The only thing that's changed in the past few days has been the violence and volume of the voice in my head as it drops pushing my psycho weight issues and starts forcing me to see that I'm not needed, nor wanted and that even I don't want to stay anymore. Not really.
- Sky
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Sunday, 16 February 2014
Do I posses humanity at all?
I thought for awhile that I wouldn't end up here again. But there's nothing comparable to the comfort of a blog that has held your demented thoughts through some of the worst times of your life.
I've been reflecting a lot lately on the kind of person I've become. I think that most people are somewhat unhappy with some aspect of themselves, but I very rarely find a moment where I am happy. A lot has happened to me recently and through all my life. And these experiences, good (it happens, rarely, but it happens) and bad, have created who I am. With all the catastrophes that follow me around I suppose it's not a great surprise that I'm a difficult person. I go through long bouts of emotional unreachability, even with people who know me well. This makes me difficult to get to know when I shut you out at every possible angle. This is such an ingrained personality flaw that I don't even notice I'm doing it anymore. Someone who get especially annoyed at me for being like this pointed it out and I found myself actually surprised to hear that that's what I had been doing. While it's a handy defence at times, I'm not sure I like it. I think that that being like this shows on the outside to some degree. I'm standoffish, rude, I don't think. Everything about me is repellent. Part of me does want to be a much softer person, but that part is shouted down by the greater part that knows the consequences of being soft are not worth it.
People learn from pain.
I'm also afraid that I process and feel emotions wrong at times, that is if I feel them at all. I think that I feel most things okay, or 'normally', but sometimes something is off. Or I believe that I'm not feeling something as I should. What I'm unsure about is whether I'm incapable (as a result of my mental illness) or my subconscious is deliberately repressing the emotions and coinciding reactions. There are a bunch of minor incidences that make me wary of this aspect of self, but there are two that stand out. Firstly, my brother. I can't recall how much dwelling I've done on him on this blog, but at this stage the relationship has frayed to absolute hostility on my behalf. I can't make myself be nice to him in greeting or action. No one else in my family has this trouble with him - despite that he almost certainly deserves it - but I just cannot conjure any other emotional reaction. I don't get properly angry anymore, I just regard him with absolute hostility. I'm finding my inability to use text to explore in this instance debilitating and annoying, because there's a lot I want to say here but can't. Fundamentally though, I have this nagging thing that something in me is broken. The second instance involves Mum's uncle who was recently diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. He will die. Not now, but within the next year. I'm watching my whole extended family start to feel this and get torn up by it and I've known for two weeks now and there's not been a single feeling. Not one emotion. Am I heartless? Am I broken? Am I just not as human as everyone else? Being unable to process and feel emotion as I suppose most people do is isolating. It makes me feel completely alone.
People communication through emotion.
I also fear that I've been using my emotional deadening for the wrong things. Losing my virginity has opened up an entirely new forum for risk taking, I'm not going to lie. And engaging in it has the potential to satiate the sex drive, boost my self esteem and reduce my need to take other risks. Because I feel so little and feel so greatly disinterested in many people it is so easy to go home with a boy and then walk away. Free. The ghost I should have been in the lives of those who do know me. This behaviour is more than helped by my tendency to excessively binge drink. Another of my favourite games of risk. It is at this point that I'm wondering whether I'm using risk to feel alive.
Living and risk taking are not one and the same.
I really am very unhappy with the person I've grown up to become. But changing myself is one of many changes where I can't predict an outcome (not that my life has been predictable in any way). In a way it's like I've gone into survival mode and have adapted to suit. My mind intends to stay the course as wholly as it can, and this is the price I'm paying. My continuing inability to express myself the way I intend is infuriating... Does it show my confusion?
My next move is so undecided it burns me,
- Sky
I've been reflecting a lot lately on the kind of person I've become. I think that most people are somewhat unhappy with some aspect of themselves, but I very rarely find a moment where I am happy. A lot has happened to me recently and through all my life. And these experiences, good (it happens, rarely, but it happens) and bad, have created who I am. With all the catastrophes that follow me around I suppose it's not a great surprise that I'm a difficult person. I go through long bouts of emotional unreachability, even with people who know me well. This makes me difficult to get to know when I shut you out at every possible angle. This is such an ingrained personality flaw that I don't even notice I'm doing it anymore. Someone who get especially annoyed at me for being like this pointed it out and I found myself actually surprised to hear that that's what I had been doing. While it's a handy defence at times, I'm not sure I like it. I think that that being like this shows on the outside to some degree. I'm standoffish, rude, I don't think. Everything about me is repellent. Part of me does want to be a much softer person, but that part is shouted down by the greater part that knows the consequences of being soft are not worth it.
People learn from pain.
I'm also afraid that I process and feel emotions wrong at times, that is if I feel them at all. I think that I feel most things okay, or 'normally', but sometimes something is off. Or I believe that I'm not feeling something as I should. What I'm unsure about is whether I'm incapable (as a result of my mental illness) or my subconscious is deliberately repressing the emotions and coinciding reactions. There are a bunch of minor incidences that make me wary of this aspect of self, but there are two that stand out. Firstly, my brother. I can't recall how much dwelling I've done on him on this blog, but at this stage the relationship has frayed to absolute hostility on my behalf. I can't make myself be nice to him in greeting or action. No one else in my family has this trouble with him - despite that he almost certainly deserves it - but I just cannot conjure any other emotional reaction. I don't get properly angry anymore, I just regard him with absolute hostility. I'm finding my inability to use text to explore in this instance debilitating and annoying, because there's a lot I want to say here but can't. Fundamentally though, I have this nagging thing that something in me is broken. The second instance involves Mum's uncle who was recently diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. He will die. Not now, but within the next year. I'm watching my whole extended family start to feel this and get torn up by it and I've known for two weeks now and there's not been a single feeling. Not one emotion. Am I heartless? Am I broken? Am I just not as human as everyone else? Being unable to process and feel emotion as I suppose most people do is isolating. It makes me feel completely alone.
People communication through emotion.
I also fear that I've been using my emotional deadening for the wrong things. Losing my virginity has opened up an entirely new forum for risk taking, I'm not going to lie. And engaging in it has the potential to satiate the sex drive, boost my self esteem and reduce my need to take other risks. Because I feel so little and feel so greatly disinterested in many people it is so easy to go home with a boy and then walk away. Free. The ghost I should have been in the lives of those who do know me. This behaviour is more than helped by my tendency to excessively binge drink. Another of my favourite games of risk. It is at this point that I'm wondering whether I'm using risk to feel alive.
Living and risk taking are not one and the same.
I really am very unhappy with the person I've grown up to become. But changing myself is one of many changes where I can't predict an outcome (not that my life has been predictable in any way). In a way it's like I've gone into survival mode and have adapted to suit. My mind intends to stay the course as wholly as it can, and this is the price I'm paying. My continuing inability to express myself the way I intend is infuriating... Does it show my confusion?
My next move is so undecided it burns me,
- Sky
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