Random Thoughts LXXXIV

Picture taken by me: London, December 2021.

Just another day of hopelessness, despair and anxiety.

I keep noticing and realising by observing my surroundings, people in real life, and people on the internet: a very large number of the population lacks logic and reason, the ability to think critically, and the will to learn before forming opinions, sharing them and insisting on them.

And the more I see this, and the more I see behaviours that confirm this, the less hope I have for the future of humanity, but also for my own future.

Random Thoughts LXXXIII

Depression is 

forcing yourself to take a shower; yet, lacking the energy to lift the shower head to wash yourself. You stare at it crying, the overwhelming existential fatigue making even the smallest movement feel akin to climbing a mountain.

Anxiety is 

a relentless assault on your mind, dissecting and scrutinizing every perceived ‘flaw’ and imperfection within yourself and your life. You can’t stop falling down the rabbit hole of negative thoughts. Your body becomes a vessel of suffering.

Walk a mile in my shoes

I wrote this poem today, self-isolation and people not taking this pandemic seriously has affected my mental health.

Here is part of it:

“Depression is not showering for a week

Depression is not having the strength to be

Depression is a pile of negative emotion

Depression is a misunderstood notion”

“Depression can be a never-ending nightmare

Depression can be a monster you can’t bare

Depression isn’t a mainstream movie trend

Depression is not recognising any friend”

The big 3.

Every year, just before or after my birthday, I write a post reflecting on the past, being mostly negative about the future and generally expressing my fear of time.

This year is no exception, especially since this is an important year; It's the year I turn 30.

-So what? someone may ask.

Well, the big 3 means I'm not only changing decade, but I'm entering the adult world.
Being in my 20s isn't going to be an excuse good enough to justify not getting my shit together. I'm not a teenager anymore, nor am I in my post teen years.
30 signifies the death of my inner child, and even though that sounds grim, I find it to be true.  The inner child needs protection, is codependent, and knows that they have a 'security blanket' at all times. The inner child is innocent, playful and carefree. And even though I could try to hold on to whatever innocence I have left, none of the rest can be part of adult me, if I want to survive.

And that is scary as fuck.
It's like bungee jumping, but not knowing if the rope will hold your weight or break. So, even though 'growing up' is something I know and recognise I have to do, I'm terrified.

That fear had been so intense it had paralysed me. Thankfully, I've done a lot of work on myself in the past two years, so I'm somewhat coping, but still, the fear is there.

The fact that me turning 30 coincides with returning to England, re-starting my life once again (with my partner this time), and getting a full time job irrelevant to any of my studies or interests, shows the next chapter has arrived.

Hopefully, as the pages turn, fear will dissolve and maybe a more positive emotion -followed by a more positive outcome- will come after it.

Wish me luck y'all, I'll definitely need it.

XoXo,
Lara  

"But you seem fine"

One of the most hurtful and insulting things I had ever heard was when people didn't believe I wasn't feeling well "because I didn't show it."
To assume that one will allow themselves to be vulnerable and "seem weak" in front of you is not only inconsiderate, but also ignorant.
Us who have been suffering for long know exactly how to hide our pain. And to doubt that pain merely because you can't see it is egotistical to say the least.

"Happiness is a choice" & what this may mean

1. Mental Health 

To all those saying that happiness is a choice:
Try living with mental illness for a day.

Even though I agree, it's tremendously important to make an effort to train/program your brain to think positive, we need to remember not everyone has that privilege.
Because being mentally healthy is a privilege that 1 in 4 people (if not more) do not possess.

When you're suffering from mental health, you struggle to do basic things -like surviving. You do not have the capacity to be positive and see the glass half full. You try to avoid getting crushed by your demons and that more than often leaves you no strength or time to do anything else.

I have discussed this before, but it bares repeating: Happiness isn't always a choice.
Sure, if you spill your coffee on the floor and you cry and have a melt down about it for the next year, you're choosing to be unhappy about it. However, not everything is that simple.

