Thursday 15 September 2011

Of hopes and dreams...

‘Pessimist’ you call me. I too have hopes and dreams. Hopes of a future. Hopes for life; love; marriage; children; happiness. For prospects; for charity; for a good relationship with God.

And of dreams: I dream of a day when I might learn to like myself, maybe even love myself. Of a day when I can look at myself in a mirror and not feel that seething hatred for myself. I dream of looking down and seeing my arms - without scars from cuts or cigarette burns. I dream that no daughter of mine ever suffers as I have - that they never feel the self-loathing that poisons one’s soul; that they never harm themselves by cutting their flesh or starving their bodies. I dream that one day, one person might not reach for that razor blade, because of my story. I dream that my story might lead one woman to seek escape from an abusive relationship.

‘Pessismist’ you call me. I too have hopes and dreams. The only difference is… I know that they’re not likely to come true.

Monday 29 August 2011

'Social' Occasionally

The awkwardness of social situations never fails to surpass me unnoticed, when people you barely know, but have been flung together with at the wish, and likely great amusement, of the host, pry into the details of your life on the back of their extreme drunkenness. A question which, for many may seem par for the course of life in general, can reduce a few to mumbled explanations of their distinct lack of a life. One seems almost expected to respond with rank and number when asked this question, and a mono-syllabic answer is rarely allowed to go without being followed by further interrogation into the details of what such an occupation might involve, when surely anyone with half a brain cell can work out what it is that a ‘teacher’ does. (For those of you lacking that half-brain-cell; a teacher, teaches.) Of course such questions are easily fielded by those who actually have a job, or some purpose in life, but for those of us whose so-called ‘occupations’ are undefinable, the seemingly endless mass of questions are quite frankly daunting, especially considering they are not invited. I don’t want to have to mumble some half-arsed attempt at an answer to the question of ‘what are you doing with your life at the moment?’, especially when the answer is quite obviously ‘wasting it’. Being at the age I am (that’s 20, nearly 21) most people expect me to answer with ‘oh, I’m a student’, and believe me I was quite happy to do so, when I actually was a student; but now I have officially joined the ranks of the mumblers amongst us, my occupation, well it’s difficult to say, because I don’t have one. And then having to mumble yet further explanation as to why I lack an occupation just makes me wish the ground would swallow me whole. If you think mumbling is awkward, try telling the reems of guests that you’re mentally ill. People are apparently not prejudiced anymore but when they’re enjoying copious amounts of alcohol at another person’s expense they want to think about nothing more serious than the weather, the traffic driving over or who is the designated non-drunk. And people wonder why I rarely go in for ‘social’ occasions.
KV

Word Imperfect

I suppose I ought to begin this with some form of introduction, however, my usual aptitude with words seems to be failing me of late, and so this introduction is likely to be extremely poor.
I have recently returned home from university due to severe mental illness, currently classified as depression and anxiety, however, potentially a whole different diagnosis is required. I am hopefully soon to discover what it is that plagues me daily, and this blog is going to be my way of expressing my thoughts and feelings about what I am going to go through this year whilst I attempt to get better; to become happy. I don’t know how this is going to go. To be honest, I am scared; terrified, of what is going to happen this year, and that’s why I want to write it all down here. Just to have somewhere to vent, to write things down, because I like writing things down. Even if it’s not very eloquently. At the moment I’m just waiting for a referral to the primary mental health team. I’ve been waiting over two weeks now and I’m getting rather anxious that I haven’t heard anything yet. Hopefully I’ll hear something soon. Then maybe things will start to happen. Because I’m getting sick of waiting, of not knowing.
One thing, however, that will always keep me strong is Jesus; He is my Lord and Saviour and He loves me (even if I sometimes forget that fact).
Anyway. I guess that’ll do for an initial introduction. I’m tired now. I’m tired a lot. Maybe I’ll write something else soon.
KV