time to fade away… it’s better than burning out.

On a good day I sometimes see myself as a fixer. I turn up, facilitate what is needed, whether it’s networking, encouragement, revealing a truth, or something practical…storm in a teacup if you like, and once the ripples settle, and things are moving the way they should, it’s time for me to move on. Little bit like Nanny MacPhee I guess… (!)

Today is not a good day.

Today I see myself as the hindrance to progress. I notice that I remove myself from the picture and things go better. Days like today it’s very hard to fight the idea that maybe I would be better off removed. That maybe I’m holding people back from their progress by being around.

Mostly though I’m angry. At myself more than anything. For listening, and for not listening. For pushing myself that bit too far, when I should have listened to the voice telling me to turn tail and flee. I’m angry at everything the last day or so though, and I DON’T like that. Last night I was hesitant about venturing into town because of St Patrick’s day, and the potential crowds and rowdiness.
I’d spoken to a friend about it, who’d said I should try to see my friends and not worry too much about what might not even happen. So I sucked it up and decided to go. I didn’t even have to get into town before encountering what I didn’t want to meet. They got on the bus. But, I decided I would push through and be able to calm down and would be OK. What I should have done, was got off the bus and turned around and gone home. Instead, I managed to calm down a bit, got the admin I needed to do out of the way, and realised that I wasn’t feeling brave enough to really talk to anyone. I ignored another point where I could have chosen to go home. Instead, telling myself it’ll be OK… and then some rather loud people got to playing some game, which set me right on edge again…and it was all downhill from that point. I came across as awkward, and I don’t know what… because I ended up feeling a bit interrogated when I asked a question, which made me want to RUN. I sat on it, but I was glad to be able to escape, and that isn’t right. I went home and went to bed. Not even an episode of QI helped, so I went to bed.

I woke up again covered in bruises. Second day in a row, although not the same place this time. Yesterday I’d blatantly been held down by the chest, as I can make out the handprints (there’s no way I could have done it to myself without removing my arms and switching them round… ) this morning, it’s my arms and shoulders that are suffering. Thank goodness for long-sleeved tops is all I’ll say about coming to work today. I don’t know what has happened while I’ve been sleeping – I remember struggling against being pinned and the bed being a mess upon waking up, so obviously been tossing/turning/writhing, but who or what I’ve been rallying against, I don’t have a clue. I’m not sure I want to either to be honest, although I also don’t want it to continue either. Ironic really, that normally I’m wanting to not remember what I dream about, that the one time it might be a good idea to have a clue is the one time I don’t. I’ll admit to being a bit uneasy about it, maybe even a little scared.

It’s certainly not the first time that what has happened in my dreams has spread into the real world, and it’s not even the worst occurances. The worst was being sliced in the ribs by a sword in my dream, and waking up to find my side opened up – 6″ long and a good half inch deep. No blood or anything, and nothing I could have done it on. And witnessed. I’ve woken up covered in scratches across my face and arms from being raked by claws, when I have no nails able to do that. And I’ve had bruises before I have a photo of the giant one in the middle of my back which a friend had found after I’d complained of back pain. A couple of weeks ago, I had a scar appear on my right arm overnight, including the ridge. The ridge has gone, but the scar is still there, and if I’d had the corresponding injury to it, I would have known. Why it happens, and why it comes through to waking life, I don’t know. Wish I did! I’d like to understand it… but this feels different. I can’t explain why or how, maybe it’s because there is a definite handprint, or maybe it was the feeling of being pinned down and the panic associated with that, I don’t know…. but there is a point where it starts to sound a little crazy, even to me. And I think this is getting to that point. I don’t have a clue where to begin as to understanding it, let alone being able to do something about it… any any suggestions would be welcomed, cause I’ll consider anything as an option, even that I’m just losing my sanity. I’m sure plenty think that… and maybe they are right. I don’t know… but this is a bit odd, even for me…. are alarm bells ringing for anyone else??

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Sara’s Choice.

First off, I apologise if this doesn’t make as much sense as it might.

I haven’t slept yet, and words are not massively forthcoming as it is, but I need to man up and just get on.

Currently, I’m at a crossroads. Unfortunately there isn’t a path I can choose which won’t present a problem.

