So Hi,
Aplogies for not posting in forever. I've been doing all sorts. Having a really good few weeks, I'm getting involved with a couple of really great music projects with some amazing producers I know. Their tracks are beautiful, exactly the style I would choose to write for. Really relaxed, ambient tracks with a trip-hop vibe, kind of like Massive Attack or Portishead. Really great for putting vocals to, I can't wait to get some stuff down properly in the studio.
Things are going well on the whole. I'm back with the love of my life, and couldn't be happier. It's caused some horrible problems with by best friend, he has since realised he has pretty strong feelings for me. It's really upsetting for me, because I never wanted to lose him as a friend. He's one of the most important people in my life, and I have so much respect and love for him. I would have been really happy to be with him a few months ago, but he was so insistant he didn't want me as a girlfriend that we agreed we'd just be friends, and it was great. Definitely the right decision. It's only now I'm back with my boyfriend that he's having trouble. Hopefully he'll come round, I'd hate to lose him.
I'll be writing more regularly now, I've got a bit more time on my hands and I'm feeling so much more positive.
Much Love
Girl.x
Friday 14 August 2009
Thursday 18 June 2009
My, How You've Changed...
Good Afternoon,
Over a month since I last posted, I'll get you up to speed...
In the last month there has been the Good:
Trip to Bristol with the best friend, J2. 4hour coach trip made bearable by embarassing literature and poor tastes in music. Actually a lot of fun, not many people with whom I'd spend 4 hours in a confined space with only Heat Magazine for stimulation.
Went to the Urban Art festival in Bristol, Upfest. Caught some pretty amazing artists, ate some highly questionable egg, got horrendously lost on my own (Little girl, big city rule 1: never wander off).
I also couldn't stop thinking about this woman who drove the cross-estuary ferry. She was everything I want to be when I am 50.
Bristol is a beautiful city.
...the Bad:
I've spent so much of the last few weeks feeling horrendous. It's been like living life with an elephant sitting on my chest, and everything I've wanted to do I've had to take the tonne elephant too. I've missed so much, like the beginning of summer, and loads of vocal opportunities, etc, just because I haven't felt like doing anything and when I have done something it's like I really wasn't there at all.
...the Ugly:
Things got unbearable. I can see from the last few posts that it had been building up for some time, but a couple of personal events really sent me spiralling. I was terrified to move, for fear of hurting myself. I had a total lack of control, and was totally overwhelmed by everything I was feeling.
I can really only describe it as being very badly burnt. If you burnt yourself over a large surface area, every time something made contact with that area you would be in excruciating pain. Even things like pillows, and feathers that you would usually enjoy would cause agony to your raw wound.
Emotionally, I have felt like I have no protective skin, and any emotion has been magnified and intensified just by my own heightened sensitivity. Well, that is when I have not been swinging like a pendulum to the other end of the scale, where nothing can touch me because I simply do not care about anyone or anything.
Anyway, it's a lot harder to describe now I'm out of that stage. I always struggle to remember how these real lows feel once I have risen out of them. For this I am thankful.
Girl.x
Over a month since I last posted, I'll get you up to speed...
In the last month there has been the Good:
Trip to Bristol with the best friend, J2. 4hour coach trip made bearable by embarassing literature and poor tastes in music. Actually a lot of fun, not many people with whom I'd spend 4 hours in a confined space with only Heat Magazine for stimulation.
Went to the Urban Art festival in Bristol, Upfest. Caught some pretty amazing artists, ate some highly questionable egg, got horrendously lost on my own (Little girl, big city rule 1: never wander off).
I also couldn't stop thinking about this woman who drove the cross-estuary ferry. She was everything I want to be when I am 50.
Bristol is a beautiful city.
...the Bad:
I've spent so much of the last few weeks feeling horrendous. It's been like living life with an elephant sitting on my chest, and everything I've wanted to do I've had to take the tonne elephant too. I've missed so much, like the beginning of summer, and loads of vocal opportunities, etc, just because I haven't felt like doing anything and when I have done something it's like I really wasn't there at all.
...the Ugly:
Things got unbearable. I can see from the last few posts that it had been building up for some time, but a couple of personal events really sent me spiralling. I was terrified to move, for fear of hurting myself. I had a total lack of control, and was totally overwhelmed by everything I was feeling.
I can really only describe it as being very badly burnt. If you burnt yourself over a large surface area, every time something made contact with that area you would be in excruciating pain. Even things like pillows, and feathers that you would usually enjoy would cause agony to your raw wound.
