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[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Living on your own as a woman in a bad neighbourhood (or honestly probably anybody and in any locations but it does add to the fire) is so fucking terryfying! 

Like, right now I’m in my home. It’s two in the morning and I swear there is noise coming from inside my house. I know I’m hearing something. But I do this all the time so obviously I’m not. 

It’ll be the wind blowing some paper around, or it’ll be the fact this building is a hundred years old and sounds travels weird. 

I know nobody is in my house because I have a camera on the door and nobody has come in. 

There’s no way somebody climbed in through a window on the third floor without me hearing seeing as I’ve been in all night and without music or headphones on. 

Maybe it’s a small animal snuck in from the flat they’re reforming downstairs (I hope not but better than a person). 

Whatever it is, it’s not a person. 

But because I’m alone (well, my cat’s here but her running around every time I hear noise is just confirming my fear not helping it), I can’t find the bravery to leave my room. In fact, I can’t find the bravery to move to the other side of the room because the door is open. 

There’s nowhere to hide in my room. 

So I’m just sitting here having a panic attack, probably will do this all night. 

It’s exhausting. 

And I can’t think of a solution, like, other than this, I do enjoy living alone. The freedom is great. But nights like this are horrible. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

So, I’m having a panic attack right now. The kind that’s not huge, like, I can write this, but breathing is painful and I’ve done several grounding activities. It’s why I’m writing this because writing means my brain can only go as fast as I can type. 

But basically, an old employer just messaged me. 

I’ve not worked there for four months and it was a job that caused me a few meltdowns, including probably my worst and most public meltdown ever. 

While I worked there I was paid 3 euros an hour. So, not a well paying job. I had to organize an entire conference, as someone who was still finishing my degree. So, lots of work, little pay. 

Huge amounts of anxiety. 

And the biggest issue was I didn’t have support. I’d ask questions and seek out help and never get it. I tried to leave everything done and ready for whoever came next. But there were a few things I needed help with. Like I needed documents I didn’t have access to. 

I sought out assistance from my superior to no avail. 

Apparently now, they want me to come back and tidy up all those lose ends that I wasn’t able to fix. Even though at the time I stressed over this and nobody else was giving it any importance. 

I haven’t worked there for four months. 

I don’t want to start going through all these old emails and stuff to try and fix problems that would have been easy to solve four months ago if someone other than me gave a fuck. 

I wasn’t paid enough then, I wouldn’t be paid anything to go fix this now. 

But if I don’t, that’s burning a bridge. 

And the issue isn’t the bridge to this specific job, or this specific team. The issue is it was a research assistant job, and research teams tend to talk to each other. So I’d essentially be burning a very big bridge I worked very hard to make. 

Am entire year of panic attacks and slave wages for nothing. 

No. For less than nothing because if they decide to speak badly of me I wouldn’t have a negative reputation as a pose to none. 

But I’ve spent four months, starving myself, having panic attacks on the daily and just in the worse mental state I’ve ever been, partly because of that job, partly because of other personal life issues. I am not in position to go fix these problems. 

So, I’m sitting here, having a panic attack. 

Wondering if I’m about to ruin my future by taking care of my mental health. 

Wondering if I even have a future because I just can’t seem to catch a break. 

I don’t even know if I can solve these problems if I try. I don’t how many hours of time it would take. I don’t believe I have the mental stability to deal with it.

I don’t know what to do. I know my ex would have known what to do, he was always really good at this things. But he left me and we haven’t spoken for three months so the closest I have to an adviser is my cat and, well, she’s cute but I don’t think she understands the complexity of capitalism and anxiety. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

My last electricity bill was higher than the monthly salary I was earning before becoming unemployed. 

I don’t use air conditioning; I wash my clothes on Sunday when the electric is cheapest; I don’t own a dish-washer, the only big electric consumption is the fact my kitchen and water heater are electric due to living on a fourth floor and not being able to bring up gas. 

I do not know how I’m supposed to be able to afford food. I’m already skipping two our of three meals a day in an attempt to save. 

