mental health

The Homelessness Diaries, pt 1

“Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop”

I wish I could take that advice, but you’ll just have to forgive me for jumping in at the middle. At some point I will tell you my tale of woe, but for now, I just want to introduce myself.

Hello, I’m a statistic. I’m 47, I have no job, no home, and am really just trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from, and how I can escape this mountain of debt piling up and threatening to bury me under an avalanche of late fees and hardship forms.

I also have four cats, who live temporarily in a little room in the suburbs, and are thankfully pretty happy and healthy. I had a fifth cat, a cranky 13 year old tabby, but he was never going to be happy crammed into the room with all the others, so he sadly had to go to foster care until I can find him a more permanent home.

I go to see my cats every day, and give them as much cuddles and food as I can afford, and tell them this will all be over soon and I will find us a home again. Sometimes I sleep there in the little single bed there, and they all pile on. And even though I wake up with a bad back and twisted up like a pretzel, I am so grateful I still get to do that.

This actually isn’t the first time I’ve been homeless, but I’m a lot older than the last time (when I was 33). I’m more tired, more disabled, more ill than before. And I’m sad and angry that everything I spent the last 14 years building has vanished like it was nothing.

I wouldn’t be in this position if I had work. But unfortunately the same resume that’s served me well over the years has become an anathema to the AI bots that now sift through all hopeful job applications, selecting only the “right” ones. I haven’t learned how to hack the system yet, and to be honest if my fate is being decided by AI then we have bigger problems at hand.

Of the hundreds of jobs I’ve applied for this year, if I do get a response it’s usually a form rejection email. If I get a rare interview, I’m told I’m “overqualified” or “not the right fit”. The last place I interviewed at (who, ironically, are set up to provide services to older women who are struggling) said I didn’t answer their questions in “the right way”.

My mental health is suffering with every rejection, so I have stopped looking for work right now. Thankfully I am on government benefits but they don’t stretch far. Hence the debt I racked up while I was moving out of my last property (under duress – which is a story for another day!), which has started to accrue late fees and attract nasty phone calls and I am drowning.

Anyway, I’m sure I will unpack all of this as we go. I slept over with my cats last night, and today I have had some Devon and crackers and cheese and an apple that I had in the fridge there. I stopped in at the TAFE library to work on and submit an assignment, but will go now to the place I’m staying at this week as I have some food in the fridge there – a burger I saved from an event on Saturday night, and a bit of salad.

Really, my life has become all about food, and I hate it. Where can I go to get a meal? What food vans are operating today and where? Where’s the nearest food pantry? What groceries can I buy with $5? How long will this food last without access to a fridge? Who can I hang out with who will feed me? And every fortnight after I get paid I like to treat myself, but that’s turning into an accounting exercise as well and I can’t even enjoy McDonald’s without feeling guilty.

I’m a bit worried about the long-term affects of all this instability and food insecurity. But c’est la vie I suppose. I just need to keep going, try to keep a pragmatic outlook, and hope for the best.

blog: breakthrough and new beginnings

I don’t often experience “breakthroughs”. I’m more of a slow and steady, parse the information, ruminate on all the options kinda gal. But I guess ‘breakthrough’ is the closest word I can use to describe where my head is at right now.

Two weeks ago, I marched in the Sydney Mardi Gras Parade for the first time. It was actually my first time even attending the parade since 2000. I’ve always been queer and I’ve never felt the need to label my queerness. The crowds, the hullabaloo, the spectacle, the Pride-with-a-capital-P aspects of queerness weren’t really for me. But I’ve been intentionally exploring my place in the ‘alphabet soup’ of LGBTQ+IA for a few years now, and since I had no other commitments I decided this was the year I would do all things Mardi Gras.

It was important to me to join a float that spoke to my intersectionality, so I chose Aspect, an autism support group (whose theme this year was literally ‘Intersectionality’ by the way). Because my health has been somewhat in decline the last 5-6 years, and having never marched before, I was worried about the physical demands of the parade. Everyone I spoke to said something different, from the “Oh it’s really quick, like a light jog, I don’t think you’ll be able to do it, why don’t you hire a mobility scooter?” crowd, to the “It’s a quick walk but there’s lots of stops and starts and chances to catch your breath, you’ll be fine.”

