Tag Archives: Mental Health

Possessed by a Kardashian and no I don’t know how we ended up there

How can a book be so well written but then ultimately pretty boring? How does that happen? How can I stop that from happening. Is it having a fully fleshed out world but nothing much going on in it?

I just got done reading a book called Ink and Sigil. The writing was awesome, the characters were great, the world building was *chefs kiss* but I was bored. I was bored a third of the way through, half way through and then near the end I just wanted it to be over.

Yet I liked the characters and I liked the world, I think it just goes to show how important a page turning plot is to me. I say to me, because I know a lot of people like meandering stories or slow burns. I’m not really one for it, unless it’s a ghost story with the promise of a juicy story coming. I’m talking ghost gossip in the ranks of keeping up with the kardashians if the kardashians were poltergiests.

Imagine being possessed by a kardarshian? In the future, rather than people being possessed by demons or victorian ladies (so many victorian ghosts) they’re possessed by kim kardashian?

“So, tell me from the start how it began?”

The lady sat across from me shuffled, her legs crossed one way and then the other more times than her hands patted her knees and her eyes flicked to her husband.

“It was the selfies,” she all but whispered.

Her husband nodded, his eyes not leaving the lip gloss stained carpet. “Then the cushions.”

The woman stifled a cry, pushing her fingertips into the corners of her eyes instead. “She started to push cushions into the back of her pants and up her jumper.” She stroked a hand through already finger dragged hair. “First it was just the throw cushions, you know, small ones. Then it got worse… soon she found California kings and…”

“And we don’t even know where she got those,” her husband finished for her.

Ahahahahahaha. Is that cruel? I hope it’s not cruel! But the idea of someone being possessed by a kardashian and it leading them to leaving lip gloss stains on the ground, endless selfie taking and pillow padding… well, it gave me a chortle.

I can’t even blame the sugar today because I’ve had none. Oh, tell a lie, I ate a peep. I always feel like a monster eating peeps. They’re just little peeps! Such cute little chicky looking sweets.

I think I might start writing again soon. I’m starting to get that pull, or is it a push, towards continuing a story. It might actually be the continuing rather than starting something fresh that’s holding me back. Nah, probably not, I’m just holding myself back.

But I was talking to my friend, an incredibly talented artist, about how old work can just feel like such a drag. I just have so much old work to go back to. And I hope I will. So many half finished stories. I hate thinking about it but sometimes I can’t help but wonder how different things could have been if I’d been medicated sooner and been able to finish all those stories. Or maybe I’d have never started them at all?

Even so, I need to crack on. I’m 34 now, so I’m no spring chicken! A summer chicken possibly, but thankfully not a winter turkey. I’m hungry now but I don’t know what for. Yes, I do, I want roast potatoes. Yeeesssss. Okay, those are going on my list of things that I want to cook this week.

Although we haven’t been grocery shopping properly in weeks. We subscribe to Hello Fresh which is pretty awesome for two mentally unwell adults who don’t want to survive on take out alone. It takes out all the mental tomfoolery of meal planning and prep and boom ingredients alone and recipe cards. So I still need to be doing something that becomes a routine nightly, but it isn’t too much that my thoughts mush together and brain shuts down. Rubbish, I know. But, if you know you know.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. 🙂

Arbie X

Argh my eyes are all watery

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.

Arbie X

I forgot to add a title

I am definitely having one of those days where brain doesn’t get the memo to wake up.

I’m not sure if my new schedule is shocking my brain or something and so it’s going on strike but I thought getting out of bed and going to straight to a game of frisbee with Stella would be good for me.

Fresh air first thing in the morning and all that. I follow up with a cuppa tea so it’s not as though I’m depriving myself of anything. There’s just been a rejig of the system.

So far my Stella schedule looks like this:

Wake up, take out for bathroom and game of frisbee




Evening game of frisbee



We go out throughout the day here and there for bathroom checks and just because I like to get her out of the house. She’s used to life on a huge farm so even though she spends most of her time snoozing in the house I can’t help but worry she’s bored out of her mind.