This economy is messed up. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

So, it’s nearly ten o’clock and I just realized I won’t be having dinner tonight. 

Simply because my roommates have been in the kitchen for two hours now and apparently they just started cooking and the kitchen doesn’t fit more than one person in it and there’s no point eating at ten or eleven at night. 

And this isn’t their fault. 

The kitchen is small and that isn’t their fault. 

They need to eat too, that isn’t their fault. 

Prior to cooking they must have been cleaning dishes or doing laundry or putting food away, all fair enough. 

The problem is, we’re nearly half way through the month and they haven’t paid their part of rent yet. 

The problem is I’m hungry. 

The problem is, I never wanted to live with them. 

I was happy living alone. Happy as can be. But they were struggling with money, they weren’t happy with their family. So I made them an offer and now they live with me. 

But my life is worst because of it. In far too many ways. 

And I let them in because they’re my friends. 

But the saddest part is, when all of this is over, when they eventually leave, I don’t think I’m going to want to be friends anymore. Because although it’s not their fault, each day with them is a day my life is worse because of them. And each day I love them less for it. 

Perhaps it is selfish. But it’s the honest truth. Sometimes friendship dies, because it’s just too much hard work. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

There’s the sound of Shrek in the distance. But it’s not quite Shrek, you know it’s Shrek because the word “Shrek” keeps coming up, but it’s a different language and the voices all sound wrong.

It feels like the entire house is moving. It’s not though. It’s just your boyfriend moving furniture in the room next door.

You tried to listen to some music earlier to relax. It didn’t go well. You started thinking about your book. your character, that reminded how big of a failure that attempt was and you remember how you spend fifteen years convincing yourself you’d have your life together by the time you were eighteen and, well, now you’re twenty four and less put together than ever.

You think about your birthday, how nobody wished you a happy one on the right day, you think about how every gift you got was just proof nobody was listening.

Harry Potter stuff after explaining to all your friend in great detail how refuse to support it due to the controversial opinion of the author.

Owl jewellery, because they saw a TikTok about owls on my account... said TikTok was literally talking about how I said at the age four owls were my favourite animal and now I could never escape from it.

Tupperware, because you were saying the other day how you needed some because your current Tupperware was non-microwavable. The new tupperware is none-microwavable.

You think about how it’s Christmas Day, how you’re sitting at your computer writing a tumblr post, like nothing has change in ten years. Except, things are worse.

I have less people to talk to.

I’m financially independent which means I get to work ten hours a day to barely get by.

I’ve finally accepted writing forever be a hobby and never a career.

I’ve accepted that if I haven’t improved my drawing in any way in the past twenty years, it’s probably safe to assume things aren’t going to get better.

I’m beginning, after years on a waiting list, to understand, doctors telling me you’re on a waiting list for tests is just another way of saying, “you don’t look like you’re going to die in the next few weeks so we can’t really afford to care and you can’t afford for private healthcare so just suck up the pain and here are more powerful pain killers.”

I’m getting tired of telling myself things will get better.

I’m tired of the internet, I feel like I should get off it. Seeing everybody else on TikTok and Instagram, with happy families, big friend groups, stuff. Just, stuff. I wish I could afford to buy books, to buy art supplies or even just some nice christmas decorations.

I wish I had the time to decorate.

I was literally doing an exam the day before yesterday. I was literally at work that morning.

I feel like my life is just falling to piece.

But... it’s not.

Like, I’m in my early twenties, of course my life is in shambles, I haven’t figured out what glue to use yet. But, the day before yesterday, after work and before my exam I went out with my classmates to a bar on campus, they have a really good many with drink and dessert for six euros. Even with my job that’s only two hours work and it was lovely.

My boyfriend bought me these little plastic drawers for my desk the other day and this morning I took all my stickers and organised them in there. It’s amazing. I love these stuff.

I’m twenty four, I live with my boyfriend most of the year, I have two beautiful cats, I have a huge collection of teas, stickers and scented candles because they’re cheap and give me huge amounts of happiness for a very small cost.

