The Beauty of Minimalism

I was taken in by the idea of minimalism in 2018. It struck a chord with me because I come from a family of hoarders, generally speaking. The clutter was suffocating for me. Don't get me wrong - it wasn't awful like what you might see on a TV show, but my parents and many of my siblings had a bad case of 'Just In Case'. So countless things were kept 'just in case', gathering dust over the next decade.

Discovering minimalism was a breath of fresh air, and it wasn't at all how I imagined; I'd conjure up the image of a lone person sitting in a bare, white room with only a bed and a lamp. Understanding that this practice was actually about consciously and purposefully choosing what did and didn't belong in your living space was a profound realisation for me.

I began to see that it wasn't just about abandoning everything, including sentimental items with emotional resonance or practical items that weren't currently in use. An artist keeping a whole room of art materials that they actually used and added value to their life could be part of a minimalist lifestyle. Alternately, keeping a collection of books that are never read and could disappear without anybody noticing probably aren't adding value to that person's life. Even in a very clutter-free home, those books are an unnecessary addition and would probably be better off in a new and loving home.

My space has become so much lighter. I let go of so many things I hung onto needlessly, some of which I thought I'd never part with. The biggest challenge for me has been accepting that it's not a sign of failure to acknowledge that some of the things I invested time and money into no longer speak to who I've become and the place my life has arrived at. I'm not the person I used to be, so saying goodbye to those material possessions actually created the potential to engage in even better and more meaningful things.

Star .

What We Don't Know About Health

It bothers me a LOT that so much of what forms the foundation of health advice right now was so recently discovered. And in the past, so many people lived in such a way that was detrimental to their health, but they didn't know that then.

Life-saving knowledge and technologies will become available in the future, but we won't survive to benefit from them.

That's really depressing, but I'm trying to use it as an opportunity to say - all I can do is the best with what I know now.

Star . 

"Hello? Are you there?": Helplines for Loneliness, Depression and Suicide

I used to have a big aversion to calling helplines.

At that time, I was being bounced around between counselling services trying to find the right one. With each new face, I'd have to tell them my story from the top and as you can imagine, quickly became very distressed at having to relive the reasons I was seeking counselling over and over again.

Calling a helpline felt no different. I wanted to speak to someone who knew me and wouldn't have to make guesses about what would help me.

But now, being completely isolated with no-one I trust, helplines are a blessing. I've called the suicide helpline HOPELINE a grand total of two times, and count myself lucky things aren't worse. More recently I've called Samaritans if I just feel lonely, or an episode of depression has me in a vice grip and immobilised. Being on my own for so many months now, not visiting anyone and no-one visiting me, speaking to a real live person who listens carefully and responds to what I've said is so... reassuring. I feel relieved and calmed. That in itself is wonderful and awful at the same time.

When I used to work in retail about ten years ago, sometimes we'd get elderly customers who'd eagerly talk to us sales assistants for ages after they'd paid. They were very sweet, but impatient customers waiting in the queue would watch and huff, waiting to be served next. I guess those elderly people would either be totally oblivious or not care. I remember wondering if it was because they were lonely and glad to have someone to talk to. My young and blissfully unaware mind then thought, 'If that's the case - that's got to be one of the worst and saddest things ever.'

Star . 

If you are experiencing loneliness, depression, or suicidal ideation,

call Samaritans on 116 123 (in the UK),

or find the hotline number for your country on Befrienders.org. 

Who Do You Think You Are?: Self-Righteousness on the Web

I don't feel I have the expertise or the right to ask others to give up their valuable time reading the shit I write, even if it's good shit. I also don't want to join the imposter syndrome club, it's oversubscribed.

I'm deeply troubled about putting my voice out there and writing articles and web content - less worried about it being ignored than I am worried about it being so deeply despised that somebody would want me dead.

But for some, that's a good thing. Whether people love or hate the article - they care about it. It made an impact. I know in a business sense it's far worse to be ignored. But I've never been the business-savvy kind.

Star . 

