Sunday Stealing: Let’s Not Be Difficult

It’s Sunday, so once again it’s time to exercise our brain muscle with a series of lighthearted questions. Sunday Stealing originated on WTIT: The Blog authored by Bud Weiser. Here we will steal all types of memes from every corner of the blogosphere. Our promise to you is that we will work hard to find the most interesting and intelligent memes. And this weeks meme was kindly stolen from surveysurveysurvey. Enjoy! :)

(1) Horror movies (which are the equivalent of comedies to me)

1. Do you like your movies and books to be more lighthearted or serious?

This entirely depends on what mood I’m in. If I’m in a seriously depressed, melancholic funk, I prefer lighthearted comedies or horror movies (which are the equivalent of comedies to me). But if I’m in a manic, hypomanic or just feeling damn good episode, I love watching more serious, thought-provoking movies.

2. What’s more important, first impressions or lasting impact?

Lasting impact is infinitely more important than a first impression. People who draw their opinion of someone from a first impression are missing out. What if a person is having a bad day when you first meet them, and that impression means you never see that person again. You’re missing out on a potentially magnificent friendship because you assumed something that may not be correct. Better to go with lasting impact, it’s a lot kinder.

3. Order these areas of psychological health from what you need the least improvement into what you need the most improvement in: physical, emotional, social, intellectual, environmental, spiritual.

i. Social; I am the most unsocial human being the world has ever produced. I have no friends in real life. I have no acquaintances in real life. Everyone I communicate with exists on the internet. And just so that you know, my loneliness isn’t by choice, I love friends, I’m a better person when I have people around me. It’s just I suffer from a condition known as social anxiety, which prevents me from making connections and instigating/continuing conversation. It’s hard, and it’s painful and it’s everyday. And you never get used to it. Ever.
ii. Emotional; With the plethora of mental illnesses that I suffer from, my emotional well-being could certainly do with a good massage.
iii. Intellectual; I keep my brain pretty engaged through reading articles, reading books and doing brain exercises. But I could do more.
iv. Environmental; I hate the town I live in with a fiery, intense passion. I want to move, it would help my emotional well-being if I did, but alas, because I live in poverty, it just isn’t financially viable for me to move at the moment!
v. Physical; I go to the gym two, three times a week. I walk every day. I do yoga a couple of times a week. It’s not bad, but it could be better.
vi. Spiritual; I’m not a religious man, so I’m not too fussed about this particular part of my emotional well-being. I believe in faeries, though, does that count as being spiritual?

4. Do you react appropriately to things and control your feelings?

Most of the time I react appropriately to things. But there are always going to be times when there’s an overreaction or loss of control. That’s just part and parcel of living with severe mental illness. It’s frustrating, but something I’ve just had to get used to.

5. Do you have stable relationships?

I don’t have any relationships, stable or otherwise. Which is pretty sad, when you think about it.

(5) I don’t have any relationships, stable or otherwise.

6. Do you need to be in a relationship to feel good about yourself?

No. When I’m in a relationship I find I have an increased level of confidence and self-esteem, but I don’t draw my energy from the other person. I’ve learnt over the years that you must have a good perception of who you are otherwise every relationship you attempt will fail. If you can’t feel good by yourself, how can you expect someone else to make you feel good?

7. Which is the clearest and most concise, your thoughts, your speech or your writing? Which is the least clear and concise?

My writing is the most clear and concise because I can spend time thinking about it, writing it and editing it to convey exactly what I wish. My speech is the least clear, because it is governed by my social anxiety, which makes it difficult for me to think on the move or react swiftly to speech cues, facial movement or body language.

8. Are you always trying to learn new things?

Yes. Life would be pretty boring if we didn’t keep trying to educate ourselves.

9. Do you feel at peace?

Certainly not. Another disadvantage of suffering from severe mental illnesses.

10. Do you have strong morals and ethics that you believe in and adhere to?

Yes. I’ve found that fewer people are living to an ethical moral code these days. They just do whatever they want, whenever they want, and to hell with other people. The only thing that matters to most are themselves, and I abhor such an arrogant, self-centered view on life. So whenever possible I adhere to my strict moral and ethical code. Putting other people first; it’s just who I’ve chosen to be.

(10) Fewer people are living to an ethical moral code these days

11. Do you think of the needs of all humanity or just the needs of yourself and those you know?

As I just said, I abhor people who put themselves first. Other people, creatures or the environment are far more important than your own self-absorbed life, and if more people thought the way I do, this world would be a far friendlier, more pleasurable place to live.

12. Do you recycle?

I do. Every week.