I could choose to go backwards. That’s a no go in itself. I know what lies there. Nope.

To the sides lie the people I love and care a lot about. Problem with this is that because I have dared to do this, I am afraid they’ll be hurt.

On one side, I could choose to walk away, which would prevent them from being inevitably hurt and disappointed when they eventually work out just what a shitstorm of a mess I am and what happens to those I care about. Something I can’t let happen anymore.  On the other side, I could stay, and wait to be discovered. To be seen for the fraud I am.  I could also go straight ahead… where I crumble and show just how fragile and broken I am… and wait for everyone to run. And I would wholeheartedly understand their reasoning to it as well.

Logically I know someone will probably point out the fact that I haven’t considered the other option… that actually, they won’t and it will be OK. I have to accept that there is a possibility, otherwise I’d be as much of a zealot as the creationists. But it’s not something I can see, or believe. And that in itself saddens me. Because for EVERYTHING I have fought for over the last two years… I still can’t grasp that. And I’m honestly not sure I ever will. I’ve taken down a lot of the walls I’ve put up over a very long time, but there’s still a huge amount to go, and aside from my own concerns that I lack the strength and the will and the ability to get there.

I know I’m not explaining any of this well at all. But I need to try.

This choice is nigh on impossible for me.  But I know I can’t escape it. I’m not thinking about the path of least resistance either. What I’m thinking about is what will cause the least damage. I’d rather sacrifice myself in favour of those I care about. They are worth it- I am not. That’s the way that I see it. And I *hope* (because whatever else, hope, cruel mistress that she is will always remain) that I can change things so maybe I can see what others see that I am blind to. For now, the best I can do is accept that others have their opinion, which is a lot more objective than mine, and that if I respect their opinion then I have to give just cause and consideration to that.

So I guess the path I need to take is to move forwards. And hope against everything I KNOW so far, and accepting that I don’t yet know everything, that I am wrong. Because I’m not sure I can walk this path alone, the others, yes. But not this one. Because I need to smash what’s left to smithereens before I can make any salvage from the ruins. And that’s something I can’t do by myself, let alone anything that follows.

I guess this is me asking for help. Not sure who what or how, but I’m at the limit of what I am able to do on my own I think.

But I also need to try and maintain a bit of perspective. And remember that actually I would NEVER have considered that I might even be in this position one day. So to be here and having to consider all of this is in itself, a victory.  I also need to try and remember that not everyone is actually out solely for their own gain. That there are other people who care as much as I do about people they care about.

I also need to remember that actually, every time I cry, every time I have to stop and think about something and reconsider whether or not it’s right to dismiss it out of hand or consider that there may be a point. Every time that I feel, it’s another chink in armour that was built with the intention of NEVER failing. Armour that *needs* to be broken.

At the moment, I want to just retreat into the numbness and the nothingness but I know I can’t do that indefinitely. I hate being so mistrusting and suspicious of everything, and I hate myself for being so stuck. I don’t use that word often, but it’s the right word for this. I don’t want to.. and that’s where the battle is. Because I know I’m not at the bottom yet, and those people who for whatever reason do actually give a stuff will have to deal with that, and they don’t deserve to.

 

I’m stuck running round my own head again at the moment. Kinda glad my student today has cancelled. Maybe I will be able to just go sit in the park for a while, or go for a walk in an effort to quieten the torrent somewhat. Maybe I should just let it spill… I don’t know.

Answers on a postcard I guess…

cracks appear in the well worn veneer.

I’m very very used to being able to go about daily life and not have anyone notice when something isn’t fine. So when I find that to not be the case, it raises questions for me.  Does this mean that the mask is wearing thin? Is it getting too much for me to be able to disguise? Or is it actually that I mostly get away with it because people don’t look that closely.

At the moment, I think it’s probably a little of everything… but the biggest truth is is that I’m getting tired of fighting. With myself, with others and with the world at large. Everyone has demands of me, up to and including just to be myself. That’s the one I probably find hardest I think. People think I am all these things, and I probably appear that way, and in some cases it might even be true. But there are things I am not. Or maybe just that I’m realising that I don’t *have* to be those things.  But then if I don’t have to be then what does that leave??

I know I’m talking vagueries again but I’m trying to actually express something that isn’t verbal in my head… so maybe it’s better to start at the beginning and see if that helps..

