My rollercoaster mind

I've always wondered if everyone felt the way I felt in their own bodies. If this was the normal and why are they better at hiding their struggle. 

Feel like I'm going through this massive learning curve and kind of wish I had my closer friends around me now but this is probably for the best. With all the madness, I'm able to look at things on hindsight given a couple days.

I'm watching how I handle everything and  today was prime example of how I woke up ready for bloody anything, lunch with a friend then half way through exploring my mood changed. I wanted to go home alla sudden. And then after that I had the hardest time replying to anything with a smile on my face. I had a million other things in my head and I couldn't pay attention to anything being said. It comes off awkward sometimes.

When I got home I got into another high. I was playing music on repeat, dancing, singing and typing essays of updates to other friends. Then come 9pm, I'm down again. Bizarre.

I'd suffered mild depression my whole life sometimes severe through several of the chapters then PTSD and trauma and now I think the end result are these crazy highs, and crazy lows. I never thought I would cycle through this in my adult life but having to start again and make a life for myself on the otherside of the world has really pushed me. And I've really struggled. The highs and lows come faster because of the stress I guess. 

My regular verbal diarrhoea to several friends during hypomania was something I've regretted constantly the past few weeks, and I can only imagine what it's like on their side. Kind of hate imagining that. And then just going from the world is mine! To I wanna die, I wanna go home. And they get that too. 

So anyway, psychologist tomorrow and hopefully I'm prescribed the right stuff. 

Little wonder, come alive

Purely spiritual, beautiful melancholy. Painting pictures with his music. He has such a way with words and melody in all the small details. Like little sprinkles of gold dust in a brought to life Rembrandt. And a comforting warmth in the belly of the ocean, at night. All my favourite things.

I know nothing. I know love.

It could go two ways. You either know more and become the biggest expert on everything, or know more and know nothing. I'm the latter. I'm largely an idealist and have been for my entire life. I think based on fear systems instilled in me as a child where I thought being a good person was the ultimate goal in life. Not to say I blame my childhood, but there's no denying that the smallest things that happen in life, unconsciously turn into habits when you do not place some kind of authority on the autonomy you have in e v e r y damn situation. And for me, I've realised the only way I can function in some kind of functional way is to dismiss that kind of autonomy and stand behind my ego, or my person. For lack of better explanation, I have realised that my awareness of being a person with potential, holds me back from realising any kind of potential.

When I started teaching, we were chucked into the deep end and I was teaching lessons on day 2. If you know me, you'd know that this is something I fucking despise in life, being put on the spot or, given no time to mentally prepare for something totally out of my arena so to speak. I burnt out in the second week and cried in the bathroom with no one knowing, twice. In between lessons and during our lunch break. I was fucking dismantled that second weekend and I was ready to call it quits. 

Then I realised I'd already done two weeks, and in the same way I submit to my feelings of depression and suicide, I decided to submit to the progression of life. Which is funny because individualist conversation we all know and love is very proactive and fabulously assertive. Somehow, I managed to get through the second half of training with no relapses, while others were having them in the 3rd/4th week.

I'm in no way bragging. I don't understand half of it, but this whole part of the trip called "finding myself" has really been in action if not anything else. I am now so familiar with my strengths—of which are few and far between, but quite reliable! And my weaknesses, which I don't term weakness as in this whole process I have found out, apologising for who you are is the worst thing you can do to yourself, and sets you up for a myriad of other stressful things waiting to happen.

I rewatched an old favourite film called "Mirrormask" and for me, I was mostly watching it with how it made me feel when I was younger in mind. But for D he saw it and gathered all sorts of insight. One being the scene with all the Sphinx house cats and they advised Helena and Valentine, "don't let them see your fear," which is basically how it is for everything in life.

In life, becoming independent and creating a life for yourself requires exactly that. And that is something I've not ever been able to achieve if not for this entire experience here. I've issues with bureaucracy and these unsolved obstacles they did not footnote in our disclosures and I'm only the same as everyone else but then I wonder, if I am the same then why am I the only one who wants to go back home?

I have never in my life experienced so much love and care from a group of people I have only known for a month. We've all left our homes to start new lives here and I don't think I could be luckier to have been put in this group. Absolute rockstars. And forget the politics for a second because this rainbow of people have taught me one thing: never abandon who you are.

I could have come out to a few of my new found friends that I had depressive tendencies and oh by the way if I disappear off the face of the earth for a while it's because I'm in a hole, don't take it personally. But chick, I couldn't bring myself to it they were all such legends. And even that one bum class i taught where I was basically in a hole, at school with incredulously bleak cognitive functioning, feeling so fucking alien because why am I the only one burnt out so early-even then, they smiled at me and encouraged me, "you'll be right."

