I’m against a wall. I thought the deeper I got, the close I would be to answers. But now I’m against a wall. I don’t remember ever building it. But it seems, that slowly, one piece at a time, the defences have strengthened. I can’t seem to break through. I can’t seem to allow myself out of this self confinement. I’m protecting myself from me. From confrontation, from self hurt, from regrets, from revelation, from emancipation. How do I break the walls, my self erected.
Maya Angelou (via thatkindofwoman)
Edmund Burke, Oh the Sublime and Beautiful - Part II, Section II.
One step/fear at a time.
This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
William Shakespeare, Hamlet - Act 1, Scene 3.
6 am Melbourne fog.
Crumpets with raspberry jam ~ Miss Jackson, St Kilda.
Mouth thanked me.
Slightly odd shaped base, little worn but only $8 buckaroos. This lady shoe was going to make the several hours wandering the isles so worth it.
I took two steps. My left foot slipped off the side, into a strange slow motioned ankle roll. I ain’t got time to be risking a slow roll! It was decided, the shoe was a no go.
But like most Savers troll sessions, I walked out empty handed yet extremely satisfied.
Oh the places we’ll go !
My vehicle - Specialized Ruby Compact Sora WSD 2014.
Short Round - Thornbury
Usually I’m against ordering muesli at cafes, but after eyeing another lady’s bowl, I just had to.
It was heaven. Light, delicious and filing to the point of “just right” rather than “holy shit, so bloated with so many miscellaneous grains”.
Also highly recommended - the crisp potato rosti with poached eggs, pancetta, beetroot puree, creme fraiche, kale chips and carrot salt. Yup all on one plate.
This tracks’s on repeat of late.
My hands are up in surrender. From beginning to end, you’ve got me.
Last week, I thought fuck yeh. I had my entire life all figured out. The desired destination, the path I would take.
Yesterday, there was an emotional setback of sorts. There I was again, a place too familiar. Unsure, doubtful, self loathing, laden with regrets, sinking.
Yet after yesterday’s episode of gloom and doom, today, somewhere in the messy aftermath, surfaced an affirmation.
As much as I feel like I’m sinking deeper in quick shit, God I AM TRYING. Trying to seek answers, trying to ask the right questions, trying to wriggle my way out.
And if tomorrow is another repeat episode of my yesterdays, I have to remember this.
I went to a refugee panel on the weekend and one of the speakers was an Indigenous man who worked on one of the onshore detention centres up in Queensland. In between detailing the horrors that refugees faced he told me the story of one of the white security guards telling off a refugee for…
I took this picture of myself at the end of a day I spent in bed, scared and crying, feeling alone and hopeless and completely desperate.
This is the face of my mental illness. This is the face of my sadness when it is at its most inexplicable and its most pronounced.
I am not ashamed of it.