Emotionally, I have felt like I have no protective skin, and any emotion has been magnified and intensified just by my own heightened sensitivity. Well, that is when I have not been swinging like a pendulum to the other end of the scale, where nothing can touch me because I simply do not care about anyone or anything.
Anyway, it's a lot harder to describe now I'm out of that stage. I always struggle to remember how these real lows feel once I have risen out of them. For this I am thankful.
Girl.x
Wednesday 13 May 2009
Uncertain Times and Misunderstandings...
I am scared.
I haven't felt this scared in a really long time.
Have you ever stood on the edge of a cliff? A high cliff, with wind rushing past you and waves crashing beneath you. Wasn't there part of you that wanted to jump? A curiosity of how it would feel, a sudden realisation of how easy it would be to end your own life.
This is how I feel. Only the curiosity is now an overwhelming desire, and I am nowhere near the cliff.
This morning I didn't want to get out of bed. Not through laziness. Not through sadness. Just through the fear of not knowing what I would do if I did.
It sounds melodramatic but I genuinely am scared of myself.
Girl.x
I haven't felt this scared in a really long time.
Have you ever stood on the edge of a cliff? A high cliff, with wind rushing past you and waves crashing beneath you. Wasn't there part of you that wanted to jump? A curiosity of how it would feel, a sudden realisation of how easy it would be to end your own life.
This is how I feel. Only the curiosity is now an overwhelming desire, and I am nowhere near the cliff.
This morning I didn't want to get out of bed. Not through laziness. Not through sadness. Just through the fear of not knowing what I would do if I did.
It sounds melodramatic but I genuinely am scared of myself.
Girl.x
Tuesday 12 May 2009
I almost forgot...
Also I'm going to the Doctors tonight.
I'm really not looking forward to it, as I'm going to arrange when I can have a horrible procedure. It's a medieval-sounding invasive thing that will determine whether the termination I had 18 months ago has in fact damaged me to the extent that I can no longer have children.
I don't know what I will do if I can't.
I don't think I could live with myself knowing that I voluntarily terminated the one opporunity I had.
I guess I'll cross that bridge, etc...
Girl.x
I'm really not looking forward to it, as I'm going to arrange when I can have a horrible procedure. It's a medieval-sounding invasive thing that will determine whether the termination I had 18 months ago has in fact damaged me to the extent that I can no longer have children.
I don't know what I will do if I can't.
I don't think I could live with myself knowing that I voluntarily terminated the one opporunity I had.
I guess I'll cross that bridge, etc...
Girl.x
A Day Of Drugs & Religion...
Good Afternoon,
Although I use the term very loosely.
For the last few weeks I've been heaving my way through one of my occassional 'bad patches'. I am a diagnosed Borderline (Google It), and although I am entirely against a lot of psychiatric diagnoses (I have previously put my thoughts and behaviours down to a creative nature) it is something I really do tick all the boxes for.
I can go for several months with no particularly disruptive symptoms and during these months, I am my usual outgoing, confidient, intelligent self.
However, the cycle invariably reaches a point where all my symptoms lash out at once. At these times, I become very withdrawn and my behaviour becomes irrational and irresponsible. I find myself crippled with extremely severe depression, and completely overwhelmed with massively intense mood swings, going from extremes of emotions in a matter of minutes.
So right now, I'm having a bit of a hard time of it. In the past, I've dealt with these phases through self-destructive episodes. Obviously, I understand that this is not a healthy way of coping, but I have found it useful sometimes to hit 'Rock Bottom' before I can draw the line and say 'enough is enough'. What I mean is, when I find I have lost my job, boyfriend, friends and anything else of any worth to me, I have to stop and say 'Right, this can't get any worse, I've got to try and get better now.'
But 'Rock Bottom' isn't really a viable place for me to go right now.
I don't know. I'm rambling.
Have you ever been afraid to move from one place, one position, because you're so scared of yourself? Last night I felt so out of control I was scared even to breathe, because I didn't know what I would do to myself.
Girl.x
Although I use the term very loosely.
For the last few weeks I've been heaving my way through one of my occassional 'bad patches'. I am a diagnosed Borderline (Google It), and although I am entirely against a lot of psychiatric diagnoses (I have previously put my thoughts and behaviours down to a creative nature) it is something I really do tick all the boxes for.
