Mental Health, Pipedreams

Photo by Daniel Jensen from Unsplash

How do people connect?

I look around me and it feels like everyone has a confidant, someone they trust deeply. Or at least something close. I have always felt like I need someone, typically one best friend I completely get addicted to and I mean that as unhealthy as it sounds. Don’t get me wrong, those friends were and still are the most amazing people I know. It is me that is the problem. I think I don’t make connections the way I am supposed to.

Let me elaborate. Instead of dealing with my issues I was looking for distractions, worlds I could escape into. I rarely did that on my own. I had friends who were looking for the same sort of escapism. The thing is I only tried to get to know them up to a certain point and then lost interest. I only wanted to continue act out those worlds and push away reality. Whenever I got into fights with them I felt terrorized. There was this possibility of losing my drug of choice. So sometimes I would apologize without seeing any fault on my side. In the best case, I understood objectively what I had done wrong or what others thought I’d done and apologized on the base of that understanding. Nevertheless, the feeling of guilt never kicked in. Only fear of loss, of cold turkey.

It took a long time until I was grown up enough to actually WANT connections that aren’t just based on … well, shared fantasies but a deeper understanding. I think I have lost my best friend to that a bit. And not only that. I also sometimes have no people tolerance when I feel bad and empty and lost. So I pull back. Especially lately. Even though I wish that someone would just be there without questions and just holding me. I don’t think I ever earned someones attention like that. And tbh I don’t know how to overcome my egocentric world view. Every time that I try to get other peoples feelings and thoughts and problems it feels so far away. I don’t want to be forgotten. I don’t always want to play on the sidelines. I really wish I had a time turner right about now. Then I could just go all those years better and be there for my friends and then somebody would be here with me right now.

Mental Health, Pipedreams

I feel pretty much clueless at the moment. I know I am talking into the void but that is kind of good. Because some things shouldn’t be easy to come by. My ramblings are one of those. At least my ramblings on my anxieties. My shortcomings. And Lord knows I have a lot of those.

These last weeks have been fucking hard. And tbh I don’t know how to climb out of my hole alone. It’s like my head is broken. Like my brain keeps telling me all the things that won’t happen now even if I don’t have a final confirmation yet. I might have to quit my job for health reasons and in turn quit university. MIGHT. Not will. Not yet. But I just can’t get rid of the thought. What do I do now?

I have always hated not having a plan for any given occasion. I have alternatives now, but I still hate the idea that all I have worked for evaporates into nothing. I know that is not quite right either, because experiences and all that stuff … Blah, blah. It just doesn’t help. I am stuck. And I am not sure I am good at anything I do. I want to believe in myself for once, be confident for once. And instead I am hiding in a corner, waiting for the whole thing to blow over. Well, as if I wouldn’t know already that it isn’t that easy. It never is. It’s not that I hurt. I mean I do. But the point is “how do I know when I have to turn around and change plans” and “what if those plans go wrong too”? What if I get caught in this loop of starting and failing professions? At some point I won’t be able to pick something else up anymore, right? When do I fail at life?

And as if all that wasn’t enough I think I have rarely ever felt as alone as of right now. And the funny thing (not) about this is that people are trying to talk to me and I don’t have any patience for it. It all makes me so angry. I feel like no one would really care or understand and I also don’t want to try and give them the chance to reject me, just cause I couldn’t handle it all blowing up in my face. I mean they try to help, they make suggestions and all that jazz. The thing is … they are the same suggestions I already try to give myself. And other than that they just look terrified and helpless. Like I have worsened their life by telling them. There is just no better way of saying that but the people I have told … they just gave me one liners or tried to be super optimistic. When that didn’t help, well … they looked horrified or in case of virtual conversations they switched topics or went quiet. So my reaction was to act. Shrug it off. Smile. Yeah, doesn’t matter if all my plans fall to pieces over this, I mean the sun goes up tomorrow. Another day, another battle, right? That made them feel better. But me, I grew even more anxious. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to sleep forever or eat the whole content of my fridge and all that in the span of minutes. And sometimes I just don’t want to face the world. Not that the world would care much unless it’s a work day. And I don’t skip work days ever. Even if I complain and don’t want to go. I guess that is a good thing about me after all. I usually somehow deal with the things I have to. But that’s just the basic things I need to do in order to survive. It doesn’t mean that that is a good life.

And don’t get me wrong. I know some people have it WAAY worse than me. But … I read somewhere that you can’t compare pain. Wait, now I need to look that up. I hate not to know who said something, cause that means they don’t get credit for it. Great. Now I can’t find it online, which means I need to look for the one notebook in my box of about eighty where I wrote it down.

