Tuesday, 24 November 2015


A few years ago, it was officially A Thing to declare yourself to be 'like Marmite'. For those who aren't British- you poor fools- Marmite is this food spread that's brown and sticky and salty and smells rank and which, if you believe adverts (as I do, always), you either love or hate. Honestly, most of their advertising centres around how vile it is, but how it's got a bit of cult around it. Strange stuff. Personally, I can take or leave it, but I'm mental, so whatever. Claiming to be 'like Marmite' is meant to be a reflection on how you evoke strong feelings, not necessarily that you smell rank, not that there isn't a correlation between smelling oddly and liking the stuff, but that's neither here nor there.

I've always completely been able to understand the draw of considering oneself to be like Marmite- nobody wants to think of themselves as boring, after all. Until I give it more than a second's thought, and realise that actually I AM a bit like Marmite- and that, actually, I'm not the biggest fan of being that way.

When I'm up and I'm peppy, people tend to love the concept of me. I've overcome the scars of abuse, beaten the demons and look kind of normal (crap dress sense not withstanding). The looking normal thing is pretty important, I think- unlike a lost limb or something, you can pick and choose when you want to be aware of my disabilities, until I have an episode and freak everyone out, that is. Wheel me out when you want me to tell you that if I can do it, you can. Wheel me back in when you've had your fill of my issues. In theory, it's pretty inspirational and that. Until I crash. When I'm down and I'm psychotic, if people don't dislike me, they dislike the concept of who I am. I make people uncomfortable. Anything out of the ordinary frightens people.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I necessarily blame anyone for it. But it's just tiring that the same people who call me an inspiration also kind of see me as a freak show at best, and as someone to be locked up in the attic, at worst

We're not meant to be vocal about our struggles, because that's attention seeking. We're not meant to hide anything, because that's not being true to ourselves. I'm An Inspiration, so I carry the weight of others' expectations. I'm a weapon or contagion too, because it's easy to berate yourself or others for not being at the point in recovery that you think I've made it to. Don't get me wrong, it's lovely to know people care, but exhausting to keep up a front.

I'm not meaning to smack anybody back for genuinely caring and being my cheerleaders. One of the best things about having this blog is when people read it and message me little bits of encouragement or wisdom. I thrive on it. It's just the awkwardness that gets to me. It's the pressure of being held up as an example when it doesn't feel honest or true.

I think my point with all this is- we're complicated. As people, we're all bloody complicated. It's ok to be uneasy of me because it's ok to feel anything. But it's also ok for me to get knackered and feel weighted down by my position. It's the blessing and curse of being so open, I suppose.

Thursday, 19 November 2015

New Year's resolutions.

I never care much for new year, mostly because I really bloody love Christmas and to me, NYE is only really notable for it being 51 weeks to the next Christmas. That's not to say I don't love a good party, because, y'know, vodka is great. I just don't really get why people can only make changes after midnight on that particular date. Saying that, I know that mid-November might be an odd time to be thinking about this, but I've decided that I'm going to make my New Year's resolutions now. But am I hell making them for 2016, because I'm fabulous and don't need to change... but I reckon I'm going to make a few for the last 10 years, just to get me up to date.

2006- Stop wasting time on anger.
I know you think you hate the world and I know you think you deserve to; you hate the situation you're in. But being angry at the situation is fine, being angry at yourself isn't. Go easy on yourself.

2007- Stop concentrating about the wrong priorities.
GCSEs are really. really unimportant, which you know and so you've done absolutely no revision. Good lass. Keep that up. But take your laid back attitude to your exams and apply it to your body. It just seems a bit backwards that you're more worried about how fat you'll look at prom than you are about qualifications that you'll carry with you.

2008- Stop worrying about what people think.
People come and go. There will always be people who love you, people who like you, people who are ambivalent and people who dislike you. There will be people who can't handle your lows or your highs. That's absolutely fine- everybody has their limits. Just remember to let people go when they need to look after themselves. You are important, but so is everybody else. Be fair. Let go.

2009- Stop looking forward to your demise.
You think that this year you'll move out, this year you can stop doing the minimum you do to keep alive. This year you can give up the final part. You're wasting your gifts planning the end, instead of the beginning.

2010- Stop worrying about being enough.
You have more to give than just your mind, as good as it sometimes is. You'll find out soon that you are more than your demons and smarter than your academics. You have nothing to prove.

2011- Stop blaming yourself.
It looks like you're on a one-way street to destruction. You're so angry at yourself, so adamant that all the wrongs committed against you are your fault, that you're missing the point that when you take out imagined wrongs on yourself, you're committing far worse wrongs. You did not ask to be hurt. If you had, had it been your fault, you'd not still be damaged from it.

2012- Stop resisting help.
A stitch in time saves nine. Accepting and recognising when you need help is a sign of strength, not weakness. You don't have to do everything alone. You're not alone.

2013- Stop expecting instant gratification.
Working on yourself takes time- it's not a case of it happening straight away, as much as you might wish for that to be the case. Don't let anybody make you feel like you're not trying hard enough or working hard enough. It's not about having a eureka moment and suddenly being your best self. Keep going.

