Crazy is as Crazy Does

This is such an obvious title, that it sounds like one I would have written before! It shouldn’t be any surprise – yes, I’m crazy! Quite sporadically, sometimes regularly, just off-the-rails crazy!! Well, it depends who you talk to, I guess. I don’t like the term “normal”, as that’s a line I’ve spent years veering far away from. But it’s not quite being “unnormal” that makes me crazy. What makes me appear “crazy” is my attitude towards life – life is for living!

Now, see, I don’t like taking uncertain risks. I’m not into doing really stupid things, like climbing a really tall building, jumping off without any support, and yelling ‘YOLO!’ No, that’s not quite the sort of “crazy” I mean. I do take risks, I do go out to a new pub when I don’t feel like going out, when I’d rather lock myself away and cry. I’ve gone out, met new people, likeminded people, people who don’t mind my sort of crazy. I take risks by venturing into new territories, attempting new things, trying new foods, spending a little bit too much at Christmas because I want to get the people I care about nice things, pushing myself slightly out of my comfort zone now and then. But these are things that a lot of people do, right? These are things that wouldn’t be classified as crazily adventurous.

But, aha! Here we come to it! I'm an introvert. I'm a depressive. These may be things that many people do, but they are really tough for me. So how do I approach these things? How do I go about in these ventures, these occasional nights out, buying (I hope) interesting gifts, pushing myself forward? Well, that’s the really tough part, especially for depressive introverts like me. That’s where I let people see the real me.

It’s not an easy thing to do, to go out without any “protection”, aka without a “mask” on, without pretending to be someone else. I did that for many years. I used to try to fit into crowds where I didn’t belong, tried to “pretend” that I belonged, because I didn’t want to be alone, as I was tired and sad from locking myself away from people. I learnt the hard way that that doesn’t work. People know that you’re not one of them, that you're different. Whatever you do, whatever you try, you stick out. So, I changed. I started wearing the clothes I wanted to, without caring what people thought. I started doing things my way, going to the places where I wanted to be. But whenever you have to start again, do that for the first time, then you are truly exposed. People who see you on your own, dancing without a care, letting yourself go free to the music, they don’t know what to make of you. You are the “strange” one, as you let yourself just be, you show parts of yourself that many people keep hidden. Ah, to be truly free, to be a true free being, one of the first things you have to do is to care less what other people think. That is, perhaps, one of the hardest blocks to ever let lose. But, as soon as people see your real self, the hidden one, then you find out who your true friends are.

But there’s another step. Finding someone like you to share your life with. If you find that person, what do you do? Well, you strip away all layers, including the dark ones that you still keep hidden. You let yourself be as free, wild and crazy as you want to be. From flashing underwear, because you realise that we all just have a body underneath, to wearing crazy clothes, to pulling stupid faces, to food fights, to… There are so many innocent levels of crazy! Kids can do it, so why can’t we as adults? Yet, ‘you must be drunk, mad, to do that!’ But the innocence of kids is still praised, the freedom of expression which many of us lose in adult life.

I don’t need any alcohol to let out my “inner child”. I want to live free, to be able to express myself in any manner I want to. Yes, within reason, always within reason! I care about people, so I don’t do anything that would deliberately hurt another. It is my caring, my heart, that allows me to be adventurous in choosing gifts others may not think of. But in a world which fights harder to suppress anything people do, simple innocent crazy becomes more important.

Let your innocence, that inner child, run free. As long as no one is getting hurt, as long as you’re not doing something fantastically stupid, what’s the harm? You are free.

Am I a Follower, or a Free Thinker?

I think that it’s always been hard to say whether the path we follow is truly our own or shaped for us, especially in this modern world of social media and media frenzy. So much of what we do and say is affected by the world around us, from popular posts shared on sites like Facebook, to the daily news. Too many people just follow all the information blindly, without thinking about what lies behind it, where the truth really is. I’ve always believed that, in choosing which information to accept or to investigate further and which to disregard, that I am exercising free thought and not following the crowd. Yet, perhaps out of a need to feel like I belong, I still find myself falling into “group patterns” and following and accepting most of what these groups have to say. Does that make me just another follower, too?

