One Step forward, Two leaps back...

Hi, it's been a while. This is going to be a but of a ranty waffle, but as I said it's been a while...


I scare myself sometimes. Some thoughts are so overpowering its hard to tell what's real and what's not. It's been a long time since I've been able to write anything down. It's been hard to be honest with myself like I had been doing before my break away from the blog.

My motivation has been shot to pieces. Before this was really helping, but something happened that made me stop. I can't really tell what it was, my brain just stopped me from articulating how I've been feeling.
The darkness has been overwhelming, the inability to function properly has been excruciating. I've wanted to open up here so much and be honest but somehow the darkside has been winning.

I think about death a lot now. Not suicide though. I don't have that in me. I don't want to hurt anyone more than this disease has already caused me to do. But I'm getting so tired. Because of this though I've made some huge steps. I have a therapist now. I finally got there. It's both uplifting and difficult. There's so much hidden in me that bringing up things old and new has helped both confuse and make sense of so many things. I've taken that first step into battle, and I have no desire to retreat. I need to face the past, present and future and take power of my life again. I want to live. I want to live my life to its full potential. I know I deserve that. I live wanting other people to live their lives and I need to realise and hold onto the fact that I want that for myself.


I look at pictures of when I was little, Smiling and laughing, but now unable to recognise that person in me anymore. I want to meet him again. I want people to see that in me again. I don't want people to refer to me as someone who "used to laugh so much when you were little". I want to laugh now, I want to feel it through every little bit of me. I want my eyes to open and my muscles and stomach to ache from happiness and not from anxiety and tension and not being able to eat or hold food down. I don't want to be how I am now. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be me.


There are hurdles getting in the way. I thought I was making some progress the other day. I felt good for the first time in however long. I'd found an inch of confidence and I liked it. Then I left the house and got mugged on the way to see my therapist. FUCKING. TYPICAL. The experience threw me two leaps back and took away those feelings I had finally picked up after such a long time instantly. At first I felt that the universe must have something against me, that it's telling me that I'm not allowed to feel those positive feelings I was experiencing at that time. Every time I've been mugged (four times now, "Lucky Pete" they call me), I've felt really good beforehand. The spiral my brain goes down every time tries to convince me that the world is against me and that I deserve to be unhappy.
But that's not right. As much as the demons inside me try to make me believe it. It's stupid, horrible, bad luck. It makes me disillusioned with the world and society yes, but I shouldn't let it cause me to judge myself. I'm vulnerable at the best of times and I don't need a piece of utter scum to make me feel even more so. I will in a natural, "I've just been violated and it was FUCKING SCARY" way, but I can't let it in a "Pete" way. That complete and utter shit is society's problem. Yes I am part of society, but I have my own problems I need to concentrate on.    


I was petrified of writing any of that, but I'm glad I did. Feel like I'm able to take a little step towards getting that leap back. So maybe I'll be hopping around here again a little bit more... if you're lucky.

I can't go the way I came.

Hi there. It feels like it's been forever since I last put anything here. A mix of being far far away physically and then coming back and feeling just as far away mentally.

So I did it. I went away to the other side of the world by myself. I saw new amazing things, ate amazing food, saw amazing music, did things spontaneously, found some confidence and talked to complete strangers and made new friends. When I was there it helped a lot. I had some days where the loneliness could take over but there always seemed to be a way out eventually. The loneliness didn't scare me as much. I took steps forward and faced things I was petrified of. I'm proud of myself for that. It didn't eradicate my problems. I'm not naive enough to believe that it would have or that it would've been a cure for anything but I knew if I got through it, in some respects I'd come out stronger.

So I'm back now. Back to a place I appreciated more when I was away from and on returning feel like I've taken a step back from the two forward I made when I was escaped. I suppose that's not abnormal. In fact I was expecting it, but there was a big part of me that hoped I'd be standing up a bit stronger than I am right now. But I need to remember that two steps forward and one back is still one ahead from before I went.
It's scary being back. The two parts of my brain are in a massive fight. One half wants to hide away and the other half wants to get out there as much as possible and see if I can transfer the confidence into life back at home. They're currently fighting with each other but so far the confident has pipped the scared side to the post more often. Not today I might add but I have kicked myself in the arse a little more than usual this past week.

It frustrates me that I had more control over the gloom when I was away from everything. I know that being around fresh and new things and people is going to make an obvious difference, but why should it make that much? I'm still the same guy here and there, with the same passions and personality. Or was I more myself when I was there? How much do I hold back around the familiar people and things in my life? How much do I hide the real me from those around me? I can't tell whether it's more or less than I think. Does that mean I'm not sure of who I really am? I'm sure of some aspects of myself and there's other parts I know are there and am afraid to unleash them for fear of rejection or in case I find something to not like about myself.

Going away was a big thing for me, but it has opened up a lot more questions about myself and how my emotions are controlled. It hasn't made me happier person necessarily but it's helped me gain a little more confidence in my abilities to step out of my comfort/anxiety zones.

I'm petrified of the future still but feel slightly better equipped now to start the long trek down that really hilly yellow brick road. I disappeared to one Emerald City, but I've got a long way to go to get to the next one.

Home isn't where your house is.

As sickly and as overused the phrase might be. Home really is where the heart is.

I've had to move back to the North East London town, where up until eight months ago I'd lived all my life (minus 6 months in Venezuela). I really don't know how I feel about it. I don't want to take a step backwards. Recent events and the position I've found myself in make me nervous that there's a possibility this might happen.

When I'm not here I appreciate it so much more, coming back to it is like meeting up with an old friend that you don't see often but when you do it's quality time. It's funny that now I'm living here again that it seems to have lost that. It's not home right now. I was somewhere different and new and was just getting used to it. Just starting to appreciate it. Just started to realise that it was home. I know deep down that the main reason for feeling that it was home wasn't the location. It's was where my heart was (and still is). In physical terms (and so therefore mentally too) it was fresh, new, exciting and most importantly, a step forward.

I'm the first to defend and first to bitch about my home town. There are FAR worse places to live, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to be stuck. In the past couple of years I've been more positive about the place than ever, but again that wasn't because of the physical place. It was what was in it and what I had.

I can learn from this though. It really is what you take out of and what you put into a place to make it home. My home here before was beautiful because of what was put into it, what was shared there. Now I'm back at my parents place in a room that used to be my safe haven, my own box where I could be me and escape from the world.  Now it's just somewhere I sleep. I know this isn't forever and I know I'm bloody lucky to have anywhere right now, but there certain things I need right now. Somewhere secure and positive.

My main man William Morris said "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful". This really doesn't apply to just decoration or physical objects (and my oh my do I have too many of those). A house can only be filled with beauty if you love being there and feel safe and make it your own. Without that a house can't be a home.

So that's my aim. To take the most from what I have and concentrate on where my heart is. It's in me and I just need to let it know that we've got some home hunting/creating to do.