Thoughts from an on-going mental breakdown of sorts.
|Some things have got to be written out. Thoughts, poems... stuff from a messed up and breaking mind.|
| Coping With Lock-Down. Or Not!
To be honest, when this whole lock-down situation began I thought I'd be so well able to get through it. After all, it was not as if my life was going to be changing very much. For most weeks I'd just go out twice for groceries and that was all, and that was something I was still allowed to do.
I did feel sorry for a lot of people who were used to being outside the home, either through work, or through leisure pursuits. So many were told to work from home, or to not work at all. They could not even go shopping other than for food as all non-essential shops were closed.
Another thing was the isolation from friends and family. I live in a different country to my parents, so our contact is always by phone and that didn't change. I don't have friends that I go and visit, or meet up with. There are many extended families here that were suddenly not allowed to visit each other, let alone the circle of friends.
So, all things considered, I wouldn't have any problems. Would I?
It makes no logical sense, but I have been struggling, am still struggling. I'm not used to being social so why is it that I am feeling so totally isolated?
I can't make any sense of it. Can you?
|A Hoax, A Curse Or Entirely Irrelevant?
I make no secret of the fact that I have trust issues. At least in part for this reason, I have steered clear of Facebook, yet I really felt safe on writing sites. I mean, we're all on there for a shared interest, right: that of writing, expressing, sharing our thoughts and feelings and ideas.
We expect, and accept criticism of our writing. After all, we all share a common desire to improve our work, don't we. I don't think any of us expect personal attacks though, or maybe I really am incredibly naive.
I have always tried to read and support as many new writers as I possibly can; I will never comment on any work that I cannot be overall positive about. I do have a liking for dark poetry, maybe because I can relate to that far more easily than lighter pieces.
Towards the end of last year I began reading poems by a girl who called herself Shikibu Gion. Her poems were primarily about suicide ideation, self-harm, deception, desertion and unrequited love. In January of this year it was reported on the site that she had killed herself.
I felt bad, of course I did. We had exchanged quite a few messages and comments. What I was not prepared for was the on-line blame that I faced - claims that my comments had encouraged her to act out her feelings. I had a couple of good friends who backed me up, but I so nearly gave up writing then, but to have done so would have been admitting that I felt they were right.
And then another member decided to get involved; one who had already been openly critical in accusing me of selling out, of writing trash. She began as being supportive and, fool that I am, I trusted her for a moment, before she turned in a way that was absolutely devastating. She was quite open with her attacks, posting poems aimed at me until her account was closed down. That did not stop her, for she just came back with another name and another.
These are two messages that she sent to me via paypal with a one cent donation:
someday you'll need this penny more than me. have fun in the delusion that is your greatness on a website that may not exist as long as you. your accomplishments amount to nothing- sheep love a sheep in disguise, easy to praise material they've read before, and not realize it is of stolen intellectual property. sickening, the waste of space of your existence. you are an adult and yet never aged past 6. and you were allowed to breed though you're mentally incompetent? eh i don't get it. Cheers (;
may it weigh heavy on you that you got someone innocent banned. Burning Sage stood up for you when you were accused of influencing a users suicide, despite your mutual spats. She ended up blocking you for harassment and then you blocked her to seem innocent. You again, use the innocent card, though guilty. Burning Sage will always be an anonymous entity, I allow her to use my information, such as email, to protect this privacy. I instigated you to push her further into success. The difference between you and Sage is that she cares not about money or reads, she cares for her fandom like family, and has important messages for the world. You have fortified how you will be remembered: the girl on Booksie who tried to take down one of the most powerful influencers and poetic geniuses this world will come to remember through history. An advocate for justice. A statement. A leader. She once remarked: "nothing worse than a coward hiding behind another's power" and it is ever more relevant. May it haunt you, as your actions proved such a point. Burning Sage isnt Burning Sage or Willow Rain or Fate Unwinding, or Spy Sacher or Tehsy Stem or Of The World's Mysteries. She is an agent of the Universe, or perhaps the Universe herself, the energy of everyone, including you. Get used to it.
She then tried to claim back the donations as fraudulent, resulting in her paypal account being closed down.