And you know what? I was. In fact, I felt more than fine, I felt AMAZING. Seeing the crowds lined up to cheer the marchers on was so empowering, and I felt especially proud when I walked past the disability and accessible viewing space and saw two awesome individuals I’d met and shared a train into the city with. The walk was easy, I was dancing the whole time. Afterwards I went off to a metal gig and though I was dressed in 80’s gear (the sub-theme of Aspect’s float), nobody cared and they even complimented me on my outfit. Then I spent the rest of the night hanging out with some friends feeling completely relaxed, completely myself, and importantly, feeling good about who my whole self is. I even connected with someone unexpected, in a really open and honest way, no games or bullshit, which is always such a blessing.

It made me realise there’s a lot I’ve been missing out on in life, because I’ve thought it too hard or that I didn’t deserve it. It made me angry at myself and my entire perspective has shifted since that weekend, for the better. I immediately put myself on a sensible diet plan, and have already lost 2 kg. I’ve organised some fitness training, which I’m nervous about but will try my best to stick to. I haven’t even needed my cane at all during this whole time. I’ve finally got my house in order. There are some negative things in my life right now that I’m dealing with. But overall I’m feeling like the good outweighs the bad.

Best of all, I feel the creative juices flowing for the first time in years, and decided to revamp this blog site (that I hadn’t touched in ten years, d’oh). I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trawling through old livejournal accounts, google drives, multiple emails and FB pages and profiles to find the majority of the poetry I’ve written since 1998 (prior to that it’s in a notebook somewhere and I was an angsty child and no one needs to read that stuff, haha). I’m so close to re-launching this site, and questioning myself hard. What is my motivation here? How do I want people to engage with my art? What if this is all just angsty depressive love poetry word vomit and I’m not as good as I think I am?

It’s easy to run back. It’s easy to say, “You know what? At least I tried… ” and disappear again into my cave. It’s easy to tell myself that nobody wants to read my style of writing anymore, that my health problems are too much of an obstacle to experiencing human connection, that people will ultimately just betray and hurt and reject anyway so why bother. It would be easy to go back to my victim mindset and cry about my loneliness and feel sorry for myself. But… I don’t want to. I WANT to put myself out there again. I WANT to see if there’s still a place in the world for my art. I WANT to see if there’s someone out there who can love me.

They say ‘The heart wants what the heart wants‘ – and I can’t tell my heart to be quiet anymore.

blog: diary of a depression

– TW: Depression

1. (Sunset)
As I sit here on my front porch, looking at the sunset-pink sky, I count my wins from the day. I count them methodically, robotically, not expecting much. I count them to keep from feeling like a failure. I count them to keep the shadows at bay. I count them one by one, taking deep breaths in as I name my triumphs –

… I am surprised at how many I find.

2. (Chores)
I’m feeling a little better this week. I’ve vacuumed the floor. I’ve cleaned out my fridge. There was expired food in there from months back, highly perishable stuff – it’s a wonder I haven’t died of salmonella or botulism. I didn’t know yoghurt could turn that colour.

It was not pretty.
But it’s done.

3. (Social Media)
I feel better now that I’ve isolated myself, cut out a lot of the superficial interactions so prevalent on social media. Doom scrolling, karma farming, etc. People who only know how to contribute by tearing something down. People who are only listening for their turn to speak. The online world is full of thirsty bitches, yet the constant flood of content paradoxically leaves us parched.

4. (Meme Culture)
Unfortunately a boycott of social media also cuts me off from potential new connections. It cuts me off from friends. I don’t mean to offend anyone, or imply that their feelings towards me and our friendships are shallow, or that our interactions are superficial.

But when a meme post gets 32 likes, and a cry for help none, you have to wonder…

5. (Friendship)
I think about those people who, if you were to ask if I thought we were friends, I’d say – yes, sure, of course, I’ve known them forever…

When I realise I haven’t physically seen a lot of those people for a couple of years, in some cases maybe even close to a decade, it raises questions around whether or not I’m just sentimental, clingy and delusional. Am I holding on to something that isn’t even there anymore?

