Precipitous Life Changes

I mentioned in one of my last posts that I have a track record of spur of the moment life changes.
I just thought I would go more in depth on that.

First, here is a list of the more major life changes I can recall making on spur of the moment:

1.The most recent, of course, is to do Positivity Journaling.
2. Becoming vegetarian (with a focus towards veganism)
3. Stopping cutting
4. Getting my ears pierced
5. Burning a bunch of writing

The main problem with spur of the moment change is that you are acting without considering the possible ramifications of the action.

How will you feel about the change?
How will it effect others?
Is it sound financially?

None of these things get considered when you just jump head first into a decision.

However, out of those five examples I can only point to one that turned out to be a majorly bad idea.
So considering the risks, how is it I manage to make spur of the moment changes with a high success rate, and little regret?

I'll let you in on a little secret...
They weren't really spur of the moment.
In fact, the only one that really was is the only one I regret.

You see, while I make changes "cold turkey" as the saying goes, they are not unconsidered.

Except for #5 (which I will go into in a bit), all of these decisions were considered extensively... sub and semiconciously.

Let's start with #1. As stated in the same post linked above, that idea had been rattling in my head for months. The idea that I do not write about positive things.
However, in none of the conscious thoughts was there the idea of changing my bent or starting a Positivity Journal. Until the very moment I wrote the last piece of this post the thought had not crossed my mind in any recognizable form.
The reason I am having success with this change is not because I considered it for hours (because I did not). Nor is it because I am held accountable by this blog (which I obviously don't feel).
The reason I am having success is that I am ready for the change.

Let's now apply this to point #2.
When I left school, I was in a bad place.
Horrible.
I had just attempted suicide. I was still under the influence of an overdose, and I had barely drank or eaten anything for many days up to that point.
And yet, under this clouded judgement, I made one of the best decisions I feel I've ever made in regards to diet.
My mother took me to a restaurant and I ordered a vegetarian meal, after making a point of looking for something without meat.
When questioned I told her I wanted to become a vegetarian.
Until the precise moment those words left my mouth, I had not thought them to be true.
But the moment I said them, I knew it was.

In the weeks previous I had been looking at vegan recipes in order to cook for a friend.
I knew the recipes seemed appealing, but I continued an omnivorous diet.
But somewhere in me the pieces slowly came together.

I don't like eating most animal products.
A lot of them make me feel a bit sick, even in small amounts.
All of these recipes look and sound delicious.
Cooking this way is cheaper, and more filling.
All of these things slotted together until put in place by my sleeping-pill-addled mind to make me realise that, duh, I want this.
I was ready for the change.

Brings us to point #3, which has a slight variation.
Almost a year ago I stopped cutting.
And somehow I know I never will again.
You see, one night as I was doing it I noticed... this doesn't feel good anymore.
This doesn't make me feel better, it doesn't fix the problem, it doesn't do anything.

Which, of course, seems obvious to people who have never had an addiction, or don't realise theirs.
For me, though, this was a startling realisation.
While I had expressed a desire to stop (on many occasions!), knew that it was bad, knew it didn't help, etc., etc., I always came back to it.
Why was this? What was it giving me?
I still do not really know.

All I know is that on that night I put my knives away and could not understand it. I could not by any means wrap my head around why I had just done what I did.
It was a major change, and I would not say it was unconsidered. I considered it every day for five or more years!
But at that moment, I became (yes) ready for the change.
And that is why it is succeeding.

Onto a lighter topic for a moment to defuse some of that depressing funky smell.
#4, getting my ears pierced.
I never wanted my ears pierced. I didn't see the point of jewelry.
Still have a hard time with more than the barest idea.
But one day while we prepared for my eighth grade graduation my mum and I were in the mall, and she asked if I wanted my ears pierced.
Deciding "What the hell, why not?", I did.
I still have my ears pierced, I have not let them grow over.
I actually quite like having the option of wearing something on occasion, though I mostly do not.
And looking back on it, I can say it had crossed my mind a bit in the time up until then. I just never had a good reason to do it.
It took grad to make me ready.

Now, back to a more depressing thing.
But also the exception to my list.

