Musical Sundays

"Here, you're my witness, still we are strangers.  Are we just strangers? I call it love."

I discovered this band about two weeks ago through a movie called "Hello, my name is Doris" (which has an amazing soundtrack and I recommend) and I've barely been able to listen to any other band ever since. They play pop-folk and I think the way they make music, and their lyrics is just incredible. Here's a little extract from their website that describes what "they do" (I'm not feeling very connected to words today, sorry) that won me over:

"Formed in 2007, the three passionately intertwine three distinct voices amidst a powerfully delicate orchestra of cello, guitars, keyboard, bells, and percussion, offering songs that speak to joy and sorrow, love and loss. "

I chose "River" because it's the one that I've been feeling the most identified with. If you don't feel very attracted to slow, ballad-like songs, don't worry, they have plenty of more upbeat, cheerful ones that I'm sure you will enjoy. Like this one: Sweetness.

Hope you love them as much as I do!

About crying, kind of.

It just dawned on me, after a day in which, if someone were to ask me what I've been doing, my answer would have to be "I've been depressed" (yes, that qualifies as an action), something that I stopped doing so much as I used to when I only suspected from vaguely to strongly that I had depression, has been crying.

I used to cry at everything. In a way, I still do. I still cry at songs, at books, at movies, etc. But as a pre-teen, and during my early teenage years, I would cry about my feelings so easily. Like, it's insane how easily my feelings would have me sobbing.

I remember that one day I started repressing and hiding the feelings that would escape that cage I had made for them. Which I call both "doomsday" and "the day I made a fucking great decision". I started hiding. Emotionally. And physically. But that's a story for another day.

I guess that with age (I know I'm not very old, but you get what I mean), I would've grown out of crying so much. I guess. I don't know. What I actually feel is that, with depression, crying about my feelings became the last thing that I would do. Which, again, is both a good and bad thing. I barely even cry in private when I feel like I can't handle anything anymore.

But being able to stop my tears makes me feel in control.

When tears come streaming down my face, that's the worst part. When I can hold anything inside my chest, when it hurts too much.

Last night I had a good cry because of another failed final at university, but today, even if I was still feeling like utter shit, I was keeping myself in check. No more tears from 12 o'clock. 

Until I decided that tonight I should watch a movie (instead of doing what I actually have to do and knowing very well that anxiety is going to chase me later) but I couldn't decide on which. I wanted to watch a movie, but I didn't want to watch any. That triggered the tears. And it's so fucking stupid and I hate so much that depression has taken away from me the things that I love. It still hasn't taken away my love for music (thank fuck), that's all I have left. I want to read a book, I will pick up one and not be able to read more than a page; I will start watching an episode from a tv-show that I love, I will lose interest after a few minutes; I will start watching a normal length movie, if I make it to the end in "one go", it will be six hours later, or more.
And these are just some mundane, kind of insignificant examples of what depression does to one person.

It's so fucking stupid, ridiculous and infuriating.

Sorry for any errors and extremely long sentences that probably don't make any sense. I had to let it out.

Musical Sundays

"Better stay out of the shadows when you wander far from home."

This guy is super talented and amazing in general and everyone should go check out his album.

I lead a passive life, and I need to change it.

I feel like I'm back where I was last March. Well, I know I'm back there.
For a few months (from around September to about February), I actually felt better even if I had stopped (yet again) going to therapy.
It feels kinda different than last year. I don't know what is it that makes it feel different. Have I given up? Have I gotten used to being this down under the bar?

I remember when I told a couple of my closest friends that I had depression, they reacted by saying something along the lines of "oh, so this isn't really you" and they would add something else that I can't come up with the words right now.

I feel that if depression and mental illnesses in general weren't such big stigmas in our society, if they were generally recognized as real illnesses, if I could just let people know more openly, everything would be so much easier. I'm not looking for pity on people, I'm looking for comprehension. I'm looking for not having to explain myself with lies that don't really explain my behavior, avoiding people because I can't tell them "hey, I have pretty bad depression so everything is a thousand times harder, but just give me some trust, I can do it, it might just take me more time, I will get there".

I lead a passive life. Not in a not leaving the house (even if my agoraphobia has been hitting me pretty hard lately) and being bored all the time kind of way. I lead a passive life in the sense of not moving forward, not challenging myself in whatever way I can, in not pursuing anything I want.
I wonder if it is because of all that past rejection in every aspect of my life (which should be in the past and I should have moved on, but here I am), or if it is because of how scared I'm of everything even I don't consciously realize it.
I can safely say that now is fear, I feel paralyzed once again.