13. Are you active in your community?

No. My social anxiety prevents my involvement in community or social based activities. It’s frustrating, as I would love to be more active in the community, as it might mean I would make new friends and acquaintances, but I have to protect myself first. And if that means avoiding social interaction, so be it.

14. Are you sensitive to the needs of others?

Yes. I’d like to think that I am.

15. Do you dress up to go out?

I rarely, if ever, go out. But if I did I would dress for the occasion. So if that meant a suit and tie, I would don a suit and tie. And look jolly spiffing in it if I may say so.

 (16) Sexism

16. What could make you lose respect for someone?

Arrogance. Abuse. Defending an abusive person. Selfishness. Murder. Rape. Torture. Not accepting of sexual proclivities. Sexism. Homophobic. Doesn’t like jam. You know, all the important things.

17. If you won $1,000 every week until you die, would you still go to work?

Work isn’t just about making money. Work is something we do to feel alive, to feel connected to the world, to feel important. Without it we are essentially nothing. And I should know, as I haven’t worked in over six years! I would love to work, regardless of how much money I’m being given each week.

18. What trend has been getting on your nerves lately?

Selfies. Especially selfies being taken at the location of a tragedy, like those people who flocked to the beach in Tunisia, or think it’s acceptable to take a picture of yourself at the scene of a car crash. Have some bloody respect for your fellow humanity, you self-centered, narcissistic assholes!

19. Do you forgive yourself when you make a mistake?

No. I am atrocious at forgiving myself. Mainly because very few people have ever forgiven my mistakes, so I don’t know what it feels like to be forgiven. My mind has decided it needs to hold myself accountable for everything I have ever done wrong. It’s painful. It’s exhausting. It’s who I am. Just the other day someone asked me to forgive myself, and no matter how much I want to, I can’t. I did the wrong thing. It should never be forgiven.

20. Is ignorance really bliss?

No. Bliss is lying naked in bed, smothering your partners genitalia with honey before licking it off with all your might! :p

(20) Bliss is lying naked in bed, smothering your partners genitalia with honey before licking it off with all your might!

21. What can be described as ‘even better than the real thing’?

My homemade toasted cheese sandwiches. Coca-Cola (which I have an unfortunate addiction to!) Chocolate HobNobs. And spanking.

22. What’s in your wallet right now?

Some receipts. Some coupons. A photo of my niece and nephew. A few moths. And, alas, no money.

23. Do you write letters that you never send?

All the bloody time. (Note: you can check some of them out here!)

24. Do you ever get the feeling people are laughing at you?

All the time. It’s part and parcel of my social anxiety. I’m forever adamant that I’m being judged, laughed at or people are planning my ritual public humiliation. It’s frustrating, it’s annoying, but it’s something I’ve learned to live with over the years.

25. Who’s the one person you’d like to drop a house on?

Kim-effing-Kardashian! She annoys the living crap out of me! And if Tony Abbott should happen to be standing next to her, so be it!

Red Flags You are Dating an Abuser

Reading this list is like reading a biography of my abuser. She shares so many of these traits it is unbelievable.

We need to do more to raise awareness of abuse in relationships. We need to know what characteristics to look out for, and this article explains it perfectly. Read. Remember. And be on the lookout!

Life is hard, sometimes…

One of the strangest things that has come from my quit smoking attempt is an addiction to cheese. Ever since going smoke free on Wednesday I haven’t been able to get enough of the stuff. I’ve devoured toasted cheese sandwich after toasted cheese sandwich. I’ve feasted on jacket potatoes slathered with lashings of cheddary awesomeness and snacked on savory biscuits adorned with cubes of tasty cheese. Part of me feels I should be worried about this new obsession. That I am merely substituting one addiction with another. But the other part of me laughs in the face of such thinking. Cheese, after all, is not known to cause cancer. It is known to increase your waist size, but as I’m already a big fat person (okay, not that big or that fat) I’m not too worried about this. I’m just thankful for the fact I’d gone three days without cigarettes…

…and yes, you read that sentence correctly. I had gone three days without cigarettes. For this afternoon, after a brutal night of PTSD nightmares and little to no sleep, after a morning of confusion and melancholy, I turned to the sweet drug nicotine to ease my troubled mind. I know what triggered it. I know what caused the onslaught of memory and flashback. And there is nothing I could have done about it. I’m trying not to see this as a setback. I’m trying to look at it with positive eyes. Yes, I smoked a cigarette. But I only smoked one cigarette. I could easily have smoked two, three or four. I could easily have said to hell with my quit smoking attempt, give me more of that nicotine drenched goodness! But I didn’t. I smoked one, blissful, cigarette and then placed the pack in the trash before returning to my quit smoking endeavor.

