Darling Kal

Funny week of anniversaries.

On Saturday, it was the birthday of one of my new Bath friends who I know through theatricals and love to bits. It was also Kal's birthday. As some of you already know, I used to make videos for the YouTube channel SelfHarmSupport, and Kal was another of the hosts. She started making videos in full headscarves so her face wasn't visible at all, and over time out came her eyes, and then her face, and then she was only wearing hats or bandanas. I like to think she became comfortable within the YT community; I still don't know what she used to wear the rest of the time. She was a medical student, lived in Germany and had English as a second language, not that you would know from the way she spoke it! She did a bit of translating for money but she never enjoyed it, which I always found funny because, obvs, translation is my thang.

There were others on the channel who were much closer to her than I was. So when, after a while, she had been absent and nobody quite knew what had happened, I kind of assumed other people would know. And that's the worst thing, I suppose, because nobody does.

It's something we barely talk about, and when we do, everyone is always very careful what they say. But on Saturday I realised just how long it has been, and the reality of what probably happened is hitting home. Hard.

The fact is, pretty much all of the suicide risk boxes were ticked; she had told someone she was doing better the last time they spoke, but then, so was I when I overdosed. We may never know if there was another reason for her to suddenly disappear and cut all ties with us, the people we had reason to believe she was closest to. But tragically, if she were to commit suicide, this is exactly what would happen. Nobody would tell us because nobody 'in real life' would know that there were people on the internet waiting to be told.

I don't want to believe that that's what happened. But when Facebook helpfully reminded me it was her birthday on Saturday, I had to face up to just how long it's been. Well over two years. I'm still afraid to say it in case someone accuses me of being negative, or unreasonable, but that's the thought that hit me and all I can do is be honest about it.

In the evening, my Bath friend was having a party at the Gourmet Burger Kitchen, and it was a fun night. Except that I kept remembering about Kal, and it was like a weight coming down. I tried to use it as an impulse to appreciate everyone who was there that little bit more - if any of these guys hadn't made it to their last birthdays, it would be devastating, but they did. Here they are. That's something to celebrate. Even so, that was difficult to balance with the sadness.

I don't know what to think, or believe, or feel. The worst part isn't the prospect of never seeing her again, because there are many people I have loved who I know I'll never see again, whether or not death is involved. If I knew that she was happy somewhere, that would be enough. But we don't know. And that's fucking hard.

Just to make the week even better, I realised that some point this week it will have been 2 years since my suicide attempt. I don't know how I feel about that either. Oh yeah, and I have a massive exam tomorrow. I'm writing this in the hope that getting it out of my system might allow me to concentrate, because I've been finding that hard this week.

I'm not saying she's dead. But I'm not saying anything else either. I'm saying that we don't know, and that I feel like I'm in some kind of emotional limbo until we do - which might never happen. Whatever it is, I want to take a moment to remember Kal exactly as she was, whoever and wherever she is today.

Love you, darling firebird.
x

OK this is one of those times when I just need to blog, to write, and I'm not sure where it'll go or what I'll say but I just feel suddenly crap and I don't know what else to do with myself.

I just read an article about Helen Mirren and the 'date rape isn't really rape' fiasco, which has obviously made me very angry. I should just stop reading the news haha, stupid people make me cross! Well, it's not even stupidity, that's the thing - it's attitudes that I know are working against me every second of every day. Every time people bring up the subject of when rape isn't rape (as though that's a category anything could fall into), it exacerbates this feeling I have of wanting to hide under a duvet on the sofa and never let anybody see me.

Going out I often feel really "looked at", if it's the summer like it is now and I'm out and about in shorts or something, I walk along the main road hoping nobody honks and worrying until I get onto a footpath. If I notice anyone male looking at me I try to get out of the way as quickly as I can. I touched on this in the body positivity post I did the other week. But any mention of people's attitudes towards rape just....gah. It makes me scared to show myself anywhere in public, for fear of being open to someone taking advantage, even just having to push off probably harmless but leery drunk people makes me cringe. And feel like it's my responsibility, because if I look nice deliberately, then so many people will blame me for anything that happens, which means I can't look nice without panicking. I'm so terrified of something happening, of even being at a house party or a dinner with people I think I trust and then alcohol happening and everything going wrong...it makes me too scared to drink, and for some reason today, too scared to even go out. Seriously I don't know what's up but I suddenly feel like I want to hide, my mood has plummeted (doesn't help I'm tired and woke up in a bit of a mood), I honestly don't know what to do. I wanted to go out and get something from the shops but now I find myself just sitting here feeling shite and not knowing what to do or how to proceed with anything. What? I don't understand.
Somebody please fix the world and slip me a note through my door so I know. Thanks. x

Let's Talk Bodies! Bodies Bodies Bodies

Inspired by a post by the wonderful Tracey http://justas1am.blogspot.co.uk/ , I decided to follow her lead and do a bit of body blogging. I am much more comfortable with my body than I used to be, and I've made huge strides in eating disorder recovery - and the classic ED paradox of constantly looking at your body, yet never actually managing to see it, because your vision is too full of all the pain and the hurt you're channeling onto your poor old body.

