TW: The destruction of Childhood

This post will be heavy. It will contain possible triggers for mental distress, trauma, suicide, self hate, self harm, bullying, mental disorders, and extreme loneliness.

Yesterday, I found this very interesting note on my Twitter wall and today I've decided to write about the moment that changed me.

I'm not sure when or why the other children in my class decided to turn against me. My Mom would tell me to not respond to the harsh words, that being ignored would make the bullies stop. She kept saying this for the five years the bullying was a part of my life. My teachers would say that it was because the other children were jealous, but no one would tell me why or what they were jealous of. The one thing that was clear to me was that it was my fault, because I was doing something to be jealous of or I didn't ignore the kids enough.

At first, it was words - witch, fatty, snail, slow poke, disgusting, filth, useless, waste of space, worthless, stupid, nasty.

Then came the addition of pretending that I wasn't there at all. People talk about being selected last for teams in PE. I wasn't even selected. The rest of the class would just pretend there was no one there when there was just me left.

Then came the violence. Snow filled with ice and rocks thrown at my head and face. My face pressed into mud and snow, depending on season. Being pushed from monkey bars, trees or the balancing beams in PE. Tripped and pushed whenever there was something painful I could land on. The water turned to freezing cold or blistering hot when I was showering after PE.

Then came the destruction of my things. A quilted pillow I had made for my Dad got cut open, the red panda plushie I was forced to take to school for "Plush toy Show and Tell" had its tail torn off, my back pack was ripped. Someone carved deep lines into my desk (luckily, the teacher saw who it was, or I would have been made to repair it) My jacket got stolen often, my shoes were hidden, and my books mysteriously lost their cover paper.

I don't think I managed to stay in school a full school day for two years. When the teachers finally figured out what was going on, it had been going on for almost five years. And then it just stopped. All it took was two parent-teacher conferences and one principal's speech to the entire school about the effects of bullying, and I was left alone. At this point, I no longer cared. Life. Death. Night. Day. I was just going through the motions of wake up, have breakfast, go to school, come home, have dinner, watch TV, go to sleep. Repeat. I was so far down into my well of despair that I didn't even consider suicide.

I went to another school for junior high and suddenly, I was among the popular kids. My homeroom class was filled with kind, intelligent, and funny pre-teens who genuinly liked me, and I could not understand why. After five years of daily abuse, suddenly, people were kind to me. It didn't make sense. So, I figured it had to do with my performance in school and in group projects. I belonged somewhere for the first time since I was seven years old, and I was prepared to fight for my place. We moved to another part of town around Christmas that year, and since some of my old abusers were in my class, I decided to change school again. In hindsight, that was a bad decision. It was hard to be accepted at the new school, but I managed to find a group of kids to belong in. I started martial arts and fell helplessly in love with my instructor's younger brother. Said instructor was also my math teacher for a while, and the whole damn school was convinced I was in love with my teacher. Someone even sent him letters in my name, which ended up in said teacher asking my Dad to tell me to knock it off. Yeah, that propelled me down into the pit again, and efficiently shattered any confidence I had in seeking the brother's attention.

Despite the set backs, I was making steady progress forward, getting more and more confident and dare-I-say happy by the week. This also ment that I worked myself up from I-don't-care to suicidal.

I was 13 years and nine months old, give or take a few days, the day I decided I couldn't stand being alive anymore. It wasn't that I wanted to die, specifically. I just didn't want to be alive. Life seemed completely pointless and too painful and too empty. I remember the light filtering in through the blinds of the one large window in my room, dancing in lines and spots on my white-with-pink-and-blue-dots walls as the blinds swayed in the slight breeze from the open window. It was a warm day for being September, but I can still feel the cold in my chest. I had located my Mom's sleeping pills and pilfered a handful when she was too busy to notice. I remember not bothering with a note, thinking that my diary would be explanation enough, even though I didn't think anyone would look for it. At sometime after 5 pm, I took the pills and layed down on my bed and waited. I must have dozed off, because it was almost 6 pm when Mom called that dinner was ready.
And I got up.
For 16 years, I didn't know why I got up from that bed. It had nothing to do with my mother's voice, the food being served (spaghetti, meat sauce, and grated carrots. Yes, that's how ingrained this evening is in my mind), or the potential grief I would cause if I died. Then, last year, I figured out that it was because I just wanted to experience more Everything. I simply wanted to live badly enough to break through the haze of too-many pills and too much pain. I had dinner with my family, I watched TV until 9 pm, then I went to my bedroom, grabbed the book I was reading ("Castle of Wizardry" by David Eddings) and the book after it, and sat down to read. I was convinced that I would die if I fell asleep, so I decided to stay awake that night. When I went to school the following day, I was in more pain than I could remember. Every step hurt, my head was just filled with buzzing, and my eyes felt like needles of ice. I managed to stay awake until 10 pm that night, and then I fell asleep and didn't dream.

