Thursday, 12 March 2020


I don’t like disturbing others.
I don’t like asking for help. 
I know I’m a burden. 

I can’t ask for you, because I can’t ask for myself. 
So I suffer in silence. 
I face this pain alone in my mind.
I cry alone.
But I take my anger out on everyone around me.

I am a terrible person. 
I don’t believe this emptiness gets any better...

But I have to hope. 

Sunday, 8 March 2020

Insomnia strikes back

I am strong. 

I do not think people understand or appreciate just what I have been through, mostly in the last 10 years. The war in my mind. The destruction of my body and the destruction of my life. 
And yet I am alive. 
How did I live through so many near suicide attempts? 
How did the health system afford by bloody hundreds of admissions ?

Why am I still here? Why am I so lucky?
I’m left with permanent scars from cutting deep into my veins. It wasn’t deep enough unless I needed stitches. That made me feel so accomplished and yet so stupid for it was for everyone to see. 

It’s been a year. It’s been just over one year since I stopped cutting. 
Do I miss it? Honestly? 
...... yes. 
Do I miss being detained? No. 
Do I miss months on end in hospital? No

It’s been one year and 5 months since I had my last major overdose, very nearly losing my life. 
I was so broken. 
I really did not see life worth living. 

And I do still struggle. 
I can blame all the people in the world, but honestly I’m the one I hate. I don’t blame what’s happened to me, I do blame me, no matter what the therapy tells you. 
I am guilty. 
I carry that pain. 

I have nightmares where I wake up days later restrained in hospital. 
I have dreams of being forced tune fed. 

But I try to smile through. 
Very few see through that smile. 

This depression is consuming and yet I push on. 
I never knew the definition of depression but I think I might be it. 

I forget all this. I forget what I’ve been through. 
But I don’t forget the pain. It follows you everywhere. Every wrong move you make, every mistake, every time you drop something. Such a failure you think you are. 

And when you miscarry? And almost die from it? To fail subjects at uni, Then lose your job, to push on to only have your reputation tarnished. To not be allowed on premises. 
To be hated. 
To be despised? 

But why? 
What have I ever done to you? 
To be judged, when no one sits down, asks you how you are and know what you’re going through. 

To bring starred at for anorexia. 
To my scars being starred at. 
Judged for my medication list

And the local hospital refuse you when you are a day away from blood transfusions and almost losing your life. For not giving you the time of day. 

It’s no wonder I am angry. 

But I’m learning to accept things. That I can’t change people. That the world is the most fucked up place and there’s nothing you can do to change that. 

Only my family knows the percent of it.
Very few can bare to hear the details. I don’t blame them. 
My story is too messed and horrible

I am too messed up and horrible. 
And no one is ever going to accept me for that. 

So I lay awake between the nightmares. With this feeling  inside my stomach that never seems to cease. 

My judgement in myself I accept. What I have done I accept and I take responsibility for. 

But losing another job? Losing everything to where I am today? 
I can’t just yet. 
I hate myself and wish I would disappear. But the only ways I know how, don’t end well for me and anyone I love. 
I don’t want to do that. 

I want to have a good life.
I want to move on.
I want a job.
I want to raise my child and actually be somebody .

Instead of being a nobody.
I’m almost 27 years old. And my life is a complete disaster. 
I have nothing going for me. 

But I keep pushing on.
I keep trying to smile for no one else but myself.i know the only person I need to please is me. 
But how do I do that now without opportunities? 
When I get shut down? 
When I have no chance. 

I should write a book. I should write my story. Make something if this pain. 
But it will never shows the depths of emotion and pain I feel and have felt.
No one will quite understand. 
That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.
But it also means that everyone will know my past this time in detail. And maybe I want that. Maybe I want those people who shunned me to realise what they’ve done and suffer. 

I don’t want to cause suffering though. I’ve been through enough not to wish that on anyone.
But anger does get the better of me. And I do believe that people should get what they deserve, and sometimes I don’t know if God will deliver that. But that’s undermining God. That’s not trusting and that’s not faith.
Shame on me. 

I can’t pray for suffering, revenge or debilitating injury. But I can pray for myself to accept these things. To take responsibility for my emotions and control them in a way I can help others not make the same mistakes that I have. 

So is nursing really the career for me? 
Or should I start writing my biography? You’d better start these things while you’re young I suppose, and well I’m getting quite ancient. 
My story isn’t over. And I don’t know how long it’s going to take. 
But I have to try. 
I have to start somewhere. 

