if only it were a patina

The days have been wearing me thin lately. Every day, I find it that much more difficult to wake up, get up, and face the day. Face my life.

Every day I smile, I laugh, and inside I die, just that little bit more. My psyche is wearing thin, my shininess, my value. My worth. I don’t even know what my face looks like without the 2 dark rings that have taken up permanent residence under my eyes. It has become too much of an effort to try and hide the darkness with make-up, so I no longer bother. My exposure to this life, my struggles, has not made me stronger, but it has made me feel old. Apparently there’s value in things that are old. I don’t feel valuable. I feel worn out, run out, and far from ornamental.

I used to relish in the control that I had over my own life, but exposure to life’s realities and cruelty, has left me tarnished, smeared, empty. Where once there was a heart full of happiness and excitement, now lies hollowness, sadness, bitterness. My exposure to this world has not left with me a patina that is valuable, that is worth getting excited over.

My patina instead is dull, dark, ugly. And diminishing in value.

Who am I.

Who I am.


via Daily Prompt: Patina


so about that fork

I haven’t had a lot to say lately. The words have been trapped in my head. Words that have been cruel and nasty and well, words. That saying of “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me” could not be further from my reality right now.

I am, for all intents and purposes, unemployed. And I’m scared. I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do. I have been searching daily for work, I have sent in countless applications for employment, but still the silence engulfs me. Promises of employment are still to manifest, all the while the end of the month looms closer with each passing day, and the weight becomes heavier and heavier as I know that I cannot meet my financial obligations. I am”working” in real estate, but that has no guaranteed income, and the stress and worry is hurting me.

I ended up at the doctor on Friday afternoon. I don’t go to the doctor. Unless I’m an inch from death, or there’s blood and bones showing, you won’t find me at a doctor. But on Friday I went, and you know what he told me? The pain in my chest, the hectic doof-doof that I’m feeling and the extra beats that my heart is making, is all anxiety related. And that was without me telling him about my job situation. I WANTED him to tell me that I needed hospital and an operation and that there was something critically wrong with my heart. Because that’s ok. That happens. People have bad hearts that need medical intervention. That people can see. But no. My heart is freaking out due to anxiety. Here, have a pill. If ever a hole could have just magically opened up and swallowed me whole, the perfect time would have been as my doctor prescribed some drugs with anti-anxiety crap included. 

I spent almost the entire day in bed today. I got up just before 7am to watch the twins whilst Lee and Morgan-Lee went and played golf, and when they got back after 9am sometime, I went back to bed. I got up sometime after 3pm, not because I wanted to, but I had to. I don’t know why. Now, just before 8pm I’m back in bed. With absolutely no desire at all to face tomorrow.

How the fuck did it all go so wrong? How have I fucked up so colosally. Fuck fuck fuck.

Good night.


PS: sorry for the swearing Aunty Cathy.

life without the drugs

It’s been almost 2 months since I took my last pill. No, it wasn’t something that I discussed with my shrink, because it just kind of happened, without me intentionally doing it. 

I tried to go off of my anti-depressants at the end of May, beginning of June and it didn’t go well. I was so high strung, very emotional and was waiting for my crash. And so I went back on them, as well as also taking my 2 different types of sleeping tablets every night. Then, sometime in June, I went to go and refill my sleeping tablet script, but due to a glitch at the pharmacy, I couldn’t get the 1 type. And so I went a couple of nights with just the 1 pill, and it did nothing. I tossed and turned and what little sleep I did get was filled with nightmares and fear. And so I stopped taking that pill, because no sleep was better than a terror filled sleep.

As fate or luck would have it, I started sleeping again. I am still a horrendously light sleeper, but I can fall asleep again without the assistance of some very strong pills. Whilst I was still busy digesting this, every other day I would forget to take my anti-depressant. I didn’t do it on purpose, I genuinely forgot. Mornings in my house are chaotic, to put it mildly. And I think it was only about 2 weeks or so after I stopped taking them completely, that when I arrived home the one evening and saw the box on the kitchen counter, I honestly couldn’t remember when I had last taken 1. And it caught me completely by surprise.  