I can never go back to the happy-go-lucky child my Mom tells me I used to be. The girl who would flirt with everyone and was absolutely fearless. That child died at the hands of bullies. I can also never go back to that 13 year old girl who felt that the only way to stop the suffering was to die. I don't want to be her again. That girl died on that bed 17 years ago.

I have known pain and trauma. I have experienced emptiness, coldness, and soul shattering loneliness. I was the tiny flame on top of a match in a locked, dark basement, fluttering with the lack of air.
And today, I am a woman who will never stand idly by when someone needs help. I will never ignore a child who needs support and I will never accept abuse from anyone or done to anyone, if I can prevent it. Because that feeling of betrayal and darkness is a part of me, a part of who I am, I will do whatever I can to prevent others from experiencing it.

DFTBA

Temple and Church - A trip to Dublin

Ten days ago, Boy and I went into Dublin city to do some touristing. This is a short account of the two days we spent in town.
First of all, I'd like to make the point that everyone, if presented with the opportunity, should visit Dublin and Ireland. It's a spectacular country, in which the boundaries between urban and rural are blurred beyond anything I've ever seen. I live in a small town, about 53 000 souls, just outside Dublin and I might as well live in a village for all the "city feeling" you get here. Swords is one of the oldest, if not -the- oldest settlement in Ireland, but I can recount its history later. This post is about Dublin.

So, breakfast cleared away, Boy and I rushed to catch the bus, and with its usually unreliability, the bus was 5 minutes late. Dublin Bus does that. You have to keep an iron hold on the bus app in order to know when the bus will arrive, because the time tables are just something between suggestion and place holder.
We travelled along the same way Boy and I had walkedto get to Malahide Castle less than a week earlier and it was as stunningly beautiful as I remembered.

There are two things you absolutely have to remember when taking the bus in Dublin county. First is to always have the correct fair in coins on you. The bus driver has no way of giving you change and has no access to the money at all, and notes are not accepted.
Second thing is to always thank the driver when you disembark. You will come across as incredibly rude if you don't say "Thanks", "Cheers", or "Thank you" when you get off the bus.

            After much bouncing around in the confines of the bus for 40 minutes, we got off at the corner of Talbot St and Gardiner St and went looking for somewhere to eat, since we were too early to check into our hotel. After some walking, we slipped into a small bar called J J Grainger, and heavens know I will always be grateful for that decision. They have -The Best- fish-n-chips I have ever eaten. Haddock smoked to perfection, then rolled in beer batter and deep fried. Boy had a Guinnes and beef stew that make me cry because it tasted just like my Granma's beef stew.





After lunch, we went to the hotel and checked in. Sadly, the hotel did not live up to expectations. There were exposed electrical wires near the floor, the stairs were steep, the bathroom was extremely cramped, and the breakfast was mediocre, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The bed was very comfortable and the room was clean and free from dust. It was a nice looking room. I was just expecting more based on reviews and the price tag.





Then we went looking for the Temple Bar District, and managed to get absolutely, undeniably lost. Getting lost in Dublin is one of the more enjoyable experiences I've had, because I got to see some great architecture, some brilliant murals, and I got to snicker at some fire fighters practicing water rescues in the Liffey.

We were both pretty hungry when we finally found ourselves outside Hard Rock Café Dublin. We got a table and ordered food - steak and mashed potatoes for Boy, and Macaroni, Chicken and Cheese for me. After Grainger, Hard Rock Café was very underwhelming. It was expensive, and while the food was good, it wasn't that good to warrant the price. After a while, a friend of Boy's showed up and we talked until the sun set. I think the waitress wanted us to order more things, but eh.

We followed Boy's friend to the bus stop, passing by the Dublin Spire (sorry, no photos. Phone had died by this point). and the Abbey.
Thanks to my coughing, neither Boy, nor I slept very well that night, but it was a lot better than back in the apartment. The hotel room had blinds!


The next morning, we went down to breakfast and were a bit disappointed. The "continental breakfast buffee" consisted of presliced cheese, ham and salami slices, eggs and toast you had to ask for (2 eggs per person and 6 slices of toast to share), yoghurt cups, müsli and Rice Crispies, and coffee, orange juice, and milk. I know I am critical, but the room was supposed to cost €120 per person per night, but thanks to a discount site, we payed €35 per person for that night, breakfast included. I've had a better room and breakfast in London for £7 per person per night.

Day was vastly improved as we checked out and stepped into the warm sunlight and made our way to the National Leprechaun Museum. I highly recommend a visit to the museum. The tour was a bit short, but it was fun, the settings were well crafted, and the guide was smart, funny, and knew her lore. I wanted to see a lot more things, but both Boy and I felt that we'd had enough touristing, and we went looking for the bus stop - and managed to get a bit lost.
The whole adventure was concluded with a cup of coffee and a slice of White Chocolate and Raspberry cake at Insomnia in Pavilions, Swords.




DFTBA

TW: Abstinence and so on

I promised to write about my extended absense and so I will.