You can't imagine how much sending emails terrifies me. Even if I know, I know!, that if I sent them, if I had sent them already when I had to, those problems that give me constant anxiety and panic attacks almost every single fucking night and any time of the day to be honest, would most likely be solved by now and they would be a couple of problems less on the list.
Yet here I am, fully capable (in a physical way) of sending them, having time, having the resources, having thought of what I want to say in them a thousand times - and still haven't sent them.
It's even happening with people I care a lot about. I want to write to them, know how they're doing, even going to visit them. And then months upon months go by and they might think I don't care about them, that I don't care about seeing them again. If only they knew.

University was such a bad decision for me.
I don't want to be doing what I'm doing. Right now I feel like I don't know anymore what I want to be doing exactly. The pull towards throwing myself into writing is always there. But is it more of a hobby or is it actually-? Ugh. But there's nothing else that I like doing.
Always with the fucking doubts.

I know I have to go back to therapy. For real. This summer, that I will have time and I will be in an environment that lately has been making me feel safe and (however much I can) relaxed. Even if I have to go to a new one and pay for it (one of the reasons I started going last year was because I didn't have to pay, but I actually didn't feel 100% comfortable with him). I need to be better, I need to stop constantly feel like this, like I'm not worth shit, like I can't do anything. I need to be normal, whatever normal can be for me.
If I continue living like this I honestly don't know how long I'm gonna last.

Last year I think I said something like this already. Maybe if I say it a lot of times I actually do it for fucking real.
Who knows.

Oh, no.

24th of March, 2016. 4 am.

So.
I've self-harmed again.
I've been doing it for over a month or more, actually.
I never really stopped.  I just didn't do it every day.
Maybe I spent a couple of months without doing it.
And then something would set me off and all those months of not hurting myself never existed.
But I hadn't felt the push and pull towards it so strongly for a while.
And that's probably the part that hurts the most.
Needing to do it.
Knowing that you're not gonna be able to shush your brain for a few minutes and then get some sleep unless you do it, unless you feel that burn.
"It's such a stupid thing to do," I tell myself every time.
And yet 95% of the times I fall into it.
Scars are so easy to hide.
They don't matter.
Especially when you have a big body that you never show.
Because why would you.
After so many years the lies come easy.
And no one gives it a second thought.
No one.
Then you feel those tiny read lines screaming "please, see me", "please, help me", "please, be actually interested", "please, care".
And the only way you can shut them up with is hurting yourself again.
And if after hurting yourself you can't shush your brain, you can't sleep - you do it again. Knowing that this is stupid. Knowing that this is not helping you.

What I wish I would publish on my Facebook (and that I ended up publishing because screw it).

This one is in Spanish.

"Querida gran parte de mis contactos en Facebook:
Os voy a hablar sobre algo que lleva pasando desde que las redes sociales existen y que la mayoría de vosotros parecéis no superar. Algo que debería no afectarme, ya que no me doy por aludida, pero que me acaba tocando las narices al ver la foto nº20 en cuestión de minutos cuando voy bajando por mi feed.

De lo que os quiero hablar es sobre las conocidas fotos con textos en los que se cagan en alguien (sin mencionar en quién os cagáis, así para crear expectación, o aburrimiento en muchos casos). Fotos del tipo "ojalá no conociera a la mitad de gente que conozco"; "ojalá le pudiera pegar una paliza a esa persona que blablablá"; "qué falsa es la gente, necesitamos más gente sincera en el mundo" (con lo que estoy de acuerdo, pero que con esa foto no estás consiguiendo; si quieres que algo empiece a pasar, empieza tú a hacerlo y enseña a la gente que te rodea a seguir tu ejemplo); "la mitad de mis amigos son unos falsos" (dime, ¿por qué siguen siendo tus amigos?); "si tú das asco no es mi problema"; "el año que viene voy a ser un/a hij@ de puta con la gente que me ha hecho daño este año" (con perdón a las madres y a las putas, que ellas no tienen la culpa); entre otros mil ejemplos que si enunciara podría estar horas escribiendo, pero creo que todos entendemos a qué tipo de fotos me refiero.
Todos tenemos a alguien así entre nuestros contactos, y si piensas que no, probablemente seas tú quien las publica.