I have a growing collection of house plants.

And I am about to finish university. I’m working in investigation, what in the world is cooler than investigating? I mean, I want to be an author but investigating is not bad at all!

It’s like... in some ways I don0t know who I am. In other ways, I don’t even know if that matters.

I don’t know where I’m going to be in a year or two.

But today is Christmas, I’m depressed, but the dollar store down the street is open, so I’m going to buy some air dry clay and try and sculpt my depression away.  

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

I’m a bit anxious this morning. 

I have no reason to be anxious. 

I have nothing to do today. I’m up early. I’ve had breakfast. Slept well. There’s a nice breeze so I’m not dying from the heat. 

I have literally no reason in the world to be anxious. 

Yet, my heart is fast, my hands are shaky and I can’t bring myself to do anything. 

So I’m just scrolling through Tik-Tok, and I knew Tik-Tok was a bad idea. I knew, when I downloaded Tik-Tok, this was going to be an addiction I’d have to fight against. Who let me download Tik-Tok?

Although I am kind of in love with this culture shock videos because as a British person living in Spain they’re super relatable. 

Maybe I’ll try and do some watercolour, that’s probably the smart thing to do. 

Honestly, just writing this my hands are less shaky. 

It’s a bit scary how good talking can be, even if it’s just typing things into tumblr. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Why do I need to open a new tab?

Okay, this is either a thing everyone does or some people do or nobody does. 

But you know when your browsing, and you think, “okay gotta go to x page”. 

And you’re on Y page. 

I close Y page and open a new tab for x page. 

Why don’t I just go straight to x page? 

I have no clue! I’ve always done this and even when I am conscious of it, I don’t care, those extra steps aren’t voluntary for me. 

Any ideas why I do this? And do you? 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Where’s the ‘How to write neurotypicals post?’

I see so many posts on how to write characters with anxiety, PTSD, depression, autism, ADHD... it’s amazing, thank you so much to people who are struggling and still find the time to explain to the rest of the world how they live and how to express that in writing! 

But as someone who isn’t nerotypical, why aren’t the neurotypicals doing their part? Come on, I want a post on how to write y’all! You think I can wrap my head around not being in a state of constant exhaustion and anxiety? 

Nope, sorry, need further explanation. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Mental vs Physical health

The world is so loud, there’s traffic, people talking outside my window, someone else in the house has a video on in a different language, the cats are playing and fuck. It’s far too much. So I grab my headphones and find some music I can bare and turn up the volume. 

Instant relief. 

I go from hyperventilating on the border of tears to relieved. 

But... listening to music really loudly is terrible for your hearing. My mom would be very upset if she saw this. Probably give me a proper scolding. 

But I don’t think hyperventilating is exactly healthy, right? 

A lot of things are like this. 

This is a pretty clear example but I’m often in a situation where I have to chose between my mental healthy and physical health. 

There was a time where I had to choose between my stomach medication and my mental health medication. Fun, huh? 

So, which is more important? 

I don’t know. And I hate that nobody else can tell me. 

I hate that I have to chose. I had that no matter which I choose, someone will scold me for choosing wrong, or say I can’t complain because I had a choice. As if that somehow lessened the pain. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Lemon Balm

I have a problem with mosquitos. I mean, who doesn’t have beef with mosquitos? I mean other than bats and other animals that need them for food. 

But I have slightly more of a problem than the average person, because I have quite a bad allergy, not enough to go to hospital, but a single mosquito bite will wake me from a very heavy slumber and keep me awake for half the night. 

Which makes living at the beach, in a country where closing the window is equal to death by heat, is kinda bad. 

I have mosquito nets on every window and this cute little thing I plug into the wall that usually keeps them away, but there’s always bad nights. 

So, when I was walking through the supermarket the other day and I saw there anti-mosquito plants on sale (aka plants that have a strong lemony scent), I decided why not? 

I picked up this little Lemon Balm, my boyfriend who’s an environmentalist (so he knows something or other about plants), took one look at and asked me why I didn’t grab a better looking one. It was pretty miserable looking, they all were. 