Human psyche along with how it affects our brain are extremely perplexed issues. For a person who suffers from clinical depression failing at something could have a lasting impact on their mental state. For a person who suffers from PTSD seeing or hearing certain things can trigger horrific memories and bring back trauma. For a person who suffers from anxiety disorder even small tasks can turn into a stressful and overwhelming nightmare. E.t.c.

There is a plethora of mental disorders and they affect people differently. The common denominator being they do affect people, their thoughts, perceptions, actions and reactions. So to imply every human can choose happiness is to imply every human can choose to gain control over their mental illness. And that isn't only impossible, but also harmful, and thus, perpetuating the notion that people who suffer from mental health are mere drama queens.

If it was so easy to gain control over your mental health, less people would suffer/commit suicide/self-harm/take medication/self-medicate and psychotherapists and psychiatrists would be out of business. No one chooses to suffer from mental health. And those who do suffer from mental disorders do not choose to be unhappy. They do not have the option to feel happy at that particular moment.

I believe we have had enough with this force fed positivity. Not all of us can be (or want to be) positive all the time. Hell, it's illogical to be positive and happy all the time. For instance, if you lose a loved one, aren't you going to grieve? Are you going to be happy instead? Of course not.

2. Discomfort & Solidarity

Despite the fact that I recognise good intensions from those who jumped on the "be happy" wagon, I also cannot help but wonder whether there is a slightly suspicious agenda behind it. You see, negative people, unhappy people make us uncomfortable. After all, it's not a pleasant sight to see someone sad, worried or stressed. Let alone experience someone having a panic attack or an episode. What do we do then? How do we handle the situation? Most people would rather run away than have to deal with such situations, either for fear of making it worse or due to them wanting to go on with their day. Similarly, even when we ask someone how they're doing, we expect them to say "fine" or "well." If someone responds "Not well" we're taken aback.

Nevertheless, wouldn't we want someone to help us if we were the ones suffering? Aren't we alienating ourselves by denying others' help? Aren't we forgetting that to experience a quality life we need to show and receive solidarity? Isn't this "be happy" philosophy maybe forcing us to seclude ourselves, pretending to be well so to not be a discomfort, or pretending to not see those who are not well so to not disrupt our routine or trouble ourselves (or possibly because this way we can keep ignoring the monsters living under our bed)?

An acquaintance of mine who is a psychotherapist once said "We learn about ourselves through experiencing ourselves through others." But if we only interact with others on the grounds of positivity, aren't we denying ourselves the chance to discover more about other parts of ourselves? And if we always hide our vulnerability, sadness or negativity, aren't we denying ourselves the chance to discover how receiving compassion and understanding can positively affect us?

3. Security & Core Beliefs

A conversation with someone who isn't "happy" may challenge us into deep dialogues which in turn may shake our core beliefs. For example, if you believe that people only receive what they can survive or deserve, meeting a kind person who is dying of cancer may upset you and force you to reconsider. Being exposed to different experiences than ours, especially those that are unpleasant, hurtful and unhappy can open new doors of perception. 

However, not everyone is ready -and some will never be ready- to have their core beliefs challenged. Our core beliefs are notions and ideologies deeply rooted within us. Sometimes for no particular reason than our upbringing, religion, family tradition, culture etc. Yet, they are instilled in us and having to question them may shake the whole foundation of who we are. And that can be terrifying. 

Losing that security of knowing that "1+1=2" and suddenly, possibly being introduced to "1+1=5" bursts our security bubble. When that bubble is burst we are floating in the unknown. It makes sense trying to avoid anything that or anyone who can lead us there. Therefore, having the need to always be -or merely fake being- "happy" is predictable. 

I am in no way saying there is a conspiracy behind the "be happy" movement/ideology. I would be stupid not to look at this through a critical prism though. 

Food for thought.

Random Thoughts LXVIII

Feeling quite blue today...

I don't know, it seems that every time I take a few steps forward towards improving my life -and my health- something happens that pushes me back.