Whilst I can lead, I don’t see myself as a leader. There are times when I don’t mind being in the spotlight, when I feel the need to be visible (and sometimes I’m visible when I’m less inclined to be, simply because of the fact that I don’t care anymore what people think and don’t hide most of who I am). There are other times when I shun the spotlight, hide away indoors, where people can only see or find me if they know where to look. Throughout my life, I’ve adapted my ideas and beliefs as I’ve grown older and have learnt more about the world, change being one of the most inevitable parts of life. In some ways I have become more defined, in others I have simply shifted one niche for another, always going and arriving at where I feel most comfortable. Who I am now has taken years to develop, a lifetime. Yet I still wonder at times whether it was simply an accident that I arrived at where I am now, or how much the outside world has had an influence upon those decisions.

For those that believe in predestiny, we do not make any free choices at all, as everything is already mapped out for us. I do admit that I partly believe in predestiny myself, that we choose before we are born what sort of life we are going to lead, but that not everything is fixed, that we still have some choices along the way in how to reach that final destination. But then I also look at other things in my life, from my fears to my hobbies. I grew up in a family that crafted, so I still craft myself today, even if it’s not always in the same way that I grew up with. I grew up in a menagerie of animals, with the first pets in our household being cats. I have two cats myself today. I shunned Christian beliefs after bad experiences and turned to other beliefs that called more to my soul, yet I still have minor fears now and then today because of some of the things I was taught during the time that my family took me along with them to church. And yet…

And yet, I do not follow the news on a regular basis, as I know how easy it is to get caught up in the fearmongering that is encouraged by all the mostly negative news bulletins. As a teenager, once I broke away from the fold, I started following my own way more, eventually (after a period of stubborn immovability) becoming more accepting and adaptable to the ideas of others. After learning from experience, I try to promote positive ideals more, rather than encouraging the endless stream of negative information that most of us see or hear on a daily basis. I am becoming who I believe I want to be, rather than letting others dictate to me how I should be. And yet…

And yet I still get caught up in the fear from time to time, perhaps out of sheer human weakness. And I still fear that, because of my acceptance and adaptability, no matter how many see me as a unique individual, that the path I’m following isn’t as much my own as I might believe. Whether it be predestiny, or external stimuli from those around us, we are all a product of the world we live in, whether we like it or not. Perhaps, in that respect, whilst those of us with good intentions can’t forgive or excuse, it is possible to understand extremists. For good or bad, those few are still following the voice that shouts the loudest to them, just like the majority of the rest of us, trying to make sense of the chaos that is the world around us.

Release

Life is a series of random explosions. Explosions of happiness, sadness, madness – craziness, all of it! It seems to be all or nothing as one event tumbles into the next. The past couple of weeks have certainly been that way and nothing has gone as expected. It feels like everything is building up towards a cataclysmic event that will change my life forever. Everything I have believed in so far will be turned on its head. Whether that will be a good or bad thing, only time itself will tell. Hopefully it will be a good thing, to finally move on and leave all the disasters of my past behind. But I’ve thus far been resisting change at every single turn, fighting it. It’s not that I don’t want to be free of the darkness, no matter how enticing and seductive it is; it’s been a familiar friend throughout the years, inspirational at times, but I’ll be glad rid of its destructiveness, albeit still reluctantly. No, change has to be good, no matter how scary the prospect is. Part of it is that I don’t believe that my life can truly change for the better. Every time my life has appeared to have been taking a good direction, something has happened to change all of that. The disasters and resulting sadness have never stopped. And yet…

On the one hand, I am sure that this latest bubble of hope is going to burst soon, but there’s something else as well. There’s something that’s building up inside of me, something huge that’s waiting to be released. The colours in my mind that are trying to escape into many creative forms are like a precursor to the next big explosion. I’ve hoped all my life for some of the basic things that many take for granted: peace, love, happiness, safety, security. At times I’ve had one or two, but never all at once. I’ve believed myself to not be deserving, like I’m cursed, but now? Maybe it just wasn’t the right time yet. Always so close, yet so far, but if I can be patient a little bit longer (not that I actually know what patience is), maybe I will find myself deserving again.

I’ve waited a long time to find out my true purpose in this world, to make sense of all my suffering. Well, it’s nearly time, I feel it coming. It still won’t be easy, but I hope I will finally be set free. I am strong, like no one can ever believe, and my strength and that alone will win me through.

