I have had it said to me many times "When life throws you lemons, make lemonade". I often wonder to myself, can you get off lemons? Lemons that just don't make the cut? Lemons that will never taste anything but bitter no matter how much sugar you add to the mixture?
I have come to the realisation that it isn't about the lemons at all, and it certainly is not about the lemonade. It's about knowing that the lemons are very small, and a watermelon will come along some time soon.
Go hit yourself on the head a few times, shake it off, bite into a lemon wedge, then a piece of watermelon.
Remind yourself that as bitter as life may seem, you don't need something sweet to lift you back up onto your feet, you just need a little refreshing. =]
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
An Introduction
It hasn't been the simplest past year, but I have managed to come through, although scathed, hurt and scarred for life, for the better.
Some of you out there may treasure family as much as I do. Family come first and foremost, because without family, we are nothing. This past year, my family was torn apart. I no longer am in contact with my father's side of the family and this tears me apart. It has lead me to do some terrible things, mainly to myself, but I am positive that I hurt others also.
I shut myself away, in a seemingly non existent box, for quite a few months. In those months I wrote and I cried, and when I didn't want to shed anymore tears, I chose cutting as a relief. At first, it didn't worry me, I was actually impressed with myself, I could pierce my own skin [after watching so many television programs, thinking each time that I would never have the ability to open my own flesh]. It was a good feeling, for a while.
As time went on, it didn't feel the same. I wasn't so blind and oblivious to everything around me to not be scared of cutting too deep, or maybe it was just something in my subconscious that wouldn't allow me to push just that little bit harder. I wasn't, am not, an attention seeking teen; as soon as I realised that slicing my forearm brought unwanted attention[my friends refused to believe that a rose bush could cause such red lines on my arms], I retreated to my thigh instead.
Though it did not bring the same calming sensation it had in the beginning, I still had the urges, and sometimes they were so overwhelming that I could not resist. I broke promises to my some of my best mates, and to myself.
I now have a hand sized patch on my leg where I drove that sharpener blade in so many times. I even have words carved there. I wanted it to mean something, I wanted to remember.
LIVE - I wanted to escape everything and be able to live the life I wanted, I wanted to live in all sense of the word. I didn't want to be trapped in a small mind perspective of the world.
DIE - Every time I had such vulgar words thrown at me, the parts of my soul that cared died more and more. Each time I witnessed his manipulation anything I had left in me for him died. In the end, every thing I ever felt for him in my innocence was lost.
HATE - I replaced the nothing left inside with a pure passion for hatred of the man I once called my father. I even replaced it with hatred toward myself for not being able to cope with what life dealt me in better ways - in healthier ways.
LOVE - The first word I put there. I reminded myself that I loved this man once, I called him dad once and I played with him once. Over time the meaning became blurry and changed. Now it signifies that I will love whole heartedly - because I know what destruction can be brought about by losing such a thing in a relationship.
I gave meaning to most of my scars, they were put there so I would remember. So I would remember everything that my family had thrust toward me. I wouldn't say that I regret it, but I do wish I could have managed better.
I see a psychologist once a fortnight now and have minor bouts of depression , although I am usually the one who spots them first, so that is a good sign.
I live with my mother now, and my sister. It's a girls house. I miss my brother enough to make tears fall as I am writing this. Sometimes I go 3 weeks without seeing him, but when he does stay a few nights, we usually end up in a row. He lives with his father, although he is showing every sign of not being happy there.
I feel I should let you in on what has actually happened in the last year, but that would make me feel as if I were looking for pity, and I'm not.
I mostly keep things to myself, but seeing as this is my blog, I thought I should tell the truth about me.
Some general, less complicated facts about my life:
I am in Yr 12 completing my VCE. I take English, Business Management, Visual Communications and Design and Art - I dropped out of Health and Human Development and had already completed Food and Technology. I have a Certificate II in Hospitality [operations] and up until 6 months ago wanted to be a chef, a famous one. I now want to study Fine Art [Photomedia] at Monash next year and obtain a PhD at some stage of my life.
I have no long term plan. I'm going to live it as it comes =]
Some of you out there may treasure family as much as I do. Family come first and foremost, because without family, we are nothing. This past year, my family was torn apart. I no longer am in contact with my father's side of the family and this tears me apart. It has lead me to do some terrible things, mainly to myself, but I am positive that I hurt others also.
I shut myself away, in a seemingly non existent box, for quite a few months. In those months I wrote and I cried, and when I didn't want to shed anymore tears, I chose cutting as a relief. At first, it didn't worry me, I was actually impressed with myself, I could pierce my own skin [after watching so many television programs, thinking each time that I would never have the ability to open my own flesh]. It was a good feeling, for a while.
As time went on, it didn't feel the same. I wasn't so blind and oblivious to everything around me to not be scared of cutting too deep, or maybe it was just something in my subconscious that wouldn't allow me to push just that little bit harder. I wasn't, am not, an attention seeking teen; as soon as I realised that slicing my forearm brought unwanted attention[my friends refused to believe that a rose bush could cause such red lines on my arms], I retreated to my thigh instead.
Though it did not bring the same calming sensation it had in the beginning, I still had the urges, and sometimes they were so overwhelming that I could not resist. I broke promises to my some of my best mates, and to myself.
I now have a hand sized patch on my leg where I drove that sharpener blade in so many times. I even have words carved there. I wanted it to mean something, I wanted to remember.
LIVE - I wanted to escape everything and be able to live the life I wanted, I wanted to live in all sense of the word. I didn't want to be trapped in a small mind perspective of the world.
DIE - Every time I had such vulgar words thrown at me, the parts of my soul that cared died more and more. Each time I witnessed his manipulation anything I had left in me for him died. In the end, every thing I ever felt for him in my innocence was lost.
HATE - I replaced the nothing left inside with a pure passion for hatred of the man I once called my father. I even replaced it with hatred toward myself for not being able to cope with what life dealt me in better ways - in healthier ways.
LOVE - The first word I put there. I reminded myself that I loved this man once, I called him dad once and I played with him once. Over time the meaning became blurry and changed. Now it signifies that I will love whole heartedly - because I know what destruction can be brought about by losing such a thing in a relationship.
I gave meaning to most of my scars, they were put there so I would remember. So I would remember everything that my family had thrust toward me. I wouldn't say that I regret it, but I do wish I could have managed better.
I see a psychologist once a fortnight now and have minor bouts of depression , although I am usually the one who spots them first, so that is a good sign.
I live with my mother now, and my sister. It's a girls house. I miss my brother enough to make tears fall as I am writing this. Sometimes I go 3 weeks without seeing him, but when he does stay a few nights, we usually end up in a row. He lives with his father, although he is showing every sign of not being happy there.
I feel I should let you in on what has actually happened in the last year, but that would make me feel as if I were looking for pity, and I'm not.
I mostly keep things to myself, but seeing as this is my blog, I thought I should tell the truth about me.
Some general, less complicated facts about my life:
I am in Yr 12 completing my VCE. I take English, Business Management, Visual Communications and Design and Art - I dropped out of Health and Human Development and had already completed Food and Technology. I have a Certificate II in Hospitality [operations] and up until 6 months ago wanted to be a chef, a famous one. I now want to study Fine Art [Photomedia] at Monash next year and obtain a PhD at some stage of my life.
I have no long term plan. I'm going to live it as it comes =]
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