your intentions are irrelevant

<rant> you know what? no matter how much you think you're doing the right thing. regardless of the fact that i suffer from depression. regardless of how much of a "responsibility" you feel you have. when you tell me that you are going to call the police to do a welfare check on me because i tweeted that i was sad and you've never even met me in real life and we don't have a personal relationship other than superficial tweets on twitter then you're being a condescending arse. and quite frankly, how dare you?! and yes, you will probably get offended by this but i don't fucking care. you offended me first. </rant>

Comments

I don't want to do this anymore

I am so over it right now. Everything feels hard. Everything feels shit. Everything makes me want to cry. I don't want to be a person any more. I don't want to be an anything any more. My children are smart. They get good grades, score well on NAPLAN, their teachers love them. Why then must they continue to do stupid things? I am so sick of a child running to tell me that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, I am sick of them hurting each other, I am sick of them destroying things, I am sick of them whinging, complaining, walking past rubbish on the floor, leaving shit everywhere, pretending they can't see the dog wee on the floor, having rooms that looking like the aftermath of a break and enter. I am sick of washing dishes, of sweeping floors, of the endless amounts of washing and folding and cleaning and tidying and cooking and planning and thinking. I am sick of feeling guilty for not being able to do those things that I should be doing, of feeling guilty that my husband...

Confessions of a Fat Girl

I have been concerned about my weight and appearance ever since I was 12. I was teased in primary school for being fat and called names like porky. Here is a picture from my Year 7 Graduation to illustrate how fat and disgusting I was I say fat and disgusting because I truly believed when I was 12 that I was some hideously fat monster that no boy would ever want to kiss, no boy would ever want to go out with, no boy would ever love. It makes me so sad looking at this photo to know that I was so slim, so pretty, my life should have been full of wonder and possibility. Instead I began my journey down the long dark road that has led me to the depths of depression and an obsession with my weight (but thankfully never an eating disorder) and today it has led me to make this confession... I am currently the heaviest I have ever been in my entire life. I have eaten myself to the weight I never wanted to be. I am the exact thing I was teased for being. Along with the fact that I don...

52Blogs: Voices and why I'm not really crazy

Quite often, when trying to explain my depression to people I use the phrase "my depression voice" or the "irrational voice" to describe the constant critic that lives in my head. Occasionally I wonder if people are going to take that to mean that I hear voices Beautiful Mind style or that I might start conducting a fight club with myself or talking to a giant rabbit. I can promise you that none of those thing are true, or are going to come true... well I might start talking to Frank but it's unlikely. However the truth is that I do deal with a constant voice in my head. The depression voice is always there, sometimes whispering quietly, sometimes screaming at me until I break. The depression voice is that arsehole that is constantly telling me that I'm not capable, that I'm worthless, that people don't like me. It's the voice that stops me from leaving my house, its the voice that looks in the mirror and tells me how ugly and unlovable I am...

a warped view

Search This Blog