All Over Again…

I’d like to say that I am okay, that right at this moment in my life I feel happy and inspired, the truth is I am not. This is not something I can help, it is also no one else’s fault. Shitty things happen in life but they are the challenges we must face to become stronger. All our fails contribute to our success, and as much as people preach that and as much we want to live by that, knowing that it will get better, it’s hard sometimes to get through it and we end up feeling sorry for ourselves and ask the question…

“Why me?”

In the last couple of weeks I have felt myself spiral downward into a state of depression. The things that are running through my mind are insanely negative and all I want to do is cry and scream and blame everything and everyone. My once happy self has become bitter and negatively emotional, and I absolutely hate it. I find myself talking to people in my life with always something to complain about, and to be completely honest I feel I have no control over that. I use bottle a lot of things in when I was younger, resulting in fits of rage and destruction. As I grew older and discovered that the chemical imbalance in my brain is what causes my roller coaster of emotion I learnt that to ease the side effects of things going wrong and myself hitting rock bottom again I had to express and talk to people, let it out. I guess now I have made myself so use to it that I can’t help but whine and complain. I am slowly, but surely, realising that this is affecting a lot of my relationships and friendships, I mean who wants to be friends with someone like that? Who wants to be around someone who brings that kind of negativity? A lot of people understand that struggles, they want to help, lend an ear, but I am getting to the point of no self control and this letting it all out thing is making me even more depressed, because I am becoming aware of the effects.

Welcome to the world of anxiety and depression.

When I was about twelve I noticed a change in myself through the issues that were evolving in my broken family. My whole life I have been independent and very individual to what my beliefs and goals were. That doesn’t mean I have never asked for help, but 97% of the time I have the NEED to do it all on my own. This made me a strong person from a younger age, but it also contributed to the start of my world swirling in and out of control. So at the age of ten or eleven I forced by my father to attend church to do all that Catholic stuff, reconciliation, communion and conformation, which involved every Sunday attending church. From a young age I didn’t believe in God, I was really into science and the universe and theories so I didn’t grasp the concept of a ‘man upstairs’. Which is not to say that I don’t like people who do, we can believe in what we want. So this Catholic ritual wasn’t something I wanted to do, yet I was forced to do it. I hated the fact I was getting all of this religious stuff force fed to me because my father insisted I do it because my Nanna believed it would make me a better person. I became stubborn and made a big deal each week in going. This put a lot of strain on my relationship with my father and was the beginning to MANY years of emotional pain. Although I could have just sacrificed my time and just made the most of it, to make my Nanna happy, I was too much of a believer in independency and self expression to just give in like that.

One day when I was at my Fathers house we were in the car driving somewhere. The conversation to why I was so against going to church was in session and I felt bullied into believing in something I simply don’t. My Father turned and asked what I believed in then. At the time I believed in re-incarnation and said to him,

“I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in heaven, I don’t believe in hell. I believe when we die our spirit, or soul, is born into something, or someone else. I hope I come back as a butterfly”

My Father told me that was stupid, and we ended up in yet another fight.

This issue became an opening to a life of misery for me. I began high school in the city my Father lived at his request, not the high school I initially was going to attend which was closer and with my best friend. I lived with my mum and hour bus ride away from school on a farm. Looking back I had that love hate relationship with living so far away. The farm was fun and we had motorbikes and cool adventures, but as a girl who is just beginning her teenage years it is the worst thing possible. I felt isolated and would see pictures of my friends on Myspace hanging out on the weekend without me because they spontaneously met up or my Mum couldn’t drive me an hour to see them. I started to become depressed and began writing journals about everything on my mind. I started becoming the stubborn teenager with an attitude that got me in a lot of trouble with my Mum. My anger kept getting worse and worse. Eventually it got between me and my friends. At the end of year eight my Mum decided to move and I had no choice but to move schools, to the city closer to us. Over that summer I had my best friend and her, then, boyfriend spend a few days at my new house. It was good seeing them but I soon realised they were just using this time to spend time with each other, not me. The day before they left I cracked the shits with them so bad I stopped talking to them. A couple weeks of hardly any talking I blurted it out on an MSN chat with her. I expressed how I felt shafted and irrelevant because I had to move schools and I live so far away, the response I got pretty much ended our friendship.

“Well you’re the one that moved. It’s your job to contact us”

I felt like nothing. As a person who takes friendship so seriously and make them my whole life, I was shattered. Why was I bothering dedicating so much time to people who I valued so much yet I am just a smidge in their life. That summer I became really bad. I began writing more, which turned into songwriting, with no music yet. I began my new school and my life changed. I had great friends and seemed a little happier, although things with my Father progressively got worse. Very bad situation happened that, even to this day, have scarred me and I always wonder how someone who is meant to protect you and love you and make you happy cause so much pain.

