I think that my eyes are rebelling against my reading. I finished Sylvanas yesterday and today I read Animal Farm. Both were good reads, if very different, but my eyes now feel like they are filled with sludge.
I think I might need glasses. I just don’t want to get tested for glasses because I don’t like people poking at me.
Not a lot else has happened today. Oh! Apart from, a long long time ago, I can still remember, how the missile notifications started to blaaaaareeeeee…
It was in Hawai’i, I was there when they accidentally sent everyone a 30 minute warning that we were about to be struck by missiles. That was nice. I’m not sure what it has to do with the song American Pie though and why those two merged together but anyway I’m getting off track.
Back then, even when we got that notification through, for some body dysmorphic known reason, I decided that with impending doom around the corner I absolutely had to put on my eyebrows. You might remember my post from that time, I can’t help but laugh over my actions.
I think I’ve experienced some growth though in my journey of not giving a fuck. Ever since getting Stella I’ve cared even less about my appearance than I have come too. Don’t get me wrong, I know depression gets in the way of some basic hygiene and that I’m trying to drive in the opposite direction, but my obsession with not looking ugly I want to turn in the other 180.
But since having Stella and needing to take walks around the property with her for bathroom breaks and just little strolls I’ve not been so concerned with my appearance. I’ve splashed my face and headed outside. I know to many this is normal, this is no big deal, but to me it’s huge.
I’ve dealth with body dysmorphia for, hmm, let’s just say a long time, and I have come a long way since applying make up during a missile warning to being content with showing my bare face while outside with Stella. I’m not at the point where I’d feel comfortable going to the grocery store bare faced but perhaps I’m getting there.
I’m also not going to bullshit and say I wear make up for meeeee, it’s good for my confidence, without saying yeah I wear it for me because I feel ugly and insecure without it. That’s not a good thing. I’ve never understand why someone saying “I do it for me” isn’t followed by the question “why?”
Well, apart from it not being anyone else’s business, but I am nosey, and I do get fed up with influencers espousing body positivity while editing their photos to within an inch of their life. That’s something I’ll never do. I’ll use a filter to 44 or 48% (OCD bs) if I want to apply something but I won’t edit my features to no longer look like my features. I can only imagine that makes insecurities about said features even worse.
Urgh my brain feels muddled. Perhaps it’s more than just reading because I felt dizzy after playing frisbee with Stella which was before I started reading. Maybe it’s just one of those days, although those days were starting to be behind me. I’ll watch out for telltale signs of mania, but right now I just feel a bit off. It could be anything though, even allergies making me head weary.
I’m about to head out to get my dad a birthday card. I’m hoping it will reach him in time. I intend to put a picture of Chloe inside it. He never met her but he loved her a lot and was looking forward to meeting his little puppy granddaughter. It was pretty surprising to me just how much she meant to my family without meeting her. They were heartbroken when she died and were really there for me.
I suppose I better go before melancholy claims me. It’s easy to slip in and out of but it’s the slipping out of it that matters. Ah ha! You think you can sink your claws in to me upon every hour but I have support now and I have knowledge and medication and all you have is a stable place in my brain that I am slowly shrinking and I shall evict you!
Hahahaha. I’m not quite as confident as that. But, I longer hold on to the concept of wanting to be “happy”. I’m not sure why I ever wanted to be happy or thought I deserved such a constant emotion. No, I’m good with being okay and not insane. I’m content with that and if I get to laugh every day then I am a thousand times better than a year before and how lucky I am compared to many others who suffer?
It’s wrong, you know. It’s so wrong how many people are suffering with mental illness. How many people feel alone in their struggle, how many people genuinely are alone. I can’t believe their are still people who look upon the suicidal as being cowardly, or upon the depressed as weak. Depression is an illness and suicide the often fatal end of an untreated or incorrectly treated illness at that.
For the past few months I’ve been free of suicidality and I am so grateful for that. The thoughts come sometimes but that’s because of OCD and intrusive thoughts and not because of any desire to actually end my life. I hope if anyone is reading this who is currently struggling that my story can give you some hope that things can change. They really can.
But! I hope that today has found you well! That your cup of tea tasted sweet, that the sun touched your skin, and that you made time for something you enjoy.