I’m a big big girl…

Reasons why I shouldn’t be allowed to adult:

* If left unsupervised I do very stupid things. Right now I’m sitting in my lounge room on a camp chair because last week I sold my couch with no viable back up plan.

* I totally gave up and let the kids eat all the chocolate out of their Advent Calendars for dinner if it meant I didn’t have to cook.

* I like animals more than people. My message bank says ‘please hang up and text me’. There’s also a sign on my door that reads ‘sorry I’m not good at people-ing’ and it’s not ironic.

* Today I had a 4 hour nap, woke up with a nap hangover, felt queasy and guilty and will definitely do it again tomorrow.

* If my brother doesn’t ask me what I feel like for lunch, I’ll forget to eat most days until 4pm.

* Most of my texts to husband person start with ‘ok, don’t be mad but…’

* I spontaneously acquire pets. I’m not ever sorry.

* I once got stuck in a laughing fit so badly I left work early.

* I often park ‘by braille’ in crowded car parks.

* I watch ridiculously scary movies and then make husband walk me to the toilet at night time… it’s 6 feet across the hallway.

* I got a bit excited about the easy money from selling my couch, so I sold all my book cases, then had no where to put all my books, so I sold them too.

* I say I’m becoming a minimalist but really I’m addicted to the excitement of selling things now… anyone wanna buy my stove?

* I got distracted writing this and decided to watch Rosehaven instead.

Nothing New

You think she’s a foolish girl

You think she’s silly and flip

She knows it’s you who slipped

She’s been down for so long

It’s nothing new to you

You think she’s mean and idle

While she’s feeling so much

That she can’t find her way

She’s fighting harder than you can see

She’s fought for so long

You think she’s gone

She’s always been here.


I’m going to drift right down to the bottom of the ocean

I will wait here in the quiet

Until my eyes ache for the sky again

I will let my mind wander

In the safety of my gently rocking sea room

Eventually I will need to rise

If I stay too long beneath the calming waves I shall drown

Though for now the turning of the ocean soothes me

And I am sorely tempted to stay forever.

Lonely Bones

Deep below the cold dark dirt

Lies the body

Of the boy they search for.

I bleed for his mother

And for her broken heart

Over his lonely bones.

All their pain and fear and hurt

Are lying down there with him

And when they finally bring him up

To see the sun again

Their hearts will not be healed

And he can’t stop their pain.

But there he’ll be and they will hope

That the aching mystery will fade

When Johnny finally goes home.


I can always tell when my meds have stopped working. There’s nothing subtle or gradual about it. There’s a sudden nothing that sucks all the colour out of the world.

It’s very hard to describe nothing. People assume that because I have depression, I feel sad. Sometimes I do. But this is different. It’s nothing. It’s not happy, or sad, or angry or hurt. I can hear a joke and understand that it’s funny. I might recognise that it’s something I would usually laugh at. But I don’t.

I buy a new couch. This should be exciting. The new couch will go in my new home. I have never bought a couch on my own before. I’ve had to save hard to buy it. But I feel nothing as I drive to the store. Perhaps at best a kind of flatness. Like I’m a robot, completing the tasks necessary to drive my car. I feel neither anticipation nor pleasure when I get to the store. I sit on the couch. It is comfortable and so I buy it. I order it in a colour that suits my new house and add delivery. I should leave the store with butterflies in my stomach. A bit of a skip in my step and a big silly grin on my face. But no. Perhaps you might expect me to miss those feelings, but I cannot. Even if I forced myself to jump about and say the things I’d usually say I won’t feel it on the inside. And in this cold wasteland of logic that I’m currently stuck in, I can see that there is no reason to do these things. So I don’t.

See what I mean? It’s hard to tell you why I feel nothing, or even what nothing feels like. You might think whoa, that must be annoying. Or that must make you sad. But it doesn’t. Nothing is nothing. It doesn’t feel good or bad.

I do however recognise that it is not normal to feel this way. I’m like a computer running a diagnostic and I can tell that something is missing. I understand that I should have emotions, as messy and confusing as they are.

So I go to the Doctor. I tell her how I feel, I can see she doesn’t understand, even though she tries to. I get new medication. It works… for a while. And then the nothing will come again. My mental illness adjusts quickly to whatever medication I’m on, rendering it useless within 6 to 12 months. There’s only a small pool of medications that are useful and I have cycled through them repeatedly, making them less and less effective. Eventually they won’t work at all and I have to hope that some smarty pants somewhere has made new ones by the time that happens.

If they don’t there’s a good chance the nothing will come and the Doctor won’t have anything to give me to make it go away again. This scares me. Ironically though, if it happens I won’t mind at all. That’s how the nothing works. Perhaps that is a small mercy.

Can I please ask you to do me a small favour though? If the day comes when I feel nothing, will you remember what my laugh sounded like? Will you smile when you think of my daggy jokes and horrible puns? Do you promise to laugh at all the cat memes for me? Can you remember my face with a smile on it for me? Because I won’t miss it, but you might.

In The Blood

Yesterday I realised I wouldn’t be able to do NaNoWriMo this year because of my stupid crippled hands and god damn Rheumatoid Arthritis.  My brain heard this.  She disagreed.

The best way to get me to do something, to really commit to it, is to tell me I cant do it.  My inner Queen rises up and says BLOODY WATCH ME THEN YOU NEWT! Apparently, this includes self-talk.  Because today I woke up buzzing.  I had all this weird energy.  If you know me, you’d know I don’t wake up full of energy.  Usually, it takes me three days to wake up in the morning.  But I was buzzing. I raided my piggy bank, went and got the biggest Red Bull in the shop.  I downloaded John Mayer’s new album and almost before I’d fully agreed to it, I was booting up my laptop and writing.

There’s a joy in writing.  An excitement.  Do you smoke?  Cos it’s like that feeling when it’s been way too long since that last cigarette and everything in you is jumping and twitchy and yelling.  I haven’t felt it for a while.  Hence the quietness on this blog.  But I feel it now and you wanna know what it’s saying?  It’s screaming inside that I have a book in me.  Maybe this is the year I get it down on paper.  Maybe this is the month I have The Big Idea and get on with it.

Who knows?

But I ran into a friend the other day and she looked right into me and asked me: Do you still write?  Becuase you should.  I think you’re good. I want to see you writing.

So yes.  I still write.  I have a book I’m working on actually.

Watch this space.



There are a few of these posts floating around and I think they’re important. A smile can hide a million cuts. Depression does not have a ‘look’ or a ‘type’. It strikes without bias.

These are both the face of depression. In one my smile was a lie, in the other it’s real as hell. Could you tell the difference? 

Change happens on the inside. Hang on tight through the bad days. There WILL be good ones. Love your life. You only get one. You, my dear, are valuable because there’s only one of you. You are perfect just the way you are. 

#depressionlies #beyou #nomoresuicide #imperfectlyperfect #chooseyourself