So I will trust myself. 
And this one time more....

I will push on and on. 

Thursday, 5 March 2020

My Nightmare pandemic spreads

Here we go again. I’m alone in bed and plaqued. I wake up with a scream, or now I’m trying to cover my mouth as I do. 

Sexual assault and sexual abuse. No one has taken these into account other than health professionals about my diagnoses, why I’m so mentally ill and why Ivact the way I act. 

I can’t tell my partner the dreams I have or my loved ones due to the shame. I desperately crave to be held by my partner and comforted but I don’t. The shame. I’m pathetic. 

All of these nightmares you imagine it’s the end of your life, because really it is of a normal life anyway. 

I sob in silence and think I see people surrounding my bed. People I don’t recognise. They are dark figured. 

I don’t know what to say. I never speak of this topic as I go blank. I shut it down. I blame myself and I block it out. 

My pain bares not scars to see. So I made the scars myself. 

I don’t know when this pain will end. I’m angry. So angry. At them. I feel I will never off forgiveness. Not to myself nor the devils work. I fear for what I carry within me. 

This is why I cling to you when I’m drunk. The fear. 
I trust my love the most. And believe he will never hurt me. 
But he doesn’t trust me. Because I am shameful, because I am a mess because I am disgusting. I am filthy. And this filth won’t wash off. 
To my future child, I will confess my guilt and hope to offer some solace in not following what others are doing. How it can go wrong. Even when it’s someone you trust. I want to hold you and love you. Protect and guide you. But I cannot hold you forever, I cannot always be around to monitor the people near you. For that I am sorry and that is my greatest anguish. I think that officially makes me a parent now?

How you chose not to speak of these topics for the pain it brings. But when you’re down, when you’re broken you somehow believe that’s what you deserved. 

I shed no tears as I type for I blink no more. For the blink brings faces and pain. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be numb? Well I do. This is the real numb. This is easy and this I’ll always be to this topic. 

I wanted to keep writing in my safe space here to help me heal and release because I cannot speak words aloud. But here I have gone emotionally blank as I have trained to do. 

And here I contemplate posting due to fear and shame? 

But does this offer healing? Does this offer helping someone else? Does this make someone think twice? Or does this change the way you look at me as I know it will. 

Don’t pity me. Don’t cry for me. Please pray for me. Pray for silence. 
Or Just ignore it and forget it, like so many abide. And I don’t object to this. I don’t hate this decision. 
Just know the world. 
Know it’s not safe. 
And you can’t protect your children 

Wednesday, 4 March 2020


I aimed to be in bed early. But alas I am again defeated. 
I cannot sleep for this pain in my chest. This anxiety makes me physically sick. I can barely eat. 
The tears sting my eyes and dries on my cheeks. 
No one hears me cry. 
I don’t want this. 
I never wanted my life to be like this! 
I wish I could go back and start again and not fall into mental illness and destroy the rest of my life. 
This guilt is killing me. This shame is potent. I’m not even allowed to be me, I can’t talk to anyone without worrying them and then getting repercussions. 
So I stay silent. This blog is how I articulate. 
What you will read when I’m gone. 

I need help. And I’m getting help. But I’ve fallen so far apart I don’t know if I can be glued back together again. 
I’m basically Humpty Dumpty, except I jumped off the wall. 

And now it’s even later as I wait for medication to sedate me . 
I know I need to work on catastrophizing. That’s huge right now, and I’m glad I can identify that. But money isn’t going to appear from no where, this child isn’t going to provide for itself. 
I have no where else to go. 
I’ve never felt so alone and despised. 

Shouldn’t care what other people think, but it’s a bit hard when it affects your every day life that others knowingly talk behind your back and lie to your face. 
People make sacrifices. I don’t think I’m a sacrifice in any other way than to be abandoned. By all hope. Of all changes and trials . Of all joy and live —— through judgement by thoughts of others.i rest my case. 

I want someone on all sides. I want us all equal and to have the same goal in mind. I want happiness and comfort. Love and friendship. 
Which these days I suppose is a lot to ask. 

I want so many things in life. 
I’ve lost so many things in life, 
I hold my life in my chest, 
My heart on my sleeve, 
My eyes to capture disaster as it begins and imprints on my mind. 