Yes I am still tired. Yes, I am still a depressive person. But I do feel that I have a firmer grasp on what’s going on in my head, well at least most days. I still have my quiet moments, my happy moments, and my really sad moments. I still have so much going on in my life, stress and worry, bills and finances, but at least I sort of have a grip on something, 1 thing in my life. These past few days have been especially tough on me; I was unceremoniously “dismissed” from 1 of my part-time jobs on Monday evening, without even being given an opportunity to ask why. I then removed my Facebook, twitter and Snapchat apps off of my phone to just give me a break from it all, to give myself a chance to regroup and figure out where I was in my headspace. I’m still seriously hurting from what happened on Monday night, and I was in an extremely dark place on Tuesday, the first day of my new job. I also made the incredibly hard decision to put myself under debt review for the second time in my life, as my debt is just swallowing me whole. No it’s not something that I ever thought I’d be going through again in my lifetime, but I cannot keep up the hectic working lifestyle that I am, plus be a mom and wife, as I will burn out. Going under debt review doesn’t magically fix all of my financial worries, but it helps. 

The plans I had for my future have taken a bit of a backstep at the moment. But that’s ok. I’m going to use these next few years to reassess my choices and decisions, and also the direction that I want my life to go in. I’m 31 years old, and I have no stinking clue as to why I’m here, what my purpose is, who I am. And I need to figure all of that out, for me, for my kids. 

So, no more drugs. That was a the first step. A new job which is giving me more time with my kids, that was the second step. Getting my finances sorted out, that’s my current step. Working on me, well that’s the step I have to take in between trying to stay sane as I muddle on through this thing called life.

They say that life only really begins at 40.

Here’s hoping.


on making a decision, any decision

There’s something oddly calming about making a decision. Like this invisible blanket of comfort and fortitude envelopes you, and for that one moment, you feel safe. You feel ok. I’m not talking about deciding what meal to eat at your favourite restaurant, or what movie to watch on tv. I’m talking about life changing decisions, decisions that will affect you and those around you for years to come.

I am not known for my decision making, and I’m even more infamous for back tracking on any decisions that I do make. I tend to take comfort in my routine, in my norm. In what I know. And that has been hurting me.

I am far from perfect, as most people are. I know that it takes 2 to tango. But there comes a time when you have to take a step back, and take that plunge. Make that decision.

I’m currently in limbo at the moment, with a huge decision being made only yesterday. And as much as this decision is hurting someone who loves me dearly, I need to find me again. Right now I do not know who I am, and if I don’t know who I am, how can I be the best that I need to be and can be for my children?

These next few weeks are going to determine the rest of my life, our lives. But if yesterday was any indication of how it can be, it will be good.


via Daily Prompt: Puncture

learning to walk again, whilst running away

My mind is running away from me. Again.

I wish I could express what is going through my head. I wish I could be me. I don’t even remember being me, who I really am. I just seem to be the person trying to pay all of the bills, trying to pull exhausted rabbits out of non-existent hats. Just trying to breathe. My heartbeat seems to be in a constant race with my mind, forcing me to catch my breathe even whilst sitting at my desk.

I’m on day 8 or 9 of no drugs. It feels weird. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I lay awake on Thursday night, listening to the bats and the wind, watching as the night sky became lighter, all because I was so exhausted, that I had convinced myself that I would sleep without the damn drugs. I didn’t sleep. How I got through last Friday, I don’t know. But I did. So I decided to stay on the sleeping pills, not because I feel rested when I wake up, but because I don’t have to deal with my racing thoughts at night. I can tell that I’m off the anti-depressants, and I’m fighting an inner battle. I have to keep reminding myself that one must learn to walk before they can run, but I just can’t seem to get my head to accept that.

This is something that I face in my physical world as well, during a road run. I start off way too quickly, burning my energy reserves and then cursing myself for the rest of my run. I need to learn to taper myself, in both my physical and emotional worlds.

If only there was a pill for that.


via Daily Prompt: Taper