Blog

Sometimes you feel lonely and these are my lonely thoughts.

Disclaimer

I wrote this a few months ago, and while I have not been feeling as hopeless as of late but I’ve decided to post it anyway because I know how isolated and lonely depression can make you feel.

I preach it that we are not alone yet when you’re in the thick of it all, sometimes you have to allow yourself to feel the hurt, and that’s okay too. 

aNyWhO I love you and you are loved and precious and beautiful, always.

Here ya go, babies.


So when is it that I’m not going to feel overwhelmingly numb and gloomy all of the time? Because an ETR would be nice (Estimated Time of Recovery, never heard of it? I just made it up so poof there you go. Feel free to use it. You’re welcome)

I know that my posts have been more melancholy lately and for that I am sorry. I really want this to be a safe place for all of you, but at the same time it is a safe place for me as well, and if I’m being completely honest I don’t know how I’m doing as of late.

There’s been a lot of really shitty things happen recently that have proven to be extremely overwhelming.

And there have been plenty of really great things as well.

But what scares me about all of these good things that are happening is how numb I continue to feel despite all of the positives.

Is this something that a lot of you deal with as well? I haven’t felt this kind of hopelessness before and it’s really difficult to process for me. You know, I feel myself falling back into unhealthy habits again and I fear that it’s only the beginning of the end again.

I am afraid that tomorrow when the morning sunlight kisses my eyelids that I will no longer feel its warmth.

How long is recovery?

That’s a rhetorical question, of course. Everyone is different. Our paths and futures may or may not intertwine and are all unique. But why does mine feel like it’s constantly sloping downhill regardless of how hard I try?

I’m tired of being tired regardless of the amount of sleep that I get. I’m sick of getting so little joy and fulfillment out of the things that once gave me so much purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still good days.

But sometimes it feels like they’re becoming more few and far between.

I still feel love, I love my friends. I love my family and I love myself.

But I hate that I have so much hurt inside of me, so much of the time.

I love you all,

that is all.

 

 

All my love,

Megan xx

 

 

 

Hello beautiful humans!

Alas, I am alive and not amazing but not terrible either so that’s something.

I am so sorry that I fell off the face of the earth for the past month and a half. I unexpectedly had to have my computer serviced and then had to take it to a second place and jump through a bunch of hoops to actually have it fixed.

BUT HERE I AM, HELLO

Besides having my laptop shit the bed, I have had a lot of things come up for me, both good and bad and they have really impacted my life more than I had anticipated.

When March rolled around I decided that there were better opportunities for me in the restaurant industry as a server, so I decided to go for a position at a local restaurant.

Low and behold, I got hired on the spot and started training the following day.

HOLY, SHIT IS MOVING FAST EH

In early April, my Dad came to visit me and we had a lovely time.

In the days following his departure back home, I had gum surgery which was obviously a damn party.

What else would you expect when having your gums cut up and sewn back together again?

While blogging under the influence of Tylenol three’s may have been entertaining, I decided against that.

The day after my surgery, I got some really disappointing news which genuinely tore me up for a few weeks. I didn’t get into University this year because I was missing three credits which I was previously told in high school that I didn’t need to get into a post-secondary institution.

So that was pretty hard to swallow.

Since then I’ve enrolled in two online classes and have been working on them whenever I’m able to find time between my two jobs, counselling appointments and time with friends.

As much as all of these things have kept me very busy, I’ve genuinely missed writing to you folks and I miss writing for me too.

I truly hope that this post finds you well and that you’re all taking care of yourselves.

I look forward to writing more soon and until then,

all my love,

 

Megan xx

 

Black Sheep

I am the black sheep.

In a world full of the most angelic, white and fluffy critters.

I have, and always will be the black sheep.

We don’t talk about the way that abuse changes us. We don’t talk about it because we don’t like to think about nor acknowledge that it even exists.

Instead we talk about the trial, the accusations, the witnesses and the jail time.

What we fail to do acknowledge is the impact that the abuse and/or assault has on both their every day lives and their future.

I personally believe that a lot of people feel uncomfortable talking about the subject,

because the thought of it happening to us, to your mother, your children, your friend or your sibling is unsettling.

But do you have any idea of how unsettling it is for us?

Even after being in counselling for over four years and being on medication for three I wake up every day and hope that it’s not one of the “bad” days.

The days where getting out of bed seems next to impossible.

The days where I literally feel nothing.

The days when I don’t eat until 9PM because I sometimes feel like I don’t deserve to.

We don’t talk about the way that the depression and anxiety lasts so long that it has literally outdated all of my friends.

 

It doesn’t just go away, and we pretend like it does and it is not healthy. We set up counselling services for victims of assault and we publish that they’re being supported (which is amazing, in no way am I saying that it isn’t) but we pretend like that’s the end of the road.