I know I should just move on from this, forget it - put it all where it belongs, in the past. But it hurt so badly on top of other everyday things. I have not been able to talk to anyone in person about this, although I have had support through it all from my very best online friend.
Why am I sharing this here? I'm not looking for sympathy, for that achieves nothing. Maybe she's right about me, that I am nothing more than an attention-getter, but that is not my motivation. I want it to act as a warning, perhaps; help to stop someone else getting sucked in and spat out. Or maybe I am simply trying to exorcise some ghosts.
That is not quite the end of it. Another new writer joined and approached me as having been a fan of Shikibu Gion. I was suspicious, not just because of her name, GhostLikeDesign, but also because of the remarkable similarity between their poems. Eventually I began to comment on her work, and when she messaged me I answered. She pointed me towards an online place of condolence to Shikibu, and just after that it was reported that she too had killed herself.
So I'm starting to think that I'm a kind of curse. Either that or a victim of what could all be a hoax. It has all served to make me even more suspicious and distrustful, and to be honest, if writing hadn't come to mean so much to me I would definitely give up.
Does sharing this have any value? What do you think?
| Emotional Abuse
What do you think of when you hear the words 'emotional abuse'? You'd be surprised at the sheer scope of this term, for it covers any kind of attacks that are not physical.
Perhaps the most common form of this is a partner who continuously puts the other partner down. It may be by making digs at their appearance; their thoughts, the way that they speak, they act. I once bought a fleece top, pink instead of my usual black or grey. I only wore it once for 'Looks like a pink elephant' was the comment I got with loads of laughter. After over twenty years of anorexia/ bulimia that was too much to take. Emotional abuse? You tell me.
Then of course there are lies. I'd always thought that the ones you see are the ones that hurt the most, but that's not true. It is the fundamental ones that were covered up right from the start and are not revealed until many years later that cause a devastating blow. How can you not go back and question every single shared experience, in the light of the decision to 'come clean'? The faltering and tears from the constant undermining are nothing to the seismic hit that really makes you want to consider if you really want to go on breathing. All those photos, including the baby shots, you can't look at them for the lies that they are.
Why put up with it? Sometimes it's not that simple to walk away; there are other needs that have to be considered too. Really, there's nothing else to do but to cry alone and continue the circus, like an eternal clown that keeps on revolving round and round the ring.
There can be no forgiving, no forgetting; just an inescapable, merciless pretense.
We hear a lot about child abuse, often meted out by the parent to the child. Sometimes it is abuse carried out by other family members, or even friends. I'm not talking about sexual abuse, or physical abuse, but again abuse of the emotional kind. The child never measures up, is always found wanting and knows it too. The focus can be on anything; looks, educational attainment, friendships, duties in the home... doesn't matter, so long as confidence gets knocked about until it is destroyed. It's abhorrent; we all know that it goes on and that it shouldn't.
What about abuse of the parent by the child? This is an almost taboo subject, not least because no parent wants to admit that they are subject to it. After all, is it not their fault? Have they not in some way failed at parenting? It's shut away like a dirty secret that eats and eats away and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it.
I know. I have been physically abused by both sons, but they have disabilities and allowances must be made, never show it, cover it up. That's not the worst of it though. It is the emotional abuse; the constant put-downs and manipulation that you are powerless to change. There is no escape - well, only one, but you're not quite ready to give up completely. Instead, there's a never-ending round of mental breakdowns and masks. They've learned it all from someone. You are told it is your fault, you have allowed them to take advantage, by someone that should be supporting you. But you know they are copying an example that would never ever be admitted to, and besides, you are not allowed to be openly critical.
So instead you escape into fantasy. Write, write like there is no tomorrow. Take on one thing after another and you keep it going for five years and now... you can't. I can't. I think of giving up, of never writing another word, but I can't do that either. There's no money involved, no contracts -what the hell is the problem? Personal aims, personal goals... it's what I want to do, something for me, but something's got to give. My confidence in writing has almost disappeared, and then there were the two suicides, but that's a different story.
So I'm stepping back, but not out. I'm going to keep on going but I'm not going to stress out if I don't meet my targets. Who cares anyway?
I'm going to write my way through a mental breakdown that is by far not my first and will certainly not be my last. This is where I'm going to share my thoughts, feelings, and let my fingers scream in place of my voice.