6. (Stigma)
The stigma of mental health is still all too real. We’re supposed to use euphemisms, say things like, “I’m not feeling very well”, “I’m struggling a little lately”, “I’ve been having some intrusive thoughts”. We’re supposed to keep a brave face at work, around family, in public. We wear our masks like armour, until they become our actual faces.

7. (Executive Dysfunction)
We’re not supposed to admit how hard it is just get out of bed some mornings. That it’s been four days since we last showered, or that despite having a fridge full of food, our daily intake has been a donut and some cheese crackers because that’s all we had the strength to muster.

8. (Grace and Woe)
I was born on a Tuesday, but I was born a day early. Because Tuesday’s child is full of grace, but Wednesday’s child is full of woe, and my earliest memories are forged from chaos and destruction.

9. (Weekends Are The Hardest)
It’s only the start of the week, and I don’t know what this one will hold for me. I don’t really make plans anymore, I’m too hard on myself when things don’t happen the way I hoped they would… I don’t reach out to anyone, I’ve tried but everyone is always so busy with their own things and then I just end up feeling like a bother or an obligation. I don’t mind being alone… I’ve always been alone.

I might take myself on a date.

10. (Hold On)
Hope is a powerhouse word; so much strength resides on those four letters. I hope I can get a handle on work this week. I hope my household stays healthy. I hope people will be kind to me. I hope I will be kind to myself. I hope I can hold on to hope, and put some wins on the board.

Hold on… please hold on to Hope.

blog: stop telling me that it’s easy

People often say things when giving advice – “It’s easy”, “If I can do it, you can do it”, “You just need to try harder”, “You’ll get it next time”, “If you wanted it badly enough, you would find a way”. I get that they mean well. But sometimes people just CAN’T do things, or at least, can’t do them as easily. Everyone’s ability levels are different. We know that. Why does our attempt at support not reflect that?

If you tell someone that the thing they’re struggling with is ‘easy’, if you say there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be able to do it, then by that logic if they continue to struggle, you are saying THEY are the problem. There’s a good chance they’ll internalise that and feel like a failure, especially if it comes from someone whose advice they trust.

A better form of verbal encouragement would look like, “I’ve done something similar in the past, can I share some tips I learned along the way?” Or, “I’m sorry you’re struggling, what part are you finding most difficult and how can I help with that?” It’s okay to acknowledge someone’s shortcomings, if they themselves are acknowledging it and seeking help. It’s way more honest and authentic and builds more trust than some empty platitude.

Another radical idea would be to offer practical support instead of advice, but we’ve wandered so very far from the concept of ‘it takes a village’ and now it’s every man for himself. Nobody wants to ‘feed a man a fish’ because we’ve been taught that letting people work things out for themselves is more beneficial in the long run. But the reality is that some people won’t have a long run, if they can’t overcome some of the hurdles at the start of the race.

Words are important. The language we use matters. It can be be hard to train ourselves out of using phrases and auto responses we’ve used and heard others use our whole lives. But to truly empower someone you have to meet them where they’re at, and let them know that you’ve got their back win or lose. That’s what really counts.

Change is hard. Growth as a person can be uncomfortable. But finding better ways to support each other is worth it.

poem: i am

– Written as an exercise during a writing workshop on self and metaphor

I am a deluge –
Erupting suddenly from within
Floods that bypass my parched throat.
I cover everything and pull it under,
Drowning everything in grief tears.
I am over-saturated, spilling
Untidily into other peoples’ lives.
I am a deluge.

,,,

I am a bellyful of hope –
My waters ebb and flow.
I host abundant life in my womb;
I hold secrets only dreamers know.
I have colours you’ve never seen,
I glisten and glean in the sun.
I am a bellyful of hope.

blog: Figure.09

– TW: Depression, Su*cidal Ideation

I’ve got some music videos playing on YouTube and Linkin Park’s “In the End” came on. Maybe I’m just over emotional today, but staring at Chester’s face on screen I started to tear up and think omg, if only he knew what an impact he had on so many people and what a legacy he has left behind, would he still make the choice that he made?

But then I think, he had to have known, at least on some superficial level. But it wasn’t enough, and we need to get that the choice to stay or go is always a personal one. Too many times people think “if only I’d done more or made them feel more loved and needed, if only I’d shown them how special they were and what they meant to the world”. But we can’t put that on ourselves. No amount of love is going to save someone and stop them from going if they truly want to.