I can go for several months with no particularly disruptive symptoms and during these months, I am my usual outgoing, confidient, intelligent self.
However, the cycle invariably reaches a point where all my symptoms lash out at once. At these times, I become very withdrawn and my behaviour becomes irrational and irresponsible. I find myself crippled with extremely severe depression, and completely overwhelmed with massively intense mood swings, going from extremes of emotions in a matter of minutes.
So right now, I'm having a bit of a hard time of it. In the past, I've dealt with these phases through self-destructive episodes. Obviously, I understand that this is not a healthy way of coping, but I have found it useful sometimes to hit 'Rock Bottom' before I can draw the line and say 'enough is enough'. What I mean is, when I find I have lost my job, boyfriend, friends and anything else of any worth to me, I have to stop and say 'Right, this can't get any worse, I've got to try and get better now.'
But 'Rock Bottom' isn't really a viable place for me to go right now.
I don't know. I'm rambling.
Have you ever been afraid to move from one place, one position, because you're so scared of yourself? Last night I felt so out of control I was scared even to breathe, because I didn't know what I would do to myself.
Girl.x
Sunday 10 May 2009
And so I arrive...
Good Afternoon...
Sundays cause me a great deal of concern.
4pm on a Sunday Afternoon is, without doubt, the single most depressing time period in any given week. A state of uncertain limbo descends upon the household at this time.
Technically, it is still the weekend, and so we feel a sense of guilt if we do not force ourselves into making steps towards somehow enjoying ourselves. Every second between Friday afternoon and Monday Morning is unfathomably precious, obviously.
And yet, we know we can't do anything genuinely exciting or pleasurable; like getting blind drunk and crashing a transvestite party, or sticking our passports, wellies and large amount of something hallucinagenic in a bag and setting out on a voyage of discovery; because we have no choice but to hop back on the merry-go-round (which I envisage as a grey, broken one on an industrial estate in Slough) and go back to being the horrendously middle-class, sensible individuals our tragically mundane day-jobs demand us to be.
Sundays challenge the very fabric of my mental health. Stitch by tiny stitch, Sunday Afternoon starts to unravel my sanity, as the desperately miserable realisation dawns on me that tomorrow I will become, yet again an ordinary, boring person leaving my detached home on its well-presented estate at the same time as every middle-aged accountant with 2.4 children and a silver Mondeo across the entire country.
I may have spent my weekend riding Elephants in Thailand, I could have performed at the O2 Arena, discovered a cure for cancer AND found a tenner in my coat pocket, but none of that matters because come Monday Morning I am the disembodied robot-voice helping countless overweight women find their nearest Diet class, and absolutely nothing more.
I'll write again tomorrow, you caught me at a bad time.
Girl.x
Nb: Incidentally, this weekend I drank too much Becks, watched Britain's Got Talent and treated myself to a BigMac.
Sundays cause me a great deal of concern.
4pm on a Sunday Afternoon is, without doubt, the single most depressing time period in any given week. A state of uncertain limbo descends upon the household at this time.
Technically, it is still the weekend, and so we feel a sense of guilt if we do not force ourselves into making steps towards somehow enjoying ourselves. Every second between Friday afternoon and Monday Morning is unfathomably precious, obviously.
And yet, we know we can't do anything genuinely exciting or pleasurable; like getting blind drunk and crashing a transvestite party, or sticking our passports, wellies and large amount of something hallucinagenic in a bag and setting out on a voyage of discovery; because we have no choice but to hop back on the merry-go-round (which I envisage as a grey, broken one on an industrial estate in Slough) and go back to being the horrendously middle-class, sensible individuals our tragically mundane day-jobs demand us to be.
Sundays challenge the very fabric of my mental health. Stitch by tiny stitch, Sunday Afternoon starts to unravel my sanity, as the desperately miserable realisation dawns on me that tomorrow I will become, yet again an ordinary, boring person leaving my detached home on its well-presented estate at the same time as every middle-aged accountant with 2.4 children and a silver Mondeo across the entire country.
I may have spent my weekend riding Elephants in Thailand, I could have performed at the O2 Arena, discovered a cure for cancer AND found a tenner in my coat pocket, but none of that matters because come Monday Morning I am the disembodied robot-voice helping countless overweight women find their nearest Diet class, and absolutely nothing more.
I'll write again tomorrow, you caught me at a bad time.
Girl.x
Nb: Incidentally, this weekend I drank too much Becks, watched Britain's Got Talent and treated myself to a BigMac.
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