fearlessphobias-blog

[fearlessphobias-blog]

I’M TRYING AND THAT’S WHAT MATTERS

(template from @anxieteandbiscuits)

[fearlessphobias-blog]

As a human being, I am a walking disaster. Not even a walking disaster, most of the time. A sitting disaster. A sprawling disaster. A curling-up-in-bed-with-a-blanket-over-my-head-waiting-for-the-world-to-go-away disaster.

[fearlessphobias-blog]

Writing advice

Real talk here, especially for writing longer works:

You need to trust yourself to pull it together by the end, even if you think you’re going completely off the rails. The trust might be unfounded, hell, you might even be wrong, but you need to do it.

Trust your story. Trust the point you want to get across. Trust your subconsciousness to get it right. Because the moment you start to doubt and second guess yourself, you stall. Get to the end, then you can see if you succeeded or not.

Trust yourself.

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"Your character should change by the end of the story"

Sure, it's technically true. But people confuse the meaning far too much.

This DOESN'T mean they should act different. This doesn't mean their personality should change. This doesn't mean the change has to be obvious.

Something should change. Their thoughts, their lives, their surroundings, their relationships, their outlook.

Your character remaining the exact same person by the end is completely fine. Maybe the people around them change. Maybe the world changes. Maybe one of their opinions changes.

But your character doesn't always have to change. They can stay the same, and that's just fine.

[fearlessphobias-blog]

Strength

Introduction 

I wish I could be the type of person to write beautiful accounts about the time I opened up to my family and everyone was accepting and loving and kind. I wish I could entertain you all with the wholesome anecdotes of Sunday brunch, reflecting back on the times where I was too scared to tell anyone who I am. But unfortunately, I cannot. 

Alternatively, I can give you reality. I can give you way too much information, yet still somehow not enough. I can talk about strength, challenges and emotions. I can give you the truth.

The truth 

Let’s talk about strength.

Strength.

Strength is something that I often wonder if I have. I frequently lie awake at night, tears streaming down my face, doubts and delusions rushing through my mind. I often lack the ability to form coherent sentences, or even thoughts, other than ‘I am not good enough’. 

I could argue with you, or anyone, on all of the reasons as to why I think these things and I’m sure many of you could sit here and tell me I’m wrong. But strength is more than surviving, strength is your darkest moments and your hardest times. The times you get angry and want nothing more in the world than to just disappear. 

It takes a lot for me to open up, to really, fully and truly expose myself for who I am and how I feel. But when a person shows you their true authentic self, that takes strength. Have you ever spent years building up to an ultimate moment of raw exposal and vulnerability only to have your feelings dismissed? Do you know how it feels to be reduced to nothing?

I do.

And let me tell you this, it’s the worst feeling in the world. The kind of feeling that makes you want to hide away for a hundred years. The kind of feeling that makes you wonder why you try. Wonder why you let these people into your, fragile, precious life. 

Strength is the moment you can finally talk about that thing you have been pushing away.

Strength is vulnerability.

Strength is anger.

Strength is weakness.

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I shot up the stairs in embarrassment as I sheltered my tear-stained face with my jumper. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. My messy, crowded mind, was going a million miles a minute. I couldn’t seem to focus on a single thought before another pushed its way in.

Uninvited.

Intrusive.

Rude. 

I began to settle myself down, began to tell myself that nothing bad was going to happen and it was all going to turn out okay. I very nearly managed to convince myself of it. Maybe it could be okay, maybe I could finally be myself. “Maybe” was not good enough. “Maybe” was not my fantasies, not my hopes, or my dreams. This particular maybe was loaded with false promises and complete lies that I told myself in the 2 minutes and 20 seconds after handing over my life and before having it thrown back at me.

Everything was not going to be okay.

I backed myself into the corner of the room. That room belonged to my youngest sister. How could a place of such purity, of such innocence and naivety be distorted into the embodiment of my nightmares? The last place my secrets were fully mine. This was the place I felt more exposed than I ever have in my entire life. I never wanted to go back. 

I heard him. The sound of his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs seemed to echo the fast, anxious beat of my heart. He was there. Staring at me. He didn’t look angry, he looked disappointed. That was so much worse. Disappointed in me, in who I was, what I had become. He may not have been angry, but I was. Angry at myself for believing the delusion that everything would stay the same. Angry at the world for making me feel this way. Angry at everyone…

Apart from him.

I couldn’t bring myself to feel even the smallest bit of anger or hatred towards him. I was in the same kind of position myself. Having to come to terms with such a big change, whether that be emotionally or physically, is a lot to handle. He was getting more and more upset with me as every second another tear rolled down my cheek. Outwardly, I was defensive and dismissive. I deliberately tried to steer the conversation away from the emotionally exposing subjects that hurt me to talk about. 

This was the moment that I realised I had made a mistake. Up until that point I had hope. But now I truly believed that my dreams of a future where people understood the real me were dead. I was doomed to be trapped in this cycle of hatred for the rest of my life, nobody would accept me unless I accepted myself. I was going to accept myself.

That level of endurance requires strength. The strength that I knew I had. Because strength is taking steps to be vulnerable for the first time in your life.

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Acceptance. 

Acceptance is hard to find. Acceptance from others can be tricky but accepting yourself is almost impossible. In fact, there was a point in my life where I would have gone as far as saying ‘it is completely impossible’. Although I feel I am past that point, I have a long way to go. Forcing others to accept things about me that I do not completely understand and accept myself is hard. Nothing is easy. Everyone has problems, barriers and hurdles to get over before they can truly connect with another human being. But everyone also has strength. 

Strength is vulnerability.

Strength is anger.

Strength is weakness.

Strength is life.