It took such a long time -due to my ill health- to finish my masters degree. After struggling and fighting for so long, I made it.
Then, I managed to find a place to live and I got myself a job. Isn't that what adults are supposed to do anyways?
The housing situation especially affected my health -severely. The job was fine -most of the time- even though I was underpaid.
But in the end, all sorts of horrific things came to my life at the same time -as always timing is extremely fucked up in my life-, awaking some old buried phantoms of the past as well.

It's not easy to fight everything at once and all the time. And it's even harder when most people don't know your struggles and suffering and have certain expectations from you, or misconceptions of you.

Which is why this past year I decided to drop the weight of others' expectations completely. For once in my life I am being selfish.

I've tried to do that many times in the past, but I had failed.

This time, I had no other choice. My survival instincts kicked in and I prioritised myself.
Because I had to.

Another 'Birthday Melancholy' Post

I think it's turned into a tradition, me being depressed and miserable on the month of my birthday (and in general -don't be fooled- but October is even worse) and sharing that negativity with you.
Which is funny (?) and bizarre, as I actually love the month of my birthday. It's the spooky month after all, the month of Halloween. It's also when the unbearable heat of the summer dissolves and I can finally wear makeup without having to worry that my face will melt.

But every year same old story: I think about my life, what I have not accomplished, especially compared to my peers, and how sucky my life is. I also get paralysed by my time and death phobias and generally experience an avalanche of negative thoughts.

So, for this year's menu we have:

• Career failure (or shall I say absence?)
• Health Issues 
• Uncertainty of own future 
• Lack of motivation/goals
• And of course, asking if this life is worth living

Above all though, I reminisce the year that has passed, and what has happened during it.

Let's see...

I received my MA degree; two of my best friends moved out of London; I lived in a house with the worst housemates I've experienced so far, being bullied and attacked constantly; I got a good -and hard- part time job for which I was underpaid; I had severe financial issues -some of which were due to being underpaid; I had my second year anniversary with my lovely boyfriend; my health problems escalated to the point where I had to quit my job leave UK -and my lovely boyfriend behind; I had issues with my computer which cost money to fix, and weren't fixed properly either; my health kept -and still is- deteriorating; a family friend died; and the icing on the cake, universe's birthday present to me, YouTube deleting my channel (for details on that read this, this, this, this, but above all this).

Yeah. Doesn't sound too good, right?

And here I am, contemplating if I can handle another year like the previous one. Every year my sole wish is that the following year won't be as bad as the previous one.

E.g. Last year, just before I turned 28, I was in despair. I had gone through hell. From struggling with my Masters degree, to suffering financially, to having my macbook stolen from my room in Uni Halls -whilst I was in the building-, to being severely cyberbullied, to almost being physically assaulted by a catcaller...

So, my sole wish was for my 28th year on this planet to not be as bad as my 27th year.

Nope. It somehow managed to be worse. Way worse.

Since I remember myself, with the exception of very few years, each year has been worse than the one preceding it. And we reached that point where that terrifies me.

Because, if my 29th year is even slightly worse than my 28th year, it will be more than I can handle. My 28th year has already surpassed my coping levels, which resulted in me being bedbound for almost 4 months. 

I know there's not much I can do about this. We have no control over our futures, and sometimes not even over our present actions resulting in those futures -depending on the circumstances. Therefore, I know that there's no way to predict nor control the unknown, my future. 

And that my friend is hard to come to terms with, especially suspecting the amount of suffering I'll have to go through. 

I don't know what to do, I don't know how to prepare for the storm that is coming. I know it's coming. I just hope this year will spare me, even a little bit, and this time my 29th year won't be as bad as my 28th. Even a little bit better is a lot better to me.

I can only hope at this point after all...

Six Months

Six months of repression
Suppression,  no measure of prevention

Illness, stillness, subversion
No chance of recuperation 

Physical oppression
No escaping deterioration

Inertia, exertion
No hope for restoration

"Choose happiness"????