Early last summer I was cleaning out my basement room to bring my things up to the (much smaller) guest bedroom.
I was in a good emotional space, I think. I was off my medication, I felt happy enough. (I've since learned that I was probably still under effects of the drug, it can take months to fully stop effecting your system!)
So when I came across all the old things I had written in the heat of my depression, my suicide notes, my rambling letters, my pages of the word "sorry" written over and over in 3mm high letters... I collected it all up. Pulled out the most important and least depressing pieces. The artier ones.
The rest?

I dumped it in the fire pit and lit a match. (actually a lighter...) To really drive the point home? That was the only time I've ever played with gasoline. I dumped about 500ml onto the flames to make sure it all died.

And as I watched it burn?

I had to do everything in my power not to stick my hands into the fire and pull it out, save whatever I could.
And I honestly wish I had, no matter the burns I would have gotten.

You see I did not consider that decision. I was not ready to let those things go.
I erased a huge part of my history, and I can never get it back.
There are many things I do not remember about those five years that would be so helpful to know, would help me understand a lot of things.
Like why I cut. I know I explained it more than once in those writings. When and why and how I started.
Like what exactly happened in the sexual abuse I went through. Flash backs only give you part of the story.
Like descriptions of the hallucinations I saw and heard.
Like the blood I spilled to write in my language.
Like the drawings I did that show things I don't fully understand anymore.

All these memories, all these important pieces of me... five years of my life consumed to ashes.
I still feel pain when I think about having done that.


Ahem.
Anyway.

The point of this post was merely to point out the whole "ready for change" concept.
Change will happen when it is, if you let it. You just have to be open to where your heart leads you.
However, at the same time, making a decision overnight is a good recipe for disaster.

Another response post...

Hey there. It's 4:30 on a Monday morning, and I haven't gone to bed yet. And I'm not entirely sure when I woke up. Oh well.

Another blog I read posted something interesting that I wanted to reply to. But once again, I am too verbose and would feel like I am stealing the comments with my big response.
The blog, Raptitude, posts some really thought provoking things reasonably frequently.
And I encourage you to check it out. Here, however, is the specific post I am replying to: It's another Monday morning, do you know where you are?

“Here” is on my bed, in my room in my mother’s house. My hide-y hole, the only place in this house I really feel any semblance of safe, free, true. The only place I can do what I want, say what I want, look at what I want… but I still have to be careful.

Even here I feel bound and constricted.

I am here, with the most bluntness, because I failed in a suicide attempt a bit more than a week ago.

On a more general level, I am here because I have no where better to be, nowhere else that wants me, because college ended a bit more than a week ago, because I don’t yet have a job.

How did I get to this point, of a recovering suicidal, depressive, lovesick, feel-for-nothing genderqueer? 

That is a very long story, and most of it is irrelevant to this specific post, but I think I am going to explore it after this.

Today feels unimpressive to me. 

It feels about the same as yesterday and only marginally better than a week ago. Worse than a year ago, okay enough compared to a month ago.

I have a girl on my mind, nearly constantly; and it is pissing me off. The things I feel for her are more than either of us want from our relationship, at this point.

At the same time my brain is being pulled about by the need to find a job, by the depressing facts of my past and a person I saw from it recently; by the seemingly quietly hostile environment I am in.

Returning to my thoughts? 

The nothingness of my existence. My lack of control in all things my life.

The fact that if I let myself, I would have an eating disorder. That I fuck with my sleep patterns in order to control something, the same way as an anorexic controls food.

That even that doesn’t offer me any real control over my life.

The fact I that I haven’t cut myself for exactly five months.

But if I could, I would.

The fact that I don’t want to be in love, at the very least ever again.

That I can’t let myself feel things, because it ends in pain.

The insanity and obvious depressive elements to how I think.

My life, at this precise moment, is heading nowhere. I have no prospects for change. All I keep thinking is “If you change nothing, nothing will change.”. And yet it feels like I have no choice in my inactivity. That I have no option but to do the same things “If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.” And that’s all I’ll ever get.

Coming up? 

Eventually I’ll have to find a job that’ll take me. I’ll probably hate it—majority of the world hates their job. Maybe I’ll actually find a girl who will look past how broken I am and try to love me—I’ll probably fuck it up, as I have told myself I am not allowed to love again. That, and I am never enough, or the right thing for anyone. And that cycle will continue. New girls, new jobs. Eventually I might come across some I don’t hate, and can allow myself to love. Then I mess with that until I time out. Until life finally f’ing ends, and I finally get what I want. For what will feel like the first time.