Because we’re doing introductions with the cats too I like to burn off as much excess energy as possible for their interactions. So far it’s been going okay. She resource guards which is something we’re working on, but for the most part she’s been accepting of the cats from the get go. This morning she gave Joey a good ol’ sniff and then gave him a friendly lick. Lots of praise, good Stella! Joey was praised too for his chillness. But, Joey is always chill. He’s the love child of Joey from friends and Salem the cat.

We were back at the vet again yesterday as well. Nothing worrying, just to get Stella’s blood panel done so that if she does fall ill they have a healthy baseline to compare her blood work too. She was really good, but she did have a bit of a grumble at a blue heeler that was a little too energetic for her liking.

It’s a bit nerve wracking having a new dog. Not knowing what any triggers might be and trying to figure out how to handle situations. She’s such a good girl because she was brought up so well but I understand how stress (and she must be stressed with leaving her home of six years to come to ours) can have an impact on our behaviours.

I’m going to try do some word prompt exercises. I’m still not exactly imagining anything, which sucks, but maybe it’ll do something? Although admittedly, I did try a word prompt about a month ago and I wrote absolute rubbish. It was so uninspired and bland it just made me feel worse.

I wish I understood what was going on. It’s been happening since before I started my medication so I can’t exactly blame that, and I’ve had depression for twenty odd years and still managed to write even when not in mania so I don’t know if I can look to that either.

I like to understand what’s happening with me because then I have this silly notion that if I can just get it then I can fix it. I’m hoping this is fixable anyway. I really want to write more than one book.

Ah well, that’ll do, pig. That’ll do.

Here’s a picture of me and Stella.

Arbie X

Shame you frisky devil

Shame is weird. I tend not to have too much of it but I guess a little while ago it got the better of me.

I just got done making allllll the posts I made private public again, and I’m trying to understand my thought process. I know it was after my diagnosis of rapid cycling bipolar disorder, after I started medication and began to feel better, and I guess I just looked back on the hot mess that is this blog and crumpled.

Maybe that’s what I was doing, screwing up the blog posts and throwing them in the trash, wishing they had never been written let alone seen.

Now I’m planning on writing much more frequently again, because hey, it’s kinda natural to me like I’m sure it is to most of you. I wanted the posts back. I mean, why not? They might be a hot mess but they’re my hot mess and one thing I always liked about myself is that I’m honest to a fault, honest about all my faults.

It was cathartic (I’m sure I butchered that spelling) making those posts public again, and one reason is because doubt had sunk its teeth in.

My post yesterday was talking about struggling to write and I thought to myself while I wrote it, damn I struggle with writing a lot. I’m always struggling with it. I’ll write half a book and then drop it. I’ll just run out of steam after chugging along like a Japanese bullet train. I started to think maybe I’m a fraud? I’m not really a writer, I’m always complaining that I can’t write!

Then I took on the task of bringing back my old posts. 243 of them. That’s a lot of writing. Even if it’s bitching and moaning about writing it’s still writing and it’s not even calculating in all the words I’ve written for the many, many books I’ve started. Hundreds of thousands of them. And not for university or school or whatever, just out of pure love for writing.

I was about to write “I just need to get on with it” but if there’s something that going through those old posts taught me is to just back off a little. Have a bit of forgiveness. You have a serious mental illness and your biggest tool in writing is your brain. If you can’t then you can’t. It doesn’t mean don’t try, but it does mean don’t destroy yourself over it. Yeah, punching bag all those negative thoughts. Nothings going to kill your writing spirit like telling yourself over and over that you can’t write, so instead it’s just difficult sometimes.

I’m also not going to buy into the idea my medications have destroyed my imagination, but you know what? If they have so be it. I’d rather be alive than write another book. But, like I said, I don’t believe that. I think that I just need to get used to this new lifestyle. I mean, I sleep now. At night and everything.

Oh interesting I’m getting YouTube adverts in Spanish. My friends have taught me some interesting words in Spanish but none of them were said in that advert…. eheheheh.

So yeah. IF I end up only speaking about mental health still then whatever. I don’t lead an interesting life okay! I’m very in my own head. Live in the moment? Be present? Pfft! More like set up a cushy little corner in my brain and rip myself a new one!

