I never learn

When do you decide when enough is enough? How do you know when you’ve reached your limit? Life gives you hints that you really shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing any more but yet you carry on and push yourself until you’re on your last legs, barely standing, every last drop of emotion and energy drained from your body. Either the burden of carrying something so regrettable, or so painful it cripples you, or that hope that gets too much and you realise that you’re chasing something or someone that will never be. These things that we carry inside, eating up our hopes and dreams. That thing in your heart that you want more than anything or the person who despite everything is always the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep? How do you know when to let go?

People come and go but only the ones that mean anything stick in our minds and hearts. When you want more than anything to hear that one voice that means more than anyone. Countless casual flings along the path to self destruction and the only one I want is not remotely close or interested. Why am I here again?

History repeats itself again and again and here I am not learning anything. So much like the path we take as humans. We never learn. We always come back for more when we think we’re done. Never quite knowing that enough is enough. Try and cut yourself off from the thing that kills you slowly. Abuse yourself to stop someone else doing it. It doesn’t hurt as much when you inflict it on your own body. Like an addiction taking so many forms, it’s not apparent until it’s so glaringly obvious you’re powerless to walk away. We succumb to our weaknesses and gradually they take over, killing the rational side that tells us, it’s not a good idea. Desire gets the better of us. 

I went back to Internet dating. I knew it was a bad idea but I couldn’t help myself. I need the validation and I need the human contact. I need to be wanted, even if it’s the wrong kind of want. I can’t have who I want so I’ll have what I need, even if it’s at the cost of my conscience and my fragile heart. I need to fill the space and time that someone else is occupying. Someone who doesn’t want to be there in my heart and mind. I don’t want him there either, I don’t want anyone to let me down anymore. I’ve done a pretty good job of that myself. Case in point, I went back for more when I could have walked away. If that isn’t the definition of self abuse I don’t know what is. 

@specksygurl

The girl with the birthmark

There are some things about yourself that you can’t hide. Things that it kills you to admit that you can’t stand. Mine is my birthmark. I hate it. I should have accepted it after 38 years yet it still puts a huge brick wall in front of me sometimes. 

At school, I was known as the girl with the birthmark. The thing that I could never change defined me all throughout my teenage years. Even my friend used the term. I don’t think she ever realised how much I hated being referred to as that. Like it’s all I’m known as. And here I am, some 22 years later from leaving school and it still pisses me off. No name, no other defining feature. Just the girl with the birthmark. 

Then you get the pity party with the ‘it doesn’t matter what you look like, it’s what’s inside that counts’. Bit like having a shitty car with a decent engine: it runs well but no one wants a ride because it’s too embarrassing to be seen in. I know some people can see past it and I’m grafeful for those that can. But when you’re known for something so negative, something that drags you down, it’s soul destroying. Being ignored in shops, because you know the person behind the counter doesn’t want to serve you due to pure embarrassment; not getting jobs because your face doesn’t fit; boyfriends not wanting to settle down because they don’t see a future with someone so hideously ugly, no one could possibly see me as wife. 

Maybe I’m being a harsh on the last one. I did after all end a relationship of 10 years with someone who loved me. Just not the kind of love we used to have. Breakups are tough for anyone, but breaking up with the man who you planned the rest of your life with when you thought no one could ever be serious is like cutting out your heart and giving it to a rabid dog to eat. I’ll never need it again. Case in point, the last person I was seeing cheated on me. I deserve that for leaving my loyal partner, the only man who really knows me behind every wall that I put up. 

It’s only through counselling that I’ve started to think more about how my birthmark holds me back. It never occurred to me before. I’ve strived to be anything but defined by it. It doesn’t define me in the pool or on the road. For years I put off getting any kind of help or advice about it. I avoid getting help from anyone about anything. Being independent made me strengthen my resolve that I’ve never needed anyone, only wanted someone. Better to be wanted than needed. It was only because I couldn’t work that I had to seek help for my depression. It’s never easy asking for help. I feel weak and pathetic like admitting I’m not normal. I am different. Something that I’ve fought all my life to prove I’m not. I’ve let my birthmark define me, and I feel like a failure. 

So I’m going to suck up my pride and go to a support group. I’m not 100% sure I want to do it, but I know I need to. I’m not the only person out there who stuggles with their appearance, although there are times I feel completely alone. I know I can go and be completely fearless when I have to be. I’m the girl with the birthmark and I swim, run and cycle. Nothing scares me. Except falling in love.  The thought of falling for someone and having them reject me again because of my birthmark terrifies me, and I can’t do that to myself. 

@specksygurl

How time flies…

It’s just occurred to me that I wrote my first blog nearly 4 months ago. So much has changed in many ways and yet nothing has changed at all. I turned a year older. I did things I never dreamed of this time last year. The piercings, the tattoo, the endurance events. I never thought I’d ever be capable of doing anything remotely close this time last year. 

Time is all you can give yourself when you’re stuck in a bad place. Trying to change your life in one big go isn’t going to work. I know I need to make changes to my life to make it one that I want. No one else can make these changes but me. Another job, another town, another life. No one is going is to hand it to me on a plate but I don’t have the motivation to get out of bed some days. Trying to promise myself that I’ll get my shit together is not a promise I want to break. So don’t make it. Don’t get your hopes up, you won’t be disappointed. 

I know I can rely on my body. I can be brutal and push it to make myself run around a field or swim in a lake. I can take any kind of physical pain anyone can dish out. But hurt my heart and I will concede defeat. If one more person lets me down I will give up. There is so much evil in this world. So many people are trying to survive everyday. We are good inside but we can do bad to others without even trying. Why even try to be a good person when this world will eat you up and spit you out?

This world can be a wonderful place when we’re not suffering or trying to destroy each other. Humans can be so unbelievably cruel to each other. As if life isn’t hard enough, some people want to make it harder. Sometimes I wish I could just pretend these people didn’t exist. But they do, and we all come unstuck at some point. I’m not the only one and I won’t be the last. 

So, where to from here? Nearly 7 months has passed since I went sick and then back to work again and I feel just as restless and hopeless now as I did then. I’m still no closer to being happy, seeing what purpose I have on this planet. All I’ve learnt is that some people are inherently full of shit no matter how much they try and convince you otherwise. These are the kind of people who will eventually get the worst out of you when they’ve eaten you up and spat you out. 

The ones you want to believe, the ones that give you hope? The ones you crave to hear from, and worry about? They’ll see what I see about me and disappear. As much I as desperately want to believe someone, I can’t. All the kind words will mean precisely fuck all when they move on and I’m no more than a name. Just someone they once knew. A friend. Nothing has changed. I’m still the fucked up person I have been and I always will be. I can just run a lot further now. 

@specksygurl