So… I could not be more excited right now! It’s one thing to have the people that love you (and are there for obligated to say nice things) tell you they love your writing, it’s another entirely to have a fellow blogger, especially one as amazing as Lulufille, think you deserve recognition.
A huge thank-you goes out to Lulufille for the nomination along with a recommendation to check out her awesome blog. Seriously. Her views on the fallout of a broken upbringing are stunningly honest and gorgeously well written. Her posts somehow manage to inject a touch of hope and humour into an otherwise difficult subject matter in a way that makes it an addictive read. I urge you all to click the link and browse a while, if you’re anything like me you’ll be hooked.
Rules for accepting the Very Inspiring Blogger Award:
Thank you to the amazing blogger who nominated you, with a link back to their blog (above).
List the rules and display the award on your blog (here).
Share seven facts about yourself (below).
Nominate fifteen other amazing blogs and comment on their posts to let them know they’ve been nominated (below).
Seven Facts About Me:
- I collect novelty teapots, tertiary qualifications and books. I have all the books I’ve ever read and I hoard them compulsively. I once used half my kitchen cupboards as extra bookshelves.
- I have Dissociative Schizophrenia and I choose to live unmedicated. I’ve never responded well to any of the meds and I’d rather spend my life on an emotional roller coaster than as a zombie. Lesser of two evils and such.
- I overthink everything. Absolutely everything, all of the time. It’s exhausting. I am also sometimes terrified of my own intellect, I feel like my potential is mad at me for failing to live up to it
- I am a recovering heroin addict. I’ve been clean for 3 years now but I still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night craving so badly I can’t do anything but curl up in the foetal position and try not to cry. I’m told it gets easier, I’m still waiting.
- I would very much like to be funnier, or funny at all really.
- I am the eternal plant killer, there are more dead pot plants in my past than I’m entirely comfortable with. It’s safer for everyone if I keep my contact with gardening strictly limited to the admiration of other’s skills.
- I would one day like to make Martha Stewart seethe with envy in the face of my baking, organisational and homemaking skills. I accept that there’s virtually no chance of this happening but it’s nice to dream.
And now, here are my own nominations…
These bloggers are fabulously talented and you should click each and every link!
There’s calm to be found in the predawn hours,
in the still silence of a world still sleeping.
When the quiet settles into the foundations and even the cracks seem to fill with it, seeping out onto the floor.
Valium laced thoughts tumble in slow motion,
offering rest, relief, redemption.
An invitation for submission,
an overture made in vain.
Sedation has no hold in the face of sedition.
There’s a buzzing under my skin that tells me to run,
to throw myself into the abyss to see if
Gods and monsters look the same in the dark.
This often feels like the most offensive question I’ve ever been asked and the most offensive part of the question is that it’s socially inappropriate for me to be offended, for me to be anything other than grateful for their well-meaning but ultimately useless and often condescending advice.
“Why don’t you just get up and do something fun?”
“Why don’t you just go do something productive?”
“Why don’t you just stop being depressed?”
Yeah, why don’t I? It’s so simple, why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait, that’s right, because it doesn’t work like that.
I’ve always felt wrong, like a 1000 word puzzle smashed together by a careless three year old. Pieces jammed in out of place and out of shape, the picture a mutated attempt at what’s on the box, with all the symmetry of Picasso.
The image on my metaphorical box is pretty and well ordered, my pieces are not. I’ve always felt like the small child responsible for my creation got angry and tired halfway through and tossed everything up in the air to let the pieces fall where they may.
Leaving me unfinished and full of holes.
GET A FLU SHOT!!!
I’m not even kidding, you think you wont need one and you’ll be okay but it’s not like that at all.
I have spent the last 10 days literally down with the sickness. I am a zombified hotbed of contagion with the creepiest of death rattles and a second course of, as yet, completely unhelpful antibiotics.
I am consistently overdosing on cough syrup and psuedoephedrine in the hopes of maybe being able to breathe just long enough to sleep, and let me tell you now, it’s not working. There is no rest to be had here.
The moral of this story? Spend $17 at a chemist and get inoculated.
This hell is absolutely something to avoid.
This public service announcement was brought to you by the girl with no immune system.
I keep waiting to feel like a grown-up.
I don’t know if this is a common theme but it’s been bothering me more and more lately. This idea that I’m just going through the motions, with absolutely no clue what I’m doing, and the pervasive fear that someone will realise that I’m still on the fake it part of fake it ’til you make it.
While I get my internet relocated. Last time it took 6 weeks, countless phone calls and the threat of the ombudsman to get them to even put the paperwork through.
Worst customer service ever! Yes Dodo, I’m talking about (& publicly shaming) you.
Let the shitfight begin…