I brushed my teeth for a particularly long time because I was thinking about this

At the moment, I’m unemployed and I have no partner. That’s not likely to change anytime particularly soon and in our cultural climate of competition and comparison and with the “what do you do?” atmosphere, it can be hard to deal with the expectations and judgements of other people.

I’m not as bothered as I once was that I’m not “succeeding” in the conventional way in my life as I once was. I graduated around two years ago now and I’ve been off sick ever since. This post isn’t about my PTSD though, so I’ll move on.

I guess, what I’m reflecting on here is how it’s made me rethink how I value myself and how I find meaning and engagement in general without occupation in a “work” sense.

I think I’m quite self-aware and that’s something I let myself take credit for. I know that I’ve had to actively try to build a sense of self-worth over the last few years partially due to my negative experiences. I do value myself pretty highly now and I look out of myself as much as I can.

I also think that I’ve gained a sense of perspective, and although I can have low mood swings and feel utterly shitty sometimes and pretty sensitive, I know that I can get through things, I often find myself saying to myself “I’ve been through worse, I can do this.”

Making a conscious effort to find good qualities in myself has helped me, I recognise my compassion and my ability to nurture and trust in strong friendships. I also think I’m quite thoughtful and imaginative πŸ™‚ – it sounds odd to say such things about oneself sometimes, because I don’t think many people are raised to actively accept and acknowledge pleasing traits in themselves, but I think it’s a helpful thing to try and learn to do.

Physically, I’ve also had to make this effort. I remember being dissatisfied with my appearance at various points in my life, like a lot of people are, and how, now, I love myself whether I think I look good or not. I’ve come to realise I’m under no obligation to any one else to look good and I found that to be freeing.

I’ve said to myself in my own head, when I saw something I didn’t like or if I took an awful picture: “I still love you”, y’know. And I might’ve mentioned this before, but when I had CBT a while ago, one of the main things I took from it was the notion that I should treat myself as I would treat a close friend, because I deserve that and I’m glad I do that now. (In the past, when I’ve had something pretty difficult to do, like a really stressful phone call or something, I’ve written little lists to break it down and signed it with something like “love ya babe ❀ ” – and it actually helped, I got a little flicker in my heart once, almost as if someone else had said it, haha.)

Regarding the whole “other people” issue, because I support myself now (and let my close friends help) and I know that I’ve improved, I no longer give as much of a shit if other people are unimpressed or bewildered by my current no-job status.

I’m sure I’ll find a bit more of something soon, and even thinking about this – and listening to some Mariah Carey (Touch my Body if you’re interested πŸ˜‰ ) has helped me feel a little more hopeful about the next few days and weeks, as things have felt a little heavy lately.

P.S. Love ya babe ❀

See, it’s nice isn’t it. πŸ˜›

Thanks Pretend animals

I’ve been particularly unwell recently, I had a really bad cold/ fluey symptoms on top of my usual issues you know and it sort of stripped me of the little things I can usually have the option of doing because I was just laid in bed sweating yknow.

I felt isolated and bored as well as sick, and it just rubbed the bad feelings around and they sunk in further for a few days, to the point where I could feel that I was physically improving in terms of my illness but still couldn’t get up properly because of the characteristic heaviness of my mental health issues.

I felt like all the calories of energy I had were being used on the heart-beating basics as dramatic as it sounds, and in feeling bitterly unhappy and lost.

I guess I’m trying to figure out how I came out of it,Β the visible wilting of my mum (brought on largely because of my wilting) led to me gathering the energy from somewhere to put some clothes on and let her drive me to the supermarket to get some earphones. While there, I bought myself a My Little Pony colouring book as well and some new gel pens, ha.

I don’t watch My Little Pony, but I find them quite adorable and full of friendship and sweetness and I like colouring them in because it makes the hours go past gently, especially when I can do little else.

Also, a friend of mine – I lived with him at uni, we had a sort of inside joke about them that developed into them just reminding me of laughing and someone giving a shit I suppose, and that’s a nice restful way to feel. πŸ™‚

❀

Reading of “Apathy” and “No Taste” – Matilda the rat also makes an appearance

Hiya, It’s another video – I just did it a couple of hours ago and it’s almost midnight here so I’m in my dressing gown so don’t mind that.

I haven’t actually put these poems up yet on the blog, so there’s no link, they’re still just on paper.

Here it is πŸ™‚ :

I am aware I’m getting more and more goofy the more I’m on camera doing this, I think I’m just getting more comfy/ less caring about the general impression I give off.

It kind of fits with my way of writing sometimes I suppose, I’m quite casual and silly sometimes, so I’m fine with it, hope you’re also fine with it if you’re watching this haha. πŸ™‚

Night night πŸ™‚ x

My poems follow themes and the themes follow days and moods

Last night I yearned,

This night I loved – that love was directed at myself and sprung from feeling a little vulnerable and finally being able to have a hot bath after weeks of cold water.

I wrote 18 poems on the first night,

I wrote about 4 just now.

Because I feel the love for myself tonight, I’m letting myself sleep 14 poems early.

The soft reality of night

If I just turn my laptop off and try to sleep, maybe I’ll stop feeling like a kitten lost in a forest as I type into the white beacon in the shrinking darkness. My shoulders won’t feel so cold and vulnerable if I lay down on them.

If I just lie down horizontal, my feelings won’t fall out, the room won’t be able to hold me in it’s bitter hand, I’ll sink into rest and feel better in the morning and I won’t be able to actively wonder if you’re thinking of me.

Sentences stacked on top of each other, talking about why I do this.

It’s late, but I just thought I’d reflect on why I’m doing this – why I do this blog I mean. I really appreciate having a place to put my thoughts, and to have a reason to have a creative outlet, it feels really freeing to write here. I sometimes used to feel like it was a waste to write things just for them to sit around totally unread and untouched in messy notebooks. I find it really satisfying to have an idea and then write a poem, type it up here and then see it all neat and in black and white on my screen, all together with others.

I’m really happy I decided to start properly posting and sharing something, I’ve grown in confidence in the months I’ve been writing here and I feel a little buzz whenever that orange dot comes up on the bell in the corner and I know someone’s interacted with me or with what I’ve done in some way.

This feels like a really supportive place, where a new writer’s confidence has a chance to grow. I don’t have to feel too nervous about commenting on other people’s posts or about posting my own and that gladdens me. Other parts of the internet can often seem so callous and frightening for people, particularly for someone as sensitive and easily agitated as me, considering my current mental health position as someone with PTSD and the self-doubt and self-worth issues that surround that for me.

I think it’s hard to tell whether my writing has actually improved since I started, just because I write so much now, whereas before I started this blog I only wrote occasionally. I’m not really sure how to compare poems that I posted early on, that had been sitting around in folders on the computer for months/years and I threw out there worriedly, to the ones I write now, which, for the most part, are not dwelled on nearly as much, as I grow in confidence and shrug off my inhibitions.

I feel like I’ve become a lot more playful in tone, but maybe some of my more recent poems might lack the emotive nature of my earlier work. The earlier poems I wrote tended to be more confessional and autobiographical, some of my more vivid memories written down – but now, I practice escapism a little more and tend to enjoy experimenting with imagery and just seeing what comes into my head when I sit down to write.

Anyway, I think that’s quite long enough, and I’ll try and publish this with as little restraint and fear as I have when posting most of my poems now, although I find prose posts like these considerably more revealing, with fewer places to hide – and therefore I’m more hesitant to press “Publish”, but I’m doing it anyway.

H