Monday, January 31, 2011

11-ish PM, 26th Dec, 2009

You never know... People don't give a... No one ever knows. It's all... a rollercoaster of thought, with enough loops to keep you insane. You're pushing it, not treads, tracks, or electricity. You. And you don't know where you are finding it. There's a massive reserve of energy somewhere down there, but sometimes it runs out... and you're stuck.
Do you ever wonder how they find out if the seats are faulty? Is someone on there jolted off when it's stopped?

It is a rollercoaster, hey.All different people going "Fuck yeah, this is fun," or "Yeah, it's alright." Some people screaming for the fun of it, some screaming because they think they're gonna die. Some are just bored. "Jeez, I've been on more thrilling rides at the gym.

Funny, because when I'm on a rollercoaster I'd be of the first ones. Although the fuck would have to be taken off come New Year.
But on the rollercoaster we're powering, I'm more the person screaming for the fun of it. I overact myself. When I'm sad, you know. I'm sullen for days. When I'm happy, there's an actual smile fixed to my face that'll take quite a bit to take off. When I'm hyped up, I literally bounce off the walls, or try to.
Though a part of me is the last as well. "When will it end?"
I'm sick of the onslaught of weapons of mass destruction. If they insult me, I don't have my own stock of them. I'm going to throw the very expressions they throw back, though minus the hate. Hate is expensive. It costs wars, it saves people's lives, it destroys them, it wins wars, gains valuable opinions. It's the main cause of the world's problems. So when I get it thrown in my face I draw it in. Sure, some seeps out. I'm not a sponge, and hate is pretty hurtful, but I need my own supply of it. It's more than the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in modern warfare in the world of emotions. I need some to blast to protect myself in the battle of all battles.
I'm not a loved person, I know. By most people, I'm tolerated. There's quite a few who will turn their head in disgust as soon as look at me. But to the very few who welcome me, you're a part of my rollercoaster, and so far the ride hasn't stopped, and you haven't fallen to your deaths as the result of a faulty seat.


Signing off, at 11:32 PM,

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Yeah, so I walk into my dads and within the first 10 seconds of seeing him, not even exaggerating, I'm yelled at, I burst into tears and swear at him for the first time in my life. He shouts at me for 'crying woman's tears' and sends me to my room where I sit crying my lungs out for an hour and a half, then just when I've stopped again, he comes in and fucks up my dam, and we talk.

Now he knows everything. Not that he gives a shit.

First reaction when I said it?
Well, here's the conversation.
"You had a bad morning? I have bad mornings all the time. I have chronic depression Brittany, and it's not really like you can go running to your room and crying about it every time something bad happens. I mean, you've got to learn to-"
Tears are streaking down my face even though I'm telling myself to stop being such a pussy and stop crying. I'm fucking hysterical and I can't stop the words coming out of my mouth. "Fuck you Dad. You wanna know something, you really fucking wanna know something? Two fucking years ago I was diagnosed with cllinical depression. I've tried to kill myself four times. You aren't the fucking only one, I know what it's l-"
He holds his arms out as a 'what' type of gesture.
Heavily sarcastic. "Well, thanks for telling me."

So we go on to talk about him, and compare my situation to his, and yeah, apparently because I'm a teenager and a woman I get overly emotional and my depression isn't as severe.

He blames it on my exercise habits, my mother, my lack of friends and my personality, that it's hereditary and because he has it there's a strong possibility I will. Not once does he say it just maybe could be anything to do with him.

So four years of bottling up shit, two years of that being pretty damn serious... and he blames it on something else when he does find out.

What is probably one of the most significant moments of my life, perhaps the most significant, registers as "this is bad, tell her to do something about it then forget about it and move on" in his brain. His advice? Get help. Go swimming. Join a group. Don't be depressed.
Little bit harder than it sounds, Dad.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Ugh. Someone drive me back to camp please. It's only one more night, sure, but I'd still prefer it. I really feel worthless at the moment. I react arbitrarily to insignificant events, and even I look at what I am and think "What the fuck, that doesn't even make sense Brittany. Why on earth would you react like that to something like that?"
I'm too over the top. Too emotional, and too fucking stupid to change it.
I cried so much when I left camp today. Reading all the things that people wrote to me and looking at my fingerknitting and bangles... I feel validated, not to mention completely myself at camp. And that's for around three and a half days straight. At home, I only have moments, and those are fleeting.
I've lost me.
Drive me back to camp where no-one cares who I am, where I can be myself without worrying at all. Let me not shroud myself with pretention.

