Circles and circles.

“Sometimes I feel like the only thing I do is go round and round and round and round and round. The same thing, a cycle, an endless stream of the same. Going to sleep is the only thing in my life that I look forward to. Its the only moment that I feel like I can be rid of this static state, of this cycle of nothingness, of temporal pause. I feel as if can’t move, like I can’t breathe and I can’t change.”

Being stuck somewhere you don’t want to be can be the most frustrating and upsetting moment in your life. It can make us feel as if our static lives make us feel worthless and unworthy, as if nothing could change the fact that we are unable to move on. Trying to move can feel fruitless and an almost impossible task, something that you don’t have the energy to keep pursuing.

But pursue we must, because without it, we will never move; the static will continue and we will remain in constant and perpetual sameness. We must continue to pursue something better because these moments of static are exactly that; they are mere moments in our lives, and not their entirety. We will change and move and live more, but we have to get past these moments in order to see it. We have to move on in order to retrospectively look back and see that we were always able to move on.

Scribbling with stardust.



Sometimes, choice is wrong.

In the deepest depths of my sadness I wrote:

“I have chosen loneliness. I sit in the dark and not for one second do I allow myself to think. I’m always doing something, watching a new show, browsing the internet, music blasting in my ears; anything to stop me thinking. I don’t want to think because I don’t want to realise. I don’t want to recognise what I’ve always known. I don’t want to know that I’m lonely. So I sit in the dark and listen to my music and forget. I pretend that I’m in a fictional space.

I’m not lonely anymore; all my invisible friends are here.

For those moments I’m happy, or at least contented, because I’m not alone. I have fiction to surround me and cast out my realisation. I don’t have to face reality because I live in fiction. I choose to remain in the dark because it’s easier than going out. No one judges me in the dark, no one can reject me in the dark, no one can give me pain in the dark and no one can bring light into the dark.

I shut myself away because I don’t want to deal with anything else. I refused to be in pain anymore. So I shut out the pain and I also shut out happiness.”

I realise that my ‘choice’ was not a choice, it was an obligation for my depression. I pandered to the voice in my head that said I wasn’t good enough by pretending what I was doing was the path I had consciously chosen.

My error was not in shutting myself away, it was living up to the pretence that I was responsible for it.

Scribbling with Stardust.

I am mine.

Processed with VSCOcam with c1 preset
Processed with VSCOcam with c1 preset

I had a sudden realisation at the beginning of 2017.

It is mine.

And by ‘it’ I’m meaning me, my life, my worth, my value. Before then, I believed my value derived from what I surrounded myself with, and to some extent it does. I have good friends, a supportive and loving family, wonderful hobbies and a career that I am aspiring towards. But if I didn’t have it, and if I couldn’t have the things that people tell me I should have, what then? Do I lose my value? Am I a lesser person because I can’t have it? There are many things in my life that I can’t have. Right now, I can’t be paid for my career choice (writers don’t get paid well- who fucking knew?!). I can’t move out of my family home because I don’t get paid enough. I can’t own my own dog. I can’t eat a whole block of cheese without wanting to throw up. So do I have less value, less substance than those who have those things?

Well, no. I don’t.

Its nothing to do with my age or what I can achieve in my twenty-two years of existence, but it is to do with who I am. My value, which I attribute to being synonymous with who I am, derives from exactly that, me. I am powerful because I accept who I am and I go with it. I’m messy and unorganised and I procrastinate. I’m loving and caring and a good daughter. I’m angry and frustrated and paranoid. I’m happy and strong and I have badass green hair.

I can change, but I don’t want to.

I have been told throughout my life that there are certain things that mean I’ve ‘made it’, that mean that I am a success and should be proud. Good grades, a good job, money, a supportive nuclear family blah blah blah.  All of which I don’t have. But I’m proud and I value other things, big and small, that make up me. I’m proud of accepting my chub, despite being told its ugly. I’m proud of doing a degree that means something to me rather than being told to do something more vocational. I’m proud of being a tall, broadly built woman despite being told to be slender and small. I’m proud of living everyday despite not wanting to.

It is mine. My life is mine and I don’t have to answer to anything or anyone to gain value from it. Because my life is mine and I am proud of what is mine, I am valuable because of who I am. My value is completely inherent and therefore I can’t ever lose that worth. It is mine and absolutely nothing and no one can take what is mine away from me because I am mine and I’m proud of what is mine.

Scribbling with Stardust.

A Lily in the Waves

I USUALLY don’t like New Year’s resolutions. Most of them are selfish and impossible and untrue. They float between the waves of hope and uncertainty like lilies caught in unrelenting waves. However, in 2017 I made a resolution that was all these things combined and I never thought it would last but, inconceivably, it did.

My resolution was to be my authentic self.

I wrote it down on a scrap piece of crumpled paper in scribbled ink scrawls. It is a reminder, a promise and a hope. I wrote: ‘I think the time to realise your truth comes unexpectedly and in different forms. I have realised that I have restrained the authentic me by trying to achieve what someone else thinks are right. I don’t want that. You are in control of your own life and your decisions. You can be you despite everything and everyone else.’

This is not to say I have been false up until this point, far from it, but last year’s resolution was more about revealing more of me. We all change and adapt our personalities according to the social situations we find ourselves in, but we shouldn’t completely give up who we are in that moment. We should blossom into our authentic selves, despite where we are, what we are doing or who we are with.

Up until that moment, I had presented only part of myself, the part I thought was the best, the part that I believed people wanted to see. But I was wrong. My ‘bad’ parts, the ones that I used to lock behind flowers and mirages, are the parts of me that create the good ones. Hiding the bad dilutes the good and I finally found contentment in both.

Lilies can be very hardy plants. If careful consideration is taken whilst planting water lilies, they can grow and thrive in their watery homes. They will be strong and unwavering, pollinated by bees and fed by the sun. Lilies can hold unyielding against waves and wind.

Scribbling with Stardust