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

 

 

 

 

Thank you.

I want to be more grateful. 

I want to thank those that have helped me through so much, and the honest truth is that there really wasn’t many people who had done that for me back in Victoria. I constantly felt like I was either letting people down or that they were giving up on me.

The one person who has been there through it all is my Dad.

So this one’s for you.

I know you may not read this, and that’s okay, but I want you to know how much your constant support and admiration has helped me. You’ve seen me at my absolute rock bottom, and you’ve seen me at the top of the world.

Every Middle School band concert that I’m sure wasn’t great to listen to,

you were right there, smiling back at me. You sat through hours of strings music (which I know you love so much)  just to hear my three songs that I played half assed on the trombone because I honestly had no idea what the hell I was doing. Most of that is probably because instead of practicing at home, I was almost always in the kitchen with you, cooking and dancing, but you were still always right there, beaming with pride.

In High School, I started making my own lunches,  but even when I didn’t or I forgot to you always made sure that I had something substantial to bring along. You were always there.

When I got an A on an essay, you’d congratulate me and tell me how proud you were to be my Father and how lucky you were.

And when I became sick, you were there too. I’m sorry that I was no longer the bubbly, fun loving soul that you knew so well. I know that it hurt you to see me in such unbearable pain. I know that it was sometimes difficult to understand how I was feeling, or why I was feeling that way because you couldn’t physically see my ailments that were festering inside of my head.

But you were still there.

You’d tell me when dinner was ready, you’d help me out of bed, and encourage me to change in to something other than the four day old PJ’s that I sported so often.

When I look back now, I see how much that my pain caused you, and while I know that it isn’t my fault, I’m sorry that it did hurt you.

For the fourteen years prior, you knew me as the smart, kind, selfless and creative little girl that I was. Within months all of that fell right through the cracks.

I’m sorry that I left you for so long, and that I would push you away sometimes, I know that the only thing that you wanted to was to help me feel better, you just didn’t know how.

I had no clue either.

But every day that I would tell you that my day was “Ok” and nothing more,

Every day that I would go home and lay in bed in a dark room for hours at a time,

Every day that I told you I was too unwell to go to school and that I would stay home,

You were there for me.

You were a shoulder to cry on,

a coffee date when I needed and wanted to talk,

You were the only person that never, not for a second gave up on me. 

So thank you for everything that you have done for me,

for all of the counselling appointments you’ve brought me to, picked me up from and gone with me to.

for believing me when I told you about my abuse.

for protecting me.

 

Thank you for being the best father that I could ever have, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I love you Pedro.

 

All my love,

Megan xx

 

 

Lonely Hearts Club

It’s that time of the year again where all the people that are in love get to celebrate their passion and admiration for each other. While I am unbelievably happy for those in my life that are in a relationship that’s healthy and satisfying for them, it isn’t easy watching from the sidelines, especially when you already feel so alone 98% of the time.

This Valentine’s I’m trying to remember that this time last year I was in a very unhealthy relationship, and that I’m grateful that I’m not in the middle of that anymore.

Sure there are days where I hate being alone and I want nothing more than to be held and have my hair played with and my forehead kissed.

Hell I want that most days. 

But thank fucking god that I am in a healthy and committed relationship with myself now instead. When I moved I promised myself that this was for me.

No one else.

I wouldn’t allow my life to become something that’s purpose was to fit someone elses falsified image of myself.

I lost so much of myself in my previous relationship, and I hate that I allowed myself to. I used to paint three to four days a week, practice my guitar and ukulele almost every night and sing my heart out until my vocal chords were tired.

I’m not going to say that he took that away from me, because he didn’t,

but he didn’t encourage me to invest time in to those things the way that I had before “we” became a thing. I didn’t feel like I could because everything had to be about him, and I don’t think that he really realized how much his actions affected me and the things that I found joy in, or maybe I’m just trying to assume the best in people as I always do.

I specifically remember after we had broken up playing my guitar and singing again, and my Dad popped his head in my door and said

“I’ve missed you”.

It was then that I realized how toxic my relationship with that person and myself had become.

I’m happy with who I am as an individual,

and it took me so long to realize that the reason that I was so distraught when my ex broke up with me was because I was afraid of fighting this battle alone. I know that I have my family and my friends that will always back me up, but a hand to hold and someone to wipe your tears is something entirely different.

I’ve grown and learned a lot about myself since then and I’m confident in myself that I am okay on my own, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am lonely.

For all of you out there who are feeling the same, here’s to us,

because we’re some of the strongest, most bad ass people there are. 