What An Idiot!: Pointing the Finger on the Web

Despite being a millennial that grew up with and on the internet, watching it evolve into the beast it is now, the increasingly hostile attitude of people online is terrifying and paralysing. It took a lot of courage to even return to this blog posting quasi-anonymously.

Social media is unrecognizable from what it was 10 years ago. It is awe-some and awful in equal measures. People are very quick to judge and point the finger, and there's a lot less tolerance for somebody sharing an opposing view.

It unnerves me because when I log off and go outside, I have to share a planet with these dreadful people. These same sons of bitches are walking around, manning checkouts, running banks, driving buses and whatever else. I don't want to squint at every new person I meet trying to scrutinise whether they're soulless enough to troll and defame and dehumanise someone online. By association, I must be dreadful too.

Star . 

Forced Smiles: Putting on a Brave Face In Emotional Turmoil

I consider it my duty to remain positive, even in the face of bad news. As a result, when I first hear the news I often react very well - I'll laugh it off with ease, and give a genuine smile if I can bear it.

After the moment has passed, I'm hit with the full force of what's happened. Sometimes, it's earth-shattering and turns my world upside down, like when I was laid off from my job. Other times it's like slowly sinking into sadness, like when a friend cancels our lunch a few hours before we're due to meet.

In both cases, I completely understand why it happened, but that knowledge didn't stop the feeling of a rug being pulled from under my feet. In the case of the lunch meet, especially because it's happened so many times before. 

It's life - life happens. I know this, so why doesn't it hurt any less?

Star . 

Grim Smiles: When Effort Isn't Enough

If I stop looking for the key to resolving my stress and loneliness, then I feel like it's my fault I'm still experiencing an emotional crisis, and that I didn't do enough to help myself.

Star .

Disassociating From Mental Illness

This is a post I drafted on 16/09/2018 but never published. Blast from the past, huh?

Here's my issue.

After all of the years that my mental illnesses have been mistaken for complacency, laziness, insensitivity, or good old millennial distractedness, when I found out that the symptoms I had pointed to depression, or anxiety, I admit it was a relief because I'd started to believe that I was crazy or any of the other things my mum, older sister, or teachers said I was.

I had no room to be angry at their failure to be open-minded about what could turn a quiet, hardworking child into a neurotic, compulsive teenager, because I just wanted to find out how to make it go away. (I would find the space to be enraged five or so years later.) But what ensued was a years-long battle trying to keep myself together enough to finish my studies, dust off my novels in progress and get back to writing and being the consistent blogger I once was.

As mental-illness became a more widely discussed topic, I began to use it as a word to vaguely describe my problems without having to go into detail, and because I was tired of saying the same things over and over: I'm tired, I'm empty, I don't see the point. I'm suffocated, I feel numb, I'm worthless. This is pointless, and so on. That all sounded far worse than just saying "I'm struggling with mental illness" or "I'm feeling depressed" and just leaving it there, letting the person interpret whatever they want.

This week, I had to take a day off work to see a GP to reassess my mental health needs. I had to wait a month for that appointment, and when I got there, the doctor didn't show. Turned out the secretary had put the wrong address on the letter and without apologising, said that the next available appointment would now be mid-October. I immediately and gratefully accepted but the moment I put the phone down I was furious. It hasn't been the first time that I've been messed around by NHS mental health services and as a consequence felt like no-one cares. Admittedly, a staggering number of people desperately need access to their services which is why I was grateful to get an appointment at all, but as a result nobody is truly given the kind of care they deserve. Ironically, private care would solve that issue but if I could afford that I wouldn't be on a four-month waiting list to see an NHS counsellor for little or nothing.

I've been listening to motivational videos all month, mainly Marie Forleo, Brian Tracy, Tony Robbins and Jim Rohn. I put into practice writing down my goals and how I want my life to be, and the type of person I want to be. As I was doing this, it hit me that if I don't want to be quote-unquote 'Depressed' - a Depressed person - then I have to stop identifying with being depressed. Such a simple concept, yet I didn't realise how much I came to rely on that label, using it find out where to get help and where it was safe to talk. Although it's important to me to have that safety net, I can't achieve anything amazing in my comfort zone. Also, since I have been cleaning up my diet and eating more fresh fruits and vegetables, drinking more water, taking time out of my day to doing something calming and relaxing, my mood has improved a lot. Though that might not always be the case, I have to seize this energy while I can.

