It Comes Back

The thing about depression is that no matter how much work you put in, how far you come, it will come back.

I’ve felt it sucking at me again these past days. Felt it dragging at the corners of my mind. I woke up today and there it was. I am also in the grip of a Fibro flare. For those lucky enough not to know what that is, it basically means my entire body is in pain for no damn reason. Are they connected? Hell yeah.

Depression is a little parasite. She waits for something else to bring me down and there she is. Right on my life line, sucking all the feelings away.

Until I am not happy, or sad. I’m back in the grey wasteland of nothing. Everything is leached of joy. I am flattened. I am nothing. But I refuse. Im in a desert leached of all emotion. But I ain’t stuck here.

So I go to work. This is my job after all, keeping the Bonnie Bot alive. I watch my favourite shows. I reach out to my friends who get it. I tell husband. I get good with being sick. I do the things I like doing. I go through the motions. In my case, if I succumb and just lie down, I will get worse.

I start being kind to myself. I bring my best self talk forward. C’mon Bon, you know the drill. Are you safe? Do you need help? Is this manageable?

I take steps. If I want to get better I have to fight for it. I feed my face with good food. Listen to good music. Do things that make me feel… something. Hide the sharps. Put the razors away. Bury my face in my dogs neck and just hold on.

This is the price I pay to be me. My brain gives me creativity, it makes me different, intuitive, imaginative. And sometimes, it tries to kill me. Everything is a balance I guess. I still like being me. But the tax is bitch.

So I will hang on. I will hug my children and breathe them in. I will rest my head on husband’s shoulder. I will wait for it to pass. Hold on Bon, just hold on. Wait for the times to get better. Have faith that they will.

I will stay. I will not let this be the end of me. Because brain, you dear, fucked up mess, the times they are a changing. My smile will come back before you kill me. Just watch.

Stay weird peeps. Just stay.

X Bon

Lost On You

(These are old feel an old note… but it has to go somewhere right? Cos I don’t want anymore).

I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times.

What it feels like to wake up disappointed that you’ve woken up.

To hate the new Spring sunshine on your skin.

To watch your child laugh and feel it echo through your empty heart.

To see the smile on your lovers face and feel exactly nothing in response.

How it feels to already be dead inside and how it hurts to pretend.

What it’s like to keep on struggling because people need you, want you, beg you to stay. How that doesn’t feel like love, it feels like a life sentence.

I’ve talked to you until I’m blue in the face, and your resistance to what I’m saying just makes it harder to stay.

I’ve showed you my scars, begged you to see. You turn my arm over, pull my sleeves down and shutter your own eyes to my pain.

I don’t want to be here.

You made me promise to stay.

So here I am. You’ve moved on because everything is fine now.

I’m sinking in the dark, treading water while you work on the future.

I could show you all the things I’ve done, all the work I’ve put in. To be standing here next to you, while you get busy. You turn you head to your phone and I’m standing here alone.

I give when I can. I take what I need. I write it down and bleed it out. I’m losing more than winning these days. I’m half way gone already.

I never wanted to be this way. I didn’t get to chose. It kills me that the only thing I can feel in this black void is anger.

I’m screaming at the night sky, my head ripped back in a full throated roar. You think I’m just looking at the stars.

I could tell you all these things.

But you can’t feel what I feel.

And so my words

Are lost on you.

Nothing Compares

So in my mid thirties I finally figured out what I want to do with my life.  Spoiler alert – it’s actually not watching Netflix compulsively forever and ever. I mean, who knew?

I turned it over (and over and over as I am want to do) until finally something made sense. I’ve gone back to uni to study Community Services. By the time I’m 40 I might just be able to help peeps like me. Or peeps like you. Or just people really. I want to help, I think I can, I hope I’ve got the stones for it. Time will tell, she’s a real bitch that way.

Anyway, I’m often not ‘here’ in my blog. But I am still here and I do still give a shit.

You can find me more often waffling on in a much more casual way on my Facebook page. Sometimes I Tweet too – but mostly I just fall into the Twittersphere and come up for air hours later not really sure what I logged on for.

In the meantime I shared this on Facebook, but I think it was important.  So I’ll put it here too and I’ll see you soon.