And it’s not even the beginning.

 

We don’t talk about the un painted line of segregation between yourself and others that distance themselves from you because they no longer know how to interact with you after finding out what has happened to you. As if you’re a completely different person than the one that they so “formerly” knew.

We don’t talk about the most pitiful looks that you start to get from strangers like you’re a bird with two broken wings.


Trigger warning

 


We don’t talk about the restless nights in bed, unable to sleep because I felt you watching me through your sick eyes.

We don’t talk about the early mornings that I woke up in full fledged panic for I had dreamt that you had pinned me down on the couch, duct taped my mouth and raped me.

We don’t talk about the fact that I woke up nearly screaming crying because I couldn’t let even a whisper out from my mouth in the dream.


I fear that we live in a world where these things get swept under the carpet so often that they will remain there until we decide to pull them out again.

And far too often we choose not to.

Don’t get me wrong, we have gotten better as a society but we still need to work together in supporting our survivors and encouraging them to heal by listening and showing compassion towards them.

Something that I think stops a lot of people from engaging with survivors about their abuse is the fear of triggering them, and while it’s very considerate to think that,

A lot of us just want someone to listen.

To not run away when things get ugly.

To not walk out on us.

My abuse has made me feel extremely isolated from my friends, my family and relationships because I process things differently.

But please, don’t be afraid to ask me how I’m doing, it genuinely means the world to me to know that you care about my wellbeing.

Ask us if we are okay, (here’s the important parts) and be there for us if we aren’t.

Be there for us when we are.

Recovery is not a one way street, there will be ups and there will be downs. Don’t be afraid to tag along for the ride, because we are some of the most dynamic, compassionate and deeply loving people that exist.

For that and many other reasons listed above and in other said posts, we are different.

I am different, and I am proud of it.

We are the black sheep, and we are not alone, but we are ready to be heard.

 

All my love,

Megan xx

Alone

I am self conscious about the way my thighs touch and jiggle when I walk. I am self conscious about the fact that my biceps are not toned and tan, and neither are my legs. No,  I don’t have a flat as heck tummy. I am self conscious about all of these things but they don’t make me feel less beautiful or worthy of love.

(Public Service Announcement that ALL bodies are beautiful; Tall, Chubby, Lanky, Short, Skinny. Whatever you are, You are gorgeous just the way you are)

What does however make me feel less worthy of love are my abandonment and attachment issues. 

I know it’s probably not the most physically or mentally intimate topics that I have talked about on this blog, but they are some of the most frightening and detrimental emotions that I ever have, and continue to experience.

I’m scared that you’ll leave me.

I’m fucking terrified that you’ll get tired of me and that everything that I feel inside will make you lose interest in me entirely.

“We’re so untrusting of others to the point that we believe that ourselves are the only people that won’t hurt us, and even then we still hurt ourselves. Those that were suppose to protect us, didn’t, so we don’t let others in” – A very dear friend

When I look at it from an outside perspective, I can absolutely see how my childhood and especially early teens contributed to my attachment patterns.

Man oh man is it fucked.

The adults in my life who’s only job was to protect me, didn’t. They abandoned me at a time when I needed them most. In turn I find it notoriously difficult to make meaningful connections with anyone that walks in to my life, for fear that they’ll leave just as fast as they sauntered on in.

I look at how my step father would treat me, how he would yell at me as a child constantly. How he would always find a reason to blame me for everything that went wrong in our household. How he would scream at my mother and call her a “fucking bitch” at least twice a week. How he would call me a “spoiled little bitch” whenever I told him that I didn’t want to be talked to the way that he did.

When I would sit under my desk in my room crying because I was never the perfect daughter.

Because nine year old me, balling my eyes out when you screamed at me for everything that I ever did,

that made me a bitch.

When I was fourteen and you decided that touching my butt was okay because it gave you satisfaction. When I asked you to stop because it made me uncomfortable, I was over reacting because “it was just a joke”. 

When you asked me for the grim details about the first time I had an orgasm, and I could see the satisfaction in your eyes. 

No one protected me.

No one stood behind me in that moment and told me that it was not okay.

It’s no wonder that I hurt so deeply from this.

For years I had you degrading me until I wasn’t mentally strong enough to fight back anymore. Because of you, I became depressed. Because of you I still suffer from high levels of Anxiety and have the occasional PTSD episode.

For so fucking long, I had no one.

And I’m used to that feeling.

I have been alone in this for so long that I can rarely accept the fact that maybe someone actually gives a shit about me and my well being. Whether that be a family member, a friend or a potential significant other.

