Learning to cope.((I don’t have the drugs to sort it out)). 

For the whole of my adult life my mood has been controlled by psychiatric drugs. Since puberty emotions became something intolerably intense for me that needed to be dampened because I felt I wasn’t strong or capable enough to deal with them. 

Any mood swings or problems were considered pharmaceutical in nature; an issue with my medication or dosages, and not just normal human fluctuations.

For over 17 years feelings have been tempered, flattened, smoothed over by daily waves of serotonin with a pinch of norepinephrine and dopamine and one bland day I’d just had enough.

It has taken me two years to complete my borderline homeopathic taper off prozac but as of a couple of months ago I have been drug free. It will be undetectable in my blood soon if not already.

The world has changed. Everything is more vivid and vital, sharper, urgently demanding my attention. Things are loud and overwhelmingly contradictory, and tears flow freely for the sake of a broken pen, or missing words. 

I would like to clarify that although I have never learnt to cope with strong emotions, that does not mean that I am weak or incapable. I need to remind myself this on a daily basis.

And so I wade through the great spectacular symphony that describes the breadth and depth of human emotional capacity. I never realised that the orchestra was so big, that there were so many different instruments that all used to feel just like a blanket of disappointment or anger but now have individual notes of their own.

I don’t know how to deal with the stitching on a favourite dress coming undone, or how to stop myself from shaking while I’m telling you my point of view, but I know this is where I am now meant to be amomg tears, smiles and torn up letters.


luxuriating in literary freedom

I’m tangled up.

I have forgotten who I am and where I am going

All I know is that the walls have been re-truffled and re-retreated and those mysterious smudges and black crayon-like lines all over the place have been suffocated beneath another layer of paint.

Ok step one of finding direction and meaning – take prescribed dosage of medicaments. (it tastes sooo bad…do I really HAVE to take it?) If I ever find out who decided that swapping sorbitol and mint flavour for aspartamine was a good idea I’m going to feel compelled to strongly suggest they snort some of it, or at the very least leave their tongue in some for several mins. VILE. ok done. (shudders)

On writing – why I do it

I never professed to being an exceptional writer – that my words held any particular strength or bearing or indeed interest yet here you are reading and here I am typing in-between nibbling the ears off some Katjes veggie sweets and wondering why there are always more pink ‘better bunnies’ than white ones in the packet when clearly the white one have a superior flavour.

So I guess you could say I’m pretty ineffectual at expressing myself orally – often stumbling over the simplest of words / phrases / dyslexifying concepts and generally allowing semblances of words to pour out in succession without even knowing where they are going or whether it makes any sense. I like to think that the process of writing – the actual physical necessity of slowing down the presentation of syllables and the editable nature of such a process enable me to actually get to the crux of what I am thinking or feeling rather than replaying what I have just blurted out and cringeing (inwardly or visibly). Perhaps I have a slow working brain or something – that needs to plod along, word by word, beat by beat, checking and double-checking the meaning and the flow of what is written. The reflective writing routine allows me, at times, to use words which I would otherwise be uncomfortable speaking (as I tend to like to check their validity for whatever context I am using them) therefore expanding my vocabulary and ability to express.

Paragraphs of text allow me to look back at the section as a whole, not merely as stand-alone phrases – as often in spoken conversations I find myself forgetting what was said moments ago due to attempting to say something slightly more articulate than my basal level verbal stochastic garbage. Another great thing about writing is the lack of necessity to repeat yourself. If you write something important or good (at least in someone’s eyes) then it is there to be read and re-read without your need for recapitulation for every new person who shows (or feigns) an interest (not that this is a considerable concern for me at this stage of my life but if you knew my Dad you’d know how irritating it is to hear him tell the same story over and over and over ad nauseum- why not print it on a poster and save us all the multiple rounds eh?). I digress.

While I have perhaps not been using this blog as I originally intended it, it has been quite therapeutic thus far – a learning curve of writing, thinking, expressing and posting stuff that no-one wants or needs to read or know about (sorry folks).  Sometimes, when real life people are absent, there is nowhere else for these pockets of limbless thoughts and frustrations to go. You see?

So it continues, this unceasing parts of me which cannot be shared with you or anyone any other way than just this – in writing, and on it goes, the internal dialogue that just will not be fixed without reflection, consideration and just a little bit of dancing around the words.