I shrugged and bought it home. It now sits at the window and keeps me company. 

It’s name changes each day, usually it Lemony or Lemongrab. It smells good and I don’t know if it does anything about the mosquitos, but I haven’t been bitten since it got here so maybe. 

It’s looking a lot better than when I got it, it’s perked up nicely. 

But it’s a bit dramatic. If I forget to water it, it will wilt. It’ll be back on about twenty minutes after watering it. And I like that. 

I’ve recently been really nervous about my cat, I adopted her of the street so I don’t know how old she is, but I did some quick maths when I first got her, knowing she’d had a couple of litters and supposing she lived an average cat life, she’s expected to survive another year. 

And I hate that. 

And if you didn’t know, cats are amazing at hiding their illness. Just last month our male cat (who is only three years old) had a urinary infection, he seemed fine until over the weekend we noticed he wasn’t peeing, panicked, took him to emergency (thank god we did) and he’d fine now. 

But what I mean is, I’m in this constant state of fear that my cat may look fine but she isn’t and I love her so much that it’s scary. 

And that is why my little Lemony means so much to me, because he wilts and recovers in twenty minutes. he gives me visual signals that he wants something and I just give it to him and I need that kind of simplicity in my life. 

Go get an emotional support plant, they help. 

Yes this is even more rambly than usual, it’s really super mega hot here and I don’t even have a fan so... yeah. Rambling about plants. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

I always wonder how I’ll survive. 

I struggle with paying attention to anything, I struggle with the time and sitting still. I struggle so much mentally. As I’ve said before, something’s up, but I don’t know what. 

And part of why I don’t know what is because more urgent than my mental troubles, are my physical ones, I struggle to eat, I struggle with lots of pain, with irregularity and with exhaustion. I struggle so much I haven’t been able to work for quite some time. 

I’m lucky I have been able to afford that. 

Or not, because have I truly been able to afford that? I cry over spending ten euros badly spent. An amount that should be insignificant but is hugely significant to me because I have some savings and one day they’ll dry out. And I’m pushing to get tested and get a diagnostic and know what’s wrong with me, but I can only push so much. 

I published a book. It cost me a lot of money, it was an investment I would say to myself. Now it’s done, now it’s up, I realise I probably won’t sell even ten copies. It’ll will be a huge financial hit and I’ve wasted three years and a whole lot of passion. 

I don’t know why I thought this could go well, I guess it’s because those who did read it loved it. But you need more than that, you need a platform, you need money for advertisement, it’s pay to win in this industry a lot more of the time than people realise. 

I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t get a diagnostic in time, won’t be able to work and will die of hunger. It’s a stupid fear. I don’t live in a country where that really happens, I have friends and family. But I’m still scared, I still have nightmares and struggle to sleep over it. I still have anxiety and crying sessions. I still feel depressed and like life had no meaning. 

Depressing rambles is all I have for you today, sorry, I try to be more introspective usually but, I did create this blog for rambling, I said that upfront. Sometimes I just need to say what I feel because thinking about it takes too much energy. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

I wonder if twenty to thirty years from now, there’s going to be a day that I’m walking around my house, and I’m going to open up one of the bottom draws on a piece of furniture I never touch, to throw in something I want to hide instead of find a proper place for, and in that bottom draw, staring up at me, pale blue, will be a mask. 

And I’ll be like, “huh, wow, 2020 really was something.” 

Then I’ll throw whatever item I never want to see again in and close it and forget again. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

I was always going to be the villain

I often think back to my old best friend. Someone I did everything with, someone I loved and cared about. Someone who hurt me a lot in the end. 

A lot happened, but ultimately, we were never really right for each other. 

People say that a lot, not being right for one another, usually in relation to relationships, like, romantic once, but really, they can go for any relationship. We were never going to be a good match. 

At first glance perhaps, we were so alike. Same taste, same humour and activism. But we also had the same faults, overly-sarcastic without the actual ability to understand sarcasm from someone else. 

How was that ever going to work? It didn’t. 