I’m self conscious about the fact that I am always paranoid that everyone will leave me because I am simply “too much to handle” and that my episodes will just chase everyone that means anything to me away. I am self conscious because I don’t want to come across as needy or clingy, It’s just that I’m half expecting everyone to call it quits on me at any given moment now. I have been aware of the fact that this is something that I struggle with for quite some time and I have this gut feeling that this is something that likely contributes to my ongoing depression and quite frankly, that really scares me.

It scares me because any time that I start to get close to anyone all I can think about is:

“When are they going to get sick of me?” 

“Sure this is nice, but how long is it gonna last?”

“When are they going to walk out of my life and not come back?”

I know that I think this because I have been abandoned in the past, by the only people that aren’t ever supposed to walk out on you. Even worse, those people hurt me so deeply that I often don’t acknowledge that my attachment and abandonment issues even exist because they’re rooted so deep down.

So I’m sorry that I often ask if everything is okay.

And I’m sorry if I make you think that something is wrong by asking.

I’m sorry that I’m quiet at times, I’m used to people not caring about me or my emotions.

But I care about you deeply, I want the absolute best for you, for your future and for your life. 

It scares me that I care so much, but I do.

I’m here for you because no one was there for me.

 

All my love,

Megan xx

How to love someone who’s depressed

I’ve honestly been at such a loss recently as to what content I should or want to write about. Maybe that’s because I’m busy with work, and trying to find new work. Maybe it’s because I myself am just coming out of a depressive episode after three months.

I was thinking the other day about how often I feel worried that no one will ever love me because I still have bad days.

So I thought jokingly “Why don’t I make an instruction manual for myself?” and I honestly thought that was a pretty good idea.

So without further ado;

Megan Model #1999 : A manual

Since 2014 I’ve struggled with both depression and anxiety (Which if you follow me, you’ll know by now) I’ve gathered from experience that both of my conditions come up in relationships and each have their own individual effects on one.

I ask a lot of questions, and I apologize a lot. For that I am sorry (The irony kills me here) because I know that it can be annoying at times.

I don’t lack self confidence when it comes to my looks or body issues, I am who I am and there isn’t a whole lot I can do to change that even if I wanted to (My body is rad and so is yours, you’re all beautiful and I love you)  Something that I do fear however is the fact that I do have stuff going on that can make my life more difficult than others. So when I ask; “Is everything okay?”

It’s not to make you think that I feel there’s something wrong, it’s more a matter of me trying to reassure myself that I am worthy of being cared for and loved.

Even though I’m not chronically depressed anymore, there will be the odd day where I really struggle to get out of bed and go to work. I won’t want to do anything and I might just need to cry it out, be hugged and have my back rubbed.

But sometimes I really need my own space and time too. I thrive on being independent and reflecting on my own emotions and thoughts. So sometimes I may need to take a me day and go out to take photo’s, write a blog post, take a walk and get a coffee. That’s what self care is to me because I’m doing what makes me feel better for myself.

Just because there’s a lot of talk about “Depressed people don’t want love and affection” that’s honestly the exact opposite of what we want. Wrap me up in a blanket and sit my ass down next to you on the couch. This little sad burrito will enjoy being in your company while being warm n’ cozy (EVERYONE WINS BECAUSE CUDDLES ARE SNAZZY AND BEING COZY IS 11/10)

It’s the little things that mean a lot. Remembering that when I’m having an off day that my favourite thing to eat when I’m sad are Ritz crackers.

BRING ME ALL THE RITZ BABY

and a glass of water because hydration is neato and Ritz are salty af (Low key me)

Or that I often forget to eat when I’m feeling off and encouraging me to have something to snack on.

Most importantly, remember that I AM MORE THAN MY ILLNESS. 

one more time for those in the back

WE ARE MORE THAN OUR ILLNESS. 

I still love, and want to be loved. I feel joy, compassion and love to feel the suns’ warmth beating down on my skin.

We will love you harder than anyone else on this earth because we have felt what it’s like to not even love ourselves, and after finding such a deep sense of self love I want to share that with someone else.

Though there are bad days, keep in mind that I have many more good days now that are so worth sticking around for. I’m prepping for the worst but really I have been doing better.

I’ll want to go on an adventure, drive with no destination and see where the road takes us. I’ll want to go on a hike to find that waterfall that everyone posts photos of that I still don’t have a clue as to where the fuck we could find it. I’ll want to take photos and paint. Take photos of you, of architecture and of nature.

I’ll want to get lost in an oil painting so satisfying and precise that watching the paint dry becomes a source of entertainment. 

One of the many things that I’ve learned through my struggle with my own mental health is that we have to appreciate the little things in life, because we never know when they could be taken away from us.

I didn’t know that I would have my love for most things taken away so now I must enjoy it, bask in it and embrace the fulfillment that these little hobbies bring me.

I want to enjoy life. I’ve worked so hard to move forward from my past, and I want to share that joy and fulfillment in life with someone.

