I try to not let my illnesses take over my life. In fact, I try very hard to not let them define me as a person. I am all for the ‘being the person before the illness’ rhetoric, and if anyone else describes me solely by that ‘defining’ feature, they often get a long and very grumpy lecture on my other wonderful and much more worthy characteristics. On a personal level however, sometimes I succeed and other times I don’t, often coming out with the phrases ‘I have Crohns‘ or ‘I’m a depressive’ as an answer to seemingly anything. I often regret this mental narrative as it usually feels like I’ve given in to my illness, and subsequently let it take over.
However, this last year has been an experience in acceptance. I have realised that sometimes, you must be that person who stands and says ‘no, actually, I can’t do that because I have this‘. It’s not easy, but let me tell you the story of how I came to learn. Continue reading
I’ve come to realise that underneath everything, I am a very angry and irritable person. I’m quick to fire up and very slow to burn out. I’m a seether, a grudger, a hater of all things. Would you have guessed?
One of my friends once told me that when I get angry she knows it’s real, she knows that something must have really pissed me off, because according to her, I don’t get angry. But I’ve mentioned it before that I would rather hold it inside me than let anything come out, and that I would rather suffer than anybody else. Unfortunately for me, I think that just makes me an even angrier person. It has no where to go, so it grows and shrinks, grows and shrinks, and then just fucks up everything. Continue reading
Who really knows.
I’m not one of those people who likes conflict. I hate it. It drives me mad. It stresses me out. If anything, conflict is one of the biggest triggers to me tumbling into a downwards spiral. I’ve always been one of those people who would rather sit down, talk, and find a compromise, than get into a full blown argument with someone. To me, that’s always been the better option.
I’m not going to say it’s healthy. In the long run, it’s probably quite the opposite. I’d rather not show anyone just exactly how they’ve hurt me, or how angry I am, so it just ends up bottled. It grows and grows, and eventually explodes, or at least, implodes, into something not good at all. I’m an internal combustor, a nuclear bomb that only collapses inwards rather than shatters outwards. Continue reading
Depression sucks. Like really sucks. And when you hit a low spot it can feel like the whole world is crashing in around you, flying unerringly towards the void that is opening up in your chest. I was pretty good for a while. Probably a little while too long. And as the old saying goes ‘what goes up must come down’. No, I don’t go through my okay periods constantly thinking ‘when is this going to end’ (not every time anyway), but I can’t help but always feel like there is some sort of inevitability whenever I do end up crashing head first down the rabbit hole. It reaches a point when you start to become aware of every tiny little thing, every little flux in thought and feeling, and you begin to wonder if this is the one that finally pushes you over that edge. Sometimes I describe it as a cartoon cliff, where you run out and you don’t realise you’re over that cliff until you look down, and it’s too late by then. Other times you can see it getting closer and you’re doing everything in your power to stop the impending edge but there’s always something that sidelines you and you almost willingly take that final step off the precipice. I don’t know which one is worse to be honest. Continue reading