I just watched an interview on Channel 4.
A man was saying that "Life is what you choose it to be, you control how you perceive the world" etc. etc. etc.

I see many people repeating this on social media.
However, these people never include people who suffer from mental health in their message.

Because when you say everyone has a choice, you need to clarify you're talking about people who are mentally healthy.
Otherwise, you're being mentalists (aka ableists towards people who suffer from mental illness).

Why?
Because people who suffer from mental health do not have a choice.
No one chooses to suffer from anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, depression, ptsd etc.
No one.

But people do suffer from those, and other mental illnesses.
And it's definitely not their choice.

So it's all fun and games when you can actually choose to be happy, when you have the ability to control your mind, but it's a nightmare when you don't.

Mental illness is a mentally healthy person's dystopia.

Even though I'm not expecting mentally healthy people to understand, I'd rather they make the clarification that they're addressing fellow mentally healthy persons.

Unfortunately, many people who suffer from mental illness read that stuff and feel guilty for being unable to "choose happiness".

Well, if you suffer from mental health and you read this:
It's not your fault.
It wasn't your choice.
You're not to blame.

.Peace.

Heartbreak

How do you continue living after heartbreak?

What are the steps to move on?

Many people have asked me the above questions over the years.

Most of the time I told them to try and distract themselves and that with time they'd be able to move on.

But some even though they tried to follow my advice couldn't move on after years.

So now, when people ask me... I tell them to just try to take care of themselves.
I tell them to see a therapist. I tell them to try and focus on surviving each day.

Because that's the most honest and realistic advice I could give.

Life Game

In the academic year of 2011-12 (3rd year of my bachelors) I wrote a song inspired by the work I had done for my Independent Project.

That project entailed me interviewing people about pain and their memories of pain, whilst filming them, and then creating an avant garde piece of music and film. 

Which I did, and it was great.

In the meantime though, this project inspired me to write another song. 'Life Game'

I don't often go back and re-read or refer to my lyrics, but the following lyrics are depressingly relevant to this moment of my life:

"Pain is loss, pain is rejection

Pain is when you can’t find affection

Pain is racism, pain is bullying

Pain is when your heart is bleeding

Pain is physical, pain is mental

Pain is you on a misery spiral

Pain is shame, pain is blame

Pain is you not being the same?

Real life investment

You invest on someone and you expect everything is going to go alright.
You expect things won't change.

But then, people change, and things change along with them.

And then, you're alone. Because your investment failed and was a waste of time.

And you're left with a broken heart and a void you'll never be able to fill.

Random Thoughts XXXXXXIII

It fails me how life manages to get worse day by day.
Like, are things ever going to get even a tiny bit better, or at least remain the way they are, or should we expect to suffer more and more by the day?

If that's all that life is about, what's the fucking point?

Random Thoughts XXXXXIX

Is there any purpose?

Is there any hope?

Each of us is only here for a tiny amount of time.

During that time most suffer continuously whilst not leaving their mark on the world.

They exist unknown. They leave unknown. It was like they never were.

But even if they were, for how long? Even if they live through a legacy, for how long?

There is no eternity.

Unknown.

Random Thoughts XXXXXVIII

It's hard and painful when you realise that the best years of your life have already passed.

When you know that, what do you have to live for?

What should you hope for?

How can you motivate yourself to keep going?

Random Thoughts XXXXXVII

When someone tells you they suffer from depression, anxiety or any mental illness and you choose to talk to them in a way that you know will hurt them, you're a criminal.

Because your words towards a person who suffers from mental health can have a detrimental impact on their health, and even their life.

Your words hold power. And you're responsible and should be held accountable for the ways you choose to use that power.

Is mental illness a choice?!

A doctor told me the other day, there is new school of thought in the medical circles supporting that anxiety and depression are a choice. Subconscious, but still a choice.

Now, I would like to see him say that to a rape victim, a victim of war and a victim of chronic abuse.

Isn't that inconsiderate and insulting af?

