"Life is 10% what you experience, and 90% how you respond to it..."

Ever experienced that moment where you open your mouth and nothing comes out? Not a murmur? Nada? Zip?

Ever experienced that moment where you open your mouth and something comes out... but it's just not right? It's not what you wanted? It's not what you intended? It's not what you feel?

No? You're lucky and I envy you, even if I struggle to 100% believe you in that answer.

Yes? Then you might just understand where I'm coming from, at least partially if nothing else.

See, it's these two ends of the spectrum where I've been living my life for the last couple of months now.

(I'm not sure what this post is setting out to be yet; apology, emotional admission, deeply uninsightful warbling, who knows? But bear with me, as I know, if nothing else, it's important. Or it feels important to me. If you could just humour me, that'd be great.)

I've written about past problems and battles (?) I've had with anxiety and panic, mental health. If you read it, thank you for taking the time to do so. If you didn't, but want to, have at it (x). If you didn't, and don't want to, short version is; I'm a bit fucking weird (but if you've had any interaction with me whatsoever, you knew that anyway).

I had problems, big deal, everyone does, just different ones. In some way. I suffered, got help, fixed myself. Sorted. Job done. However, what a great many of you don't know at this point (maybe you did, maybe you noticed, I don't know?) is a couple of months ago I started relapsing. The anxiety, the panic, the confusion, the instability. All starting to assert their presence, quite forcefully.

Now, the situations are immeasurably different this time, compared to last. I'm working (I couldn't keep a job due to illness), I'm studying (I didn't even feel capable enough to contemplate it), I'm socialising (I shut myself off from everybody, physically), it's actually hard to keep me indoors now (I became agoraphobic).

This means these things have been asserting themselves in different ways than before. See, mental health is a fluid concept. This means that mental health issues, illness, are also fluid.

Hard to detect. Hard to confront. Hard.

I'm happy. I think I'm happy. I should be happy.

And yet, I knew. I could feel it. I don't know what 'it' is, but I knew it's face. It's claws, and that's not even dramatisation, they're definitely claws. It's eyes, that nobody else can see, staring out through mine, warping whatever comes into view.

The common sense approach here is thus; you know you have a problem, you do something about it. Now any of you who know me, know that maybe commonsense isn't the first point I jump to (Ha!) always. For everyone else? Yes, of course. Myself, well that's far less straight forward. Less important.

(Okay, so this is the point that I stopped writing for 3 days because I didn't know what to.... I just didn't know. Then decided where to go with it... and put it off for a good 5 hours after deciding. Little insight there.)

And there's the problem.

I've been throwing myself into everything else instead. (Note; makes it worse by the way, don't do it. Seriously.) Everything else was, is, more important. I knew what this felt like, I knew what it could do. To me. Make me feel. I got to a point where, I'm fairly certain, I couldn't get lower. But I dealt with it before. I also know what it did to everything and everyone around me too.

You can't fix that. Or it's at least a damn sight harder to, if you can.

Which is the point of this. I think.

When things affect other people, directly or indirectly, you have to take responsibility for that. I have a responsibility for that.

Responsibility is a substantial weight, one that weighs heavier when you deny it and hide from it. But I have been anyway, steadily, progressively, without direct intention. Maybe to hide, but never to hurt. I close everyone off, not because I want to, but because I don't know how not to.

I drown myself in everything else so deeply, hoping to get deep enough that nothing else can touch me. Turns out, it's only the good things that can't touch you when you get down deep. The bad will always drop down with you.

"Denial may be somewhat comforting but it hinders to healing and progression." - A very knowledgeable friend of mine.

It's an isolation that suffocates you... but keeps you breathing.

Being stuck in a place where you don't feel able to reach out no matter how desperately you want to. Confined and constricted, by nothing, but everything at once. Wanting to cling to those that you desperately can't bare to be in the vicinity of.

Frustration, to the point it literally, physically, feels like it's hard to draw breath.
A lump in your throat that feels like it's three times the size of the pipe it dwells in.
Being so tense, it feels like my muscles will rupture from continuous, painfully strenuous contraction.
Having someone say something to you and, literally, just.... nothing.
Open your mouth and... nothing.
But not always nothing, which sometimes is even worse. Because what does come out is often not what was supposed to, or how it was supposed to, or, just, not right.

Ever had someone come up to you, a friend, and say something, anything, and instead of a response, even a hello, nothing happens? Nothing comes out. All you can do is make a cursory noise of remote acknowledgement and then leave the area?

Even that's worse than nothing. It comes across incredibly rude if little else. The insight being; that played on my mind for days. I lie. It still is now.
It's incredibly disheartening when you ask yourself a question like, 'Why couldn't you just say 'Hi.'?!', and you actually have no viable answer.

I became adept at faking it, but that's become oppressively harder the longer it's gone on.