What seems to be exiting my life… Relationships, a whole lot of them. Some not so important, some so crucially important I felt like they were tearing me to pieces to leave them. But now I have killed that feeling. Put it away somewhere dark and quiet. Maybe I’ll take this box out again someday and actually feel the emotions. But until then, I am as close to happy as I am capable of. So I’ll keep shoving it aside because I have cried too many tears.

So in the end, right now I am coasting. I am doing whatever makes sense at the time with the hope that it’ll all turn out. Because in the most fucked up way possible, I am one of the most hopeful people in the world.

I wield my hope like a sharpened boomerang. 

Did I chose to be here?

No. On even the most basic level, no.

I chose death over everything that I currently have.

And if I thought I could pull it off, I'd still chose it. 

If I had anywhere better to be, I would be.

So everything just sort of settled this way.

I am waiting to hear back from a job that I am hoping against hope I will be called to an interview for. That I want more than nearly anything else at this point to get.

I am avoiding a great number of things.

I am not really excited for anything, because nothing really feels worth getting excited about.

And finally:

Do I feel like I am where I am supposed to be?

I feel like I am in the only place I can be. Which is very close, but not at all the same thing.

That feels like a good snapshot of where I am. Depressing, hopeful, apathetic, over emotional. 

That said I do like the exercise, because I am a big fan of self-reflection. I hope others will participate as well.

The First Question and the Meaning of Life.

Yes, I know I missed bookmarks last week. No excuses, I just didn't feel like reviewing anything -shrug- I'mma try and do more though, so be alert.

Anyway, what I wanted to do today is very related to those Story Fragments I was running a while back (and I have a few more of those to share later).
It's a big thing I wrote two/three or so years ago, when I was in a philosophy class.
It's not exactly original, and it's a bit pretentious, but I think it is interesting and I just found it again recently.

So I thought I'd share. Have fun:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The First Question and the Meaning of Life.