Fucking hell.
It was my last camp as a kid, I don't think I'll ever feel like that again. I know I'm definitely applying to be a leader, but that'll be a different sense of enjoyment.
I'm going to miss everyone so much.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Rant. Don't read, it's rather pointless and boring, I just need a place to exert my frustration other than my diary.

Denial. Or claimed ignorance. It's a lesson I've learnt all too often. Usually coming from my end.
Whenever I build up the confidence that I actually might be able to start to put my opinions across in a clean and concise manner without being easily swayed, my father comes across and demolishes it. I swear, he's the only person in the world that can affect what I do so easily. Usually, I don't let the thought of other people disapproving get in the way of my actions. Around my father, I tread every step so carefully.
I'm slowly learning to stand up for myself, but it's been a process a year in the making and I'm not even a quarter of the way there.
An example. Nothing like the magnitude or significance of what happened today, but an example.
I know a damnsite more about legal procedures than my father... though I can't say he's not been involved in a few. Over the past year he's been involved in a court case because he's beaten someone up in a pub after they challenged him to a fight. Drunk, of course.
So recently, he was talking about this, and because he's never been in a court case... yes, more than one... on the right side of the law, he has negative feelings towards the police. Corrupt and unjust, the whole lot of them, in his opinion. Especially the Australian police force. He was talking about the police involved in his court case and calling them a bunch of lowlife bastards who should never have been allowed to join in the first place, among many other names. He then goes off on one of his many spiels about how the police force is corrupt, and how the government doesn't give a shit because they prefer the poor kept uneducated and seeing as the poor have nowhere near decent representation in criminal cases, they end up in jail, where they're unlikely really to be uneducated anyway. One of his many conspiracy theories, though this one may hold more than a grain of truth.
Then I pipe up, feeling pretty confident about what I'm about to say. I ask him where Australia would be, where any free and democratic country would be, without the police force, without some system of enforcing justice on people? I then make the point that we're better off with a police force than without them- some corruption is better than no justice at all. He looks at me like I'm stupid for even suggesting that, crushes my argument within about ten seconds with completely unreasonable, invalid, and in parts untruthful points... none of which I can remember, yet at the time I thought they made complete sense... then completely dismisses my opinion and yells at me for an hour for being a smartmouth.
Thing is about my dad... he tells us to put our opinions across, then when we do, he dismisses them or ignores them. So I've taken to an "I don't know." or a simple shrug of the shoulders approach, which leads him to then talk about the political and social ignorance about teenagers today, and in general just the dumbing down of the population through pop music, sitcoms, and unintelligent movies- all apparently a scheme by the government to keep people uneducated. I nod and look him in the eye, then listen to him talk about women in a demeaning way, telling me that they destroy a mans life and don't ever give anything back, and always take something for nothing. Then he backtracks and tells me, "Oh, Brittany, not all women are like that"- when he's just said the exact opposite-"Maybe you'll find a happy and balanced relationship."
He continues to call my mother a pussy-licking lesbian bitch who destroyed our lives, our being us kids. Especially my sister. He tells me that my sister used to be a happy, exuberant little girl, albeit with downsyndrome, but she progressed well and was friendly. And to be honest, he destroyed her life more. His three hour long, top-of-his-voice rants which caused all three of us kids to shrink into a corner when we were below ten years old destroyed mine and my sisters confidence. If we'd still been living with him, I think there's over a 50% chance I wouldn't exist as a life on Earth.
I've tried to stick up for my mum a few times. Told him she's not destroyed my life, she's not a lesbian, and even if she were, what of it? What's wrong with being attracted to the same gender? But no. My mother has quite obviously destroyed my life and my livelihood, and any non heterosexual relationship is quite obviously wrong and unnatural.
I'm so ridiculously tempted to tell him. Say "Well, who do you think has destroyed my life, at least, more? Who's comforted me as I've tried to get through a three year long battle with depression? Who's the person I trust to tell that I've tried to kill myself four times? Who's the cause of that?"