This pain, this life, this mess, 


Its apparent I can't say anything anywhere without concerning or hurting someone somewhere. I an no where. I lost all sensations towards myself and find my anxiety rising above. I don't even know what to say right now, if I even have any feelings about life. I am blank, nothing but a pin cushion, the pain never ends. But who cares right? I should just be happy. No one thinks less for me for losing 2 jobs! NO one thinks less of me for falling pregnant ! NO one judges my every move! NO one has more respect for me! NO one no one no one. The list goes on, like when will this shit end? I am forever haunted by my life and nothing is ever going to change. People are never going to change, because humanity is a disaster. If Trump can't save us who can? I almost wish the coronovirus was worse so all these dipshit people would die. Wow, this is what iv become? wishing others deaths. That actually makes me ashamed and sad. Jesus teaches us to love our enemies, well its not that I have enemies its just that people these days are f*ckn twats. Honestly. This is what Iv'e become. Angry. Bitter. and Judgmental. I give every person the time of day and offer my best support. Whilst I receive judgement, taunts and ridicule. I am badly depressed. And I am TRYING to recover I am TRYING to be a better person, I am TRYING to live my life the way it was intended I am TRYING to help others I am trying to be me. what can you say for yourself?? I've accepted I can't be the change I want to see in the world. I've accepted this is my life and what I've got to dealt with. I've accepted I am in terrible times. I've accepted that life never goes to plan and I am in control of nothing. I've accepted people don't think much of me. I've accepted I am judged for every breath I take. I accept I am both loved and unloved I accept I am different You think I am childish, and that's probably due to my dramatic outlook on life. That's fair, but just remember that children see the world for a better place than it is. children maintain their innocence, children speak the truth without worry, children are honestly learning. Children cry when they are hurt. Children have more nightmares. Children have lowered immune systems. Children are taught what they do. They learn from watching. They learn from hearing. They copy. Maybe I am childish, I only preach what I have learnt, I tell the truth and share my feelings knowing that if I don't they will be suppressed and arise in other disorders. I get sick very often. I try to act oblivious to the constant pain consuming me day in and day out. When I am hurt, I break. And right now? I can't find a shard of myself. My attempt of starting my YouTube channel to help spread awareness of mental health Peace xx

Friday, 28 February 2020

I thought.

I thought I was doing okay. 
I thoughts things were getting better. 
I thought I could more forward.

But every blow I fall. I’m struggling to stand back up. 
Every tear I cry, doesn’t dry. 
This pain, the anguish, I pray and give it away. 

To receive nothing as a result. 

These wounds. Haven’t they healed? 
These scars are my reminder. 
My loneliness is constant. 
My fear is forever. 

My depression thickens as the clouds consume me. 
I don’t want to be in this position again. 

I’m trying so hard! 
I do the right things, 
I see the health professionals. 
I speak out. 
I seek help. 

But it always comes back. 

I never thought I could suffer this much. 
I never thought such internal pain could be real. 

I’m happy. But obviously not happy. 
What am I meant to be or do? 
Other than burden. Other than shame. 
I’m too old for these problems, it’s gone on long enough. 
My recoveries are short lived. I must face that truth instead of living in denial. 

I just cry. Cry alone. No one to hold. No one I want to bare this pain on. 

I keep fighting and I will keep fighting. 

But I am weak. I am drowning, 
I don’t know what to do anymore. 

Obviously right now I’m in quite a worked up state. 
So what I’m blabbering is venting from the heart because I cannot articulate my words out loud. 

How will I survive this world? How will I get ahead? 
I’m not the person I ever wanted to be. 

Please pray for me lord. Take this pain for just half an hour of peace. And help me be motivated to continue on. 
And finish my studies. 
For I fear I’m a failure. I don’t quit because it’s hard I quit because I can’t cope. And my mind is not ready. 

I must push on I know and will.but baby it hurts. 
And no one sees my tears. 

I want a life. I want a job. I want to be happy. And I want to live freely. I want my life. And I will keep my life. 

But ignoring these problems is ignorance. 
I don’t wish to start my life again. I’m tired of that slow tedious process. 
I must persevere. I must strive and by the grace of god in the last 15 years I will provide. 

