Death by Positive Slogan.

As a baby of the 70’s, a kid of the 80’s, teen of the 90’s and Fully fledged (ISH) adult at the turn of the century, life has moved fast and emotionally evolved even faster. As technology boomed, so did our ability and acceptance to share emotion.

Gone are the days of the eighties, when we sucked that sad fucker up and put on brave face and held in mental and physical abuse. Where divorce was unacceptable, physical bruises were covered by clothing and mental trauma doused in alcohol, narcotics and silence.

As a product of childhood trauma, in a time when where there was no support for my parents, no voice for me to shout with, and no platform to speak up or find help. We were all left floundering. Our choices were either the adult “loony bin” with a splashing of straight jackets and padded walls, or the children’s ward of a General Hospital who were used to fixing the physical wound not the mental one. WELCOME to 1986.

30 years later and the evolution has come full circle. We are no longer a vast pit of shame and secrets, we are now a spewing dragon of emotional over sharers, yes you may include me in this. I used to share to garner some understanding and solidarity. To provide some acceptable “let out” for people who hide. This is no longer needed, because whatever you struggle with, as does many. Do not get me wrong this is wonderful, but we have come to a point where your emotions are trivialized, as everyone actively voices them, and this can pick at a wound that now may never heal due to uninterest.

Social Media as a platform for sharing is amazing. But, it can also be very damaging and minimalizing. I mean these days we all have an eating disorder, anxiety, childhood trauma, PTSD, experienced abuse, been divorced, lost someone and the world knows. Yes this is all awful, I am not demeaning or diminishing pain, with that sentence. However in the age of expression now your pain is the same as everyone else’s. You are not some special, wild, damaged artist, who stands on their golden stage of painful glory. Instead you are mundane and forgotten, forgotten when you really need to be cared for, probably more so now than ever. Social media creates a circle of me me me oblivious to those around you.

Then we have the next layer of emotional destruction, enter stage right the “snappy” “positive” slogan. We are slowly suffocating in their zippiness of “you’ve got this”!?! “No I fucking have not! Usually posted by someone who is trying tp convince themselves, they feel fabulous and are all fixed, or they are charlatans of true emotion. Attempting to creating layers so they too have a tragic story to tell. People want to be included, people want to be the same as everyone else, that is why people join groups, go to church etc ? Harsh, but true?

Yes we all love a upbeat saying, but not every second of damn day. Shit people it’s ok to wallow, it is ok to be sad, and if I am feeling like that, not one single pretty painted post will make me feel better. A hug will, or an ear that listens. Sadly, over emotional sharing, means we actually stop listening and reflecting. I truly feel like the world shut it’s ears to pain, it just became too overwrought in its own issues. People now apologize for sharing their thoughts and feelings, exactly as they did 100 years ago. Back then, they did not want to seem weird, these days they do no want to add to another persons personal trauma.

Full circle, still no one listens.

My head breaks through, and I breathe again.

My anxiety is triggered by many things, many things I have to manage on a daily basis. Yeah the whole world has anxiety I know – YAWN – The modern day excuse for not coping with life.

How I see it though, is when my anxiety kicks up a notch and smacks me over the head with a BIG SCREAMING SURRRRPRRRIISSSSEEEE , I am always actually surprised, even though I have been navigating this for about 38 years. Because, after every single episode; that can be as long as a month, but is usually 2 weeks, I think I have it beat and I’m like oh if this happens again, I have totally got this bitch covered.

NOPE! Here I am again, curled up, struggling to breathe, frantically checking my heart rate over and over again, desperately trying to act like all is cool when I am fighting back tears, and crumbling back into the child who is crushed against the floor.

It really comes out of the blue, but I do get clues, when life is busy and I’m continuously coping with its pace, I am not sleeping enough or not getting enough alone time, multiple stressors are thrown at me, and I cope, I cope, I cope and then BOOM I am not fucking coping …

I have just realized that racing kicks me off, WHY? I have goals , I do not want to fail, and now I am in a semi elite group (I am not a semi elite), as the almost oldest and definitely the slowest, I am terrified if I do not perform I will get laughed at or worse kicked out. This is all self inflicted and my own insecurities blooming with the stress of my own expectations.

I AM WORKING ON THOSE!!!

Please understand that anxiety and panic attacks are not me failing to cope, IT IS me coping! I am accepting my own imperfections, sitting in them, falling apart and rebuilding a more resilient version of myself.

Anxiety is not something you can always see, it is a silent manifestation of the mental and physical. Panic attacks are actually my overly sensitive personality combining with my overly busy life, plus dragging up my past and forming its own little package of hellish survival.

I have said this before, but the strange thing is, as much I struggle with my anxiety, I would not give it up. The constant state of high I sit in is beyond anything, my whole entire body is alert and buzzing, the world snaps into ultra HD and colors can hurt my eyes. When I fall out of the cycle, the calm is mesmerizing, and I sleep dreamlessly, my whole body falls loose and the world spins back down to normality, which I cherish. I will never conquer my panic attacks or anxiety, but I accept what they are, they no longer terrify me like they used to and I always know in time they will pass.

This too shall pass. To live my life, is to feel my life in all its gory, painful glory.

This is for all of you who suffer, I see you, I know you, I am you, I am here for you.

Love Kelly (just had another episode and survived) Joy

T I R E D

Tired is a feeling I know well. From a very early age, It has been a significant safety net in a world that has always felt a little too fast, a little too loud and a little too busy to me. However, over the years I have become sloppy with my wanton usage of the word “tired”….

The conversation being…

“Hey are you ok? yes, I am just a bit tired!”

Now just change that word, the word “tired”, that innocuous, innocent 5 letter word to reflect its excuse to my real meaning. We then could replace tired with a multitude of hidden feelings that I am not quite ready to share…

Sad / angry / annoyed / scared / bored / uninterested

It is also my blatant lame attempt to avoid, confrontation / talking / expressing feelings / facing truths / doing something I do not want to / avoiding sex / avoiding physical activities that bore or scare me.

It’s true meaning is….

TIRED in need of sleep or rest; weary.

an anagram of ..

TRIED – found good, faithful, or trustworthy through experience or testing

Yet, 50% of the time when I say I am tired I am not “found good, faithful or trustworthy”. I am lying through a fa├žade of sleepiness to avoid revealing the real thing that has me off center.

I am not entirely sure when I started to do this. I mean, do not get me wrong I do experience true exhaustion daily. I am a mother of three boys, and I am running after them, on top of running just shy of 60 miles a week. No I do not take naps, there truly is no time, so in reality, YES I am pretty knackered. I daily would love to lie down and stay very still, but no, instead in my world I am putting on ANOTHER WASH!!!!!

So when I say I am tired as an answer to a question, I truly may be tired, or failing that I just do not want to talk to you.

Love Kelly – so so tired – Mother of Three.