Your Garden of Welfare

Your personal welfare is like a garden. 

Different aspects correspond with different breeds of flowers, plants and insects. Happiness, family, love, passion, mental health and so on. Lastly and most worrisome of all – weeds and pests. All those icky things in life that you’d rather not creep up, yet manage to persist any way.

When weeds and pests pop up, you would want to use weed killer and pesticides to keep them from taking over your garden. 

Sometimes you can use too much or not enough. 

Use too little and the weeds and pests devour your garden. 

Use too much and you rid the garden of not only the icky things.. but you could also risk stunting or halting the growth of everything else that’s important. Or, you’ve used the wrong type of weed killer or pesticide and you harm your garden without harming all those bad things you want to get rid of.

Possibly leaving your Garden of Welfare almost barren.

You know the thing about gardens though, if you give each plant the right amount of nutrients that it needs, they can survive. 

Even if your garden is withering – even if plants have died, you can replant new ones. You could even replant stable plants. Change the set up. Move plants around. Rotate plants. Put plants that need shade to flourish in the shade. 

Feed the right plants the right nutrients and the right amount. Know how much pesticide or weed killer your garden needs.

Everyone has different sized gardens with different sorts of flora, placed in different assortments. 

What your garden needs will be different to what someone else’s needs. 
 

Mental and Emotional Dysmorphia

Losing weight is hard. Your mind set is locked in. Once you lose weight, your mind is still stuck in the overweight body.

Getting well is hard. Your mind set is locked in. Once you’ve progressed, your mind is still stuck in the unstable mind.

How do we change our thoughts about ourselves?

How do we accept and acknowledge the achievements that we’ve made?

Habits are hard to break. Addictions are hard to break. As silly as it sounds, It’s easy to get stuck in your prior mind set because it’s so familiar. It’s easy to feel comfortable because you don’t know any different and change is always foreign and unwelcome at first.

Habits can be invisible chains and you convince yourself that you can’t reach the wire cutters. Sometimes they’re already in your hand.

Effort. When you tell yourself that your reservoir is smaller than it really is, you don’t try.

How do we find the energy to lift our hand and apply pressure on the handle?

I am hard on myself.

Uncharacteristic

I’ve been very up and down lately. Mostly down. My mood most definitely is not stable.

I just growled at a lady in the corner of my eye whilst looking at my phone, she was attempting to push her way in front of me in a line.

That was very uncharacteristic of me. It was like a primal growl. “Get the fuck out!” Sort of growl. Usually I’d just let them go, I’d get on when I get on.

The first ever time I realised I was unwell, at my lowest, I looked at myself and thought.. This isn’t me. I’m not that person. I feel like that today. I’ve been taking my medication every night but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling.

This hurdle is made of thorns and they’re morphing into glass.

I’m wondering if I need to see the doctor or work it out within myself… With help of course.

After thoughts

The snowball started the day after fathers day.

I’ve never really acknowledged that day. It’s always been reserved for my mum. I didn’t have a father figure growing up. Now that my dad is dead, I won’t be able to change that on this plane of existence. This makes me both sad and angry. That day, I didn’t want to be around people. I left my last class of the day early, went home to my cave and went to sleep.

Tuesday was frustrating because we were given a test with vague instructions. Finishing that test made me feel discouraged and disappointed. That same day, I got those marks I was disappointed in (but I was being silly).

Today I was given instructions on what we were actually supposed to do for the test. It was not how I initially interpreted it. The same went for everyone else in my class. It was frustrating.

Right now I’m thinking, how can I fix this?

I’m going to study more. It’s like… Having a messy work space. When you clean it up then you can be organised and think more clearly. That’s what I’m going to do. Tidy up my work space before it gets overwhelming.

I can do this… Right?

Discontinued

Yesterday I felt depressed. Today I feel angry.

I’m wondering.. is my medication enough to get me through real life? Do I need to up my dosage? Or do I need to extend my internal reservoir? And if I do, how do I go about it?