Do you know how many times in the last four (almost five) years I’ve had to check with my boyfriend, hey are you dumping me or joking here? 

And he’ll be like, serious, do you really not know? 

Just tell me. 

I’m not leaving  you. 

Good. 

I have to check when his angry, when his just tired, when his joking or serious. 

Now this friend, my best friend for oh so long, she had this idea that I should be able to read her. We’ve been friends for ten years! How could I not? I ask that myself sometimes. How could I not? After ten years. 

So when she started acting more and more distant, I didn’t realise. When she started lying so I wouldn’t go out with her and our other friends, I thought she needed some space. When friends came to me telling me she was saying terrible things about me behind my back, I thought, okay, we’ve been friends a long time, she must need to vent, that’s fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Oh my goodness how much of an idiot could I be? 

She doesn’t sound good, does she? But neither do I. She was hurting, and my place was by her side, comforting her, not going off flirting with my soon to be boyfriend, I was supposed to come home with her after a night out, not sleep at another’s house. We were supposed to be taking a break from romantic relationships (that’s what she told a friend we had in common, apparently I should have know this). But I didn’t take a break, I was in love. And not with her. 

I can’t fully understand how she feels about me. I never will. But I know that to her, I am the villain. 

But here’s the thing. Sooner or later, I was always going to be the villain. 

We weren’t right for each other. That, looking back, is apparent. She doesn’t understand people, nor do I. I need my current friend group, where I feel comfortable asking what the literal objective meaning of what they are trying to communicate to me is. I always needed this group. 

Sooner or later we would have to stop being friends because we were a terrible match. And I don’t think she had any ex-friends who are not the villains. 

When I started hanging out with her, my best-friend was a different girl, god, I miss her. She was amazing, we stopped hanging out because we were just too different, and that’s fine, but she was great with me, she told me I was an amazing artist and encouraged me to draw, she read my stories and loved them, she made me feel amazing, and she warned me. When I started hanging out with ex-best friend she said, “hey, you do what you want. But I’m scared she’ll hurt you.” 

Well, she was right. Should have seen this one coming I guess. 

But I don’t regret things. Ten years of strong friendship isn’t bad. I have photos and memories and the understanding that it’s okay to be the villain. You can’t be the hero in every story, not when everybody has there own story and everybody is the protagonist of their own story. It’s just not possible. 

And that’s okay. 

So long as you don’t try to hurt anybody, you can’t control how your actions or lack of will affect every single person in this world. And sometimes you just have to put yourself first. Sometimes you just have to let them go so you aren’t pulled deeper and deeper down. Sometimes you have to let them go so that they can swim freely without you. And if that’s make you the villain then that’s okay too. 

I made the right choice for myself, I couldn’t survive by her side. 

I hope she can realise that, but if she can’t. That’s fine. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Patience

I hate it. 

This is all I really want to say right now. I hate patience, the concept, the expectation, who has time for patience? 

Well, apparently me, that’s kind of the whole point... problem, the whole problem better said. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

I just pressed publish on my first ever book

Soooo, it’s been years since I started writing what would be my first novel. 

It’s been a good year since I thought I finished it. 

It’s been several months since I saved a copy as final and not Draft 8. 

But finally, two proof copies and a huge amount of existencial dread later, I pressed publish on my first novel. 

Am I terrified that literally nobody will read it after I spent years going through draft after draft, trying to advertise it and writing out timelines and outlines? Yeah. More than anything. 

But I’m pretty sure nobody is going to read it until I press publish. 

It’s currently in review, not entirely sure what that entails but I trust everything will go fine. 

I guess, wish me luck because... this is as close to completing my dream of being an author as I’ve ever been. It’s pretty exciting. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Fanfic vs Original

Fanfictions kind of frustrate me. 

No, not in the sense that they are unoriginal, untalented or unworthy. Not at all, there are fanfictions that I think wow, they should change the names and publish this because such an intricate alternate universe that it should be it’s own original thing! 

There are fanfics that do an amazing job at delivering on what an original series can’t or won’t deliver on. 