Which is basically half of my internal dialogue now. I'm so foreign and so homesick and should be really grabbing teaching by the balls here, at least for a little bit, even without the bureaucracy sorted, but I've coasted. And I coasted and I've applied for positions back home that I would've never for the life of me thought I could do. And now I can. So I figure, ok there's that. And then I figure, if you are gonna stay here then at least do something. 

I'm trying to turn my life into a series of meaningful, positive events that will build my character and person into a woman I can be proud of. And I've found out that post-trauma, post anxiety post all of that shit, I'm still one hell of a ride. And I've realised that it takes people who are well familiar with that (personally or through close ties), or people with real openness and huge minds, to get past my initial reservation. 

In the entire training group I have met one real friend. And I've made loads of friends, but this guy and I have more in common than you'd probably expect. And I think there's a vibe to it. And I think we figured that out early. And I digress.

Point is, I'm so beyond knowing anything that I accept, I know nothing. Nothing is my everything. Am I certain about anything in my life? Hell no. Do I miss it? Hell yes. And you can argue nothing is ever certain in life but I will tell you that some people do not know what they  have infront of them, and for someone like me, with nothing but forks in alien roads I will tell you, being certain about anything, and wisely certain about it too, is probably one of the most (strangely enough) liberating things you can experience. Because how fucking great is it to be able to see yourself in your environment, and in others. Honestly, it's not a show for narcissism, but familiarity and home is exactly what makes me feel complete. Can I be complete without it? Maybe. But as much of a gypsy I am in my heart, my mind needs to rest sometimes. I'm pretty old school in my head. Liberated old school. Wine and dine, then call me your little slut. This kind of thing. 

I don't really understand how people become such experts in life. Then again, those are the kinds of people that get what they want. Society supports that! Maybe there's something to it. Maybe that's phase 3. How the hell did so much happen I feel like I'm going through some apocalypse of the old. 

In any case, I've realised that my bravery is the equivalent of me not being so present in myself. Which sounds kind of deluded, but tossing my heart to the wind is the only way I find anything gets done in my life. Somehow, it always works out. Maybe I trust myself that much.

Day And Night

Lady Cypress

She stood in front of me, gun in her left hand, cypress in her right.

"I can't draw the flower without an eraser," I said.

She took me in a rush, smashing her right hand into the table. I shivered so deeply I almost remembered what it felt like as a child. 

"You are not going to be the pathetic end result of all my hard work."

I watched intently as the cypress fell from her hand so gracefully, as if crushing it made it more beautiful. She hastily brushed it off the table, grabbing my neck.

"You pathetic little shit."

She spit on me. I did not flinch. Tears welled from my eyes, unbeknownst to me, trickling slow, like cold lava down my cheeks. The moment it hit the corner of my lips, she threw me backwards off my chair.

"Speak you fucking coward."

My cheek pressed against the soot of the floor, eyes glazed, I caught sight of the cypress again; the little white bulbs of pollen sprinkled so gently, as if deliberate, over its deep red petals. It reminded me of Christmas.

She stood one of her boots on top of it, kicking it towards me dismantled against the friction. I looked up at her, just as I used to with my sweet mother, speaking slow, and sweetly, "Your anger is weakness. You have not lived true pain. I would tell you a story about it, but I'm afraid you haven't got the depth."

"How dare..."

"No," I continued, keeping my pace, "You feel powerful now. I'm on the floor, you're with the gun. How dare you think you are in control here."

She kicked my face, hard. I saw white light and my ears started to ring, my face felt a sensation between numb and burning. I looked up at her again, and this time I smiled.

being impeccable in one’s actions and feelings

“The self-confidence of the warrior is not the self-confidence of the average man. The average man seeks certainty in the eyes of the onlooker and calls that self-confidence. The warrior seeks impeccability in his own eyes and calls that humbleness. The average man is hooked to his fellow men, while the warrior is hooked only to himself. Perhaps you are chasing rainbows. You’re after the self-confidence of the average man, when you should be after the humbleness of a warrior. The difference between the two is remarkable. Self-confidence entails knowing something for sure; humbleness entails being impeccable in one’s actions and feelings.”

—Carlos Castaneda 

Panic! At The Disco: Emperor's New Clothes

My energy for today's run will come solely from this video. :48 - 2:00 specifically, thank you! :D

 

The Land of Tears

If someone loves a flower, that which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself, my flower's up there somewhere. But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him its as if all the stars went out, and that isn't important? 

He couldn't say another word. 

All of a sudden he burst out sobbing. Night had fallen. I dropped my tools. What did I care about my hammer? About my bolt, about thirst and death? There was on one star, on one planet, on mine, the Earth, a little prince to be consoled. I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I told him, 'the flower you love is not in danger. I'll draw you a muzzle for my sheep. I'll draw you a fence for your flower. I.... I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to reach him, where to find him. It's so mysterious, the land of tears.

―Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

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