There may be some difficult days ahead in the future, but I promise the good will far outweigh the bad. 

 

All my love

Megan xx

 

 

 

 

 

No more silence moving forward

I feel like a lot of people are really surprised to see someone talk so openly about their struggles on a public platform, especially the topics that I focus on. While I understand that they are very intimate and personal, I think it’s really important that we talk openly as the silence is one of the main reasons that metal health remains so stigmatized.

When I was first diagnosed with Anxiety and Depression, I was so ashamed because I had allowed myself to come to such a dark point in my life. I didn’t want anyone to know what went on inside my head, an it wasn’t until I began letting others in, that I began to heal.

It saddens me that my story is not the only one like it.

Without consciously being aware that we are doing it, we discourage those that are struggling with their mental health to not get help. We drug shame those that take medications prescribed by a medical professional. We judge when someone goes to counselling. We tell people to

“just get over it”.

It’s no surprise that we have so many people living amongst us that are too afraid to come forward and ask for help, because we collectively are not a safety net that’s willing to catch them.

I hope one day that our society can become that, but before that happens we need to alter the way that we talk and think about those that are struggling with a mental health issue.

It’s sad to think about how much my High School years were affected because no one knew how to be friends with the girl who couldn’t focus enough to take notes because she was so busy replaying her traumatic memories of the past.

I want so much for us to become a place that is safe for everyone.

Safe for my old self to come forward and feel supported not judged when she can’t get out of bed to go to class.

Safe for the boy who had to stop going to school because he needed to focus on healing.

Safe for the men and women who ideate suicide as the only answer.

Safe for those that hide so much pain behind a curtain of white teeth. 

That starts with us. We need to tell people how we feel, what does help and what doesn’t help. We need to allow ourselves enough compassion to let love in. Even when you think the world is the coldest most bitter pace, love is always there, sometimes you just have to dig a little deeper to find it.

We want to be talked to, and to be loved and cared for, as much as it may seem like we don’t sometimes.

I can tell you first hand that asking how someone is doing when you’re concerned about them will mean the world to them.

Our world as it is right now is a scary place to live in, and it becomes even more scary when you feel like the entire world is pitted against you.

So reach out,

tell your story,

ask for help, 

communicate to your loved ones. 

I’m open because talking about it is the only way that we are going to change the way that we think about mental illness and I hope that we can all learn to do that.

 

All my love,

Megan xx

 

 

 

 

Intimacy

This morning I had a really impactful meeting with my counsellor. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have very deep rooted issues surrounding intimacy, and I have an impossibly difficult time untangling my feeling of safety from my fear of being intimate with someone.

This post deserves a trigger warning so here it is. Please don’t read this if you feel like you could potentially be triggered, I want you all to stay safe and feel safe and if this post won’t help with that, please feel free to skip it. 

“There is a strong difference between education and forcing a child to  describe to them  the sexual acts they carry out with their current boyfriend and or girlfriend” 

I’m all for educating kids about how to have safe sex, 110%. Use all of the protection please!!! Condoms and dams, The pill, the patch, the ring, the shot or an IUD. Whatever you do, do it safely and consensually

But there is a major difference between telling your son or daughter to use a condom and asking them if they liked giving a hand job.

It’s taken me a painfully long time to understand this, and I think that it really only came in to focus for me today.

I have had a lot of really fucked up things happen to me, and my ideas and feelings about intimacy are very skewed. Quite frankly I’m fucking terrified to be with anyone because of the ways that my step father painted these acts to be. The way he pried at me to answer all of his inappropriate, disgusting questions. How uncomfortable that made me feel and the fact that he didn’t stop when I asked him to.

I have definitely come to realize this for myself, that I do need to work on this if I want to go on in life having meaningful relationships, which I crave so much.

I crave intimacy,  and that’s okay.

I want to be held and have my hair brushed behind my ear so that you can kiss me on the cheek.

I want to be able to have you ask me what I like without me feeling like I have a film of scum covering my entire body.

I want to be able to separate my trauma from future life experiences.

I know that with time I will be able to, but it is so frustrating to live in a world where so few people will understand that I need time to even be able to be physically intimate (Which is how meaningful sex should be anyway???)

Five moths ago my counsellor told me that I should steer clear of relationships for a while, as I had been treating them like someone turns to alcohol when they’re hurting. I was doing the same thing, but seeking out a relationship to bury my  resentment, my fear and the pain that I was experiencing.

Today she encouraged me to get out there and meet someone. She said that right now, it would be really healthy for me to find someone healthy and have fun with that person. She encouraged me to live the normal life that I want to live.

I’m so proud of that, because I did that for myself. I can tell that I’m getting better and I haven’t been able to say that for a very long time,

But there’s still a long way to go.

 

All my love,

Megan xx