Keeping Up Appearances

It’s amazing what we do in order to prove to the world that everything’s OK, that we’re not struggling. So many words that can give a positive impression, without really saying that much:
‘OK’
‘Fine’
‘Good’
‘Not bad’
‘Never better’

All of these words, phrases, so often just used as a simple get-out clause so we don’t have to further explain our inner turmoils and struggles. Just a simple reply, with no explanation, that allows the one asking the question to feel at ease.

Yet, underneath it all, behind that reply there’s a darkness, a swirling tornado of black eating up our insides. There is no way out, we’re trapped, and our only possible salvation is someone who we’re afraid to confide in lest they are scared away by the truth.

The thing is, it’s not that we necessarily don’t want to tell people what’s going on, it’s just that sometimes we’re unable to. Sometimes you just get used to your own sadness, your own company, your own loneliness, and it’s easier to hide behind it and not share what’s going on. Other times you know that if you do tell you will lose a friend or two that could otherwise make you happy when you need it most.

Mental turmoil is a very delicate thing. It’s led me to going absolutely crazy before now and just telling too much, sometimes to the wrong people, flooding people in my desperate need to get it all out of my system. At other times, it’s led me to not leaving my bed, lying awake for several hours in the morning and long into the afternoon just wondering why I still even exist and what the world would do if I just disappeared.

Where is the balance? How is it even possible to find balance amongst all this chaos? Does it require medication, patience, perseverance, resilience, none of which I have? Does it require friends, most of which will get overloaded at some point? Does it require a permanent end?

I’m going to be straight here. I’m not actually suicidal right now, but I know people who are getting to that point and it makes me afraid. I have been at that point myself in the past and I know that at some point there comes a tipping in the balance where it will all get too much again. I do have a lot of strength, but it is not infinite. My life is far from perfect right now and I feel the darkness calling sweetly and seductively with the temptation of a dangerous yet exciting lover that you both love and hate at the same time.

All this makes me realise that there’s one thing I’ve been failing to do of late – living. The truth is, whatever anyone says or does, I’m the one who has the true power over my own life. It’s time to play my last ace, to use the last remnants of my strength to pick myself up and move forward, into the unknown. Make a jump, take a chance, and feel alive once more.

Why I Stopped Running

I actually wrote the text below a few months ago for guest blog than unfortunately never happened. Well, instead of wasting it, I decided that it was about time I got it up on my own blog and published. Enjoy! :)


Four years ago, after two years of living in Belgium, I nearly decided to move back to the UK. I had lost yet another job, things had gone bad for me once more as I hadn’t coped with the stress at work. With thoughts of, ‘why me?!’ I decided that it must be the country, that if I went back then everything would magically turn out fine.

At some point I stopped myself and realised something: moving back would be just running away again. I had fled England, my friends, a relationship when everything went bad. I suddenly realised that running back wouldn’t work, I had nowhere to go and everyone had already moved on. The only way to move forward was to work with what I did have, finding what was achievable, rather than being angry at what I didn’t.

Luckily I found the mental-health support in Belgium that I had been lacking whilst in the UK. With this, I decided it was time to push forward to achieve things for myself for once, rather than just sitting still feeling sorry for myself all the time. I enrolled myself in for Dutch lessons, knowing that if I was to ever get anywhere then speaking the language better would be a very useful tool. I also enrolled myself in for music lessons, accordion lessons, something that I had wanted to do for years. I slowly started to grow and become more confident, becoming a better and stronger person for fighting instead of fleeing.

Now, four years on, I’ve achieved so much that I never thought possible. And this is not just musically or linguistically. Because of the music lessons, I’m now a more confident person overall, having had to perform solo at various points. Also, because of my new-found linguistic skills, I socialise with more with people, speak to people on the train or at the bus stop, things I never used to do. Even before I moved to Belgium, I used to shut myself away a lot, turn away and avoid speaking to people. It’s like another person has surfaced simply because I dared to try. I am now also looking for work once more and, through making my own enquiries and taking the steps myself, am involved in a programme that can help me find a new direction along with training and job placements so I can “try out” any job before I decide to commit to it.