I’m clearly not at work today – oh no, I’ve finally said I need a break – my brain is so caught up with stresses and responsibilities and repetitive tasks and niggling doubts, fretting needlessly over things beyond my control and ignoring the things which are within. So far I may outwardly have achieved nothing since I woke up but in fact – I have, I really have. The fact that I was able to tough up the paintwork with a smile on my face singing along to Jewel (yup you heard that right) and now dancing in front of the laptop to Poe (yup –  i cant tell you why i like her either – terrible taste eh?)




Don’t say I don’t treat you :P. Where was I? oh things which I HAVE achieved (let’s be a bit positive today) – I have booked tickets to see a preview show of Tori Amos’ play the Light Princess for the day before my birthday with an old school friend who I haven’t seen for YEARS! It’s going to be amazing…or disastrous, but it will be an adventure I’m more than willing to partake in. Train booked to visit awesome Cardiff friend for a weekend visit (probably involving some yummy veggie food and partying in either the night time high heels and glitter, or the afternoon tea and cakes variety 😀 allllll good. Soooo so far being off work has cost me money…but both things needed booking today…it’s not like I need to spend money to have fun it just….helps….

I’m looking forward to going for a ride (horseback) along Pakefield beach this week (I can book when I get to Mum’s place depending on weather and it will most likely be just me and the instructor) YAAAY :D. I also have the next China Mieville book SCAR to read because I’m loving Perdido Street Station. Although I have been checking work emails, I haven’t replied to any and have refrained from reading new articles which came up on my feed. What now then? well  have to pack some clothes I guess, and try to find a way of minimising the horse-smell transfer from riding gear to everyday togs – I don’t mind but apparently its not very socially acceptable to smell of horses in polite company (or rude).


Oh and a french lady in Homebase yesterday (nose piercing and red hair) made my day when she said she liked my dress (I’d made a super special effort to look nice in a bid to improve self-confidence and had until that point not received any signs of acknowledgement – though eventually I folded and got narked off and told SO he was supposed to tell me if I looked nicer than usual….you know, confidence, appreciation, acknowledgement, that sort of stuff? Today Im back in Arab Strap Tshirt and corduroy flares and unwashed hair – whatchagonnadoaboutit? yeah right – that’s what I thought. nuffin.

Except the unwashed hair thing is a bit ick – I think I’ll dye it and make it all better colour and grease back to their proper levels. OOOohhh one more thing – I was looking for some new makeup because my one true love diorshow mascara is starting to make my eyes itchy (Noooooooo!!!) so Im after something suitable for very sensitive eyes, and ideally some eyeliner too because the last ones i got have the itchy eye problem too…curses! so I read about Sephora products being pretty good but naturally they don’t ship to the UK from their US site …but….they do from their french site! So I put in an order (including a few 80% off items) and now am just waiting to see what arrives.

Ok that’s enough uncharacteristic optimism and splashes of good news and hope and wellbeing for now.

What does life after Skyrim hold for me?






failure to understand my pain

DSCF2231“I guess I can only fail to understand your pain” ~ Earthquake, Leona Naess

It’s my responsibility – to mend the rift, to take the steps, to see the good. It’s my duty to forgive and forget, to see that the problems are all inside me.

Isn’t taking responsibility for things which I had no control over, and seeing myself as the source of all problems what started my descent into all manner of psychological messes and illnesses? Isn’t always having to be the one to make the effort and be the ‘good girl’ who sees the good in everyone what got me walked over by so may people, isn’t all of that why I was so vulnerable?

Tell me why I would put myself in that situation again. I can be told from multiple angles that everything is my fault, I can even start to believe it again, but I’m afraid of going backwards, and letting unhealthy influencdes back in, before I am strong enough to fend them off.

I guess you could call that selfishness. Self-preservation.  You could say I am alienating someone, or – you could look at the history, the pain, the sickness, the wasted years, the lessons have been learnt, I know not to get too close, I think the madness may be contagious, I think I’ve had to shelter myself at the cost of shutting someone out because of what they did, who they are, what they stand for, and if that’s the only way I can stay sane then who are you to tell me I’m wrong?

Observations on emotional response

Some people are talented at making you feel loved, appreciated, special, accepted and altogether happier and calmer. When you see them you smile. They make you feel that no problem is too big for the two of you to tackle together.That’s you guys.

Some people are talented at making you feel like shit, that you are selfish, inconsiderate, unworthy, unacceptable and altogether miserable and like you want to cry. When you see them you guard your words and adopt an expressionless visage. They make you feel that you are the problem and that you are woefully inadequate at fixing yourself.

Can anyone make you feel a certain way? Noone can dictate your emotions so why the strong reactions to different people. Even the same words come out differently. I dont know.

I just wish I had more interaction with the former rather than the latter type of people.

That is all.