Bulletproof - La Roux

I don't know where to start in this blog entry. I've been locked out of my blog for a while, and before that I was doing podcasts. So this feels weird, but good, and I'm happy. Writing has always been my biggest passion, and I read somewhere you should write even one line a day to stay sane and happy if you're a writer.

Since my last blog entry a lot has changed. I've started a fitness regime. I had my medical review, with the conclusion being to reduce my meds with a view to stopping them completely. And i had Covid.

My anxiety goes through the roof when theres anything remotely wrong with my health, as a consequence of the autoimmune condition I once had. It felt like I was dying and so I was terrified, I googled a lot of symptoms. It took two years to diagnose eventually. It wasn't, after all that, life threatening so I was lucky in a sense.

In my medical review I was a little supposed to be faced with the word schizophrenia. It had always been referred to as psychosis previously. But apparently, that's my diagnosis. Maybe I should have done more research about schitzophrenia following on from the appointment but I haven't. I deal with moods and changes rather than in facts and figures.

Right now I feel fine, but it's hard to know if that's because I'm medicated. And what the reaction will be when i'm no longer supported by the medication. My nurse told me that theres three ways it goes for those suffering from schizophrenia.

  1. You recover completely

  2. you relapse and have to take medication on and off throughout your life

  3. you're on medication for life

She said she hopes and believes I'll be a two as my breakdown was caused prior warily by trauma and grief.

For a long time I didn't believe my trauma was a worthy trauma.

I was still a traumatised child, which led to me being a traumatised adult

It's not like i constantly avoided the trauma, i had a lot of therapy growing up

I even went to CAMHS for my anorexia

But nothing dealt with the root cause

Deep down I'd been affected so badly, and had drawn a direct correlation between my outward appearance and my self worth

I'm still trying to shake it off to this day

It's not easy surrounded by media and social media

I fall victim to both, often

But I try in my own ways.

For a while I thought I could be a plus size model. It seemed to tick all my boxes. Promoting health, happiness and mental stability. While satisfying my vanity and (slight) self obsession

But I think it wasn't the right career path for me. I'm not comfortable in front of a camera, nowhere near a natural. I prefer words and lyrics. When someone likes your writing with no idea what you look like, that's special

I want to end on some quotes :

“She will transform unbearable pain into artistic production – exactly like how women take what turns out to be a life and live with it.”

Lidia Yuknavitch, from “Daguerreotype of a Girl,“ Wreckage of Reason: An Anthology of Contemporary Xxperimental Prose by Women Writers, ed. Nava Renek

"Any place is probably beautiful when you stop running for a second"

"That summer I did not go crazy, but I wore very close, very close, to the bone"

- Dorothy Allison

"please use only soft words"

"The harder the rain honey, the sweeter the sun" - Hozier

" Roses are red, violets are brown, the sea speaks more honestly to those willing to drown"

"You'll find your own way to discuss what happened to you. You'll have to if you ever want to be close to anyone."

"if you're happy in a dream does that count?"

"Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else."

- Richard Siken

“I wonder which is preferable, to walk around all your life swollen up with your own secrets until you burst from the pressure of them, or to have them sucked out of you, every paragraph, every sentence, every word of them, so at the end you're depleted of all that was once as precious to you as hoarded gold, as close to you as your skin - everything that was of the deepest importance to you, everything that made you cringe and wish to conceal, everything that belonged to you alone - and must spend the rest of your days like an empty sack flapping in the wind, an empty sack branded with a bright fluorescent label so that everyone will know what sort of secrets used to be inside you?”

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

“Already my childhood seemed far away—a remote age, faded and bittersweet, like dried flowers. Did I regret its loss, did I want it back? I didn't think so.”

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

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