2014- Stop thinking you don't deserve good things.
You've worked hard to get to where you are; it's not been easy, but you've got this far. Don't feel like you're not good enough for anything. You've earned the right to feel better, don't destroy yourself because it doesn't feel like you deserve it.

2015- Stop doubting yourself.
Babe, you've got this.

And for 2016, what then? I'm not going to make a resolution for this one. I'll keep my head above water, I'll keep fighting. I don't need to resolve to fix things now, I'll fix them as I go along. It's going to be ok.

Saturday, 14 November 2015

Walking away.

Facebook and I have a complicated relationship. We're best friends when I come out with a boost of hilarity and need validation through likes, but we're ex lovers as soon as somebody puts up a picture of me with several chins. Now, that feature where it tells you exactly what moronic crap you came out with a few years back on that day, well, Rebecca is in a Complicated Relationship with that bit even more. Like, for example, three years and two days ago I had my first(/last) philosophical revelation- 'When men feel threatened by famous men, they call them gay, as an insult. When women feel threatened by famous women, we hope they're at least bi-curious and into the same weird things we are.' I am, to quote my girlf, full of depth.

On a slightly more sober thought, our complicated relationship entered the highly emosh level the other day, when Facebook kindly reminded me of a thought from 2009. I can't find the exact status, because Facebook won't allow me to see what I said six-years-and-a-few-days-ago, but I can almost remember it off by heart. It was along the lines of, 'I hate that you can walk away from me, and delete me from your life. But more than anything, I hate that I give you the power to do that, because I'm not strong enough to walk away myself.'

I don't remember exactly what led me to that status, but I'm all-but-certain that I know exactly who the person in question was. There's something really sad that I can't pinpoint which event it's about. I was hurt by one person so insidiously, so many times, that I can't even list the occasions. Granted, it's a six year old sentiment, but it's much more than that. It's the culmination of a relationship that I almost let destroy me.

Forgive my vagueness here. I don't want this to be a post ranting about the person in question, neither do I want this to be a passive aggressive thing. This isn't about the person in question. I mean, if you've been close to me at all in the last few years, you'll probably know and honestly? I don't care. I don't care enough to name the person. I very much doubt the person themselves would read this, but know that if you are- I honestly don't care. I don't care if you think you know the person in question and plan on reporting to them. I don't care if you don't know at all. That person can't break me. Not again.

Six years ago, I was a 19 year old little girl. I wasn't a 19 year old woman. Hell, I wasn't a woman until I was 23 and finally decided that enough was enough. I decided at 23, as I laid in a hospital bed half dead and partially destroyed, hooked up to drips and feeding tubes, that I was done. I was done with being hurt, I was done with hurting myself, I was done with being picked up and discarded at will, I was beyond sick of depriving myself of life because one person was depriving themselves of my life. I realised that I could allow that one person to leave my life, as they wished, then pick myself up and get on with it, or I could remove myself entirely and permanently from the lives of numerous other people who loved me.

So I let them go. And I lived. I took their power and made it my own. I've made the decision that they will never walk into my life, so that they never again get to choose to leave it.

I'm not sad about the people who chose not to be a part of who I am. I don't feel that my life is devoid of anything for their lack of a presence. If anything, maybe I should be sad for them, but I'm too ambivalent. I just don't care. I'm brilliant and if you can't handle my fire, those days where I am sunshine and those days when I am a tropical storm, then that's up to you. Your tea probably tastes like sewage. But I am sad for every one of those childhood days where I planned how much more you'd love me if I was thinner.

But am I sad now? Nope. Not a smidge. My life is good. I'm good. I don't thank you for some contrived notion of you having made me stronger. I don't blame you for the fact that I nearly died, numerous times. I've come full circle and I can finally close a chapter with utter indifference. And that in itself is pretty good.

Monday, 9 November 2015


Whenever I used to complain about my short legs, my mum would remind me that if they were any longer, they'd not fit so perfectly in the gap between my arse and the floor. It's logic that's impossible to argue with. Totally impossible. I only realised today that you can extend it to virtually anything- if my giant head (hat shopping is beyond stressful and I LOVE hats) was any less, well, gigantic, there would be too much space between my ears. 

I'm playing about to see if the wisdom transcends. I'm overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy at the minute. I'm not pretty enough. My body is far from good enough. I'm not deserving enough of my family, my friends, my girlfriend. I'm not funny enough. I'm not nice enough. I'm not smart enough. I've not achieved anywhere near enough. I'm not talented enough at anything. And on, and on, and on. I feel like a slug. Slime-ing through life, not doing or being much of anything. 

Slug life chose me.

But really, what does it matter? I don't have to be the prettiest with the best body, who is always the perfect companion, who is the most hilarious, loveliest, who knows the most about the most, has done everything and done everything better than anyone. That's not me. I'm not any of those things. But that's ok, because I fit perfectly right here, right now, slotted into my life perfectly. And on those days where I don't feel like that's the way things are, it's not me that I have to change to fit- it's everything else that ought to be changed to accommodate me. I'm worth being accommodated.

I shouldn't have to change myself to fit any kind of mould. The mould should be altered to fit me. No, wait, even better- let's sack the mould off and just get on with being whatever the hell we are. Best or not best. A person doesn't have to be the best to be brilliant. I'll never win gold, but I am bloody brilliant (and so are you).

I'm enough (and so are you).