The internet has created a space where we can be ourselves and yet I’m overwhelmed by how many of us don’t yet seem able to do this. There are so many of us whose posts seem to question (sometimes sub-contextually) whether we have the right to exist. So many of us want permission and advice but in choosing an online space to gain it instead of giving ourselves permission, it throws open the gates for those who want to tear down authenticity and who want to mislabel vulnerability and honesty as weakness. I’m mostly grateful that the algorithm sends me
Tag: mental health
I found myself at The Edge again. It’s that place you find yourself after battling with something larger than life to the point of giving in, lying back, and thinking: Do your worst, fucker. The Edge has almost become an actual place for me. A low, seedy little dive bar in my mind (like my personal shack to Sherlock Holmes’ mind palace) that no-one, were it an Actual Place, would ever like to admit they’ve been to, whereas I’m a regular; I’m the one in the corner, replaying the same pitiful song on a battered, old jukebox, between knocking back
An Open Acknowledgement of Things Falling Apart and Falling Together My silence was mistaken for acceptance and blind obedience. In essence, I’m direct. I’m honest. I’m unafraid to stand up for someone in need—but I suppose by the time I had to defend myself, I was spent, and tangled—utterly undone—and utterly convinced I was worthless. When I finally redefined my boundaries on my terms, it inevitably led to a freedom of sorts, and with it an eventual resilience, but before that terribly unglamorous transition back into womanhood, my efforts were met with outrage from those no longer holding