I of The Storm

I have a block of memory missing from my brain. Doctors, therapists and friends say “it’s your body protecting you from a traumatic event”. It’s not that simple to me.

The charred memories I have, are like me watching a movie of a fake twin sister. It’s haunting and unsettling. – But it Happened

I watch my minds eye look in the mirror, and touch the bruises on my neck. It looks like me, but it doesn’t feel right. – But it Happened

I remember the police officer telling me that in court they were going to make me look like a liar (because I couldn’t remember). – But it Happened

I remember him coming into the club and refusing to leave, whilst I had a restraining order. – It Happened

I am just about coming to terms with the flashbacks, the non linear story line, the feeling of not being present. Part of me wants to open pandoras box, and sit and watch what happened to me from end to end. I am scared if I did, my pandora’s box wouldn’t have hope in it.

I have been scared to write to this because I don’t have a solution. Which is always my issue, I search for perfection.

 

Ghost of a Good Thing

When you have depression perfection seems like nirvana.

This is pretty close to perfection right?

  • Having 2.4 children.
  • Immaculate house
  • Be in the presence of Dave Grohl
  • No money issues
  • Boss that isn’t a dickhead
  • …Colleagues that aren’t dickheads
  • Having a loving, passionate, safe relationship

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When we don’t have this we feel either society nags, or own internal poor mental nags us at 3am. A growing list of things we don’t have. Or things we could have. (A could or should list). Depression is like an abuser. It will single you out at the dead of night, and make you feel like you should feel ashamed. Instead of sheep, you will go to sleep counting these worries.

The biggest piece of advice I can give is to talk to someone about it. As no one has all boxes checked. So they will be more understanding than you think. For the people that listen, always just listen. Never compare. Just because you might have had it worse doesn’t give you the right to invalidate that persons experience.

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I’m not here to say “Don’t worry about it”. As we both know… that doesn’t fucking work. I’m here to say, we are all imperfect. We will all die with unfinished to do lists, and it’s the journey that makes us happy not necessarily the achievement.

To quote Theodore Roosevelt “Comparison is the thief of joy