Straight up, life is much better now than is had been for longer than I like to think about, so on a very simple level there's less for me to be dumping on my body and blaming it for. And yet...

The negatives. Let's just say it and be done with it.

LEGS. My legs have been the rather unwilling object of a lot of my perfectionism. They're never thin enough, and I hate the thigh wobble with a passion. I also have a bit of a hang-up about whether or not they touch at the top, how close together I can get my feet before they do, etc - which I know is textbook ED.

HIPS. They're just. so. wide. That's it.

TUMMY. Oh, my poor little tummy. Never flat enough, never small enough. I'm technically ok with it not being flat (there's a womb in there, for fuck sake), but whenever the "flab" sticks out over jeans etc I just want to hide it. And I haven't even got flab, what is wrong with me?!

BUM. Bottom, arse, derriere, glutimus maximus - whatever you call it, everyone I know thinks their is either too flat or too big. This might sound weird but I actually hate the fact that mine is what many would consider ideal. This comes down to being sexy, and the fact that even the thought of it makes me squirm. Obsession with thinness is directly related to this, because thin = good without necessarily =ing sexy. Of course I want to look good, but sexy? Not in a million years. I am incredibly uncomfortable with guys looking at me in a sexual way, but let's face it they're going to whatever you look like! Thanks, instinct. You got my back. NOT.

ARMS. What is it with upper arms? Every photo of me, that's what I look at. -_- I still do that thing, when I'm sat on my bed and I catch myself in the mirror, of resting on my knees because it makes my arms look thinner. Wtf.

FACE. It's lush that I don't think I'm butt-ugly any more, but it's the sexy thing again. Not gonna lie, when I get dressed up and go to a restaurant or whatever, I notice heads turning. And I fucking hate it. I will literally do everything I can to avoid getting up and going anywhere (toilet/outside to answer my phone/etc) because I don't want to walk back in again and be aware of eyes on me. Esdhfljwef *shudder*

Right, that's that done. Now then.
Positives

My body works. It does almost all of the things it's supposed to - ok, my wrists might not really work (RSI, sigh), but they're not totally unusable. I'm sitting here typing, right?

I'm not physically disabled or disfigured. When I say that I'm grateful for this, I don't mean that those who are disabled or disfigured automatically and necessarily have a lower quality of life, because that's clearly BS. But it does make everything so much easier because the whole world is accessible to me, and when I'm travelling I don't have to worry about it. Also as an actor, not being facially/visually disfigured is bloody useful - it shouldn't be, but there it is.

OK, so my thighs wobble. That's because when you shake something, it wobbles. This is not cosmetics, this is basic physics. Ditto for when you sit down - yes, your thighs might suddenly look twice as wide. But hello, that's because they're half as thick. The shape has changed. The amount of fat on them has not.

And while we're talking about wide limbs, let's give a nod to the upper arms. When you hug someone, are they thinking 'gosh I think this person's upper arms are looking 2mm wider than they did before'? No - they're thinking 'mmmmmm hugs :)'.

And as for sexy, well. I might not like the attention, but if anyone dares to act on it without my consent I will sul ki do their ass until they want to crawl back into their mother's womb. And you know what? One of these days I'm gonna fall in love with somebody, and then I shall embark on a meticulously planned campaign of seduction that renders them totally incapable of looking at anyone else without thinking of me. And y'know, if I ever have my heart broken, I've got everything I need to inflict crippling jealousy in the most immature, throwing-toys-out-of-the-pram way possible. So there.

No matter how much I may dislike my body, no matter how much I may use it as a scapegoat for all the other crap going on in my life (if I only lose weight everything will be better! =D ... what? O.o), it does so much that I take for granted. And being able to take a good, well-functioning body for granted is a privilege that I intend to start honouring.

BOOM.
______
You really want to leave me a comment with your body loves and hates. Yyyyeah you do. x

Most people, myself included, find the idea of a 5-month holiday luscious. It's not quite so straight forward when you do actually have things to get done in said holiday (don't we always?), and then you get confused about what 'holiday' means and what your priorities are and how you're hoping to feel by the end etc etc etc.

There's a Doctor Who episode where the Doctor is explaining why he likes to travel with companions - because he can't see the wonder in the universe any more. "When you make the whole of time and space your back yard, what you get is a back yard." I feel similarly about this 5-month break which is not a break; it seems there is a limit to the amount of time you can consistently feel on holiday. When you make holiday living your every day life, what you get is an every day life.