Last week I came to the realisation (with some help I should add) that I have friends who are not really friends. They are happy enough when they want something, or I can do/give/be something for them, but at other times they really don’t want to know.  This was proven and cemented when I had an encounter with them for the first time in a pretty long time and within an hour, I’d been asked for a favour. I wasn’t even asked how I was or why I’d not been about in the previous time.  Me being me, I did it, and it took having to hint majorly to get even a thank you.  In the past, this one sided “friendship” was acceptable for me, and I would quite happily be the doormat, because it was better than the alternative.  And it meant at least I had ‘friends’.

The changes over the last year though have made me wonder if maybe I am actually capable of better, and there have been better people come into my life who are showing me this is possible too.

So after this last week, and very clearly deciding that actually being treated like that isn’t acceptable, if only because I wouldn’t allow my friends to be treated like that, and I would never treat them like that, came last night.  Another person tried to assert their…will…I guess over me, and I fought back. I know that I did the right thing in denying them, especially when the daggers started to fly, and yet I ended up feeling completely guilty over doing it. This person I’ve known for a very long time. around 10 years in fact. They’ve been exceptionally important at times in the past, especially when I fell apart and no-one noticed.  It was actually this person who stopped me from bottoming out irretrievably. Thinking about that now though, it was purely because they happened to turn up and catch me completely defenseless. But, to their credit, they dropped everything and to some extent saved me from the abyss. Which may actually be why I feel so guilty. I feel like I owe them something I can’t actually repay.  I’d never thought of it like that until just now. But I think they may also know how I feel, because they know me well enough to know. And know it’s something they can use to keep me at their whim. Except they tried last night and it didn’t work.

I don’t know. But I know that I ended up feeling close to breaking point last night.  This is where it sounds odd. I could feel the pain, physically, but knowing that it wasn’t physical pain, but could feel the knots and wounds twisting and pulling and generally trying to tear me apart on the inside.  Something that however I try, I fail to explain. I do wish that the ability to transfer feelings existed (I think it’s star trek that has something like it.) Just so when someone who does notice and asks ‘what’s wrong’ instead of failing utterly to try and explain I could instead just take a hand and press it into that and let them feel. Because I don’t have a way to explain it.

That pain scares me though, because I know it’s trying to get out, and even though I know it would be easier to not fight and let it go and ride it out, I’m not sure I can. I’m pretty sure that I will fight and fight until I *can’t* because I don’t want to feel like I failed. I already feel that way to an extent, because it’s *that* which I try to keep hidden. From myself as much as anyone else. Myself because I’m afraid of it, and from others because I don’t want to be a burden on them, or to make them run or push them away. And I’m finding it harder and harder to keep it hidden. Even I can see it in my eyes from time to time without having to look hard to see it.

I think the hardest thing though is coming to the realisation that maybe it’s OK to let someone else see, and that actually, it might not terrify them, make them run, or just decide they can’t be bothered. That’s been my hope for some time now, but the idea that it might actually be realised is in itself unsettling. I am however grateful beyond words to the people who have been teaching me that friendship – real friendship, is *not* what I have mostly seen so far. Although that brings it’s own challenges, because I don’t want to fail or disappoint people who have been there for no discernable reason, and want nothing in return.

Even trying to explain this and write this, I can feel the ‘thing’ making itself known. It’s more like snakes writhing as opposed to knotted tummy and simple anxiety. Maybe because while I’m shielding it, it retains a hold. I forget too often, that a wall can be built to keep things out, but it also keeps things in. Maybe it’s time to take the wall down…  I just know that I’m tired. And I’m not sure I want to fight anymore. And I’m not sure I want to make the effort to hide.  Whatever that means…. whatever that may bring.

The Void – (Probably one of the most thought through posts I’ll write)

That sounds kind of bad really, but I don’t sit and think about my posts when I write them usually. I have a tendency to overthink and overanalyse at the best of times, and so to sit and think about what I want to say when I’m purely writing to get stuff out of my head into a format that’s communicable and as a memory to myself would be severely counterproductive… that being said, this post has had a fair bit of thought.