Lets just all be each others Valentine’s, how’s that?

 

All my love

Megan xx

Season 4 – Episode 1

I write to you all from the cozy comfort of my warm bed tonight. I want to apologize for the lack of posts that I have not been posting as of late. I know that the purpose of this blog is to

A) Help others going through a difficult period in their lives / battling mental health issues / struggling to keep their heads above water

and

B) Help me 

but recently I’ve been really struggling with yet another depressive episode and it’s been taking a tole on my creative ability.

I’ve been consciously making an effort to turn this episode around in to something a little more enjoyable, maybe something in the same pallet as The Office?

All jokes aside it’s been genuinely terrifying to feel myself falling in to these unhealthy habits again.

Not physically being able to wake up in the morning,

Not eating a solid meal until the end of the day,

Not going to a massage therapist for the pinched nerve in my back that causes me excruciating pain for fear of being touched by a stranger.

And you know it’s so frustrating to me because I know for a fact that I will pull through this, it’s not nearly as bad as what I have been like in the past and I’m fucking thankful for that if anything. I’ve gone through this cycle more times than I can count on my fingers and toes combined.

I started a mindfulness group last week and the counsellor that did the initial intake with me asked me if I was suicidal. I said

“No,

But I have been before” That reminded me of how lucky I am to be here, that all of those times that I wanted my pain to end more than anything else in this entire universe,

I had the strength not to. 

I’ve been going to counselling every Wednesday morning at 9:30 balls AM.

And it helps.

After moving away from Victoria I felt better than I had in over two years, I felt free and I don’t think I’d truly felt that since I was no taller than the kitchen counter. Reality eventually set in however and while I’m not a self loathing mess like I used to be, I’m aware that both Depression and Anxiety will likely hang around off and on for the remaining duration of this rollercoaster film that is my life.

and I’m okay with that. 

I have felt unbearable pain and it has made me kind.

I have seen horrendous things and want nothing but to paint beauty for all.

I have been violated time and time again by this world and continue to move forward spreading kindness that society lacks wherever I can.

I’m a better person because of all of this bullshit that the universe has decided to throw at me, and you bet I’m damn proud of it.

It’s on days like these that I tell myself this.

It’s on days like this that I want you all to tell yourself this.

 

All my love,

-Megan xx

 

 

The Anniversary Effect

The Anniversary Effect : Defined as a unique set of unsettling feelings, thoughts or memories that occur on the anniversary of a significant experience.

I wasn’t familiar with the term until a few months ago, when it put a name to the symptoms that I feel every November.

It’s now been two years since shit hit the fan with my now ex step father and my Mom.

And while I could very well focus on all of the difficult emotions that this time of the year triggers, I’m trying desperately hard to acknowledge all of the positive things that I’ve done since then, and the progress that I have made.

I’m damn fucking proud of myself for everything that I’ve gotten myself through over these past two years. I’ve been through hell and back, and I honestly didn’t think that I would come back from where I was at such a dark point in my life.

TW

Two years ago almost to the day, I spent nearly forty five minutes in the shower clawing at my skin until I bled because I felt so damn filthy because of what my step father had been doing to me over the previous year and a half. It wasn’t until a day before that that I had realized what he was doing.

I was devastated.

I felt my entire world crumble around me, and I couldn’t escape the falling rubble.

But guess what?

I did, and I’m still here.

I wake every morning not for fear that I’ll have a nightmare that night. I get up, and want to go out because I love the fresh air, and going places on my own. I found peace in being alone after so long of being afraid of the very same thing. I look forward to my bus ride to work because it does take twenty minutes, but it’s twenty minutes where I’m not obligated to have to talk to anyone, and I can reflect on my own thoughts and emotions.

Two years ago I was terrified of all of that. I was terrified to open my eyes every morning. I was scared of being alive, and it truly does break my heart to think about how broken I felt that I was.

For some, all of these may sound like such minor victories, but for me they’re the most meaningful of all. I know that I have the strength within me to get myself through whatever life decides to throw my way. God knows that I hope that it’ll be nothing like what I’ve already been through, but if it is, so be it. I know now that I can do whatever it is that I please, and be confident in knowing that I do have the strength to do that.

I want all of you out there struggling to know that you’re more resilient than you think. You’re stronger than what you could ever anticipate, regardless of what you yourself or others will tell you.

You have what it takes to get through all of this. Even if you feel like you have no one, you will always have yourself, and you will always have me.

I’m rooting for all of you. 

 

All my love,

Megan xx