Mis preguntas para vosotros son, ¿qué ganáis publicando estas fotos? ¿Os hace sentir mejor/bien compartir esa foto generalmente mal hecha, cutre y con faltas de ortografía aunque después en la vida real no os deshagáis del problema, o de esa persona a la que tanto odiáis? ¿De qué os sirve? ¿Por qué no cogéis a esa persona con la que tenéis el problema y lo intentáis resolver, o simplemente cortáis la relación que tenéis con el/los susodichos? Muchos os quejáis de la falta de comunicación en la sociedad actual y no hacéis nada por solucionarlo. ¿Lo hacéis por el drama que lo más probable es que no causéis porque ya somos mayorcitos para estas cosas?
Estas con cosas que hacen los adolescentes, yo seré la primera en admitir que lo he hecho, pero cuando tenía 15 años. Ahora, si tengo algún problema con alguien o estoy harta de cierta persona, lo soluciono o cortando el contacto o hablando con quien tenga que hablar y solucionarlo todo en el caso de que esa persona me importe. Porque si os molestáis en compartir esas fotos, significa que esa persona a la que va dirigida esa foto os importa, ¿verdad?

No ganáis nada con esas fotos, solo creáis conversación (en algunos casos incluso burlas, cosa que no apoyo) a vuestras espaldas las cuales no son positivas hacia vuestra persona, y sentir más rabia interna que, no os engañéis, con estas fotos no solucionáis ni disminuís. A parte de que muchas veces las compartís aunque ya haga meses de ese algo que pasó con esa/s persona/s para enfadaros.

Sé que este texto va a sonar hipócrita ya que no menciono a nadie en concreto y no muestro ninguna de esas fotos (tampoco es que haga falta, todos habéis entendido a qué fotos me refiero), pero no me parece de buena educación señalar con el dedo, y estoy segura de que si estáis leyendo esto hasta el final y os dais por aludidos (que no ofendidos, espero, no es mi intención ni considero que me haya expresado ofensivamente, y si os sentís ofendidos, no voy a pedir disculpas) no os gustaría ahora mismo ver vuestros nombres aquí escritos, para que los vea todo el mundo.

Creemos vidas saludables sin personas que nos hacen daño. creemos conversaciones reales, no gritos en habitaciones vacías."

Musical Sundays

"I am not myself today. I am not feeling okay."

Musical Sundays

"Wake from your sleep, the drying of your tears. Today, we escape. We escape."

About friendship, or something like that.

I'm not sure what day it is. 10.05.2015?

I've always been rubbish at keeping in touch with the people I care about. That's just common Rachel knowledge. But today I'm specially pissed off about it.

For weeks now, maybe even a month, I've been wanting to text Alejandra and just meet up with her because we barely see each other anymore and I guess that in some way I miss her. I mean, we lived together for two years, not even I can be that heartless.

And yesterday she texted me, which made me feel bad but I told her right away that we had to hang out and we agreed on today. But we didn't say a time, which was a mistake. I just thought I would text her today and we could meet and catch up on each other's lives.

I wasn't expecting to wake up in such a bad mood. Or maybe not bad mood, but one of my moods.
Although I didn't notice right away that it was happening.

And so I kept putting off texting her until my brain decided that we weren't going out today and that we had to come up with an excuse for it. Excuse that I've thought of three (or more) hours ago and that now by 9 pm I still haven't given her. To be honest, I might not text her at all.

I guess I could tell her the truth, she's my friend after all, but I know, I KNOW, she would tell me to go out with her tonight and get over it. She knows a lot about be, but she wouldn't understand. And I don't wanna explain. She's one of those people who just doesn't get it. I don't need her to understand depression (I haven't told her but I'm sure she knows by now), I just need her to understand that not everyone is the same.
Or maybe I just need her not to think that going out is the cure to everything.

Anyway, even if I have just complained about her (such news), I still wanted to just spend some time with her. That would've been a step towards my "getting better at keeping in touch with people" milestone that I apparently set for myself last night after suddenly talking with Írem and she telling me "you should write sometimes" (I know, I'm sorry).

So today, instead of going out for a couple hours, getting coffee and chatting with a friend, I'm just going to stay in my room by myself, boring my ass off. What an amazing fucking life.
Riveting.

Fuck off, me.

Goodbye, My Mad Fat Diary.