Dealing with people, any people, on a day to day basis had/has become one of the biggest challenges I've ever had to face.

People at University, which I love.
People at work, which, again, I genuinely relish.
People at home.

Strangers.
Friends.
Family.

I've alienated people in every aspect of my life because of it.

Which is where the apology comes in.

It's perfectly truthful, I am fully accepting, that I've not been, am not, the greatest person to be around. Understatement of the year so far, I think, maybe.
I'm not sure of much, but I'm sure I've come across as rude at times. Unthinking and inconsiderate. Inarticulate. Uncaring. Harsh. Oblivious. At times, downright unbearable.

Which, for me, is especially horrible and painful. For that I unreservedly apologise. There has never been any intention to be that way.

Now, this isn't something that has a beginning, middle and end, wrapping up all nicely in a package. A nice little, comfortable story.

I'm still struggling now. I'm not going to deny that.

I've said before that I feel trapped between 3 people in my life. Who I used to be, who I am now, and who I want to be. Maybe I'm further from who I want to be, and who I feel I truly am, than I was before. But I'm working on that. I'm working on how to do that.

I'm trying,
It turns out that's the point of all of this.

I'm trying.

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue. I Have A Knife, Get In The Van...

'I knew you'd hate Valentines Day, I just knew it!'

Well, to say a good friend of mine is wrong to say this to me would be lying. I do hate Valentines Day. Okay, maybe 'hate' is a strong word, but I detest what it stands for.

Now, before you all leave at this point, I'll just gently prod you in the direction of the title and ask you to consider that maybe, what I'm going to write isn't necessarily what you may be expecting from the start.

So, yes, for the sake of this, I hate Valentines Day.

One random day of hoicked up puffery on steroids to make up for 364 days of dreary sameiness, designed to make single people everywhere feel panicked for attention and for companies to make money from hurriedly bought tack we hope will appease someone this one day. 

And yet...

Every single one of us has someone, someone that could ask us out today and we'd jump at the chance without a second thought and not look back. Even I'm very much included in that. But why?

Truth is, it's certainly not just today that we'd jump at that chance. It's every day.

'It's the day of love.' Is it? Why isn't June 23rd the day of love? November 4th? August 8th? (hinthintnudgenudgeforgetmybirthdayyouwillnotwinkwink) Why are these arbitrary days not days of love? My sole point is, they should be. They are if you make them so. Therein lies my problem with Valentines Day. We bill it as the sole day within the year to show someone how much they mean to us. How important they are. How wonderful they are. How much we love them. How much we adore them. How much.... well, we'd quite like the chance to sleep with them fall asleep next to them on a regular basis.

My question is, if you only take this one day a year to show someone how important they are to you.... are they really that important to you?

Why can't we do this normally? What's wrong with showing someone how important they are to you every other day of the year? Why not make a big gesture to someone when the feeling compels you to, instead of in the confines of when you're told you should?

Now, when I informed said friend of this highly enlightened and opinionated position of mine, I got an undeniably short shrift. It wasn't about only having one day to show people they're important to you, thoughtful people do that all the time, it's about one day a year you can be romantic if the mood takes you and not be afraid of being laughed at.

So, for the oasis of romantics left amongst a world of cynics, it's about confidence.

You know, I have absolutely zero problem with that. Here's where I realise, I don't actually have a problem with Valentines Day.

It's the attitude to the other 364 days in the year I have a problem with. We have just one day in the year where we feel we can express ourselves and be safe from ridicule. One day a year. Then we complain about how harsh, unyielding and unhappy our world is.

Fuck. That.

What's wrong with love, passion, desire, affection? Feeling? Nothing. What can stop us from showing it in a way we're comfortable with? Surprisingly enough, nothing. If you feel these things, you feel them every day as well as today. Don't let one day rule your confidence to do things, to say things, to show things.

Tell someone you love them.

Show someone how amazing they are to you.

Tell someone you feel like you could fall in love with them if you could give yourself the slightest chance.

Tell someone they... they make you happy just because.

Tell someone that spending time with them means the world to you.

Tell them and show them in the ways you know how. It doesn't have to be huge gestures, it can be, but it can be all the little things too.

Do it today. Do it tomorrow. Do it whenever you feel is right for you. Do it with caution but without trepidation.

If someone will judge you for that, that says far more about them as a person than it does you.

And if you're recently alone wanting to take time out or happy alone and in no big rush to change that? That's absolutely awesome. You do you and you rock it. Don't let anyone tell you you're wrong in that.

The point is, don't let any limitations or confinements dictate to you.

It's not down to anyone else to decide how, when, where, or why. Don't let yourself be told you have to, today, but also don't convince yourself, or let yourself be convinced, you can't any other day either.

Just....love. Love freely. Love happily. But also, love genuinely, or it means nothing no matter what day it is.


Roses are red,
Violets are red,
Shit, the garden's on fire.