Last night I go to my mum.. “I’m depressed.. but I did go to my classes today!” Which she replied.. “Yeah, you can be depressed and go to work. You can be depressed and go to class”

It’s very true. It’s something I’ve only just lightly grasped. The day before last was hard though. I didn’t want to be around people. I didn’t want to keep my eyes open. I didn’t want. I just didn’t want. I ended up leaving that class 20 minutes in.

This morning was frustrating. That class needs a lot of initiative. The tutor gives us our exercise and leaves us to our own devices. I’m assuming his wife is very ill because he’s brought up that she’s sick, I’ve noticed that it’s starting to impact his work too. Yesterday we were given a test which I’m assuming we all failed miserably at. I say this because he gave out a sheet with instructions. So we did that. When I had realised what I had done wrong, I started fixing my mistakes. This made me horribly irritable and angry.

I wanted to smash my head into my laptop. I didn’t though. I collected myself. Did what I needed to do, double checked it and sent if off.

I felt better.. but I still have this fire in my chest.

I think back to when I was most unwell. This is because I recognise this feeling. Angry for no reason.

There must be a reason..

Yesterday I got my marks back from an assignment I did last week. I got 16 1/2 out of 20. I was immensely disappointed in myself. I want better marks. This wasn’t good enough. I’m failing myself and expectations.

I’m being too hard on myself I know.

I talked to my support net, my mum and brother. They rationalised it for me. That’s actually a good mark. It’s 82.5 percent. That’s an -A grade. This made me feel better.

I’m still snow balling though.

I’ve named this post Discontinued because I feel like my positive studious outlook has disappeared.

Impulse

Sugar, spice and everything nice. Oh, and a few buckets of evil.

We all have those voices. That doesn’t make you crazy… Does it?

Less people like to admit it than most.

The other day I was in the car with mum. She asked me “Do you ever want to kill yourself?” which I replied with “Do you really want to know that answer?”. She did. So I said yes.

I explained to her that it’s not something I ponder about, It’s not something I’m planning. I don’t know if this is a suicidal tendency or not. I don’t want to die. I want to excel in life.

For several years (maybe longer than I’ve noticed?) I’ve had this voice. Impulse. It’s menacing and whispers, never yells.

“Jump in front of that truck, do it”
“Throw this through that window, go on”
“Drink more”
“scrape your key all the way along that car”

It’s here.. then gone. In a flash. Like lightning without the thunder.

Sometimes I wonder if I will act on these sinister impulses.

When they’re gone, I forget about it. I put it out of my mind. It’s like it speeds back into the inner depths of my psyche.

If I were to try and think back… think back to the birth of Impulse. I would place it at the age of 12. That’s when I started self harming. I even attempted (feebly) to hang myself. I think I was curious about how it feels. It was the Impulse that I acted on. I didn’t like the choking feeling and I guess I didn’t actually want to die. Or else I wouldn’t be typing this out.

This is probably something I should delve into with my counsellor. I always forget about it because there are bigger, more superficial things going on in my life.

I don’t like digging into my mind. When I dig far enough it feels like I’m clawing at the ground. Trying to scrape through a layer made of broken glass, my nails starting to break off. My finger tips raw with blood and bone.

It’s a feeling I prefer to avoid.

Impulse.
Sometimes the whispers speak louder than yelling.

Innate invader

Metaphysical heart burn. It feels like a hair ball in your chest. It’s doused in menthol flavoured alcohol. It burns but it’s not really hot. It’s not firey. Just a cold.. burning sensation. Your heart is bound by thorn stricken vines. It doesn’t hurt. Its just irritating.

It’s been years since I’ve felt this consistently.

Dread.
Anticipation.
Dread again.

The feeling is always innate. The catalyst being life. Being responsible and having initiative has been exciting for the last month.. I’m starting to feel overwhelmed even though I know I’m doing well.

I’m scared I’m going to sabotage myself.

Why didn’t we just leave straight away?

In a south Auckland suburb lived a family of three. A mother and her two children. A son and a daughter.

They lived in a humble unit, down a long driveway. Three units lined up beside each other, like plastic monopoly houses. At the bottom of the driveway, three more. Theirs was the third. Smack bang in the middle. One side of their unit sat flush with the second, whilst the other side was lined with grass and an overgrown lemon tree.