I'm currently in rural Wales visiting family, waiting to hear about extras castings (as ever), and trying to treat the week like a proper holiday. Time away. Don't think about work. I don't count extra-ing as work because I really love it, so I'm trying not to think about tour guiding, which I don't love. I'm actually getting pretty fed up with it tbh. But I feel slightly trapped by needing to have an employer to write references for future things, and the tour company boss is the only person who can currently fill that role so I have to stay on his good side. Not that he would have time to write any references anyway, so I'm not sure what I'm trying to get out of this...

I have changed my desktop wallpaper on my laptop to a summery image of a Hawaiian resort, because a) I grew up in Hawaii and find pictures of it comforting, b) it's a summery image and therefore maybe will help remind me I'm on a proper holiday, and c) I usually stress out a bit when I'm away and open my computer because I'm reminded of all the things I left behind, so I'm experimenting with avoiding that. We'll see. I am enjoying seeing it, at any rate, so I've achieved something.

But if the only way I can come up with to help me feel more relaxed is to change my desktop wallpaper, things are getting serious. Suggestions on postcards. x

After Oliver

It's official: Oliver Twist is OVER.

What madness. It still literally feels like a few days ago I was e-mailing the director, saying sorry I can't make the auditions but are there any small parts for me, I'll be around in July. That was 3 months ago. THREE MONTHS.

Time is going by so very fast, though I'm not sure what would need to happen for it to go by slowly. I keep feeling like I want time to stop, I don't want the future to happen yet because I need something to look forward to and if it's happening, that means it soon will have happened, and what the hell then?

On top of which I'm entering the post-play void which inevitably descends after each production. It's been such good fun and I'm so sad it's over; I always am, so it's no surprise, but the thought that I won't be able to go on that stage and be that character and do those scenes again is genuinely upsetting!

I'll just have to replace it by becoming even more obsessed with the Codeword in the i (and other papers too, apparently - maybe I should start buying those), and oh wait yeah maybe finish those short stories I told my friend I'd write ages ago? I do have plenty to keep me busy, and lots of active relaxing + healing as ever, but I'm going to be feeling that empty Oliver-shaped space for a while. Sadface.

Facebook => Envy

The nice thing about Facebook is that it allows you to keep up with what all your friends and acquaintances are doing.

The problem of Facebook is that it allows you to keep up with what all your friends and acquaintances are doing.

I'm supposed to be chilling out atm. Relaxing. Healing. Having a break. Which I've almost forgotten how to do, so it really doesn't help when I go on Facebook quite innocently and am then bombarded with all the shit my peers are achieving. You know, the Oxford types who write 4 plays, establish a travel magazine and direct Macbeth in one term, and then get a 1st. All these disgustingly energetic, healthy people who can do whatever the fuck they want.

And here's me, stuck at home trying to remember how to relax and stop putting pressure on myself, to stop setting targets and goals and forcing myself to achieve, achieve, achieve. What the hell would I be doing if I wasn't stuck here healing, you know? What if I was as healthy and happy as them? Their CVs are exploding, and I'm not jealous from a jobs perspective (although there is that), because it's not just having a full CV. It's having a CV full of stuff that I want to do. Stuff that I like to think I would be doing if I was running on all cylinders like they are. This revolves around acting and writing, mostly, though there are all kinds of other things too.

I know that if they're happy doing those things, that happiness probably stems only partly from the activities and achievements themselves, and partly from other life factors. But that doesn't shake the huge sense of injustice, of unfairness. Which is rare, actually, in this kind of context. I often resent what I've been through, I find it sad to the point of tragedy how much of my youth I've lost to it, but the "why is this happening to me?" sentiment is not one I'm that familiar with. Now I know why people whinge about it so much...

F*ck Mirrors!

I'm having a moment here.

I was watching a video about putting sticky notes on your mirror(s) with nice qualities about you, and then I started wondering what if I put a diagram of how mirrors work from a physics point of view, to remind yourself that that's all it is. Light bouncing off cells and surfaces and hitting your eyes upside-down and getting flipped over by your brain etc. How all it can show you is the outermost layer of your body as a living organism.

And then it occurred to me that this whole thing of 'you get what you give', 'you're a good person, people love you' etc is quite a nice parallel. Because you are reflected in other people. The way you treat them affects the way they treat you. The way they think of you might be totally different to the way you think of yourself, but then all they're going on is the way you behave towards them, and that's normally very positive. Because we're good at convincing ourselves that we're useless etc, but if you want to know what you look like, use other people as a mirror. Temperament, personality, honesty, integrity - all personal traits reflect themselves in other people, just the same way light reflects off matter.

So please, everybody reading this, stop obsessing over that piece of f*cking glass and go find out what you really look like. The end.