now. There is no context for that at all, and yet I am slightly pleased by that quote. In a way it justifies my point about nothing making sense. On a side note though if you have never watched that Will & Grace you need to stop reading this right now and re-evaluate your life. Okay moving on because I’m not an advertiser, I’m a human. Though, now that I think about it, all humans advertise something whether they know it or not. In a world where we are constantly trying to sell ourselves because society requires us to find a partner, namely a heterosexual partner, shows how we feel the need to sell ourselves. It is personal prostitution.

However the worst thing is when you attempt to sell yourself to yourself. You create a persona, and then persuade yourself into believing that that is the best you. But it isn’t. Being liked for something that isn’t you doesn’t mean anything. But it is completely understandable to build up walls so that you do not get hurt. Society is cruel. Yes I could have dug deep into my vocabulary to describe society in a better way, but simplistically, society is that of cruelty. You have to be someone. You have to mask your true identity in order to get people to accept you; if you aren’t like them, they will not like you. I am tired of these walls. Walls prevent love. They prevent you from loving yourself which leads to you not being able to love anybody else. People need love, it is how we are constructed and it is a feeling that we require in order to be happy. Sometimes we get close to love, but it scares us and we build an extra wall in order to avoid it. To me, life would be more simplistic if love didn’t exist. It is a strange concept that people continuously strive for. What if I find love and it doesn’t make me happy? Then what?

I constantly think about how people work in a heteronormative world where a specific you is expected. I don’t want that me. I want to laugh, sing and cry without all the judgement. I am completely aware that some people reading this are judging me. That’s okay. That is how human’s work. They are uncomfortable with the idea that people can tear down their walls and be emotionally vulnerable on a page full of words. I judge myself when I read my blog because I hope it will mask the vulnerability and allow me to gain some control. The fact is though that we never really gain full control and the minute you believe you are in control, you aren’t. I strongly believed I was in control of my depression, and I was greatly mistaken. Every now and again it would tap me on the shoulder and slap me in the face until I’m on the floor curled up in a ball of pain. That’s the worst pain, when you are crying but no tears are running down your face. Then I thought if I give up and just let my depression do whatever it needs to do, I will somehow undermine its power. Bang. Slap to my face again. The only way you can take control of a disease like depression is to take responsibility for it. Responsibility is not fun and that is why we tend to avoid it. When I told people that I suffered from depression they used my vulnerability to gain a sense of power which meant I couldn’t take responsibility for it. I was told that depression isn’t real and everybody feels sad sometimes. I was told to get off the medication because I don’t know what I am doing. I was told that I was wrong. But here I am writing this post to say that you can take my vulnerability and shove it, because letting yourself be you is the most control and the most power you will ever have.

Society craves power; walls are built. I refuse to let these bricks mask my identity. I’m Nicole Bayes and I suffer from a mental illness. I am not ashamed of it anymore. It is something I have to cope with everyday. Just this morning I woke up and felt a little bit funny inside but I know that there are people in my life that feel the same way and I can be angry and cry with them. That is called life. Though I do agree that being depressed is not the most ideal life to live, however there is nothing I can do to stop it. If any of you suffer from mental illness or cannot cope with life sometimes it is okay. Yes these words won’t do anything to change the circumstances you are in, but just know that that pain will one day be something you will appreciate. I would rather have my own pain than anybody else’s. I would rather think all of my thoughts than think yours. We all have our own struggles and oppression’s, some worse than others, but the fact is, no matter how much we wish we lead different lives, we would still go home with our problems in our suitcases.

I’m unpacking that suitcase to find the bliss I lost along the way.

An introduction: under a hazy cloud of reflection

I suppose this isn’t anything special. That opening sentence will definitely get people hooked on my blog. Anyway, it really isn’t anything distinctive. Defining something as special however is the least of my worries. Frankly society is too concerned with how individually unique they are: no one is special. Now that I have insulted you, you know exactly what my personality is. I don’t care. Actually I do care. I am not some psychopathic bitch that has no feelings, I just find that the simple things in life are not worth bothering about. That was also bullshit. Hi, I’m Nicole and I am a professional over-thinker. This whole paragraph proves how I can over-think nothing and turn it into a one hundred word ramble and never get to a point. But that is just it. There is not really any particular reason for this blog other than spewing my thoughts and counting the likes this blog post gets. That is the basis of social media, seeing how much other people like you. I mean who really cares if you like you. Now there, that is the point of my blog: to be me.

Frankly I am laying myself out on a page. Not because of you, but because of me. I’m taking social media likes and throwing them out the window because it needs to be done. Things need to be about yourself sometimes. And no I do not mean gain some narcissism and look in the mirror and say you are the best person alive, I mean humbly love yourself. I sound like one of those hippies now, but on a serious note, loving oneself is probably the greatest accomplishment humans will achieve. The greatest accomplishment I will eventually achieve. Self-doubt is a disease and doing this is conquering it. I am probably one of the most self-conscious beings you will ever meet, hence all the sarcastic comments and paragraphs riddled with regret, but I did it. I wrote my first blog post and did it with more regret than you will ever know, but it will get posted and I will spend countless hours re-thinking my entire existence.

I decided to write this because I need to be more me; this is my life. It’s strange how we compare our happiness with others and measure our level of “specialness” against our friends and family. Stuff that. Live a life that is yours. I sound highly motivational right now; it’s starting to scare me. Despite all this motivational nonsense, it is true, this life was thrown at us for some arbitrary reason and yet we decide to live it through selfies and the amount of friends we have on Facebook. Why? The simplest of questions never receive answers. Half the time I sit around philosophically thinking about life and analysing myself. Perhaps you could call that some sort of life. Reading that sentence makes me sound like a complete maniac, but honestly we all do it. Every now and again you will wake up in the morning and just think, “why? You sons of bitches, why do I have to be somebody today and do things I don’t want to do?” And if you haven’t done that, well it is just around the corner with a bag of philosophical goodies to sprinkle on you.

Through that rambling I have discovered the point of this blog: to let people know they are not alone. We all have feelings whether we feel emotions differently to others or not. Some of us feel more deeply, wave your hand in the air if you suffer from depression, anxiety or bi-polar. If you raised your hand, stop reading this blog, no one can bloody well see you raising your hand. I love how that had some deep unintended metaphorical level to it. On a side note though, I do believe there is most likely some creep watching me through my webcam. I suffer from major depression disorder and I used to be incredibly embarrassed about it. I refused to tell people, I used to drink and take pills to mask the pain, but then I realised that it was actually completely normal. I’m not some disturbed crazy woman. You will be surprised how many people you come across who suffer from the same thing as you do. I am not alone. You are not alone if you think differently or feel more pain than others. And yes I am aware that knowing you are not alone does nothing to change the fact that you feel alone. The life you live is unexplainable. This blog is attempting to explain the unexplainable through explanations that fall short.

I’m not selling this blog very well.