You might want to give me a bollocking. You might want to turn me over your knee and give me a sound spanking. But before you take such extreme, flirtatious measures, remember that at least I’m being honest about smoking today. I could easily lie about it. I could easily ignore the fact I smoked today and go on making everyone believe I was still smoke free. But that isn’t me. I’m an honest soul. Sometimes too honest. Every quit smoking attempt is littered with setbacks and relapses. Nicotine is, after all, one of the hardest drugs to give up. It’s grip is vicious, strong and vice like. I do feel bad about smoking today, but I’d like everyone to remember how difficult my life is before scolding me.

I’m not saying that for sympathy or special treatment. I’m saying it because it’s true. My life is difficult. I live alone, I have few friends in close proximity and I battle bipolar affective disorder, complex PTSD and severe social anxiety disorder with little to no help. Just being alone all the time is enough to drive most people to despair, let alone having to deal with complicated mental illnesses at the same time. The smallest, most inconsequential thing can trigger me. I could be watching a movie that features a rape scene and bam I’m back in Adelaide being anally penetrated by a grotesque stranger. I could be walking down the road and smell a scent that sends me hurtling back into my abusive relationship. Or I could read an online article and be sent spiraling into the depths of poverty and homelessness.

Over the years I’ve come to realise just how precarious my life is. So many triggers. So many things to avoid. It amazes me sometimes how I have lived as long as I have. Chewing gum, gin and tonic, Buffy, Fitzroy, cigars, Harry Potter, The Dark Knight; all are things that I have to avoid. All have the power to pull me away from the present and send me tumbling into the abyss of panic, terror and nightmare. Just think, for a moment, how difficult that can be. How many times is Harry Potter mentioned in the media, on blogs? People who read Harry Potter don’t just like it, they obsess over it. Hundreds upon thousands of online hours have been dedicated to writing about this fictional wizard. He regularly appears in the mainstream media, on Buzzfeed, on blogs; and every time he does, my mind is triggered and I stop functioning.

Just the other day I was in the supermarket when a father asked his daughter “Would you like that?” and I was rendered almost non-functioning. For this was the exact assortment of words that my rapist said to me. And that’s not the first time that’s happened. Once, many years ago, I was in a similar situation, heard those exact words, and an ambulance had to be called to assist me as I ended up lying in the fetal position, unable to move. Can you imagine how difficult life can be when a simple four word sentence holds such power over someone’s functioning? It’s exhausting. It’s debilitating. It’s painful. It’s so many bloody synonyms I could be here til Doomsday typing them all out.

But I do the best I can. I get out of bed when it would be all too easy to remain there all day. I walk to the supermarket when all I want to do is remain in the comfort and safety of my own world. And I push myself to perform tasks that, although difficult, aid and assist my life. Just the other day I discovered that there is an event being held in Melbourne on the 21st August. A gathering of like-minded souls, congregating to celebrate their passion in a club like environment. There is going to be hundreds of people there. Hundreds of strangers that have the power to render me panic-stricken and comatose. But I put my hand up to attend. I, Addy Lake, social anxiety extraordinaire, volunteered to attend a function with hundreds of people who could render me unable to function. All because I want to go. All because I yearn to break through the hold my anxiety and PTSD hold over my life.

That’s why I’m not beating myself up for smoking one cigarette. My life is hard, it’s painful and it’s every day. There is very little joy in my life and very little relaxation. I exist in a constant state of hyper-vigilance; endlessly on the lookout for the next thing that could send me cascading into the past. But I keep fighting. I keep pushing myself. And I keep seeking out new and hitherto untried strategies that could break the hold mental illness has on me. And that is something to be proud of. Regardless of the occasional slip-up or setback.

25 Songs, 25 Days: White Noise

Day 02: A song that reminds you of your most recent ex-boyfriend/girlfriend

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White Noise | The Living End

The first woman who took my fancy in Alice Springs was Rochelle;
a French backpacker whom I pashed in an alley (she was tasty!)

The second woman who took my fancy in Alice Springs was Sophie;
an Australian firecracker whom I spanked in my office (she was naughty!)

The third woman who took my fancy in Alice Springs was Kellie;
a shy Brit whom I got to second base with (she was perky!)

The fourth woman who took my fancy in Alice Springs was Diane;
an Australian Goddess who stole my heart (she was breathtaking!)