Stay weird guys, and for fuck’s sake – please take care. Of yourselves and of each other. No one knows what we go through like we do, so reach out if you can. You might just change someone’s whole day.

Fellow black dog fighters… Nothing Compares 2 U. No matter how dark it gets, there’s no one else like you. The world does need people like us. Hold on. And if you couldn’t, I hope you know somehow that you were loved and we don’t blame you. 

Stay You

Lately, I’ve realised that trying to be a grown-up has made me shrink again.  I’ve been thinking smaller, and my voice has quietened.  Which might be why I haven’t been here much. I’ve been aiming for an easier version of myself.  Easier for other’s to get along with anyway.  And I for one don’t think that’s actually what adulthood is all about.

I’m tired of being reasonable and responsible.  I’m tired of having to smile in grocery lines just to prove that peeps like me can be kind. I’ve exhausted myself, trying to keep my freak on a leash.  I am so sick of representing the nice side of weirdness.  It’s making me cranky.  I’m becoming intolerable – to myself. For once I wanna tap into my moody teen bitch and bring her forth to get people to back up off me for a bit.

So I think for a while I’m gonna get loud again.  I’m going to take up space and not apologise for it. I’m not going to smile on the days I don’t bloody feel like it.  I’m not going to waste any more of my time making other people feel ok about who I am.  Because no matter how ‘nice’ I dress, how much I cover up my tatts or god forbid, take my piercings out, I’m still me.  I’m still the awkward chick whose foot lives in her mouth.  Who laughs at the wrong time and sings off key. I’m tired of fighting my nature, just to be accepted by people I don’t even care about.  So the mum jeans are going to the op shop, the hats and scarves that cover up this head of mine are going in the bin. In fact, everything I’ve ever brought and keep for the days I have to look the part is all going.  Because I am the part.  I’m me, in all my weirdo wonderfullness.  So to the people who don’t want to be anywhere near it… please take yourself calmly to the nearest exit. It’s ok if you don’t like me, there’s no accounting for taste. But do shush on your way out, keep the hate inside and let it poison only you.

I’ve spent a long time making myself stronger, braver, truer. After all that work  I just can’t fit back into the box anymore.  So despite going back to uni, learning new skills and aiming for a whole new career… you can bet I’ll be showing up to job interviews as myself.  Who knows? The world might just be ready for me now.

I guess in a nutshell it comes down to that old saying: Always, always be yourself.  You may as well, becuase you’re not cut out to be anybody else.

Stay weird peeps,

X Bon

prove yourself

 

I’m writing a book!

pen-book-300x225

Yeah you read that write (haha).

I tried last year to write one and I liked it, I had fun yadda yadda.  But trying to write a piece of fiction with plot, characters and narrative traction is just not gonna happen with my current mental state. So move over Diary of  Wimpy Kid, cos here comes one for the grown ups.  What’s that you say? An excerpt? Why I really couldn’t, ok then, if you insist! I mean I know you probably didn’t, but I like it better my way.

Sometimes I wonder how I would appear in a court room (it’s only a matter of time).
Like not on what charge, that’s the beauty of being me, I don’t worry about the big stuff. But how people would see me. I have finally settled on charismatic and witty with the power to rip someone’s head off with my intellect.
We’re talking me, on my best day. It’s a good mix.
Step 1: Make the jury laugh and warm up the room (my life is one long comedy festival).
Step 2: Tear apart the slimy lawyer.
Step 3: Saunter out of the court room after slapping the witness box and announcing ‘case closed’.
Step 4: Probably go to jail.
Do you love it already? Cos I do and that’s all that really matters.  It’s my book and it’s keeping me from pulling out all my toe nails.  Besides, my motto is Do The Thing.  Do it now.  Life is short or bug arse long depending on your current mindset. You may as well spend it doing entertaining things.  Cross off the bucket list now. Cos tomorrow we might all blow up.  Or melt down.  I mean, it depends on what happens first.  Whether a world leader presses the big red button or the planet boils.  Either way, grab a glass of wine, decapitate a butterfly, paint that picture, do a cross stitch with all 6 strands of cotton. LIVE. It’s kinda what we’re here for.
X Bon.