myblithesomestruggleofalife

[myblithesomestruggleofalife]

Relationsh*t...love?

Relationsh*t…love?

Hi everyone! (I need a cool catchphrase that I can start every post with!! All my fans out there, let me know in the comments what should it be! I will try to go through all of them, but it’s hard to read thousands of messages #strugglesofcelebrities #youwouldntgetit #notrelatableunlessyoureacelebrity) It has been a while… but I won’t explain my lack of posts to a computer, so let’s just get to…

[myblithesomestruggleofalife]

Let me know when you get home

I admit, I can’t make up my mind if I should write this blog when I’m “stable” emotionally or when I’m not in the best state. I wanted to do this blog as a way of a therapy for me, so don’t I need therapy the most when it’s bad, when I’m lost, when my thoughts are drifting away in a very bad, negative direction? Anyway, right now I’m more or less “in control” let’s say, although I’m not sure it’s entirely true, cause I don’t think I’m ever “stable” or “in control”. My emotions change every 5 minutes and my attitude to life can go from extremely positive and full of hope to extremely negative with struggles to find any purpose in life. Let’s just say, that my attitude is more positive, than negative right now. I can try writing a post when it’s not so colorful in my life, but I honestly have no idea what will come out of it.

Today’s topic… Women’s day! I wouldn’t say it’s the most current one, but I’m sure my huge circle of readers won’t mind my 4 days delay.
Today, I was doing my morning routine and a huge part of it is scrolling through Instagram posts for just enough time to make sure that I’ll be late for work. After a bunch of photos of cute animals and women in bikinis with a body I’ll never have, I saw a post that made me stop scrolling and got me thinking for a while. This post was a screenshot of a message on a phone saying “Let me know when you get home.” It was related to the fact that every time when a woman comes back home, she has to let someone know that she got there safely, because even though coming home seems like a very easy, ordinary, everyday activity, it is in fact one of the most stressful things for many women. It’s sad, it’s annoying and it is most definitely not fair. This fear a woman feels when she has to look behind her back every 10 seconds just to make sure no one is following her or that she can’t put on her headphones cause then she might not hear the footsteps of someone approaching her or the fact that she looks in her purse for something that could be used as a temporary weapon in case something goes wrong or how we try to cover ourselves and look down to draw as little attention as possible or how we always hold our phone in our hand, ready to call someone or just pretend that we’re talking to someone and telling them where we are at this very moment, just to feel a tiny bit more safe. I can’t possibly count how many times I was talking to an imaginary person on a phone, because of fear or how many times I’ve checked on the internet how much does a pepper spray cost. So many times I had to call someone to pick me up from the train station that is literally 600 meters from my home, just because it was already dark… and even when I have to go alone by foot, I always have this huge feeling of relief when I cross the door of my home and a thought “Thank God, you made it.” as if I returned from some kind of a war field. These 600 meters from train station to my home is my war field.
That’s not even the worst part… cause what this post made me realize is that all this time it was normal for me. No girl should walk alone after dark. It’s just how it is. It’s something so old and so common, that we just decided to normalize it instead of fighting it.
The feeling of fear or anxiety should never be normalized. Ever.
It got very serious and dark, but it is a serious topic and it shouldn’t be downgraded or blown off. So to all my readers (or anyone for that matter), I hope you get home safe.


[myblithesomestruggleofalife]

Breakfast, panic attacks and a polish girl

An hour ago, I finished a meeting with my overly optimistic therapist. Beside telling me how we are all fucked up, she gave me an idea to start writing a blog about something that I’m good at. After a lot of thinking, my list of things that I’m “good at” limited to these three: foreign languages (boring, can’t write about it), volleyball (prefer doing it, rather than writing about it) and baking. The last one seemed not so bad for a blog idea. Especially after watching the movie “Julie and Julia”, but when I realized that I’m no Amy Adams, I decided to write about me. About my life. About what I’m doing, what I’m thinking and what is my opinion on stuff. Different stuff, important and irrelevant ones. I’m gonna go from “What is the meaning of life?” to “Is it better to eat sweet or salty breakfast in the morning?”. You probably think “Who the hell would want to read about some 23 yo polish girl problems? The internet is full of this shit!”. Well… I don’t care, I need therapy, so go to hell people! It’s for me, from me and about me.

That was exhausting to write, so I can’t imagine how exhausting it was for you to read it (if someone’s survived and is still here). First, let me tell you a bit about myself, so I could fulfill my promise on what this blog is gonna be about. I’m 23, from Poland (I’m not a native speaker when it comes to English, so there might be mistakes on a way), I study economy – accounting in specific (just when you thought this blog can’t possibly be any more boring), I go to therapist and there’s a reason for that. No! It’s not because I like to pay someone, only so I could sit for an hour and pretend I have a very good listener as a friend. I do have friends, real ones (at least that’s what voices in my head are telling me).  But for real.. I’m going to a therapy, because I have severe, systematic panic attacks. They started about 6 years ago, when I first found out that I have some healthy issues (nothing major) and because I was the first to have them among my family and friends (it wasn’t as popular as it is right now), I thought that I’m going crazy and the road for me right now is straight to loony bin. Then I thought, Woody Allen is going to therapist and it looks super cool in all of these movies, so maybe I’ll be cool too. After three years of talking to a specialist, I thought that I’m more or less in control over this annoying intruder (panic attack). Unfortunately whenever a stressful situation appeared (and life is full of them), this little bastard came back even stronger. I was afraid of taking medications, so therapy was all I did, till now. Recently I tried taking some pills, because I didn’t have any control over these attacks anymore, life seemed meaningless and I couldn’t find joy in anything. Sounds super depressing, well maybe because it is depression or some kind of early stage of it. From what I know (what I learned from motivational Instagram pages written by emotionally unstable kids and women with no hobbies), you have to act as soon as possible to prevent it from getting bigger and at the same time more serious. I hope you’re not super down now and ask yourselves why life is so sad and pointless. These are not the feelings I want you to feel, ever. I just wanted you to understand why I’d start writing a blog in the first place (which to me was an outrageous idea just few weeks ago) and maybe if there’s someone out there in this crazy world that has similar problems, can actually relate a bit and find company in this life full of fears and doubts. I think that’s it for today. I wasted your time long enough. I’ll explain and tell more about myself next time, for now.. See ya! Or should I say Read ya! (that was lame, I’m so sorry for that. Please, read my blog.)