God bless xxx 
And tomorrow is sometimes better 

Wednesday, 19 February 2020

An honest dream of terrorism

On the 2nd February 2020 I dreamt from 4am to 9am We were in Rome. The sights were maxing. We danced and we sang. We wanted go spend our lives there. We could see prosperity and joy. We would be happy money or not. But the people they turned. We were then on a beach. In a hotel. And the English were making fun of the Australians which was only our one big family. We got out tell them they were sick heads and to shove it. They did not understand. They are poms, what did you expect? We were then on holiday crossing from dimension to dimension through a crater in the ground with a fountain. You could jump in and be in love. The whole city you ventured you were always in water and love. Friends forever. They cheered us in as we were chosen to dance. We were fantastic. I ran off with my gluten free bread in my hand to feed a creature. A foreign creature I cannot recall. Then there was a crow. It beconed to me. I went to climb the fence and leave when it Calle. For me not to leave. So I resisted and my new tights a was wearing split at the crutch. I was devostated as they were expensive. My sister was se I stayed for me. We were in Rome. In love. And made our way to the cinema. Young and escaping our family for new fellows. Her I sat next too, though he did not want me to she moved rows down to call me to her. There was two seats in front of us - leadin to the isle; though there were bags on them and people in the two seats beside she kept kicking, putting her feet up there - even when the person next would push her down. I apologised. Calmed him down. He said a prayer . He was foreign- between Chinese and Japanese. Tourist. Forgiving. I was hiding and a girl went to the isle as if she was the explode and she voided. She voided and with embarrassment ran away. I went to run after her, she was my friend. But first I helped the staff member clean the urine. Well at least cover it in towels. We were on a cruise ship then. And I said to the staff member - this is the worse thing that could have happened to a girl her age and she said biggest news to be heard in summer camp. Or something along those lines. I replied hence while in Australia we don’t have those camps. “Fuck that” I said. I found her changed my the toilets, I hugged her embarrassment into normality. When a boy made fun of her and I punched him in the groin as a metaphor for what he was mocking. (Urine/genitals). Somehow there was another crossover from the ship to - I cannot recall as my dream is fading by 18 minutes. The last section was between a target store on the ship. Things we wanted to browse but had no time. There were no diaries in the style I wanted left and it took me cereal returns to the store before I found summer/autumn maternity wear. Winter gear on clearance was all I could find. There was a bomb. First her face was split open. And I told her time and fine again as had in the past for another wound she needs to close it or it will open more, never heal and scar Terribly. The incision was her face. She looked as if her face had burst through a vagina. She did not care. Oblivious to my pleas. Therefore I disregarded what would be her misfortune. I walked through her house. As I have done in the past life. And the kitchen was pure white stone. I felt the silk beneath my left hand as it glides across the counter. I was in ore. But what had me stunned was the crystal dish rack. What if it fell to the floor I thought? Yet it was flawless. Shiny and stunning and I wanted to be. I followed her and her brother for a valentines surprise to her and her husbands room. They went through a sliding bracket wooden door and I heard and felt their voices darken to fidelity. I then thought it was her and her husband I had mistaken. I closed the main door and walked into the lounge where I found the brother, the husband and her children. Who was she talking to? There was no one else here. Where was Samuel? I can’t see his face in my mind though he bears my heart. Next and final scene. In the cruise ship. We were in Japan and this went on for a long time. I was always being chased and I and a 7 month old child were thrown from a viechle of the sleeping mother, who then caught the baby avoiding the shooter aiming at her looting her car. It was a good ending. The child would live but I believe she grew to be Aylie who was my sister in the ship. A mere 7 years old, bold with her spirit and a stump as her left arm. We were back as our family and the ship was coming to a title wave. We just wanted to come back to Australia. But there was NASA shuttle mishaps, firing in the night and crashing where no one could see. Destroying underground car parks time and time again. There was nothing left but the crater supported by one beam the a wall. It as going to collapse on us. I yelled and we ran. Why were they so interested and besotted in these failing shuttle and space station voyages unknown to the public. Perhaps they have more land than I had imagined. I urged my brother and father in as they kept following the crashes and sparks in the sky. I too at this point was intrigued. Until it turned into a train and was soaring through the train tracks. Track to track. Turning into the wrong track as the mechanism failed. Only to collide with another train. Eventually on the 5th train passengers caught in and jumped for their lives. Back in the ship made of steel and cement. We were going to drown. The waves flooded in as the title wave went over us. “ stay away from the corner of the staircases” where we were, for that is where currents were strongest and was suppressing those to the bottom of the ship and drowning them. We clung to the metal railing. We after wave, water rushing. We