Apart from that, there has been research showing anxiety and depression can be genetic and they may also develop due to certain chemical imbalances of the brain. Let alone that a person who goes through trauma can develop those and I'm sure they didn't choose to do so.

More than often, when I have conversations with medical professionals, I can't help but wonder two things:

1. How the fuck did you get your degree?

2. Why do you speak professionally on things that you have not studied? E.g. a GP speaking on mental health, heart disease, diet etc.

Seriously...

The first 11 days of the end of the world

A Creative Writing tutor said us, writers, shouldn't share too much on social media. We should limit our online presence, for fear of how what we write can affect our futures.

And even though I, too, recognise that as a blogger and youtuber, as an instagrammer and a person with relatively strong social media presence, I run the risk of revealing too much, I cannot help myself.

Because I have a natural urge to create art and share it with the world. Now, I may have also shared personal moments, but it was always was the greater good, so that others who may experience similar situations, do not feel alone.

Or I may have shared my views on politics, and the reality we live in.

But as an artist, as a creator, isn't that what I am supposed to do?
Artists are special -and magical- creatures, people who can create from scratch, in addition to being inspired by what happens around them.

And especially in times like these, when political instability and irrational governing threatens the very core of our humanity, it is my duty, as an artist -and a human- to create, to act, to speak up.

I am an emotional person. A person who can empathise. When others feel pain, I can feel their pain, I can understand their position.

So, to see that which has taken place in the past 11 days... I am devastated.

At first came shock. Then, denial. Then, acceptance. Now, depression.

At 28 years old, I have no hope for the future.
I strongly believe the world is so fucked up, that it cannot be fixed in one, two -or even five- generations.

It took a very long time for things to become the way they are now, and that cannot be undone so easily. If I wasn't weary of copyright, I would share a few poems I wrote these days, but oh well. Maybe in the future.

We live in financial slavery, in ill capitalism, in cultural imperialism, in environmental crisis, in severe inequality...

The world we live in is controlled by an elite. And that elite will do anything and everything to stay at the top of the pyramide.

Not sure we stand a chance against them, despite the fact that we are a majority.

And that is because there is another factor that plays a role in this: the ego.
Which can also cause stupidity and people to be stuck up in their ways and blinded.

Good luck to all of us my friends.

Good luck to the underprivileged, good luck to the ones belonging to marginalised social groups, good luck to the ones who aren't brainwashed zombies and suffer due to the knowledge...

And good luck to us surviving by the rule of the ignorants, who -very unfortunately, make decisions for the rest of us...

London & Art: Failing creativity

Today I googled myself, and by myself, I mean my online self.
Yes. Don't judge. I just wanted to see what kind of pictures I have uploaded. Sometimes we get carried away after all.

When I ensured nothing shameful has been shared with the world, or at least nothing shameful appears on google search, an old blog entry caught my eye.

As I started reading I thought I'd feel nostalgic, but if I actually felt anything, that was annoyance.

The blog entry was about me loving London, London life, reminiscing my uni (bachelors) years etc.
I was going on about friends, parties, and having a great time in London. Mind you, the post was written in 2012.

Now, four years later, I just graduated from my masters degree, which took three long years to complete, and I got a job (for which I am severely underpaid).
I also have close to zero social life. Firstly, due to many of the friends mentioned on that old blog entry moving to other places, secondly due to drifting away from people (as you do the older you get), and lastly, due to my shit finances.

In the seven years I've been in UK, not even one day has gone by without me stressing over money. And that takes a toll on you. That, combined with the masters degree experience, which was extremely traumatic and draining -not to mention the Brexit news- left me extremely... tired.

Rent prices and overall cost of life skyrocketed, which left me struggling for survival. In the past three years, I cannot say that I have lived in London. I can only say that I have survived London.

Many of my acquaintances and friends in Greece believe that because I'm in London, I'm living the life.
Well, let me tell you: I'd rather be somewhere else and live comfortably. Because in London, unless you make over 30k a year (after taxes) you can't live. You can only survive. And at the moment, I'm not making a third of that. I'm struggling to pay my rent, I'm struggling to pay for food.