That doesn’t mean to say that everything has been plain sailing. I still have had and do have dark moments from time to time. The main difference has come with how I handle them. The darkness can be painful and enveloping when it returns, making me think that everyone hates me, that I’m just as useless at everything as I’ve always been. ‘Why do you even bother?’ that little voice says to me. At those times, one step at a time, I have to remind myself that I am capable, that the world isn’t out to get me. Even if I just achieve one thing during those darkest of days, no matter how small, it is still one thing more than those voices would have me believe was possible. Slowly, surely, bit by bit, those dark days are becoming less and I’m becoming more of an achiever than someone who just let life pass them by.

Be that person who takes the time to make a change in your life, do something for yourself. Whether it be indulging in a hobby or just doing something else that you enjoy, all these are things we can do to work towards our own happiness.

A Change is as Good as a Rest

This very popular saying basically says that if you’re tired with your environment, your work, etc., that changing things about can have a very positive effect, rather than having a rest and going back to the same mundane thing that you needed a rest from. Yet, what if it is something other than the environment that is causing the issue at hand? How can a break away or changing things about help in those times?

This is something I know about from experience and someone reminded me of recently, at a time when I’m thinking about making major changes in my life again. I once ran away from everything, thinking that that would solve all my problems. It didn’t and they just came back again, having just been hidden away in the background waiting for their chance to reappear.

This is one of the major problems with depression, when not treated correctly. When left to face up to the problems on your own, you think that the problems are elsewhere than where they actually are. Often the problems are just inside your head. I didn’t like the neighbourhood I was in, disliked going out, felt trapped, because I felt like I had no privacy from the prying eyes of the gossips just outside the door. Yet part of what the real problem was, was that I was embarrassed about myself, who I was, and didn’t have the confidence to stand up to anyone who may be otherwise accusing of my choice of dress and lifestyle. That was something that didn’t go away with moving. Going out anywhere if you dress like an outsider means you’ll always be an outsider, unless you have the confidence to stand up and just be yourself despite that. I’ve never been into any sort of fashion, always preferring the comfortable route for clothing, and in a world that’s happy to criticise for the slightest faux pas that they see of any kind, it’s meant that I’ve been a target for those nasty words in the past. But, dress sense aside, I also didn’t know who I was, which left me being just as much an outsider.

There were other things at fault in my life at the time, other things that also weren’t simple to change. I didn't realise that there were other things that I could have done at the time, other than running away, to sort out the problems I was having. Yes, I am more comfortable now I’m not living on a housing estate with an assortment of various disreputable characters mingled amongst the ones who are more decent and have learnt to live with it. Yet I’m still quite isolated, away from friends and often quite alone. So, what else could I have done? Perhaps turned to them for advice, looked to have moved closer to people and places that were more comfortable to live in, and, above all, get help so I could learn to be more comfortable with myself.

That last one is easy to say, because in the UK at the time I wasn’t getting the help I needed. I often think that perhaps, if I had, things may not have turned out the way they did. But I then wouldn’t have had the other benefits of the crazy changes I enforced on myself, which were finding out who I really am and what I really want. The next changes I make in my life will be moving towards just that – places that I want to go, rather than panicking to get away from something that isn’t as bad as I may think.

A great follow-up article to read on a blog I’ve just started following, Finding Positives, is I Could Be Happy Here. I read this just as I was thinking about writing this post and it not only gave me the extra nudge to write this, but I think it expresses the ideas on this subject amazingly.

The Light Shines Through

It's hard trying to hold on to that beautiful warmth I felt whilst I was away with so many amazing and colourful people. With their help I found and saw my true self for the first time and was able to relax and feel free for the first time in a long time. But being back at home the old reminders of the dark self are there...

I've changed, I know I've changed. As the darkness tries to work its way back in, I know I feel different this time, it feels different. The darkness is trying its best to take over everything, its in my arms, my legs, my stomach, but one thing it can't do is snuff out the bright light that's in my chest, my heart.

I know its not going to be easy. I know it'll be a while yet before I am free, and even then a spark will remain in the background in the form of doubts that everyone has. But now I have the tools to gently fight it, in the form of glistening hope, beautiful words and purifying light, gifts from great people, great friends. I know with these that I can learn to love and accept myself at last.

Journeys

I've been loathe to update this for a while, partly because of all the things that have happened this year, which all seemed to culminate in the last few days. Because I went on a journey.