Once I met Diane my hypomanic self didn’t need to trawl the bars for fleeting sexual encounters anymore, because everything I craved was before me. A stunningly beautiful woman with a magnetic smile, magical eyes and magnificent posterior. It wasn’t one of those love-at-first-sight unions. It was a relationship born out of mutual loneliness; two isolated souls adrift in the middle of Australia, longing for love, longing for companionship.

Our flirtation began at the Camel Cup, an annual event that stops the town, and carried on through numerous evenings at the backpacker hostel where I worked until, finally, we ended up sleeping side-by-side. The next night we fell asleep in each other’s arms. The night after that, the same. We were a couple who hadn’t embarked on any dates, but had found ourselves drawn to each other regardless.

Over time we learned more about each other. Diane; with her love of takeaway food, Family Guy obsession and sociable nature complemented my lack of cooking ability, Family Guy naiveté and quiet confidence. We formed a unique bond. One that erased our loneliness and allowed us to feel connected to that strange, bizarre, town in the middle of the desert. We regularly visited the video game arcade to hone our shooting skills, debated the merits of takeaway pizza and embarked on camel riding adventures to thrill our bored souls.

But my hypomania wasn’t to last. When it ended, when my mood collapsed into depression, I wasn’t much fun to be around. I was tetchy, I was cranky and things that had once brought me pleasure now provided me nothing but pain. My mood, it goes without saying, dented our relationship. In time Diane began looking for other, more positive and exciting, people. I tried to remain the person she had fallen for, the person who had caused the magnetic smile to widen across her face, but the depression was too ingrained, too imposing. Throw in the ramifications of my rape affecting our sexual life and my time being stolen by my demanding, management job, and it wasn’t difficult to spot our relationship was in jeopardy.

When it ended, seven months after it started, it was painful. Tears were shed. Hearts were broken. But we knew it was for the best. We had sated our loneliness for a time, but knew deep down that this wasn’t enough to maintain a healthy relationship. The attraction wasn’t as intense as it should be. The love didn’t run as deep as we wanted. I miss Diane. I often think of our time together, the laughter we shared and the adventures we had. I often remember the smiles and the joy that marked the early months of our relationship rather than the pain and isolation that marked the end of our relationship. And during those early days, during those heady days of laughter, smiles and excitement, one song scored our love.

And whenever I hear it, whenever the rhythm takes hold, I am transported back to that time, and her magnetic smile that filled my heart with joy.

[NSFW] My kink and its effect on my mental health

I’ve always been interested in the world of kink. How it relates to our personality. How it reflects on who we are. How it impacts on various aspects of our life. And how, if any, it links to the world of mental health. For someone who has battled mental illness since he was a teenager, and for someone who has struggled with his kinky self for even longer, the world of kink and how it relates to mental illness fascinates me.

In this post I ruminate on how my kinky self has impacted, or been impacted by, my various mental illnesses. From the ups and downs of bipolar through C-PTSD via social anxiety and self harm, I cast an eye over how kink has affected my life.

Given the subject matter, it should go without saying that this post is not for familial eyes. So any members of my family who just happen to stumble upon this post, please respect my need for privacy and read no further. Everyone else, feel free to join me on my journey with kink! :)

25 Songs, 25 Days: Naked

Day 01: A song from your childhood

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Naked | Louise

What better way to start the 25 Songs, 25 Days challenge than with the first single I ever purchased. There I was, a pimply faced teenager, naive to the ways of music and what makes it such a powerful medium. All I cared about were the pretty girls; girls who kept me entertained with their luscious legs and plunging bosoms. I didn’t care about the music, it was just throwaway bubblegum pop. For me it was about who bared the most flesh, who danced the most provocative dance and who made my heart skip a beat when I gazed upon them. I was, after all, a teenager, and teenagers can be forgiven for being slightly misogynistic! ;)

First and foremost of my musical based fantasies was Louise. She began her career as a member of Eternal, then left the band to cement her musical prowess with a solo career, her first release being the sensually titled Naked. How could a pimply faced teenager, obsessed with pretty girls, ignore such a title? It promised all sorts of sexual fantasies and illicit (wet) dreams. So I journeyed to the local music store – some twelve miles from where I lived – and picked up the CD single. A song that began a year-long obsession with Louise and her unique brand of ‘music’.

To this day I am not ashamed by my first musical purchase. Sure, I would love to say that my first single purchased was by Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd or Queen, someone with actual music credibility, someone who doesn’t produced titters of amusement when talked about in conversation, but it wasn’t. My first musical purchase was a song called Naked by a woman who looked good in skin-tight attire; Louise. I can’t change that. All I can do is celebrate it. So sit back, turn the volume up to eleven and relish in a song that captured my heart when I was but a young wee thing.