Fanfictions are also very comfortable, for those who once loved reading and as an adult struggles, knowing the characters before you go in can be very helpful. 

I’ve written a lot of fanfiction in my day. And that’s perhaps where my frustration comes from. 

For me, and not everybody, fanfiction is my chill writing time, I usually publish a first draft and go back and edit out typos later. It’s my comfort writing... well, it’s one of them, I also do a lot of writing that never sees the day of light. But it is the lowest quality writing that I publish. 

So, when I see that this writing is reaching thousands of people. It’s frustrating. 

Because my other story I have online and up for free, the one that I did an outline, a first draft, a second and third draft. The one I love to pieces and has witty dialogue and world building and propper characters, the one I have divided up into several acts and am months ahead of schedule... that gets literally zero views. 

Which goes into the other frustration where, I can understand if I’m not good at writing. I might not be. Who knows? But the idea of if you are good at writing you’ll reach people... just isn’t true. There’s a lot more to writing than... writing. There’s marketing, trends, social media... writing is almost an after thought in our current atmosphere. 

With the publication date of my first book getting closer and closer. 

This frustrations grows, I look at the many weekly emails I get from AO3 and wonder why my original works can’t get just a fraction of that attention? I know why. I understand. But that doesn’t stop it from being frustrating. 

On a more positive note, I guess I’ll know I’ve made it once there is fanfiction of my original work? Not sure if that’ll be exciting, terrifying or both. 

[thingstosaybutnotconfront]

Neurodivergent and Relationships

I don’t know what’s different about me, I’ve never seen a psychologist, never gotten a diagnosis, no specific condition. 

But when I was little, I did a lot of things “wrong”, my mom would tell me to stop doing that or people will think you’re “insane or not normal”. I learnt to talk like other people, learnt to listen, to express, to react, I even had to learn to walk like a “normal person”. 

I’m glas to have words like neurotypical and neurodivergent. I don’t think there is a problem with the word normal, normal just means average or casual, as far as language goes it might as well as mean the same thing. But I was bought up being told I needed to be normal, saying I’m not normal feels like a failure, saying I am neurodivergent sounds... good to me? Like it’s okay. 

I wish, oh how I wish, I wish my mother had taken me to a psychologist as a kid, instead of teaching me to act “normal”, I wish she’d given me a better chance. 

Now I get to deal with who I am. More scary, now others get to deal with it. 

My boyfriend has to order food, had to talk on the phone, has to deal with most social situations because they terrify me and even thought I can do them, afterwards I am tired, I am sad, and the simple fact is it’s not worth it most of the time. 

My boyfriend has to tell me something was sarcasm or a joke because I don’t understand him. He has to tell me when an expression is an expression and is not literal. He has to explain language and body language and I know this requieres extra effort on his part. 

He has to deal with my complete and utter lack of any sense of direction or time. I can stare at a wall for four hours while daydreaming, I can get lost on the street I live on in if I’m facing the wrong way. 

He has to put headphones on because I can’t deal with the sound of his shows and the sound of traffic at the same time without breaking down. 

He has to listen to me ramble as I try to find the right words in the right language and forget halfway through what I’m even talking to. 

He has to deal with me listening to him but not understanding and having to repeat himself seven times. 

And more than that. I love my mother, I love her sooo much. And she tries. But she doesn’t understand, she doesn’t understand me, she wants me to be “normal” and I can’t do that. 

I can’t spend much time with my family because of this, because I only have so much energy to force myself to be normal. And even the tiniest of things like me tapping my fingers or bouncing my legs gets my mother to draw my attention and I just can’t deal with that. 

So my boyfriend and my close friends get to deal with it instead. It’s my boyfriend who gets to deal with my anxiety and depression. And I can’t help but think, this isn’t your responsibility, you shouldn’t have to do this. 

But he does. He does it for me. And I love him for it. But what if something happens to him? What if something happens to us? Am I going to be able to manage alone? Because I know I can’t depend on anybody else, and building a relationship when you don’t understand the concept is so much harder than imaginable.