Ah. Now. See, shame. It’s there. It’s telling me to be quiet. No one needs to read this, to see this deep into the ol’ noggin’. Write about nargles and periwinkles.

Maybe I should just have this song as the intro to all of my blog posts:


Arbie X

I think I was a xenomorph in a past life

Ey oh! Let’s go!

Saturday was the beginning of a new dawn! Okay, it really wasn’t, but I’m feeling dramatic so let’s be dramatic. Saturday was actually the day I started to get a little bit more level-headed. It was a rough few weeks, my friends, a rough few weeks. Lots of screaming and shouting and crying and attacking myself and others. Finally I’m coming out of it though. There was a close call yesterday, I thought I was turning again, but nope. Woke up this morning and weeeeeee, I’m alive! Okay, not weeee I’m alive, but weeeeee I have some control again!

Never drink an elixir prescribed by Dr Jekyll. In fact, never drink an elixir prescribed by anyone. Who prescribes elixirs these days? I mean, unless you’ve somehow been transported to another world (you lucky devil) then make sure it’s a good one that gives you super strength or the ability to read minds or something. Actually, would anyone really want that? What would you want an elixir to do?


Where were we, I bet that paragraph makes no sense. That’s what I get when I always speak vaguely. I’m not trying to be all mysterious and, and uh, you know… One of those writer types that strokes their beard and broods and says “You’ll never understand me” before throwing a hand to their… no I’m getting confused with damsels. We need more damsels with beards.

Anyway, I did start writing the post The Dangers of Deception but I stopped because my brain kept doing weird things to it. Sentences wouldn’t sentence, words were all topsy turvy. I think I’ve mentioned I’m supposedly dyslexic (I say supposedly because I wasn’t told until university) but it’s more a mental unwellnesshealth thing at the moment, well, then the moment. Now, on the other hand, I’m writing parts of sentences yet to come because it’s an exciting time. It actually isn’t at all but I feel like I can do things today and so I’ll probably start writing another book to not finish haha.

Actually, what I’m going to do is finally look into advertising my book. So many anxieties though and ups and downs. Christ, I never factored it in you know? I never sat down and thought okay, gonna release this book and make a plan to advertise (which is already backwards – truth is I made a plan a few months back but then didn’t follow it because…) but I never thought oh and don’t forget you’re ill and some days you might think you’re a dragon and can fly but you really can’t and other days you might be attacking people like they’re trying to steal your gold and the other days when you are just asleep atop your treasure hoard… where am I going with this. Oh yeah. I can’t lead a normal life because I can’t function properly and so trying to manage something like advertisement, woooooo eeeeee. I’m sure it’s tough for everyone in the first place! I really should have thought about it though. I’ve been dealing with this rubbish for a long time and it’s cost me jobs, friends, family, relationships, and education things, what are those things, the scrolls, well those, and yet I didn’t think about it for this?!

Brain, you are a special type. I know that it’s very important to constantly fixate on door handles and making me feel shit about myself but c’mon, can we work together sometimes? Not everyone has to be our enemy you know.

Co-workers, pfft.

Anyway, I’m gonna do it though. Going to…

Completely forgot I needed to feed Seb her second dinners. She’s like a hobbit these days. Needs breakfast and elevenses. I need to write a post about little madame. Those of you who follow me on Instagram will know that she’s been sporting a new haircut, but a fair bit has gone on with her so I’d like to write it down.

She’s alright though, tough little thing and all.

Sleepy little monkey
I’m going to start trying to get my book in front of people is what I was saying! Advertising it and doing a giveaway finally! I’ll make a separate post about that though.

I really want to start writing short stories but they take a special kind of skill don’t they. Or even a series like the No Sleep ones on Reddit. Would that be fun? It means you need to suspend belief though. I’d like to post it on my blog and on the site, I wonder if that’s allowed.

What the hell is this post about?

Honestly, I think I just wanted to get my fingers tapping again. You know, it’s so easy to think I’m just mean and cruel and lazy when I’m at a low, but that can’t be true because if it were then whenever I was in the middle or above I wouldn’t jump to write and take back some control.