Just before I turned fifteen I entered the world of hospitality. By sixteen I was in the industry full time. I feel my passion for cooking would still be there had I not have been bullied by my first employer so bad and had not have had all those things at home going on. I wasn’t coping. At seventeen I was out of home because I couldn’t bear living there with my Mum’s partner. I was in therapy, but no amount of talking was helping with the pain I felt every day. The lack of sleep, the constant mood swings and feeling so out of control of myself. I did eventually move back for awhile, but it was never the same, things never got better. Eighteen was the year that completely broke me. My head was at war with itself and I was reconsidering every choice I have ever made. I wanted to quit everything. i wanted to hide away from the world. I felt so lonely. I did quit my job for a month or so before getting a new one. I thought spending time with just my music, not stressing about work and all that I would feel better, but I never did. I got back into work, a shitty job flipping hamburgers in a food van parked in a supermarket parking lot. I worked 5pm to 3am. I hated it, but my lack of motivation caused me to look for something better in life. It was also first day of this job that my world was crushed with the worst news. A call from a police officer confirmed my weird feeling about my Mums partner. He was a sexual predator and preyed on my little sisters. As much as I wanted to be there for my family, emotionally and mentally I couldn’t. I felt I wanted to pull myself away. The anger inside me was bursting out everywhere. It was dragged through courts for months before a final verdict gave me no faith in the justice system.

Not Guilty.

We couldn’t believe it and his smug face made me want to end his life right then and there in the court room, but that would be the easy way out for him. I hope he feels that guilt everyday of his life. Watching my family accept and move on broke my heart, and even writing this now makes me cry.

At nineteen I decided I was going to follow my dream and move to the big city of Melbourne and attend uni. I moved there and was faced with a whole lot of new issues, which in resulted in new ways to deal with them, drugs and alcohol. After a year and a half of dealing with this pain and the voices in my head with fuelling my system with alcohol and drugs I looked in the mirror one day and hated myself so bad. I re-evaluated my life and saw I was completely unhappy and at rock bottom. I had failed relationships, I didn’t want to get close with anyone. I was failing uni and was shit at my job. I spent all my money and was still not happy. As I looked through my life I wanted to make a lifestyle change. I packed up and moved to the other side of the city, met new friends and got a new job. The drugs stopped, although I was still drinking a lot. I began to  be happier, I was slowly getting my life on track, not back on track because I feel I was never on a track to begin with. My anxiety and my depression became something of my past, although it seems.

2015 brought me some amazing people that have changed my life, but as soon as they fit into my heart they were off to travel and/or go home. I started to lose who I was in the last couple years. Work became a place I hated and the constant struggle to feel relevant was breaking me on the inside. I decided that it was time for me to change my lifestyle once again. I figured that these major breakdowns come in cycles of two years. First at nineteen and quitting everything then moving to the city, then at 21 when I changed jobs and suburb and lifestyle, now twenty three… eventually a move to the other side of the world.

As easy as it sounds to just up and leave everything because the going gets tough, I find myself wanting to be able to find away around this situation I am in without having to change my whole life. But I can’t, I can’t mentally deal with it anymore. My anxiety and depression is kicking in overtime at the moment, bringing a lot of other people around me down. I’m sick of going through this and wish there was a way to turn it off. As much as I appreciate the people in my life who care enough to listen and hold my hand, I feel selfish and angry at myself for dragging them along negative road.

Some people don’t realise the effects of anxiety and depression and don’t understand the amount of pain it causes. I feel so out of control that my bed feels like my only safe haven. It takes a lot of emotional and mental energy to get out of bed and some people see that as lazy. Believe me, if I could I would got out and see the world every day, but I can’t, a factor in my lack of travel and eats posts. I find myself awake until all hours of the morning, not getting enough sleep, I wish  could utilise that time with going places at night and photograph cool things.

This hole I am in in so entrapping that I bring people in to feel what I am feeling…


I wanted to make this post because it is a summary to why I am the way I am and it is my fault, but also not my fault. Anxiety and depression are serious things that destroy a human soul and break a heart worse than any boy or girl could. Some people who suffer have the roots to why they are like this, mine being family issues, others enter this state without any reason. This means it can affect ANYONE, you don’t need to have led a terrible life.

Be brave, be kind. I remind myself that everyday.


2 thoughts on “All Over Again…

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