I’m sure

To the man who has stolen my heart,

Please don’t abuse my trust and my choice to love you so deeply. I know you love me, but don’t jeopardize this by still thinking, and Facebook stalking, your ex.

I want to be your future, I want to trust you implicitly, and love you deeper every day.  I want you to feel the same.

Please stop living in the past, and start looking at me as your future, and your everything.  If you don’t, you will lose me.

And not to blow my own trumpet, I am the best thing that will ever have happened to your life.

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Finding My Feet

There is so much pressure these days to be settled, to have a house, to know exactly what route your life is heading in.  The expectation is stressful and detrimental to succeeding in day-to-day goals that make up real life.

I started an apprenticeship in a press agency nearly six months ago.  It started off great when I was learning new skills on a daily basis; I now feel I have hit this glass ceiling where I have nothing else left to learn, so need to have a frank discussion with my boss.  This is not an easy thing to do, as the expectations for me in this office are different to what I was expecting.  I thought I would have the opportunity to write for the newspapers eventually; in reality, I am sourcing nice pictures.  It is a job that needs to be done, but it is not testing my brain abilities as much as I would like.  I am not an idiot, and I love using my brain.  When I don’t use it, I become restless, and start drifting.

I need to remember I am a young adult with goals and ambitions; if I don’t air these ambitions I will end up in a spiral that I will ultimately be stuck in.

If anyone has any advice on how to adult well, it would be much appreciated, as I am still intimidated by anyone with a higher position of authority than me.  I also get sweaty sweaty hands when I talk on the phone to people I don’t know either.  Advice on that too would be great (I have tried talcum powder – successful in the short term, but looks weird to use it often).

Little Things

I am happy.

Things in my imperfect life are seemingly perfect.

I have small little weights on my shoulders that take the form of a still ongoing police investigation, but those are fine.  I am stronger than those weights.

I have a man who cares for me, who doesn’t care that I’m a little damaged, who doesn’t freak out if he thinks he’s found a naughty video of me on porn sites (I have a naughty doppelganger).  It’s calm, but it is enough.

I have a job that provides me with mental stimulation, and allows me to be in communication with people all around the world.  It will give me the opportunity to write in the future.

I have a family who love me, despite my often flippy moods.  Who have put up with me through my difficult times, and are now just happy to have me out the other side, and almost back to normal.

My life is steady, calm, and beautiful.

I am happy.

 

To the bitch who thinks it’s okay to take my blog out of context,

My blog is full of analogies I use to better understand my mental health conditions.  It is also something that I use to help other people understand their situations a bit more.

To use this against me, and to infer that I am slut, makes you a far, far more inferior person than me.

Warmest regards,

Me.

P.S.  Educate yourself.

Functioning

I decided at the beginning of the year to cut out negative people. People who brought down my mood, and judged me for aspects of my personality I can’t change.

This is all well and good until I realised this brought along a load of loneliness. It also brought around a whole lot of guilt. My parents are my rocks; they support me emotionally, financially. Love me unconditionally, despite my major flaws.

However, due to cutting out negative friends, one of my best friends being in Australia, the other moving away from my hometown and working shift work, it means my parents are the only ones who I can offload to. This brings a lot of guilt – I just had a major blowout with them. They have had a shit hand of cards dealt by having me as a daughter. I can only talk to them about my problems, and I hate that. I want to be self-sufficient, have a laugh with them, not have to cry to them most days.

I am in such a good place, but it doesn’t make my daily fight easy. My job is great, I am enjoying creating self love for myself again. But I am still dealing with two extremely traumatic events. They play on my mind every day, and as much as I pretend to be okay, I struggle. I struggle to call my house a home. I struggle to be stuck there because I haven’t got friend’s houses to escape to. I struggle to tell my parents this, because they’ve created a home for me there, and it is their retirement home and pension pot all in one.

I feel like this post has had a lot of contradictions, but I just needed to off load my mind to spare my parents for a while.

Adulting

Tonight I rubbed Deep Heat on my own back.

See, Becci? You don’t need anyone else.

 

 

I did then rub my eye, and had to deal with solo temporary blindness.

But I dealt with it and came out the other side with eye sight in tact.

You got this, Bex.