I hide everything from my dad. In the car on the way home tonight, I realised just how much. He asked me what I was doing tomorrow. I assumed it was because he wanted to see me, and I'm pretty sure I was right. I told him I had a doctors appointment at 1:30. He asked why, and I almost answered him. But I didn't. I realised it wouldn't be a good idea. So I replied "Oh, I'm... (insert an oh shit oh shit oh shit here)... just going in for a checkup.
He nodded from the front seat, and asked if it was just the local one. No, I said, and he said the local one was shit.
I agreed with him, and said we'd transferred our family doctor to Belridge Medical Centre or clinic, because I'd went there before when I (insert another oh shit oh shit oh shit here)... had something go wrong.
That's how much my father doesn't know about me. I got hit by a car a year and two months ago, and if I hadn't been wearing a helmet there's an almost certainty I would have died. (There's a safety lesson thrown in for you, kids.) I went to Belridge Medical Clinic for treatment. I was limping heavily for about three weeks, with bruises all down the left side of my body. My dad didn't notice a thing, and I see him twice a week.

Inobservant prick.
And on that note, I'll leave you to your doings. Thanks for reading. though I doubt it's a good thing that you've read. You're probably bored shitless and you know a lot about my personal life. Yay for being open. Not.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Friday, January 7, 2011

Trust and mistrust.

Why are teenagers such fickle creatures? Why does every interaction we're not fully aware of irritate us beyond belief?
If we don't know something, we need to believe that is is okay for us not to know it. We need to concern ourselves less with the distrust, suspicion, and paranoia that close relationships with people can lead us to, and focus on what makes those relationships, and strengthen them. Paranoia does no-one any good. A little wariness helps but paranoia only forges crevices between people, crevices that turn into gorges that split people apart. I know, it's happened to me in a few cases, but what rings the loudest, yet shrillest, most piercing bell is one particular case that hurt right to my core and is still a fucking sore wound.
Why don't I learn from my mistakes? I recognise what my mind is doing but I'm powerless to stop it.

Not all teenagers are like it, but the majority of relationships I know that have been wrecked, whether they have been friendships or romantic involvements, have been destroyed by distrust or abuse of trust. There needs to be a balance between the two extremes, the two variables- the amount of trust and the actions that involve the leniency of the trust- that leads to the maintenance of a healthy relationship.

Some people are naturally paranoid and it shows in their relationships.
Judging by my experience and my actions so far in my life, I have a feeling I might be one of them.


I'm stating what is an obvious truth here.

I wish people wrote as often as I did. I'd feel like I knew where I stood with people. And I'd probably feel more secure.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

11:39 PM, 27th September, 2009.

Yeah, I feel like writing.
I've changed my mood so often in the last few weeks I don't know what to say for myself. I  am feeling brilliant now, and I have been for the last few days, which is an unusual high for me.
There's something about writing that just releases me. When I write, often I'm a cynical bastard, but by the time I finish a good long journal or blog entry I'm often smiling. Language is an incredibly beautiful thing, I don't know why more people don't take advantage of it.
As I write this it is the beginning of the holidays, well, the first weekend of it, and as I must admit, though I (surprisingly) like school, that I really needed a break. Everything was taking a toll on me.
It'll be amusing if I include some of this stuff in a blog I am writing, a complete switch of tone.
I just finished reading a book about a teenage girls mental institution in Perth. It was pretty amazing to see place names I recognised for once, and to get an insight into life there. And if the girls in the book are anything to go by, ( the book was written by an ex-psychiatric patient) then to be absolutely honest I could end up there if I toed much over the line.One thing about it- "They could be going to pieces inside, and you can't tell.
It's what I've felt for a while. Putting on a face, laughing as if I needed to, or could, and smiling like I'd lose the power after the set time was up.
I'm not so scared now. I think I'm me, for the first time in a while.
Signing off, at 11:58 PM,