As for my April post of things I planned to do. Ahahaha. Yeah. I did read one of the books though! I wish I’d written about it sooner because like everyone I don’t remember things for long and I like to give my impression when I first feel them. Bah ‘umbug.

Oooh, my fiance bought me some pretty dresses. I posted a picture in this one instagram but I like the dress so posting here too. Will most likely post more myspace-esque pictures in future post.

20180414_185216[2659] (3)
I look like I’m about to do a little dance


So yes, I am going to be stalking these plains again for a while. Book giveaway free deal (whatever it is called) will be posted at some point as well. I’ll also try write about anything I find that might be helpful for you too. Will post about Seb. How is it still only 28 minutes past. Oh lord. I’m stuck in a time slip. Haaaaaalllppp!

My cat in a wormhole

The Importance of Deception

I don’t like liars. I can say this with quite some conviction because I lie often and I never like myself when I do. It got me thinking, the whirls a cogging. How often are we lying to ourselves?

This is hardly some profound thought, I’m not growing myself a beard and saying hmm a lot, as much as I’d like to spend my days as such. I’m trying to live in this new way, you see. It was actually another blogger that had me thinking: what, I can do that? I can just say that I’m tired? I don’t need to write stories about being kidnapped by lemurs?

Wow, of course I don’t. I really shouldn’t. We want mental illness to be taken seriously, for people to realize how much it impacts on daily life. Yet, if you’re like me, you’ll have lied a lot through your mental illness.

You’re always fine. There’s always a reason you can’t make it. Some kid down the road that you don’t know needs baby sitting or you need to help your mom make organic soup. You didn’t complete what you were supposed to because of all the reasons under the sun including the sun just turning up at the door one day and being all “You wot, mate?” and honestly, who in that situation isn’t going to do its bidding? Excuses are just lies by another name, and I have been full of them for years. The longer they go on, the more they rot away at the roots of friendships that were once something pretty damn great, at experiences that could have been amazing, at creative works that you just know could really have been special.

But it’s protection. The importance of lying is a 101 on how to fool those around you and live under the disguise of human. It’s impossible, by the way. You’re not fooling anyone. You can’t, because despite how mental illness is still somehow seen as the invisible illness, it is actually all too visible.

It’s right there. Right in front of you. It’s the withdrawal from friends, the frame that has either shrunk or grown too quickly, it’s the aggression, the tears, the fights formed by bouts of paranoia, the lack of hygiene (sorry romantics, but being mentally ill ain’t pretty), the lack of self because there isn’t enough room for yourself to thrive in your mind anymore. It is so blatantly in front of us and it is the liar. It feeds on the silence that screams through the night.

But, honesty? What comes when we are honest? When we speak to the people we are supposed to. When we speak to the people who by our third sentence are wishing they had never asked of our burden; their skin growing heavy as they feel the weight of our chains wrap their bonds around them, too.

Are we really so frightening? I speak here both as someone who has frightened those by what has been said and been frightened by what has been heard.

Perhaps we are. Perhaps we’re of fascination. Perhaps people are repulsed by us. Perhaps it depends on what is wrong with us that any of this post has relevance.

In so many cultures (including my own) it can still be seen as weak to discuss anything but a stellar mental health. I have been called weak, fragile, overly emotional; and I often wonder at that last one. We’ve seen the state of the world. How can we witness such cruelty and not be overcome with emotion? We live in a lie. A beautiful backdrop, a setting we believed only the gods could design, with a violence only one of war could imprint upon our minds.

We’re a mess. This post is becoming a mess.

I know that each and every person that reads this post will find it relatable, because in the end, it isn’t just about mental illness, is it? It’s also about mental health (if you’ve never had any issues with your mental health, I don’t know whether to envy you or wonder if you’re the crazy one).

We talk so much and yet rarely say anything. We need to say something. It isn’t weak to do so, it’s important to do so. It’s important to talk to those who dedicated their careers to wanting to help us, those who dedicate their lives to it, and, of course, the one who will always be there through it: ourselves. How can we begin to be honest with others when we hide from our own truth?

I’ll start by saying something that I have said throughout this entire post, but that is often taken from us when we are accused of being simply weak, fragile, or overly emotional.