(there might be spoilers here, I will warn you when they're coming)

Originally, I wasn't going to write this entry - I just hadn't thought about it. As you may have noticed, I haven't felt like writing lately (except for like two days), so I was going to wait until I was done with exams, done with all the stuff I have to do here and back home and then give myself a try again. Because writing is all I can and know how to do.

I'm getting away from the point.

I decided to watch it early (it's Sunday night when I'm writing this), because 1) this season they've been giving links to watch them early (which I'm not fond of, but this time it has actually been helpful) and most importantly 2) on Tuesday (when this entry has gone up) I have my last final and I knew I was going to be a crying mess and be thinking about it and I need to be focused because I'm so very screwed if I don't pass that one.

And excuse me for getting away from the point, once again.

Prepare to watch it happen more times during this entry.

(Sorry.)

So, My Mad Fat Diary.

Most of you, nonexistent readers, might not know anything about this. And up until two to three years ago, I was the same. So I'm going to do a little bit of an introduction to the whole of it.

My Mad Fat Diary is a British show inspired by/adapted from Rae Earl's teenage diaries, which she decided to publish and I'm so fucking grateful for that.

Here's a link for book one and book two.

At first I heard about this book that was the diary of a girl with my same name, also fat, also a teenager, also mad (I never really considered myself to be mad though I knew there was something wrong with me). There were too many coincidences as to ignore it. By the time I didn't dare (also wasn't allowed, I believe) to buy things online, so I just said to myself "one day".

Some time after (could be weeks, could be months, I don't remember), I found out they had made a tv show inspired by/adapted from it and that that same week they were airing the last episode of the first season. So there I went. And I'm so glad I did.

The thing about these books and this show it's that it's actually, for realskies, different than anything else you might have read or watched. You never see on tv a fat girl (or anyone, really, other than a man) talking about masturbation, about her mental health issues (and them not being treated as a joke or lightly) and getting really deep into them and mainly that affects her, her relationship with her mum and her friends (which she doesn't really have at the beginning) and (I have to mention this or it would bug me forever) about AMAZING music.

(pause to complain about how hard it is to write this without giving away any spoilers)

As a person who has gone through (and still is) a lot of the same issues as Rae (the real one, author and protagonist of the diaries and tv version, with just slight changes) I have to say that both the books and the show can be (very) triggering at times. It can be super harsh, like it gets to a point where you think there can be no return (which led to a lot of fandom drama but we won't get into that any further than to say that life can be that hard, and it can get even worse, just because it's a tv show doesn't mean it has to be all easy with fluffy clouds, rainbows and unicorns) and that, that really gets you. Especially *spoiler* season 2, where you see Rae's downfall, which led me to remember things I didn't think about anymore. But at the same time, it has helped me more than I can see.

Now that I've finished watching the show and that I'm almost halfway through the second book, there are things that make me feel proud of myself. I see things that Rae has accomplished that I also have, things that thanks to all of this, I can see from an outside point to view, and reevaluate my choices, my actions, my behavior.

And I just realised that. Up until right now whenever I read something about how much the show encouraged people get help and get better I thought "awww, that's so great" and felt happy for them.

(I didn't want to make this about me, but it has happened - it's my blog after all, isn't it?) People, well, close friends, my mum and my therapist tell me that I'm too hard on myself and that's why I always felt outside of that "this show has helped me" group of people. Because for so long I can't remember, I've been forcing myself to think that I'm okay, even now that I'm getting help. I still force myself to think that I'm fine.

So even if the show is triggering and at times really harsh, it's all worth it. Because representation on the media matters so much than anyone can imagine and this needed to be out there, and taken seriously and in depth.

All I have left to say is a massive thank you to Rae Earl, for putting herself out there to show people that it does get better for everyone, mentally ill or not (even if it's so hard to believe most of the time), she's an example of it; to Sharon Rooney, for portraying her so perfectly and just being a wonderful human being in general; to the rest of the cast, because each one of them gave a little bit of themselves to their characters and that made them even better - I really can't imagine anyone else playing those characters; and finally the crew, for putting together such a wonderful show. 

Thank you.

I'll miss you, and I'll keep re-watching you regularly as I've been to encourage myself to keep on going, even if I didn't know I was doing it.

"Dear Diary,

That's the secret I reckon. 

You don't need fixed ideas about who you are or where you're headed. 

You just need to be ready to cope with whatever crap comes your way.

And as for all the crazy shit, the mental screw-ups and the madness...

Well that's mine, dear Diary.

I get to keep that.

That travels with me."