And Chester wasn’t some kid, he was 41. That’s old enough to know your own mind. He’d been through enough shit to make an informed decision. Of course, oh my God, of course I wish he hadn’t. I’m crying just now thinking about it. I guess I’m just saying, we can’t lay the burden of life on the shoulders of those who don’t want it. All we can do is love and cherish our loved ones for the time we have with them. And if they go gentle into that good night, we can carry their memory forward so their light in this world doesn’t dim.

That’s for benefit of those left behind, but I think the souls on the other side would appreciate it too. 🖤

poem: i don’t want to die today

– TW: Su*cidal Ideation

I don’t want to die today
And by that, I don’t mean
That I’m in any danger of dying.
It’s just that today, for a change,
I’m uncharacteristically apathetic about my demise.

I lean back against the train carriage window
Examine the passengers
In the other train speeding alongside
And idly think, what happens if we collide?
But today my brain is not interested
In hypothesising how many pieces of me
would be left to find.

I wouldn’t say I’m in a good place,
Just a numb place, a space
Where neither life nor death hold sway.
Today is not the day I go home and put a gun
In my mouth
Today is just the day I switch on the television
And zone out.

My subconscious keeps counts
of headstones that mark the graves of everyone
Who’s ever believed in me
Helped me be more than I thought I could be.
I can’t help but feel that I’m letting everyone down;
No matter what I do, I seem to drown.

But today is not the day
I linger on the street with one foot off the curb
It’s also not the day the voice assuring me it gets better
is loud enough to be heard…

Today is just a day for just existing.

poem: knuckles white arm steady

– TW: Depression, Su*cidal Ideation

Depression isn’t always 
Visible scars, it’s not always
Sitting in your bedroom with the blinds drawn, 
In week-old pyjamas, listening to The Smiths 
And fantasising about who would come 
To your funeral. 

Sometimes depression is 
White-knuckling through your day job, 
Trying to push away the negative thoughts 
And just focus on the thing 
That keeps a roof over your head 
And the lights switched on. 

Sometimes depression is 
Sitting in a crowded mall 
Hurrying to enjoy a cappuccino 
Before the cracks appear, 
Fighting a losing battle with the tears 
Everyone else pretends not to see. 

Depression is getting home and collapsing
Because you no longer have to keep the mask on, 
But that was the only thing holding you together.  
Depression is ice cream for dinner 
Because you’re too exhausted to cook. 

Depression is holding your cat just a bit too tight
And crying because their toe beans are so precious. 
Depression is laying on your back 
Staring up at the ceiling and sinking 
Into a warm black hole of molasses 
And burnt marshmallows. 
Depression is being overwhelmed 
Because tomorrow, you know – 
You have to get up and do it all over again. 

Depression is the dark shadow
That spoons you as you cry yourself to sleep. 
It’s the good morning kiss 
Of a day that’s not quite as bright for you. 
It’s the weight of chains around your shoulders 
That no one else can see, chains 
Around your ankles dragging you down into the deep. 
Depression is staring hard in the mirror,
And for a split second not recognising your own face,
Because the person looking back…
Actually looks happy. 

Depression is what keeps your tongue 
Still and your mouth closed, 
Because other people don’t know 
That talking about your problems 
Or popping a pill 
(Which to choose – red or blue?)
Isn’t going to make the loneliness go away. 

Depression is hanging on to the corpse of hope, 
Because you’re too afraid to let go
Of the thought that things 
Could still get better for you.  
It’s in that stab of jealousy you feel 
When you look at others 
And see life, warmth, joy and happiness;
All the things you’ll never be able to hold
Without fucking it up for yourself
And anyone who loves you. 

Depression is not the thing that kills;
It’s the thought of living your whole life this way
That eventually pulls the trigger.

poem: stages of survival

The mind says,
“This is too much!”

The body says,
“This is too much – I cannot endure.”

The heart says,
“This is too much – I cannot endure, this will kill me!”