My own truth, and one that even I was almost convinced of as being a lie.

I am ill.

How Queen and The Dude helped me battle anxiety

I’ve been on the verge of talking about mental health more lately, rocking myself back and forth over it.

I then realized that I don’t often talk about things I try to do to make it better.

This happened in the early hours of the morning and since it involves music I thought I’d involve you.

I’ve been trying to ride out waves of extreme (and random) anxiety. It completely floods over me leaving me cold and in a panic, when there isn’t a specific thing to panic about my brain will bring up whatever it can as a kind of, look, here, this is something you can get upset about!

Well, I actually had myself a little success last night. This might be because I was quite delirious but fuck it, it’s mine. I’m taking it.

This isn’t a new technique. Doctors, therapists, psychologists, pigeons with clipboards (come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t have let that one in my house), they all kind of work with similar stuff. Honestly, it usually doesn’t do me much good, but for whatever reason I decided to ride with the wave of anxiety last night, and here’s how it went with the aid of a sleep deprived brain and some good buddies.


cue deep breathing…

“I am riding this wave, I am in the sea, I am on a surf board.

It doesn’t matter that I can’t swim I am in control because this is a magical sea and I am riding these waves like a boss.

The sun is shining and the sky is blue and I’m burnin’ through the sky, yeah, 200 degrees

that’s why they call me Mr…


Those aren’t my thoughts, what the?



cue music

it is very important you have this song in your head!


I’m a shooting star leaping through sky

like a tiger

defying the laws of gravity



cue visuals of my brain


I’m a racing car passing by

like Lady Godiva

I’m gonna go go go

there’s not stopping meeeeeee



brain enters stage left



I’m burning through the sky yeaaaah

200 degrees

that’s why they call me mr farenheit

I’m travelling at the speed of liiight

I wanna make a supersonic man outta you



cue spotlight on brain


I’m a rocket ship on my way to Mars

on a collision course

I am a satellite




enter my brain in full swing


I’m a sex machine ready to reload

like an atom bomb

About to oooh oooh oh explodeeee



now it’s just showing off


Don’t stop me noooowww

I’m having such a good time

I’m having a ball

If you wanna have a good time just gimme a caaaaallllll

Cause I’m having such a good time

I don’t wanna stop at aaallllll



final act: my brain dancing with anxiety



As you can probably imagine, this did nothing to help me get to sleep. It did help my waking hours not be quite so awful though. In fact, during that time, it was just plain ol’ fun.

I hope this post brings a smile to someone’s face and who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself summoning the Dude and Queen yourself one night!



And the woooorld

I’ll turn it inside ouutttt yeaaaa


Custard looks a lot like Salad Cream but they’re both tasty

It’s a bitter sweet smile that touches my lips upon hearing he would like more of my time. A reward for the me that has been on top form for those past few days. “I know we won’t get this opportunity often, I want to make the most of it,” he says. It’s odd, almost becoming jealous of myself. Does he prefer the other me, to this me? Christ, I know that I do. What a bore I become when my mood switches. It was heaven though, those few days.

I speak of smiles reaching the eyes a lot, of laughter finding a home there too. When you constantly find yourself smiling with no real cause, only from being told to, it’s a physical feeling. A grimace more than anything is the usual sensation. “I can’t smile” I say, knowing only that I can, I just shy from it. I feel my face distort in such an ugly manner when I am of this mind.

Yet those few days, when I could dance in front of the camera. I could sway my body or push my face up to the lens and make ridiculous faces. Make him laugh. Make him smile. See me as sexy. See me as funny. I don’t care, I’m letting you see me without me forcing anything and that is all that matters. I’m no prisoner today.

This is to you.

This is to that girl.

I know that you’re in there and I know that the other is coming to the fore.

Do not be afraid.

You are not your own prisoner. There is strength in you. When leaving a room, let alone the house, is frightening because you fear how you might react, how you might treat people. You fear the dizziness, the sounds are too loud, the people are talking but their faces are blurring, you are forgetting everything they are saying. Everything is too fast, too loud… do what you want the world to do. Pause.

Try to breathe.

You were here so recently I can still taste your words and you should find courage knowing that it scares her. Scares me.