Trigger warnings apply for depression, social anxiety, and generalized anxiety disorder.

After I turned 30 years old, I guess you can say I went through a crisis of sorts. I have never been one to get hung up on an age or on aging in general, but for some reason, my inner abuser decided to start pointing out that I'm 30 years old and I still don't have a finished education, a job, any close friends who live near me, or any way to help out around the house, because our room mate have banned me from using any kitchen appliance that's not the microwave oven or the water boiler. I'm not going to get into that, because it makes me angry and it's nothing I can change, so there's no point in ranting about it. The whole Serenity Prayer and all that. Try it, it really works. You can even remove/substitute the word "God" if you don't believe in the Abrahamic deity.

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference."

    - Reinhold Niebuhr 1892 - 1971

Anyhow, the reason I went off into my own lands was because of a combination of my inner abuser grabbing hold and convinced me that no one cares anyway, of some amazing opportunities falling through due to no fault of me (but the Abuser really likes to tell me it's all my fault), of me phasing out my anti-depressants, and me getting the worst cold I've had in years. I've been bed ridden for days, coughing for two weeks, and fighting a fever off and on for three weeks.

I have also discovered that the game Binding of Isaac is a great coping tool for me. It takes me out of my head just long enough for me to get a handle on my anxieties and depression and to start functioning again.

I want to write this blog for my own sake. Writing things down helps me think and sort through my day. It helps me get a third person view on the vile spew that comes out of my abuser's mouth and to get fight it. I want to update at least once per week, but I also need to remember that I'm not a bad person if I miss an update. 

Next post will be about Boy's and my trip into Dublin City Center for our tenth anniversary.

DFTBA

BPJ Inc: Being present

Wow, I haven't written anything for so long. I am so terribly sorry about this and I hope there are people who are still interested in reading this blog. My aspiration is to post at least once per week from now on, and my next post will address the reason for this impromptu absense.



But now I want to take on the topic for today, which was also given way too long ago - being present.

When I had my breakdown in 2013, I was forced to learn how to relax and focus on what was happening in the present instead of planning for things to come. My brain just couldn't handle planning beyond the coming 10 minutes, so I had to adapt.
Pushing myself into being present has helped me stave off anxiety episodes and crippling bouts of depression. It helps me in my relationship with Boy, and the rest of my family. It helps me be creative and positive, even though I struggle with the latter. I say "pushing myself", because staying put in the current moment is not a small feat. It is so very hard to do. It sounds like something that should be easy, but planning ahead is so much easier than staying in the present. Every single thing you see, feel, smell, or taste will either wake up memories or push you into plans for the future. "This reminds me of...", "Oh, that smells like pasta. Dinner tonight?" and thoughts like that. I have a well working way to push me into staying in the moment, but I've been informed that having sex everywhere, all the time, is very impractical and sometimes illegal. Sure, post coital cuddling is very grounding, but probably not recommended for all situations.
I know not everyone will find these tips helpful. These are just tools I have found useful, tools that work for me, and I know that changing the way you think about things can be a task Sisyphos would find impossible, but it gets easier with practice. Hell, it took me four months to get to my first successful attempt (that didn't immediately dissolve into anxious jibber-jabber of what-ifs) and I felt I had to try in order to remain sane in any capacity.

I want to recommend two different approaches, one for when you're with someone else and one for when you're on your own, for staying focused on the here-and-now.

The first one is for social situations and it is to listen.
I know, very odd idea, but hear me out (see what I did there?). I used to be the person who always had snarky reply or a sarcastic comment for everything. I thought I was being funny and edgy and interesting, but I was just being childish and very unproductive. And very very bored. When I stopped looking for things to snark about, I discovered that actually listening when someone else was talking made me feel entertained, informed, and very grounded. Time would fly away on its tiny bat wings and I would actually miss it.
Listening doesn't have to be hard. If you don't like whoever's talking, listen to the sound of their cadence, or the pitch of their voice, or the rhythm they use to emphasise syllables. If you like the speaker, you can focus on specific words or syllables. Don't try to interpret what they're saying, just listen to what's actually being said, the words in the order they're presented. Actually listening without interpretation or bias will keep you bound in the present, it will help you build rapport with the speaker, and, as added bonus, when you speak, you will sound a lot smarter, because staying focused on the conversation will give you time to think up intelligent contributions.

The second one is for when you're on your own, and it's physical sensations (not sexual).
Say you're watching a movie/TV show/play/trying to sleep and you feel your thoughts start wandering. Instead of fighting it, let your thoughts keep wandering around, but try to focus of the texture of the arm rest, the warmth of the blanket, the softness of your pillow, or the scent of that cup of coffee sitting next to you. Bus late and you're getting bored? Try to enjoy even the faintest warmth from the sun or the subtle nuances of the air on your skin. The bus will show before you realize time has passed.

So maybe you can start today by just hugging a pet, listening to a boring lecture, or have that cup of Bailey's coffee? You've earned it.

DFTBA