Albert Camus once said that the first question all philosophers face is that of suicide. All else comes secondary.
The truth in this statement strikes me every time I take a moment to contemplate it. Those who value life most tend to be those who have overcome death.
The idea of overcoming death is, in itself, rather odd and multi-faceted. You can overcome death by surviving war; you can overcome it by surviving the death of a loved one. But the way closest to ones heart is the question of suicide. If you contemplate suicide, you have contemplated the meaning of life.
But what do you find there? I cannot answer that question for you; I can only answer it for myself.
In class today we are discussing the meaning of life, and that got me thinking about my past, my future, and the way in which I interact with this world.
I believe in that short sentence, even if Camus himself did not.
I believe that every person, at every moment of their life, must overcome first the question of whether or not they want to live. Many people do this unconsciously, the desire to live so strong it requires no thought. Others are not so unburdened.
The choice of life may seem a simple one; who would not want to live? But for some of us it is a question that dogs our heels every time we stop to take a breath.
What do you value in life?
Why do you continue to wake up every day and live?
Who or what gives you the strength to continue?
These are questions that often pull forth long answers, despite seeming rather simple.
If you chose to live you are obligated, if only implicitly, to consider the life you chose. The unexamined life, after all. Would it be better for you if you had not chosen that life? Would it be better for someone else? Which matters more? What counts as 'better'?
In considering your life, consider what it means to be human, to be alive. What qualities are required for you to call something human? Sentient? Alive? Do they differ?
Do you fall under your own definition?
Now think on the meaning of morality. What is good? Is it simply the absence of evil? Then what is evil? Simply the absence of good? What would be required for you to call a person ‘good’? ‘Evil’?
Do you have any of these qualities? Do you consider yourself good?
If you do not consider yourself good, why do you choose to live the life you have? Do you choose it to appease family? Friends? Society in general? Or do you just feel that it is how you are ‘supposed’ to live? Or do you believe that even the ungood deserve to live? What about the truly evil?
Maybe you do consider yourself a good person. Do you recognize the evils in you? Do you work to prevent them? What makes you a good person? The assurances of people around you? Or your own heart?
If you were told that your memory was to be removed of every event in your life, the only thing you were to remember being your name, date of birth and the similar, would you cry out in rage? Joy?
What is it that makes you the person you are? Is it the combination of memories, experiences, thoughts that you have running through you? Or is it something less tangible? A moral fiber, a soul that would carry with you regardless of where or when you were?
I can speak not of other people. I have not lived like them, as them. I can only comment on the experiences I have had, and draw conclusions from them. From those generalizations I can structure my world. These generalizations are what I need to answer the first question, and the basis of the answer to the second.
Life is an ever changing word for me, much like the stuff from which it is made of. There is a distinct difference between life and living. To be living does not require life, and to have life does not require being living. Life is a process, living is an act. I do not value living, but I value highly life.
I have often said to people that I do not value life, that my life is meaningless in its inaction. This is but a partial truth. I do not value my living, the quality that many consider essential to life. I would willingly give my living to any cause that my death seemed warranted. If my dying were to advance the cause, and I did not find it objectionable for other reasons, my living would be given freely.
Many people will not believe this, for if I would give my living so easily, how am I still alive? Fact of the matter is, I have yet to be convinced that dying, mine or anyone else’s is necessary for anything to be advanced.
Often when considering the meaning of life people will ask the questions of: If there is only a short period of time in which you would continue to live, what would you do with that time?
This question, for me and many others, varies immensely depending on the amount of time in question.
What you consider a short time to live is a main component. Some people consider several months a short time; some consider several years a short time. How long would you consider a short time in life?
I was once asked as a matter of minutes, about half an hour, to be exact. I considered this for a few moments but came to the conclusion that I would prefer to live as ordinarily in those last few minutes as possible. Find somewhere to get comfortable, think about what I had done with my living, with my life, and search for the happiness in my life. What would you do if there was only a half hour left? How does it fit in with your thoughts on what makes a person? A good person?
This is a change from if given a few days, here suggested as a week. To this I came about to the conclusion that I would want to see family, friends. All my loved ones. I would want to tell them, one last time, how happy they have made me. Then I would want to become comfortable, as above.
If there was only a week left to your living, how would you spend it? How does this relate to what you valued above? How does this define your life?
The final question I was asked was that of twenty years. If my living were to be ended in twenty years, what would I need to do to feel complete? This question was the easiest for me. Twenty years seems like a vast amount of time to me, possibly as a byproduct of my youth. But also, possibly, because I have often been in a place where the thought of twenty years of living was unbearable.
My answer, however, is simple. Twenty years of living, I would like to do just that. Live. I would like to go to school, I would like to work, and I would like to meet some special people, share experiences and life with them. After that, I don’t think any special considerations would need to be made.
How about you? Is twenty years a long time? Why? Why not? Would you make changes to how you live now?
How would you react to being told that your life was to be cut short? If you were told that you were to have ten, twenty, thirty years of life left, but it was cut short. Would you be angry? Would you bargain, try to get more time? How long do you consider enough? Seventy years? A hundred? Maybe you consider twenty years to be sufficient. Do you know why that amount of time seems like enough? How would you react getting less than that? Getting more? When you consider life as a long chain that will eventually break, does your perception of the world around you change? Your system of values, morals?
As to the meaning of life, what meaning is there without purpose? Perhaps meaning is purpose, or perhaps purpose is meaning?

Bookmarks - Scars

Scars, by Cheryl Reinfield, copyright 2010, published by WestSide Books.

I quite literally just finished reading this book.
Okay, no, because by the time you read this it will be a week or more later, but at the time of writing this, I just spent a bit more than two hours reading this book (and about an hour looking at some of the resources provided at the end).

Normally when I do these things (though I have done so few that I am not sure there is a "normally") I will wait a bit longer between the read and the review, to let my thoughts sit.

But I don't want to this time.

Scars is an incredibly powerful book, and it brought me to tears. And I'm not sure I can say that about any other book. I've been sad, and maybe had a tear or two (looking at you, J.K Rowling...) but this book made me cry.

And at the same time I could not stop reading it.

Scars is about a girl named Kendra who has been sexually abused, and doesn't know who did it.

Or, more precisely, she "knows" but can't remember. She's repressed it, I guess I mean.

So she is in therapy. And she cuts herself. A lot.

This book will almost definitely trigger you, if you have ever self-harmed. So, yeah, watch out for that.

What I loved about this book (other than it is a lesbian character (didn't know that going in) and that it shows a very real side of cutting) were the relationships Kendra had.

She had a therapist who was wonderful to her, a great teacher, a reasonably close gay, male, family friend, and a girl who is helpful to her.

She is an artist, and she sees the world through those eyes.

I quite like this book as it shows how things can go right though. She has a good support system, for the most part, and deals reasonably effectively with her stress.