It’s like a death. Witnessing your own death over and over. A phoenix rising only to turn to ashes again too soon. You don’t need to be arrogant in how you see yourself, it isn’t about self-love. It really isn’t. It’s about being alive. You are not the banshee, you are the phoenix. Remember this. Tell yourself this when you are hurting, especially when you are hurting another. This is not me. This is not me.

Or is it me?

It’s no surprise you’re fascinated with the idea of duality.

You can keep yourself alive if you hold on to memories of when you were who you know you really are. You are not the vile, angry, horrible, lonely person you will become now. You are not that person. That person came into existence years ago and never left – that is the illness, that is not you. What you will come to see in the mirror is not what is really there. You are lying to yourself. You are fighting people and screaming at people to stop lying, to admit that you are ugly, that you have whichever flaw you want to choose today, because your brain is fixating on it. The liar resides inside your head, not in theirs. Forget all the names of illnesses that have been attached to you, in the end it is everything and it is nothing, and it’s a merging of names that really just mean you are sick.

If you hear laughter. Laugh right back. Do what you always have and find the light in the dark, shine it on that masked self and make it answer to all it has done. Who better to hold you accountable for your wrong doings than yourself?

The other girl is watching everything you are about to do and say and she is here to tell you…

Well she is here to tell you to fuck off.

Ha, like that will work.

It felt good though.

Didn’t like that, did you?





Post this because you’re afraid to because it doesn’t make any sense and it doesn’t do what you wanted it to. What did you want it to do anyway?

Oh yeah.

I am more than what I am about to become.




I didn’t post it.

I’m writing this part, this bit after, yep that bit right there, some days later. I think I wrote this on Monday. Since then things have taken the turn that I expected them to, although, must be said, not quite so awfully in its consistency.

It’s so odd though, feeling yourself changing. The way you interpret things, how you interact with people. To love someone one minute and the next feel complete hatred, coupled with confusion and distress because logic leapt out the window. It’s difficult for those around me for these reasons, sometimes I wonder if more so. I can’t expect others to know how to deal with something that I don’t even know what to do with.

Here’s where I delete a bunch because I think I need to just write a proper post about it to get it off my chest.

And then I continue, as noted below. Arbie Krae, dontpetthefanganhoardens.com.orsomething, 15th march 2018 – accessed both 12:47am and 22:47pm because time is its own master and it says I exist in more than one place, lady!

Honestly, it isn’t as streamline as I’ve made it sound. I don’t switch from happy to sad, quite frankly I spend most of my time in close to lunatic mode where I latch on to something in my brain and I just lose it. That’s the only way I can really describe it. I feel like I should start a dear diary, that actually explains how a day can go. I know in the past I had wanted to talk about self-harm but I don’t think I ever got to that. I’m sure it will be off-putting to read but I feel like I have some things to say about that state of mind. I’ll have to check my Christmas posts to see if I said anything but I have a feeling that in the end I didn’t. I’m not doing that right now so if anyone made it this far and is concerned, I’m sorry and thank you, but it’s okay! None of that at the minute! Maybe that’s why it would be easier to talk about.

Right, I actually have a splitting headache and a ferret to check on.

I hope you are well,

Arbie X


This post is quite negative so in the hopes of reaching out and spreading some positivity: fruit salad with cold custard is amazing. Really, seriously, amazing. Damn, I want more. Should I?






The Fall of the House of [us]Her

The last of me was the first thing you noticed, between smiles that never reached the eyes and laughter that came at all the wrong moments, the end caught your attention before the beginning, and mine was caught on anything but





What about a girls downfall is considered so irresistible?
that tears need be wiped dry
and why must rage be quietened
for her to be

You thought my end was in the promise that next year would be the last
when you’d offer a kiss goodbye and I’d smile, give in return and then thank you for seeing me as
such a delightful

Such a worthy
Fixer up

And if you see me as a home I understand why you took the hammer to my heart
but excuse my confusion as this
I thought laid the hearth one day we would sit our children before
yet you fixed the cracks in the walls
only to leave all the windows open
for rain to fall inside
to stand and watch
as rot wrapped around these arms
where you’d promised to wind daisy chains
the white of their petals stained red
from the thorns of roses that restrained


You could step once more over my threshold
where if only you had noticed
that the first time a home is damaged
it may learn to stand again
it’s foundation hardened
however superficially

But the second time
it is left empty
it’s crumbling walls
and creaking floors
no longer irresistible

To an eye that saw what could be
rather than what already was

It will fall

Those with the Fear of Drowning

You see, I have these issues.