The thing about this journey, though, was even though it was predominantely a physical journey, it was also an emotional, self-searching and spiritual one. I had doubts along the way, at just about every single point I kept thinking I should turn back, that I couldn't or shouldn't go through with it. But I did, and despite my fears that of all the things that could have gone wrong, it turned into more than I could have hoped for and gave me some closure on some important aspects of my life.

This journey started on Tuesday evening, going to Brussels to sleep overnight before getting the Eurostar to London bright and early the next morning. I did something I'd never done before - I stayed in a hostel. Now I mostly did it for convenience, as it's so much cheaper than a hotel, sharing a room with people. Of course, I had doubts, safety, security, etc. (especially walking to this place, in the dark, in what looked like it could be a dodgy district!), but... I made it to the place safely, and I met some really fascinating people! There was a German lady who was living in Leuven, and a girl from the US, from Miami, who was travelling Europe to see friends, who kept apologising for everything (I'd fallen down the stairs Tues morning, missed the last step and had a few bruises. She apologised for that as well!). It was very weird getting up at 5:30am the next morning to go off to the station, the walk seeming very surreal. Then the train itself... Leaving behind the new life I'd made for myself to go and visit an old one...

Once were were out the otherside of the tunnel, I looked at the landscape around me, the rolling English hills with a motorway nestled amongst them, the typicalness and beauty that I had missed so much. It was... Strange. Seeing it now, as I was on this journey. Remembering everything I had left behind and everything I had left behind on leaving Belgium as well. The tears were trying to come as I was reaching London, me trying to hold them back. But I did, and managed to smile and sing good morning through customs and then to the lady at the ticket desk, who helped me enormously by giving me an itinery as well as the best tickets possible considering where I needed to be and by what time. And I kept that up all the way, despite the fact that I was so desperate to break, to allow myself to feel what was going on. I listened to all the conversations, familiarity in the language, delighting in the accents... And I just kept moving, trying not to think about what I was actually doing, through train to next train...

And, somehow, I got there. So many memories... The station at the other end, remembering the last time I was there alone, the person I was going to mourn being the one I had been going to meet... Such drama then! Remembering it fondly, knowing it was a part of them I could hold on to. But no one was there for me, then. Just a bus journey alone, to a town I hadn't seen in many years, then walking nervously to a church in the middle of the road (between seperate lanes of traffic) that I'd mostly previously seen as a rather large roundabout thing... I go inside, hoping that I'm at the right location, to see/hear I'd just got there on time, just as the vicar was still giving his welcome speach, and the church was full... So many people, most of whom I didn't know, all there to celebrate the life of one person. And the memories, memories shared, shared memories of tales retold, some of which I'd forgotten, and those new tales I hadn't heard before... It made me not only understand them better, but also others that I'd known close to them, like... The reflections, ripples in the pool... And I saw myself, suddenly, in a new light, who I am, who I was, how I'd seen them... I allowed myself not just to see the sadness of the loss, but also the joy and happiness that had been given to so many people, including myself. As well, at the reception afterwards... Talking to people I'd long left behind, the space between us enabling me to see them in a new light. It was something I'd needed for a long time, and allowed me to gain some peace and put to rest some old and once-painful memories. Including starting to put to rest the more recent ones...

A couple of hours of finally sharing everything I'd been feeling, then fond farewells, how it should have been all those years ago, but suddenly now, at this time of sadness... I knew as I left, back to the train station, that I was essentially closing a chapter in my life that I'd inadvertently left open, perhaps hoping I could go back as if nothing had happened and just continue from where I left off, as if the bad things hadn't been there... How much I'd missed people... But... I'd changed, they'd changed. With new lives, new loves, so many things had changed and I saw it all. But, there was a glimmer of the old that made me smile and left me with as much warmth as sadness, with as much hope as sorrow, but with as many questions as answers. Yet it wasn't just an ending - I knew it was also a new beginning. I would be seeing some of them again, just not as it was before.