I don't want to be depressed, or anxious - but joyful, appreciative and peaceful, so this is now my daily affirmation. I'm going to say it every day until I believe it. I don't want to suffer any more. I don't want to focus on the awful things that are always happening in the world and in my social circle. I can't change those things, only myself. I feel desperate to change, but I will turn this into determination to change.

When I think about myself, when I describe myself, I don't ever want mental illness to be a part of that. Easier said than done - but seeing as I said it, I might as well do it.

I wish I could go back and give my younger self a warm hug, and all the love and compassion I really needed and never received from anyone around me at the time. But you can't send love back in time.

Star .

So... My Star Sign Has Changed?

Ophiucus? Amazing 😮 ...never heard of it.

Er... why did it change though?

Well apparently, Ophiucus was always there. It was allegedly discovered by the ancient Babylonians with the other twelve signs - but it didn't fit neatly into the original twelve constellations (which coincided neatly with the twelve calendar months) so they left it out.

The dates for Ophiucus are 29 November - 17 December, which means I fall under his star sign. I think it's represented by a man (naturally) holding a snake (worse than a centaur).

Astrology has always been interesting to me. That said, I've never identified so irresolutely with being a Sagittarius that this news is devastating. I haven't made any huge life decisions solely based on astrology, or forged relationships based on horoscope compatibility. For the most part, it's just weird to not think of myself as a Sagittarius. I'll have to overwrite all of my thoughts about it, mentally ingrained over 20-odd years - Jupiter, fire-sign, centaur, my birthstone is blah, I'm compatible with blah, my personality traits are blah...

Yeah, I guess I don't care. I might still miss being a Sagittarius. 

... Ophiucus has a nice ring to it though.

Star . 

Urge Unresisted

So... I did update the blog a little bit.

Honestly, I don't know what 17 year old me was THINKING but this blog looks bloody awful.

...or maybe times have just changed, and even though this might have looked great in 2011, it no longer looks fresh in 2020.

ANYWAY, I did a little housecleaning, gave the blog a lick of fresh paint. But I didn't change to much. Like I said in my previous post, I want it to remain largely the same as it was 4 years ago, so I can feel that hit of nostalgia and embarrassment at the super-cringe aspect of my sweet old blog.

Good to be back.

Star .

Full Circle

After almost six years, I return.

I never thought I would be writing on this blog again. Logging in to see The Alter Ego Writer gave me such a visceral reaction - warmth in my chest, tears pricking at my eyes, my stomach kind of turning over. It was a whole different person that started this blog.

I came back because I wondered if taking up writing anonymously again could heal me. I have been fighting the increasing urge to commit suicide for years as my depression steadily worsened, but these past couple of months have been the hardest of my life. This week I have existed as a shell of myself.

I'm glad I did come back to re-experience this blog again because it made me feel something, after weeks of feeling completely numb. That said, I avoided coming back to this blog for years and years. I was scared to come back and - truthfully? I was ashamed of this blog. I knew how much I had changed and didn't want to come face to face with the old me - ignorant, naive, likely biased and prejudiced from my biased and prejudiced surroundings. The experiences I've had these past six years have shown me the limitations of my own thinking, gently nudged me to be more considerate, more thoughtful, more inquisitive day by day. One the one hand, reading my past thoughts makes me cringe so much it's unbearable. On the other, even having that reaction indicates that I have grown.

So, despite my itching fingers I have decided to leave everything on this blog the same, even though it is horribly outdated, and just continue posting.

Perhaps even seeing the clunky layout and colours I chose for this blog at 17 years old will be a cocoon of nostalgia for me. Maybe this blast from the past will help me remember, or discover, what I truly used to love, before the pressure cooker experience of being moulded by the people around me started to do real psychological damage.

I am exhausted, but despite not wanting to live any more, I do not want to die. I want to put to rest the version of myself I used to be and start over. Cut away the old, dead weight and rebuild myself again, and better.

 

Star .