Monday, 6 March 2017

Guess who's back...Back again...

Well helllllloooo there, everyone. It’s been a super long time since my last “real” post. I feel a bit awkward and weird writing here in this manner again because I have been absent for so long. Like, a REALLY long time. Is anyone even still reading? It’s okay if you’re not. …Which you wouldn’t know, of course, because you wouldn’t have read that. Whoops.

Clearly my [already lacking] literary skills have declined during my absence. Sorry. Hopefully I will improve back to mediocre in no time!

So, I’m sure if you’re reading, you’re wondering where I have been. Let’s just say I have been at the very bottom of The Dark and Twisty Place. Like, there’s the point where you think The Dark and Twisty Place ends, then you discover another secret hidden chamber down the bottom, and then inside there is a trap door, and after falling and falling and falling for what feels like 4000 years you reach the bottom only to find that it is full of SNAKES! AND BEARS! AND LIONS! AND TIGERS! AND MORE BEARS! OH MY! and so you try to run but the SNAKES ARE EATING YOU AND THE BEARS ARE EATING THE SNAKES AND THE LIONS ARE EATING THE BEARS AND THE TIGERS ARE EATING THE LIONS AND SOON YOU WILL BE SIXTEEN LEVELS OF DIGESTED, HELP and then SUDDENLY you discover ANOTHER DOOR and you rejoice because YOU’RE SAVED! HURRAH!!! but as you go through and the BOTTOM COLLAPSES and you realize that IT IS YET ANOTHER LEVEL OF DESPAIR and you keep FALLING and FALLING and TUMBLING and OH LORD WHEN WILL IT END and…Well. You get the idea. That is where I have been.

In case you can’t tell, it has been super fun. Like just damn near delightful.

Anyway. I am back now. Like, not back back –  I’m currently being sixteen levels of digested –  but I am no longer free-falling further and further into the three-hundredth-and-twenty-seventh layer of hell. What’s that, you thought there were only nine? Well I’ve got news for you, my friend; Dante is a sad ass liar. Nine layers of hell, huh. I wish there was only nine. I’d sell my soul for only nine.*

But Girl With Words, I hear you say in your non-existent voices, however did you escape layers three-hundred-and-twenty-seven through to three-hundred-and-three? Are you magic? What saved you?

Well kids, let me tell you.

Gather round, dear children.

Are you ready?


Nothing saved me.

Sad, huh.

I wish I had an inspirational post to write about the power of music and bands and the hope they provide (cough), but this time, I don’t. There was no AND I AM FINALLY FREE moment.** I wish there was. Posts like this work much better when I can get out my trusty red grammar police sharpie and circle a moment and say, THERE. THAT’S IT. THAT FIXED ME.

Maybe I will be able to do so in future, but as of today, I am not fixed.

What I am is a work in progress.

And that is okay.


Now. Please do not get me wrong. While it is true that nothing saved me, that doesn’t mean nothing helped me. Or that no one helped me. People helped me, you guys. People help. Not all people suck.  Most people suck. But not all people suck. Who even knew, right?

Firstly, I have a wonderful treatment team. Like for real. Wonderful. I have had many, many treatment teams in my lifetime and I can honestly say the people who work with me right now are hands down the best, she claimed, and more; a battle-scarred conquistadorrrrrr….ahem. Excuse me.***

Secondly, although it is tied for firstly, I have an incredible family. A legitimately amazing family like the ones you read about in storybooks and epic works of fiction and you wish families like that existed and then it hits you that they are real and you have one. And you need to take a moment to doubly triply quadrupley check that you’re not mistaken because damn, how is this even real? But they are real. And they are yours. And they love you, even when you wish they didn’t.

Thirdly, I have fabulous, kind, patient, and loving friends. Friends who have repeatedly resolutely refused [try saying that three times fast] to ditch me even after I gave them approximately eight hundred reasons to. Per week. I will never understand why people like, love, or care about me, but I will be endlessly grateful that they do.

Finally, although there is nothing final about this because it matters every single day, through the combined efforts of the above three groups of my favourite humans, as well as some hard situations and a lot of working on yuck things and crying and giving up and crying and giving up and trying again and wearing my hair across my face like a patented Hair Shield Of Invisibility™ and also crying and did I mention the crying? No? Well, there were tears. Like Alice in Wonderland level tears:


…as well as all that and about a gazillion other things, I am officially at the point where I am 5000% D O N E with the bullshit inside my brain and am BEYOND ready to beat it right out of my head with a baseball bat.

Game on. @ my brain, fight me. Cash me ousside, how bowdah? I guarantee you will lose.


Sometimes, kids, nothing saves you.

Sometimes, no grand moment or event or person or band gives you the thing you need to hold on or renew the fight against your Neurons Of Mass Depression™.

But sometimes, no thing saves you. Singular. Sometimes it is so many things – so many wonderful, kind, compassionate people, as well as your dogs, and following your passion by returning to study to get your second degree, and reading Harry Potter for the sixty-seventh time, and yes, listening to your favourite bands – sometimes it is so so so many things and people and events and everything everything everything that you cannot pinpoint the exact moment when your voice became louder than the noise inside your head. You cannot name the final piece that completed the puzzle. Sometimes, and I know that this is a cliché but it is a cliché because it is so damn true, but sometimes, nothing and no one saves you. With the help of others, and I mean a lot of help and a lot of others, you can learn to save yourself.


So yeah, folks.

And expect more posts from me on this topic and on mental health in general, mental health recovery, my love for Jared Leto [which still burns like the fire of a thousand suns just fyi], and hopefully some fiction too because as we all know, rambling into the wind is what I do best.







*No I wouldn’t. But, y'know. Don't lie to me about only nine circles of hell, Dante, you jackass.

**I’ll tell you what though, my ability to drop a good Mars lyric into literally every conversation has not suffered or broken or tired or wasted, surrendered to nothing or given up…

***I legitimately cannot help it.

TITLE LYRICS: 'Without Me' by Eminem