I have two degrees, and I can't find a job that pays well enough, so that I can live with dignity.
Because, as someone pointed out on youtube, art degrees are 'laughable' and useless. So, apparently, I should have studied something I don't like, just so I can live with dignity. But then, would that be living with dignity? If I did a job I hated?
The same person who called art degrees 'laughable' suggested I should have checked the Forbes list of the best paying jobs before I started my studies. To her, it's stupid that I chose to study subjects that aren't on that list.

But you see, unfortunately, I am an artist. Every part of my body has been dedicated to art since I can remember myself.
I was four years old when I started singing. I was fascinated. I would sing arias by the window. I didn't even know what opera was at the time. I just knew how to make those sounds, that I later found out to be arias.

Then, I learned how to write. My whole world changed. I immediately started keeping a diary. I started writing stories. In the meantime, I was reading books all the time. I started reading comics as well.

I realised I also liked drawing a lot. I always drew, as all little kids do. I could be good at it, if I put the time and effort. But, I loved writing and singing a little more. And since writing was something I could do anywhere, anytime, I focused on that.

When I was eight-years-old I started learning English. I immediately started writing in English. I was fascinated by how well English worked with lyrics and poems. Even though, I still wrote in Greek, both novels and poems/lyrics, I started writing in English a lot more. Today, I rarely write in Greek. Nevertheless, when I do, it is something I enjoy and cherish. I feel that different languages work better in expressing different things.

In my late teens, I was in a band. That didn't go greatly, but it urged me to push myself to study music. I dropped out of my Greek uni to come to London and study music. I wrote lyrics frantically. I sang, I recorded myself. I was happy. The singer and lyricist within me was satisfied.
But I didn't manage to make connections, as I am an introvert and suffer from performance anxiety. I didn't manage to make it big.
Therefore, music didn't work for me.

I started loving photography around the same time I was in a band. You see, the internet made it possible to share your pictures, and to see others' pictures. That was inspiring to me. It gave me ideas. It urged me to share my pictures with the world. Even if it was pictures taken from my phone. I created a Deviant Art page. It's not popular at all.
My love for photography -which I got from my mother- didn't lead anywhere either.

My masters degree helped me gain knowledge in the arts (theatre, music and drama among others) and management, in correlation to marginalised social groups (e.g. prisoners, persons with disabilities etc.) and how to plan, deliver and organise relevant workshops/projects.
However, as I lack people's skills, which are essential to work on this field, I didn't manage to get a job on that field.

Now I'm a notetaker for uni students with disabilities. Despite the fact that I enjoy the job, and I learn so many things for free, this isn't a post grad job. It's a I'm-still-doing-my-bacherlor-degree job. Which means I'm extremely underpaid considering my qualifications -and the fact that I work for an agency means they get a lot of my money.

So all of these years of studying, all of these years of creating... and nothing came out of them.

I have hundreds of pieces of writing that I've written over the years. I also have hundreds of drawings. And I used to have a lot of recordings of me singing, but many of those I decided not to keep. But I do have a few finished songs, recorded for uni, and a couple of performances. I have thousands of pictures I have taken.

In vain.

It's sad. It's really sad. But you may ask: How is this relevant to London, wouldn't it be the same if you were in Greece?

Maybe, maybe not. But at least in Greece I would be more comfortable financially.

However, the thing is, London is known for its art scene. It's known to be the USA of Europe. Meaning, it is the land of opportunity, and aspiring artists from all sorts of backgrounds and art forms come here to make it.

Or it was supposed to be. Or it used to be. But it's not anymore.

Take it from someone who has lived in London for almost seven years now:
London isn't an easy place to be. And with all the instability that the Brexit brought, the prices rising even more, it's turning into a very ugly place; a place that isn't very friendly to foreigners and poor people.

I can't even remember why I started this blog entry anymore. So, I'll stop here, hoping that one day, maybe, just maybe, I will be given the opportunity to live with dignity, as an artist, in this world.


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