People were coming. A group, but why? To ransack? To kidnap? For a cup of tea? No one knew. But they prepared themselves. For some reason they didn’t leave as soon at they were ready. They waited til night. They lay in their beds, all in one room. For some reason they had a visitor. They sat against the window. Their head in full view. Why the fuck are you here?

Night fell. Flash lights lit up the Windows. Darting down the side of the house.

Off they go. Out the front door. With their visitor in tow.

Visitor behind.
Imposter behind them.
No one looking back.
While the rest followed.

Down the long driveway.

——-

This was a dream I had night. The visitor was one of the siblings I mentioned in the previous post. The imposters, they reminded me of door to door sales people. You just want them to go away.

With that death looming, one of the sisters has been in contact with my mum. This makes me feel uneasy. What if they find out where I live? What if they try to weasel their way back in?

For years, the two sisters have tried to get in contact with me. They want to make ammends. I will not forgive. I will not forget.

They trail behind and I don’t want to look back.

My mum gave them a donation to help with preparations. She said it was from her and the kids. This irked me but I know she did it with good intentions. I don’t want them to think they are in my good graces. I want them to know I loathe them.

I want them to stop trying.
I want them to fuck off.

I forget about the darker side of myself when I’m feeling so stable. Seems like a figurment of my imagination.

It’s not though.

I mostly blame them for being the root of my lack of mental well-being. Each one sowed several dark seeds in pivotal times of my life. They broke me as a child. No child should have “role models” like them growing up.

I hate them for that.

World eater

Just like Galactus from The Fantastic Four comics, hate feeds on energy. Draining our souls and eventually consuming it.

Hate is a word that I seldom use to describe the way I feel about people. Unfortunately, this is a lie I tell myself.

There are few people in this world I hate. I can count them on one hand. They hurt and fucked me (and my close family) over when I was younger, for lack of better words. They are all siblings in fact. These are feelings and memories I keep locked away, in a box labelled “DO NOT OPEN! DANGER! TURN BACK NOW” These feelings are frozen in time. They have stayed the same, never changing, never turning. Even rocks can be smoothed into stones over time. Mountains shift as techtonic plates move about beneath our feet. This though, is unnatural. Unworldly. Unruly.

I keep things locked away to keep myself safe. All I want is to feel safe and keep hold of that feeling.

The issue for me is that these people have old ties, with one I hold dearest. She has a history with them. An era in her life that significantly involved them. She put her life and energy into them once upon a time. They are family or at least, used to be part of her family. I refuse to acknowledge them though.

I feel guilty for turning cold and ridged at the mention of them. My soul turns around, like a sleeping child having a nightmare. It unsettles me. Rattles me.

I respect and acknowledge her history with them. I don’t want her to feel as if she can’t relive her memories around me or reminisce. I want to be supportive.

One of them commited suicide last week. I was not shaken by this news. Not feeling shaken is what shakes me. I feel no compassion, no sympathy. I don’t care about the death itself.

Part of me feels like they deserve what ever the universe throws at them. That they have accrued the cruel hands dealt to them.

What scares me most, is myself. This isn’t normal right? I’m supposed to at least feel sorry for them. I don’t.

My brother says I have every right to feel the way I and that he understands. He says it makes him sad to hear the way I feel though. That hate is so consuming. He told me that he feels sorry for them. That he holds the way he feels in, in respect of the history she had with them. I can’t find it in me to do this. But for her I will try.

This feels confusing and conflicting. My thought process has changed. I think from every angle and of every variable, when thinking about people like them. I know that the cards people like are dealt, are shit ones. That they had no control over that. I feel sorry for people like that. I want to help them. But not these people. Oh no. They can rot for all I care. And thinking that way scares me.

Everyone is a hypocrite.
I am no different.

In an alternate universe

In alternate universes I’m many things. In one I’m a young mother with children in primary school. In another I’m married to my first love. In another I’m a newly graduated nurse.

All the people I started my nursing degree with are all graduating. They’re uploading their photos in their gowns, putting up posts about passing their state exam.

I feel left behind. I know that path wasn’t for me. I can’t help but feel like I failed at going through with it.

I’m being too hard on myself again.