The train journey back to London, thinking about everything, finally allowing my tiredness in. I don't know how I managed it, thought I had to just give up and stop... But I got back, got some food, and rather drunkenly walked to a hostel, going straight up to the room and staying there once I was booked in. I was just going to go to sleep after eating, but I stayed up, read a bit, then chatted to some other people there. A French girl that spoke English so well that I thought she was American! An English girl with a German boyfriend who'd been reluctant to learn the language as she didn't have much time, but my story inspired her to try. A Thai girl who'd spent a year in the UK learning English and was very understandable.

I got up early again, with a train back to Brussels at 06:50 - the first one. I hadn't slept much, was so tired, but I still smiled and sung good morning as I went through customs, and chatted to one of the people there who I'd seen the morning before. Just brightening someone's day and thereby brightening mine, a little.

The journey back... Leaving the world I'd once known for one I know now... It was weird as I got into Brussels, watching the buildings... A world that was still foreign to me yet so familiar at the same time, me thinking how ugly the buildings are... I realised at that point that I didn't belong in my old world any more, but neither did I belong to this new world that had started to become familiar to me. I was in between, someone of all worlds...

Then, after leaving the Eurostar and once on the train home, having an argument with a train conductor in Dutch about the details of my ticket (apparently Eurostar tickets don't automatically include "any Belgian station" anymore unless it states that), I knew I was back in the new world, the different sights, the different sounds... And then, off the train, onto a bus, a short walk and I was home...

Home. I dropped everything, and finally let out all the tears that had been waiting. I don't know how I'd held it that long, as the occasional tear had broken through. I had thought so much all the way back and now...

Through all of this, through all I've seen, through all the people. I inspired people, I comforted people, I brightened the day of people... I realised that I'd gained something through giving so much, as well. As well as realising something very important, something that I'd forgotten and at once mentioned to someone else who was grieving pretty much as soon as I got in:

You can't mourn the dead by dying yourself, but only by living and being alive.

Despite how tired I was I knew I had to keep up, keep on, keep on moving. And even now, a day later, a day after returning, I know it's likely that I'll come down again, have to deal with all the emotions all over again, but... I try to take the positives out of it all, the inspiration. I could be so much! I know. Life is changing, moving forward, and I have to keep up. I don't want to be lost again. I went to my classes yesterday, despite how exhausted I was. Have taken it a bit easier today, but have still gotten on with things, cooked something, made myself feel better. Because I know that if I stop...

This year has been one of mourning, not just for lost life, but also those that are no longer a part of my life through other means. I wrote the post on 2 January, Today I Cried, and I didn't realise then how significant it would become. But despite the loss, the emptiness that it can cause, I also still have them with me and think about them often. Because they were and are still a part of my life, not just in photos and objects, but deep inside. And they will remain with me, always. They are no longer physically around me, but I can still be inspired by them, the deep imprints they have left on my soul. And it is their memories, all those fond moments, as much as the new friends and new memories, that will keep me moving forward.

Fickle

Sometimes I don't know who I am or what I'm doing. It can be quite hard to choose a direction and stick to it. It's not that I don't completely have a direction to head into; it's just that I don't always know if it's the right thing to do overall, or even for me.

It's because I'm so changeable – I’ve always been like that. It makes it very hard to settle down or to fix myself to any given point in time. Sometimes I don't know if I'm making these decisions on a whim or if it's something I really want for myself. There are some things I enjoy more than others, things that are less changeable, but does that mean I'll stick with them? Not always, as I don't always believe in myself, believe myself capable. There are people I absolutely adore for the moment, but does that mean I won't drive them off, think that they don't really like me or are even just using me?

Yes there are some constants, but... It's hard to settle myself down, even when I want to. And stick to it. I've done a lot of running when things haven't gone my way, too, terrified of consequences that often only I can see.

But I am changing.

I'm starting to think more before my actions; unless something panics me to move (so I become less in control of my actions), I try to think things through before making any move or decision. Sometimes things will appear a lot less severe later on or an idea seems less worth following through (as in, saving myself from doing something stupid). Hindsight is wonderful; foresight is better. It makes it far easier in this way to face up to things when they do go wrong, so I feel that there is less need for me to run. Sometimes I still want to run despite this, but it's something that I've also been controlling a lot more recently, as I know running away from a problem only makes it worse and harder to face up to in the long run.

With all that in mind, I've started trying to set myself up as a realist, balancing out every opinion to find a sensible middle. It's very hard, as sometimes it can take weeks of thinking to form my own opinion on a subject, but it's far better than a knee-jerk reaction any day.