The will says,
“This is too much -I cannot endure;
This will kill me, I have to fight this!“

So the will bolsters the heart
The heart rallies the body
And the motion of the body calms the mind.
Confidence soars;
Surely this too will pass.
The pricks are kicked against, 
The salmon swim upstream,
The good fight is fought, 
The trucks keep on trucking. 

Until one day you realize: 
You’re still standing on ground zero, 
You never actually left square one. 
No one is coming for you. 
Nothing will ever change. 
No effort made will ever matter. 

Then the will says, 
“I give up.” 
The heart says, 
“Just let me die.” 
The body says, 
“What’s one more burden?” 
And the mind – 
The mind is numb, and says nothing.

poem: tangled

sometimes, when you’re angry, 
what you really are is hurt…
and disappointed,
and sad,
and confused. 
but it’s easier to claim the anger;
because the other stuff 
is a tangled ball of yarn, 
and it’s tidier
to shut it away 
In an old shoebox 
and promise yourself 
you’ll find the end of it 
and untangle it
one day… 
when you have more time,
and patience, 
and distance 
between you and the person 
who broke your heart. 
but you know it’s a lie –
the truth is, 
that day never comes, 
and all of our closets burst
with shoebox coffins
for string so knotted and frayed
that it will never again 
be useful 
to anyone.

poem: a song for the broken

– TW: Depression, Su*cidal Ideation

I am tired of the roller-coaster
Tired of not being able to walk away
I’m tired of self-perpetuating cycles
Tired of this feeling of certainty
That I am stuck here in this place
Until it kills me.
It is not my job to save anyone
When I can’t even save myself
From myself.

I want so much to be seen as worthy of love…
But excuses run dry –
And then there is only the silence.
That speaks more loudly and clearly
Than any excuses ever could.

I diminish until there’s nothing left… I become
The shadow of potential…
As a nihilist I know that nothing matters,
But as an optimist I long for moments –
Moments that sparkle and shine amongst the nothingness.

Also… I am drunk.
But life is better pondered in an inebriated state.
So hats off to Dylan Thomas,
And give my regards to Sylvia Plath
(alath, alath, poor Sylvia Plath,
she put her head in the oven and turned on the gath)
Tomorrow is a brand new day.

blog: cognitive dissonance – closing the distance

‘Cognitive Dissonance’ – something the Universe gave me to ponder this week. It’s what happens when your statements and beliefs about yourself – who you want to be, what you want to do, and who you expect others to be – don’t match reality.

Like, I want to spend more time on my commute to and from work doing meaningful stuff instead of just sleeping – researching things online, or posting here, or reading news articles, shopping for things, doing a crossword puzzle, etc. I want to go out more, I want to follow my friends on facebook more closely, and text them more regularly. I want to set and maintain a budget. I want to get back on track with my diet, and start making progress on my ‘to-do’ list. But honestly, my life is a mess right now, and I don’t get around to achieving a lot of my goals.

When what we want vs. what actually happens = two very different things, that’s cognitive dissonance. And we feel guilty, hurt, or upset because there’s this massive gap in what we wanted life to be like and what life actually is. The theory is that humans strive for internal consistency, and work to reduce any dissonance or gap between fantasy and reality. We adjust our thinking, try to justify things, make excuses, or flat out ignoring that it’s happening. We create mental stress, because of our belief that things have to be consistent.

So what then… do I just accept that my life is chaos? That I’m never going to get even a 10th of my bucket list crossed off? That I’m always going to be rushing from one thing to the next and missing bits along the way? Or do I bolt everything down and live a life of routine and rigid rules for interaction with others, and try and control my environment as much as I can?

I don’t want my life to be summed up as a bundle of cognitive dissonance. I used to think that if you want to do something, you don’t make excuses, you just make it happen – but the implication  – that if I didn’t make it happen, I didn’t want it bad enough – weighs too heavy on the soul.

I want consistency,  but is consistency really this great prize to reach for if it comes at the risk of mental health and wellbeing?

I guess it’s about finding balance – making adjustments in habit, challenging some of my thinking on what I think “has to be”. And then re-examining my priorities, determining what the “small stuff” is in this big picture, letting go of that concept of “should have” and “must” and living life in a more fluid way.

I think that’s the lesson the Universe is trying to teach me today!