I started trying to write about this the other day, and stopped, because it was sounding a bit melodramatic and a bit incredulous, however as the week has gone on, I’ve remembered more and more just what experiencing this can be like, and I need to get this out and down, if only to serve as a reminder to myself for the future just why I *need* to deal with this.  Today, I got some stuff written by pen and paper about it and I’m hoping that a third time will be the charm, so to speak.

There have been many times when I’ve gone to try and explain what I’m feeling, or thinking, and I just can’t. Words choke in my throat before they have a chance to be vocalised, I feel like if I go any further then something Really Really Bad will happen.” Anxiety!” is the answer to come from anyone who thinks they know anything’s lips. Perhaps, in part, definitely. The fact that I believe I’m worth less than the scrapings from someone’s shoe, and don’t deserve, let alone am allowed to be able to discuss myself in anyway definitely contributes to feeling anxious, definitely, but there’s more to it than that..  and it’s a feeling that I get at other times as well – usually when I’m feeling raw and vulnerable. Something I’ve been feeling especially over the last couple of weeks. When it isn’t related to my attempts to express myself, it tends to start quietly, building up to a tumultuous roar that refuses to back down or go away.  Always located in the same place. Only once have I been able to do anything with it other than bury it, and that very nearly broke me.  I call it ‘The Void’ And the best way I can explain it is as follows:

Imagine a bottle – a wine bottle is probably best for this. Like all good vessels it is there for storing things. In this instance, it’s the place you put all of the crap that you don’t know how, or don’t want, or can’t deal with. As more happens, more stuff is added, but that’s OK, because it’s a strong bottle, and it’s contents are compressing nicely, and there’s plenty of room, so you add more and more stuff to it – not consciously, not deliberately, and you probably don’t even realise it’s what you’re doing. But the more that goes in, the greater the pressure gets. As the different things get more compacted, they begin to combine, and to form one big thing instead of lots of smaller things, and you could swear, sometimes that it was beginning to look back at you when you went to check the bottle… so you do the only thing you can think of. You seal the bottle and try and forget about it.

It even works for a while. You get the breathing space to begin to learn how to actually deal with situations you never should have had to experience, so not so much goes into the other bottle, and you keep on top of that… and you go about life… until one day…  you can feel a weird sensation in your chest, almost like something is squirming around. You pay it a little attention and it dies down, apparently sated, and you carry on, but before long, it comes back, and you find that isn’t enough, and that the writhing increases, and with it, you swear you can feel claws… so you push back… and once more, it dies down for a while… Eventually, you manage to block out the sensation, but what’s left is somehow worse, and you feel like there is a black hole at your core, threatening to suck every part of you into it. Empty. Black. Nothingness. Acknowledging it only  brings the feeling back. The tearing, clawing writhing feeling that is going to rip you apart from the inside before spilling out into everything you are,taking you and everything and everyone you care about with it. The pain with it is real, but you know it isn’t caused by anything physical. Explaining it sounds crazy, to the point that when you stop and think about it, you’re not even sure it’s possible… and you find yourself physically pushing it back down constantly, because if you stop, then that’s it. You don’t know if there’ll be anything left. You find yourself wishing that you could show someone what you feel, but you’re also sure that if you took someone else’s hand and placed it over that spot of both nothingness and screaming agony, they would feel nothing. But you would feel a little better. You’ve seen that happen before. And so instead, you find yourself holding yourself together, pushing it back in, back down, physically sometimes, because you’re afraid of what would happen if you let it take it’s course. That there would be nothing left to recover. You tried uncorking the bottle once before- it was open for seconds, before you jammed it back in and you lost yourself for days … and it took someone else coming to find you curled up in a corner sobbing uncontrollable and literally holding you for three *hours* until you regained enough wits to stop feeling nothing but the pain and to realise that you were still there.

The thing is… I *know* that this needs to come out. The contents of my bottle are not pretty, hurt like hell, and probably have a vendetta against me for being shut away for so long. But it meant I survived. It meant I could continue. In my bottle is all the stuff I remember, the things that haunt me in my nightmares. The things I’m remembering somewhere inside, when I look like I’m daydreaming. the things I don’t remember because they’re too much, my own self hatred, guilt and everything else I’ve taken on because ultimately I feel like it’s all my fault. The bottle is cracking under the pressure, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it together, and I can’t risk a volcano erupting, and people being injured in the fallout. Enough people have been hurt because of my existance.