Although it doesn't stop that from happening; when highly emotional I can easily still react out of hand, but I do try nowadays a lot more to control it and not take it so far as I used to.

Trouble is, despite the negative sides to it, it also has positives. Creativity, for instance. If it wasn’t for my highly-active imagination and changeable nature, I don’t believe I would be able to do as many of the creative things that I do. Yes, a lot of my projects end up being shelved for some time, because of how I am. But I do have 2 main creative stays, which I stick to constantly. It drives me, keeps me going, keeps me sane. Means that once I’m over the worst of a highly-emotional period, I can put the recovery process to very good use.

But, anyhow. Whilst I have an excuse for my fickle and changeable nature, I guess we are all that way to some extent. It’s just that, unfortunately, it shows up more in me than in many others. And many people, including myself, end up getting hurt because of it.

Today I Cried

I've been neglecting this place for a while. Partly it's because I hate this time of year, anyway. I find it hard to cope with the dark cold months - getting up when it's so cold outside. Also, when September comes around, I find it quite hard to adjust to getting myself back into the swing of things, believing in myself once more, and trying to get to a new point of self-confidence just as the days are getting unbearably short and the mornings are getting darker. To be honest it would be far easier, for this reason, if schools worked alongside calendar years, beginning as it's getting lighter and ending as it's getting darker, but... Well, studying is my salvation, so I have to make the most of what is there.

The odd part in all this is that I know, as January comes around, I start to change again. After the Christmas break I start to turn myself around and am able to start to refocus. It's quite a bizarre change, as I've heard people that say they find January quite depressing. December, for me, is very depressing, with all the dim darkness and stresses involved there. But January is uplifting, as you're starting to head towards a new beginning.

Some people hate New Years. They see it as being positioned wrongly or pointless. Well, for me, it's almost positioned correctly for the reasons I mentioned above - the lengthening days, more light being flooded into your life. For all I love restful sleeps and used to love staying in bed as long as possible, I've been hating it more and more recently. I still want a restful sleep, but what I need and thrive on more than anything is light. So January, despite it still being quite cold, starts to bring more light into my life, and starts to turn me around into a frame of positive thinking. And that's when the regrets come along...

It almost feels like I'm starting to wake up out of a hibernation. It happened later last year, but it's happening today now for me. Might have been something to do with reading Amanda Palmer's latest blog post today, about her wedding to Neil Gaiman, but... I think it's more than that. I think it's something that's been building up for all that time I've been pushing myself, unwillingly, down into the dark, and watching numbly as my muscles start to wake up and respond again over the past few days. As the frosts of winter lay all around, that I've been trying to wrap myself up against and not feel, I start to embrace it and everything else. It is cold. It hurts.

Today I look around wondering how I've ended up here, writhing in pain inside as I watch the changes around me. Old friends, new friends, gone friends... All who have made an impact in making me who I am, here, now. For all I try to be a good person, I know I can't always be that, that I can be cruel and manipulative when I am desperately in need, that I can be unbearably selfish, the survival instinct winning through as I fight away the darkness, the invisible monsters that only I can seem to see at times. But I try... I try to be honest, to help when I can... But I make mistakes. The worst part is, I don't always know what they are! But I am still trying, trying to be me to the best that I can be anything.

I've said before how much people inspire me. I know the most beautiful and colourful people and I know I wouldn't survive without them. Sometimes I just live off of their energy, that keeps me going through the darker times. Sometimes they don't even seem to realise how much a warm smile at the right time can just keep me going, giving me hope until I can pull myself back from the edge once more. And I know I can inspire many of them, too, how they dance along to my colourful energy as I sing and sashay my way around the dance floor of my life. But then, the darkness... Some of them avoid me, shy away, retreating from the blackness that is enveloping me and threatening to consume everything I come into contact with. Yet others stay, helping to fight away the dark clouds with their blinding light, just a smile, a kiss, a hug, a memory, a warm blanket to help me survive the winter and bring me back to life in the spring.

So today, now, I cry for them. I cry for all those that have touched my life, all those that I adore so much, all those that have kept me going through these dark dark months. And also for all those that have gone, moved on. For you were all and still are a part of my life and help me to survive, so I may live.