I know. I know we’ve been working hard.

Or well, I’ve been talking and then forgetting what I’ve said right after and you’ve been li… you have been listening, right?

Because, this is about that thing I told you.

Yeah… please keep your voice down. That thing.

Okay, good, good. We’re on the same page. Where else could we be?

Anyway, back to… back to that.

My fear of drowning.

I don’t think it’s so relevant anymore. No. Not because I’m okay now. Can you stop trying with the antidote and just enjoy the poison, for once?

Drowning, I was talking about drowning…

When my eyes are closed, I’m already there. Something has wrapped itself around me and my blood is freezing, its rivers twisting around my body and causing all my veins to become ice.

Yeah, I’m aware it’s December and cold, but look at me, so wrapped up. I should be warm.

But, the snow has settled inside and a ghost is screaming in its storm as though it is the one trapped with me and not I with it!

Perhaps it is not on the inside at all, perhaps its fingers sink through my flesh and wrap around my bones. A reminder of what I will one day be. Buried beneath earth but above another who once breathed as I do.


A bit morbid! Sorry… it’s just, it’s just such a funny thing.

I spend so much time trembling yet I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Something… is really wrong.

I mean obviously things aren’t quite right or you wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but…

Have you ever slept in a bed of lies?

Had a liar stroke your skin before they flay it with a tongue that would sooner be cut out than spill the truth.  And why spill the truth when your blood is so much more precious?

I believe if it could be a gemstone it would be the most coveted. Given on every engagement ring and set into all wedding bands. Would it not be sweeter to be betrayed by the one whose life you bore on your finger? For it is impossible to truly wear ones heart on a sleeve.

I ramble all the time. And I never seem to make much sense!

I don’t lose sight of my destination. There is just a constant fog in this place. And it is beautiful when it allows me to sit still and admire as it rises above the frost covered riverbanks and settles about church spires.

But, when I need to move on it conceals the path and petals of flowers close upon my approach. As though night… is stalking me.

But, I can see a light in the distance! And I believe it to be the sun, but then it dances in such a way I also believe it to be no more than a mischievous creature. A sprite with its lantern, luring me to a swamp where I will be stuck further still.

I speak of destinations as though I know how this story ends, but the chapters are pages strewn across the floor, that I suppose you are trying to piece together.

What an impossible task you have before you…

Yes, I said there was a church in that place. I’m not religious, but we all need a place of sanctuary and when the moon is all that lights the forest, even though it is of my own creation, I see shadows that even the wolves can’t protect me from.

But, if I can find my way to the sleeping stain glass windows and my hands are steady enough to bring thunder to the doors, I am granted entry.

No, no one else is inside. It is a sanctuary after all.

Ah, I thought you might ask about the rivers…

Only at my bravest do I look into their waters. I know how deceptively they can turn. Take their serenity from my view and in the place of aquatic weeds and childhood stepping stones come the faces of the lost.

I don’t know why they come to me in that place. Isn’t water said to hold the future?

They look through me and the fog and they look for the warmth of the sun as if it’s all they’ll ever seek! A desire for warmth. The weeds their shackles and stones their weights. They placed them there!

I know this because while I slept beside haunted waters in whispers they warned me.

But when I am awake, I have little choice, all I can do is stare into their eyes or their deathbed and I choose their eyes because the river is all too welcoming.

I wonder, if when Robert Frost said the woods are lovely, dark and deep, he thought of them as I do the river.

But we all have promises to keep, do we not?

Sorry, I feel I have become distracted again!

Have I told you… have I told you of those with the fear of drowning?



If you haven’t heard it yet, you can find the audio of this here!


This was written to be spoken so I’m sorry if it reads a little rough around the edges.

Thank you for reading!