Thing is, I just don’t know what to do… I don’t know if there *is* a safe way of starting to siphon some of this off, and keep my sense of self, let alone my sanity intact. But I know I have to do something. And time is starting to run away. from me. I can’t ask anyone to help pick up whats left either. It’s unfair on them. This is a mess of my own making, even though I know that I simply did what I had to do to survive then. These are the consequences of that. And I fully admit that frankly, I’m fucking terrified.  But I’m more terrified of not being able to control it.

I think this is a good definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place. I just wish I had a clue as to where I could go…or what to do…

Am I in fact, that which I dislike intensely? (or, The Masks we Wear)

This is something I got to thinking about last night whilst I was having some extra awake time.

And by extra awake time, I mean inability to sleep due to nightmares again. I’ve never had particularly good sleep. Rampant insomnia when I was younger, which I still get bouts of now at least twice a year, and nightmares. Some recurring and some not. The recurrent ones I kinda understand, at least in part, as they are either based on real events that have happened, or are related to them.  Something to look at another time though… Then there are the ones which aren’t recurrent- like Sunday night, when I was essentially taken through being burnt at the stake.  I should probably point out, that my brain doesn’t have an off switch when I’m dreaming. I get every sensation in glorious full fledged all senses right through to their natural conclusion, so it’s no wonder that I wake up screaming on bad nights. I don’t always remember the dreams in full detail thankfully, but there’ll be something that lingers if I don’t. The one on Sunday, I did remember, and word to the wise, don’t get burnt at the stake!

Last night, I’d gotten to bed early, after cancelling the plans I’d got to stay at a friends house due to just not feeling up to it. I didn’t really want to be on my own, but I also didn’t want to have to try and explain why I was feeling so ‘bleh’. Same as the fact I’ve called on this weekends trip to Derby as well. When I’m feeling like this I don’t like feeling like I’m imposing on people – so I tend to stay out of the way. There are exceptions, but few and far between.

I woke up at 2.30, post nightmare. And then had a good three hours to deliberate and cogitate on ‘stuff’. A lot has happened the last few days – I’ve revealed a few things to close friends – mostly because they saw through the mask I wear. So I wanted to try and explain things. I don’t think I did particularly well at it, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Again. Something for another time….

So yeah… the thought that I may well in fact be a hypocrite is not a good one. It’s something I dislike intensely in a person. But is there a point where it’s okay, or sometimes even necessary? For me, I wear a mask. I wear armour as well, and it’s bloody strong stuff. Not because I want to, but because it’s necessary. Not just for me, but for those around me. At least I think so, as if I didn’t have those I would probably not venture out of the house, let alone try and integrate into society at all.  So does that make it ok?  I don’t actually know… sometimes masks are necessary I think. Not always as a means to hide things, but to save others. I don’t wear mine to hide people, but to spare people, although it does save the dual purpose of allowing me to exist a little more socially…. I think I might be rambling on now and not making much sense…

Needless to say, this week, I’m not having the best of times… but I’m not sure what would make it better either.

Any comments, or thoughts or answers to the questions welcomed… It’s really hard to be an extroverted processor when you’re an introvert and tend to choke on words when you’re feeling vulnerable… meaning it gets written, and hopefully debated that way..

 

On the edge of Darkness. (not necessarily an easy post. Dark topics, and not necessarily safe for work. )

It was only a matter of time until I ended up back here – on the edge of the Dark Lands.

I’d dared to hope that for the first time in a long time that I might have escaped it for the winter, but it wasn’t to be.

Stranger still is how it’s always something entirely innocuous that starts that journey… although I’ve got a feeling that the current solar storms may well have something to do with it – as they always unbalance me a little… Eitherway though, I’m making this journey again.

The innocuous thing that started this was being asked whether or not I get lonely. I have to admit I was somewhat taken aback by it, as I really haven’t considered that for a while. I’m too busy to really think about it, and in hindsight I answered as honestly as I could, and think I still can. I’m too busy really to get particularly lonely… and I don’t think I get more lonely than other people – as everyone does sometimes, right?