could see the sky and our hopes turned to rejoice. But not for long. We tried to climb higher escaping the growing water. The screams -and pain of others I could feel. I felt judged. The higher the water rose the quicker we climbed and harder we clinched to the rails. The wind was blowing and the ship was to be consumed to the right side. The captain steered us through the river sharp corner after sharp corner. We did not know where to hide. We were all lost and shambled from one another. I had Aylie. She was my protector. No one would believe the next title wave was coming. And they relaxed. Yet they would let no one sit near the emergence y windows or escapes assuming they were easily opened by the waved. Used for fire escapes not drowning. We forced our way up the three of us. Our foreign friend whom we loved with us. We had no where but the middle seats to sit with nothing to hang onto with the hits of waves and fooods of water going through us. Our friend suggested we sit on the floor. These seats were only free as the children in fronts seats were al paid for by their parents so they could put their chairs tilted. Very thoughtful. So we sat in the fooor using the seat belts to tie us to the bars supporting the seats. I checked Aylie. Her spirit thriving with courage and strength. She was fastened in. We survived the waves and flood but the anguish was to continue before freedom. The boat half destroyed would no release the lifeboats as people refused to leave their luggage and then anything was free for all because the staff could no longer cope. I did not even think of our belonging. But Aiyla. She had seen a yellow elephant figure made from stone and idoled it. She begged as a child, she appeared to me as a three year old for the innocence of terrorism and despairs I reached for the elephant and gave it to her. She was so happy. Though I never saw that elephant again. At the bars for the third wave I cried for her, she would not come to me. I let go and searched for her. She was then 10 years old. I screamed. Embarrassingly she found me, I anchored her through my arms and body having her cling to the rail with one hand. Her other a stump . She was scared and I promised her I would always protect her. We survived the wave. But I was in another area. There was a mass shooting at the top of the ship as we had docked to be released at last to freedom. There was terrorism. There was mass shootings of those trying to cross to the place where you are welcomed by your country. ? (H) boarder patrol? The shooters were coming closer moving down the isles of steps. I went to the bottom to be told that’s where they want you for that is where the bomb is to explode. As had it been planned in the explosion supposedly in an Australian liner. So I climbed to the top alone. I could only think of myself. But at a time I was hanging from bars with my parents. My mother paints in brown wretched paper with silk and gold pain bu hand. Creating beautiful portraits. They distracted us all. My father and I admired her. And then I was close behind cement for the shootings and people were consumed by grief of their imminent death raise the hands to be shot off. Raise their noses to be skinned by bullets. They felt no pain other than grief. I was leaded a red I continued. Towards the top on the second landing sloping down. This would never work I thought, we were surely to die. They were coming to shoot closer and slowly I retreated down the cement slope. And then the lights went off. The bullets fired but we ran for our lives. Our eyes felt like they were sewn shut as we bolted across the landing. I was in tears. We were free. I was distraught. And jumped across the barriers to the first person I knew to embarrass me with love. I was safe and cared for but could not look anyone in the eyes. I soon learnt I was to be alone as my family and Aylie had escaped to a train only to collide with a train in front as a premonition it felt. Though they jumped too late and there was a bomb on that trained. As the trains collided tough my family had jumped. The only place to jump was down a hill with great rocks. I soon found them. They were dead. But they had lived this long! They had survived so much! But they were scorched by the flames and heat of the explosion as they had jumped. They were wad before they hit the ground. They had waited until the last minute. Move while you can still move. Do not hesitate. But they had and this was the result. I found Aylie. She had shrunk from the burns and her eyes burnt open. I stared finally into eyes. Her eyes. As I shut mine. What had this accomplished? Why did this happen? Terrorism. Natural disasters. This was to be the second coming. This was going to be the end. The gentle and spirited taken first. I was left. I was evil and left to be judged. Yet I was already in hell. The shooting began again as we moved down the rocky hill jumping from train line to train line out of site of the shootings. We stopped hoping to be alas free. There was an older woman with her daughter. She wore a purple cape hiding her face as she turned. She was beautiful. I wanted to comment but i thought I’d better not. We tried to climb the next hill but the Japanese has a pathway. They had viewpoints all through the cliffs surrounding us and underground with secret doors of protection from terrorism. We went to enter but a we turned around to look back we saw train after train collide and fall tram by tram down the distant hills. We we shaken. But we did not feel guilt. We did not feel anything. We were numb. We had lost everything but our lives as we entered the hidden cave by the string protecting door, hidden by shrubs and greenery I did not mention. And alas that was then the end as we entered again into darkness; again into the unknown.