The author has been through similar situations, and I think that is what lends this story so much credibility, so much believability.

All of Kendra's feelings were understandable, accessible, and (in my experience) true.

I would prompt those who know self-harmers, or abused persons, to read this book. It is... disturbing, yes, but I think it could also be a great way to understand a bit of what is going on in their thought processes.

I would also encourage people who do self-harm, or were abused, to read this book-- IF, and only if, they felt they are in a secure place and have resources available to them.

Because this book IS TRIGGERING. There are explicit accounts of self-harm, and less explicit, but still disturbing, memories of sexual abuse. Kendra's mind is in turmoil, and it is a bumpy ride.

If nothing else, I suggest picking this book up for the resource list at the back, which is pretty thorough and interesting.
_________

Side note, I am linking a previous post about suicide/self-harm here for a rounded out thing, if you are feeling bad, I suggest looking at that, or finding a resource you consider helpful in order to feel better.
(Thoughts on Suicide)

Thoughts on Suicide

Wow, okay, that title is a bit dramatic, I know, but it sums up the following bit perfectly.

I have gone through things that I prefer not to go in depth about, but suffice to say I have thought about suicide many times, and attempted it a couple.

I have hurt myself (mainly through cutting) before.

And I think it is important for me to address the following here, if only briefly (and I have mentioned it in a single line once before), mainly so I can link to this in the future, but also because I don't know who you are, and tough as it sounds, I don't care who or what you are.
But I do care that you are hurting. Because no one deserves to feel that bad.

Who you are doesn't matter to me, because every one matters.

So. If you are EVER feeling suicidal, I want you to right now know that, cliché as the statements are, you are NOT alone, and it DOES get better.

I'm living proof.

You will hear all around you that suicide is not an option. I want you to know that suicide is definitely an option, it will be as long as you are alive, but it should be reserved until every other one has been exhausted.

Suicide is the largest choice you can possibly make but, if you feel the need to make a decision in that area, you need to know that it is a normal thing to think about. It is not something to be ashamed of thinking of, it is not wrong, or sick. It is how you are feeling. And while I fervently wish that you did not feel this way (because it is a crumby-ass way to feel), many people (myself included) understand feeling suicidal, and can accept it.

So please look into counselling in your area and online, look at online communities and IRL help groups, call a crisis line or an understanding person (friend, family member, random acquaintance), go see a doctor-- anything.

Because no one worth the time of day wants you to commit suicide, even if it feels like they do at times.

(Please realise that if you want you to commit suicide, I am not lumping you into that category. You can feel about yourself in that way (though I wish you didn't feel the need to) without being wrong, or evil, or worthless. But coming from other people that is not an acceptable thing to want or encourage or suggest.)

It is a very similar thing if you are thinking of hurting yourself.

It sucks BIG TIME to feel that the best thing to do is to drag a knife across your skin, or stick your hand in fire, bash your arm until it breaks, eat until you puke, to exercise until you can't breathe, etc.-- any way of hurting yourself.

But it happens.

And it happens to a lot of people.

And it is normal. It is NOT wrong. It does NOT make you a bad person.

And you should not be ashamed.

Because the shame will only make it worse.

It would be very nice if you could find a new way of coping with situations, and/or someone to talk to. And I whole-heartedly suggest you look, and keep looking until you find something.

Yeah.

So, there are manymanymanymany, many resources out there for you. All you need to do is look.

If you would like me to post some of the many resources I have come across, I can.
But I, at this point, would prefer if people would look for themselves.

And this is only because I don't know what precise mix of issues you feel ready to look at, and I don't want to be sending you to resource after resource only to find none of them fit (because I don't know you or what you are facing) and get disheartened by that.

(Because I have seen lists of resources like this and found none in a list of twelve or more that seemed to relate to me at all, and I started to feel like a freak "Nobody is feeling this way, they don't even have help for people like me!" and it is totally untrue.)

Also, I understand if you don't agree with me on some points (especially where I say suicide is an option, I know that is a big thing for a lot of people) and I am okay with and accept that.

Please know I am not trying to inflame or start an argument. I just want people in pain to know that I have been there, I care about them, and (in limited and proper ways) am available to them. If you can't deal with that, I would appreciate you show me the same courtesy as I show you, and not attack me, my beliefs or experiences, because they differ from yours.

Good luck,

Have fun,

Be safe.