Unfortunately, at this point, my brain went off on one, and tried to work out *why* the question had come up. Was it just because I’d said I was going out by myself, and not meeting anyone? Was it because they are fed up of seeing me as often? Have I come across as being needy… and so the spiral begins. The spiral of what ifs and maybe I’s. Round and round, and down and down.

Then, as my brain started kicking this around, I was caught off guard again… and I think mistakenly managed to give the impression of being annoyed and upset. Not easy to explain, but I wasn’t. Not at them anyway…

I’ve never been easy to categorise. I don’t fit neatly into a box, and I don’t conform to expected specifications. Never have, and probably never will. It’s not something I’m overly arrogant or proud about, and it’s not something I’m ashamed about either, now that I’m happy with that. I used to be, because everyone told me it was wrong. It’s not, just different. And I’m OK with that.

HOWEVER. People often fall into a bit of a false assumption that I have more life experience in some things than I actually do…. especially when it comes to smut and sexual contexts and content. People laugh at me and dismiss me when I point out (usually in a semi-jokey way) that I am ‘naive and innocent’. Usually met with guffaws and ‘yeah right’s. Don’t get me wrong, I can have a dirty mind with the best of them, but generally I don’t think like that, and it’s not something I can just ‘switch on’ when it crops up. But actually, I *am* the strange person, who was married, but didn’t have sex until a long time after that relationship ended. Actually, I was 26 when I lost my virginity. It’s not something I publicise, because I don’t enjoy going into the reasons why, but actually I do get kinda embarrassed about certain things, not necessarily at the content, but because I feel so vastly out of my depth, and lacking any way of being able to actually contribute to a conversation, and I don’t like *that.* Being drawn into things like that generally make me feel inadequate and lacking basic tenets of human experience, which then in itself throws up a lot of questions I have to wade through and a whole minefield to negotiate without doing further damage. The saving grace in all of this though, I guess is that I *know* that this is my own shit, and I have enough of a head about me to be able to draw the line of separation. So when people realised that something was kinda broken last night and apologised, I meant it when I said it was OK, and I didn’t blame them one bit.

The problem is fixing this. I don’t want to and would never expect people to treat me like a china doll. That’s happened before – and I hated it. It made everything so much worse, and then I go and hide, or walk away. But I don’t really see a way forwards out of it either. I’m not the kind of person who would jump to attempting to make up the things I’ve missed out on and assume that will fix things. Because it won’t. At all.

Ignoring it doesn’t work either. Because it comes back, and this is the haunting. A part of the legacy of everything that happened. I wouldn’t change what happened though, because then I wouldn’t be the person I am. For all of the crap it’s left behind, there are a lot of positives that have come out of it as well. At least I’m told that. Today, I’m not sure I can bring myself to believe it, but I know others believe it, and anyone is a better judge of me than me at the best of times, let alone in the worse times. I can’t exactly avoid situations where it might happen and become an issue either. That gets noticed, or I become a pariah.

Fortunately last night, I was too busy thinking about other things for it to turn into anything more than red glowing cheeks and being rather tongue-tied – in itself embarrasing – especially for a 30 year old. There’s always the danger of it turning into tears. And when that happens it’s a whole different ball game. Add in a pinch of frustration, and a whole big swirl of what I described above. And then throw that onto someone who finds it very difficult to express deeper emotion and you open a whole floodgate….that and anything else that might be lurking.  I’m just glad that didn’t happen!

But how *do* you fix it, and move forwards?

I guess the first step is accepting the fact that actually, I’m still pretty broken. But less broken than I have been… so at least it’s progress…. right?

Black, White, and Shades of Grey.

So, it’s been a while since I posted much… I’m not going to apologise for that – I’ve had other things to do… including mad trips to Sheffield to surprise someone for a birthday, visiting Alton Towers to see the fireworks, and then my own birthday too. And of course, work.

Also started on my 101 things in 1001 days project, which can be found –>https://stormvixen.wordpress.com/stormvixens-101-things-in-1001-days-the-list/

So been prepping and thinking about that…

 

The last couple of weeks have been less than easy though, thinking about stuff in general. My birthday is never an easy time to be fair… I get a bit introspective, and think about what I’ve done over the past year, look forwards to the next, thinking about what I’d like to say I’ve done the next year, and stuff comes back to haunt me – throwing up a bunch of insecurities, and this year has been no different, aside from the fact that I realised I’m more of an optimist than I let on.

