I’m not scared of anything, and after some thought… that’s really not a good thing. So many people in life lie about not being scared of anything, and the sooner they realise they’re full of shit, the sooner they succeed.
Resistance in life is an awesome thing, it’s the negative that helps you define the positive. I feel like I’ve succeeded in life. I’ve done the hard work and I’ve shown up more than a few times (despite every fibre of my being telling me to back out).
A few years back I got to a stage where I just wanted to hop off the ride, there was no resistance left. I was done. It wasn’t until the night where I actually tried to end my life that I realised I couldn’t do it. I walked out of my house, no shoes on and headed for the cliffs by the beach. I only managed to get a few houses down the street before breaking down in tears. I felt like the biggest wimp in the world. I was scared.
It’s been some time since then. I’ve gone through medication, therapy, gotten off the weed (I was smoking an ounce a week for a few years) and I’m now off the medication and back to square one.
I was in a 3-piece grunge rock band in high school and we had a song called F.I.A.U.J.T.D.I.A, which was short for Fucked It All Up Just To Do It Again. At the time I wrote it because I was chasing after girls who might have liked me, but before too long I’d lose my shit, get too full on and scare them away. I was stuck between learning a lesson, and just trying hard to accept myself for being a fuck up, so just keep on fucking up.
Right now I’m conscious of fucking it all up. I’m staring at a blank canvas. I want to go forwards not backwards, but I feel like in order to go forwards I need to redefine what I’m scared of in life. I need to find resistance in order to overcome it. I need to work hard to create opportunities that require me to show up.
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I’ve been in absolute sloth mode this year. No motivation… AT ALL! Am I OK? Not really, but maybe that’s OK? I’ve caught up with some good people in the past few weeks, and it’s helped me understand and accept where I’m at right now. I’ll be sure to write something more substantial soon.
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“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
I’ve disabled comments on posts. Sorry to the few of you who bother to leave comments, but I’ve got a stalker leaving abusing comments daily with the intention for me to read them, then feel shit. I’m quite sure I know who it is but I can’t get through to them. If anyone in my network is a lawyer, or can recommend me a lawyer please get back to me via private message, much gratitude.
To the stalker leaving the evil comments; you’re better than that.
There’s no point in wearing the anger and hate you’re feeling if all you’re going to do is leave nasty unpublished comments on my blog.
Dealing with it is the better way forward for both of us. If you refuse to call me then come out about it all in public, but don’t leave me hanging as it’s getting tiring (and surely you are sick of creating new hotmail email addresses and also visiting my website daily to read what’s new in my life).
I don’t often listen to The Cure, but when I do, so do the neighbours!
I’m an Artist. I went to Design School. I used wear women’s leggings throughout university. I had pink box plaits. My mum is my best friend. I was 18yrs old when my Dad died. When Dad died I cried, a LOT and I haven’t cried since. I’m now 43 and I cry a LOT. I cry every time Chris Cornell hits that note in ‘Fell On Black Days’. I cry when I try to sing and play ‘Nutshell’ by Alice in Chains. I cry watching other people cry on YouTube. I cried in the mall when I got overwhelmed by the noise in the food court and realised I didn’t want to be there. So what am I trying to say? I’m trying to say that crying feels SO fucking good.
“Boys Don’t Cry” has a double meaning to me now; Dad brought me up to be a man. Swallow your tears, crying is for girls. I see now how so many guys don’t cry because they think they shouldn’t, because they see crying as a form of weakness and so they choose to be less connected to their emotions.
I’ve been living with so much pent up anger that it took my therapist to tell me to my face that I go on about all these great things I’ve done, but when I’m playing my life back to her I don’t at all sound like Mr. ZEN. It’s taken me about a year since first seeing my therapist to learn how to cry again. The medication I’m on is meant to help me with my mood swings and depression, but I still feel they’re just sleeping pills and more of a breakthrough has been made by ditching the bong. I’m now no longer wake and baking every day of my life away, the numbness has subsided and I can see clearer by the day.
A couple of tears listening to some amazing dead dudes gives me a huge emotional release. Take it from a 43yr old emo, ask yourself why are you trying so hard to be a Ninja Turtle? A super turtle is even worse than ordinary turtles who retreat into their shells when shit hits the fan, hoping for everything to just magically work itself out, or go away before resurfacing. Stop sweeping your emotions under a Fukari Rug.
If you’re an emo guy own it. Being emo shouldn’t be a ‘thing’. Macho macho men make you out to to be a weirdo, but hey, in reality it’s those guys who can’t deal with their emotions who are the weird ones.