Every few years, I decide to try and do something sociable, instead of hide away for my birthday, in the hope that ‘this time, it’ll be different’ and this year, I did that. I arranged to have an open house at my friend’s and went to Sheffield. Asked people to confirm they were coming so I could sort food….and it was a flop. I’d have been upset and annoyed if something much bigger hadn’t dwarfed it, and I am thankful to those who did attend and also put up with me on the Saturday – 4 people, plus 2 who weren’t there, due to distance, but were there via online presence.

Anyway. Ramble over It’s really late. Like 5am late, and I’ve been ill since Monday. Off work in bed ill. So brain is not the greatest. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get this all down before I need to sleep again, but I’ll try…

The title is not just there to cash in on a rather tame set of books.

(Hell, I’m naive as hell when it comes to relationships, but even I know more than that! – and no I haven’t read them, and don’t intend to. If you want to read something that’s actually fun I’d recommend this.  http://www.amazon.com/Black-Jewels-Trilogy-Daughter-Darkness/dp/0451529014/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352973328&sr=1-1&keywords=anne+bishop+black+jewels+trilogy)

Instead the title is more a description of how I deal with the world sometimes. Or used to, at least.  Something I’ve been pondering about for a fair while now.

Writing this at 5am because I had one of the other recurring nightmares I have from time to time – usually have this one when I’m ill, so it was christened ‘the fever dream’, although it’s more about my insecurities than anything else I think… just happens to feature being ill, and tends to turn up when I’m ill.  My nightmares are generally related to stuff that I’ve buried trying to make itself known. I understand the whys and even some of the what’s, but it doesn’t stop me waking up feeling terrified. This particular one is pretty straightforwards; in my nightmare,in short,  I’m ill, and end up dying and rotting away, but nobody notices I’ve disappeared, until they’re told that a skellington was found at my address. People are sad for a day, but forget pretty quickly…. ultimately the insecurity that I don’t actually make any sort of impact is at fault for this one, which comes out of years of being constantly told that I’m shit and don’t deserve to be alive. So I feel like I have to earn my worth. Explain much about me?! (And yes, I know that’s not necessarily true. The issue is making it stick)

OK. It’s 10am. Had to try and get some more sleep, cause being awake was hurting. ( then Tried to get up to go to work and failed. )

There are a lot of defense mechanisms that end up in play for me at times…. all built on broken logic. Broken logic of a 5-8 year old. Which makes for quite a simplistic world view of “enough people say and believe this so it must be true”. Black and white. “This is true so to fix it the opposite needs to happen”. Black and white. No grey in there. No questioning whether that’s correct, or if there’s another explanation.. which if you know me is odd as I ask a lot of questions!
Being the optimist I am, I hope that one day I’ll be able to acknowledge the grey. I know it exists, I can deal with it in other areas, but in this it has no place because it’s incongruous. It threatens the status quo, and means the one question I daren’t even ask because I’m so afraid of the answer, comes into play..
being stubborn can be great, until you have to go against yourself. The nail was almost hit on the head last night when someone said that I was afraid of losing ‘me’ if I do find the courage to go ahead… and that’s true… I am afraid of losing the parts which are good. But I’m more scared to find that actually, the things I’ve spent so long fighting against are actually true. Or worse that there’s actually nothing there.

I’m also scared that the people I’m privileged to know and call my friends will find the same, and walk.
This journey I know is one I must take alone ultimately, but the idea of having no one about to watch my back is too much. It took me a long time to realise the value of interdependence over self sufficience…
and one of the things I fall back to when I’m finding things difficult is some thing I’ll happy tell other people when they struggle to believe in themselves; “if you don’t feel you can have faith in yourself at this moment, then believe that I believe in you.” Pretty awesome when you get your head around that one, even just a little. I know I lack the perspective to see any potential I have, so until I develop that I have little choice but to rely on others. Without that, I would give up. I speak from experience.

That’s probably a good place to stop. I probably sound mental but I don’t care…. I’m an extrovert processor and keeping this kinda stuff in my head will do a lot more harm than good. Once it’s out I can step forwards.
I don’t think my friends will ever realise just how awesome they truly are. Maybe when this is done with, I’ll be able to explain and tell them….