Funnily enough, it seems like I didn’t have a source when I jotted that sentence down. But someone in a german bipolar forum says they believe it’s by Philip Roth. That was all Google could give me on the matter. Though I did find a rather good article talking about the matter, so just to be sure you get the idea, here is someone who can sum it up way better than me: Click.

And this is not where my problem ends. Not only am I worrying, am lonely and trying to compare my pain, no, I am also procrastinating again. And that for at least two weeks already. So basically around the time I got the bad news. I mean I handed in the paper I needed to write in time, but I wrote it only two hours before the deadline. And now it is almost time for two exams and I feel like I haven’t studied at all. The culprit is easily identified. Lack of motivation and drive added to a preoccupied mind that is telling me it is all worthless anyway if I find out I have to quit anyway.

That is kinda why I am writing this. To, you know, get some of it out of my head and have at least one day of intense learning so I can make myself go and write those exams in a little over a day from now. I want to try at least. No matter how all this ends, it does make me a smarter human. But it seems that is not enough reason for the heavens to send motivation down to me.  Do you see where I am coming from? It just adds up. And it wasn’t only those two weeks if I am being honest to myself. Depression was sitting on my shoulder for ages now. I am trying to beat it with schedules and quotes of more successful people, but in the end a lot of my creative outlets have to suffer from me not believing in myself, like this blog for example. I haven’t written something in ages and now that I come back, it is only to write this stupid confession.

I want to inspire, I want to create and I know I have to stop making excuses for that to happen. Still, I just won’t stop feeling down and it is really choking me. Send help. UGH. Sorry for the long rant.

Pipedreams, Text Appeal

I think when you hear that someone didn’t write enough during November to claim their win, the first assumption is that they just weren’t committed enough.

Once you’re in it to win it, not making it feels like the end of the world. For a while. And then you try to get to it again. And this effort is getting you somewhere. Maybe you have your wordiest day in years. Or ever. But maybe this effort isn’t leading you to your goal anyway. Maybe you get close. Maybe you miss the mark by 25k. Maybe more. Who cares? As long as you, as I tried. The only thing I think is sad is if you falter in the face of failure (even though you can always come back next year).

Don’t write your story off. I certainly am not. And you shouldn’t either. And be goddamn proud of any progress whatsoever. Because you brought your story closer to the finish line. Don’t just drop the whole thing, because otherwise it will never get told. That’s what I learned.

And no matter if I will finish this November with 20.000 or 25.000 words I am glad I got closer to the end.


Source: Ben Blennerhassett,

I am not sure if this is a normal thing. Where you wake up and nothing is fun. The most you can be is comfortable. Like you get asked out for drinks or any other activity and all the while you feel anti-social and homesick. Like I just wanna play the AVPM Soundtrack and watch stupid haul videos on youtube all day. I am allowed to say that. I film hauls myself.

I just find that I am so damn exhausted at the moment that I don’t get excited, enthusiastic about stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to complain. It is just an odd feeling. Like all you can do is sleep and surround yourself with things that feel safe. I get my work done and I hand in my paperwork but I get so tired. And that keeps me from being productive in my free time. Tips anyone? It’s much easier to ask the screen about that of course, seeing as I am not social enough to go and share myself with others.

Looking social is a funny thing. I have loads of resources for a limited time. For work, for university and when I get to know new people. I lose that with time until I am used up. But everyone thinks I am such a social person. I talk a lot, yes. But often that is because I am insecure and don’t know what to do. I run out of things to say at some point and most of all I run out of things I wanna know. Maybe I should wanna know, maybe it’s bad I lose interest in everyone. Maybe it’s got something to do with my art, too. Or rather the lack of it.

To bring the whole thing to a close … let us just say I need methods to pour into my own cup from time to time and I am not sure I have it in me yet. Nevertheless, I am still sitting here writing about it all. So there must still be enough willpower to work it out. And that I will.

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Pipedreams, Text Appeal

Portrait of yours truly by Paul Ekert








There is always an idea somewhere.

I am serious. In fact, many creatives that I know have way too many of them. And they really don’t have to be brilliant ideas to be worth developing. Especially writers tend to overthink the process of actually becoming active, though. Writers aren’t writers yet if they don’t actually DO it. The writing, I mean. Just like painting, writing is something that demands practise. Of course you need to come up with an idea, research, explore characters and worlds – but much too often all those things keep us from facing our true enemy. The blank page.

Someone who always keeps polishing an idea until it’s perfect might very well never actually write their novel, short story or poem. Or someone like me might be too busy toying with the idea of how exactly to set up a blog instead of actually starting to write it out. There is this totally understandable desire for being safe. But as a writer you should want to strive for danger. Your idea becomes polished all by itself if you let it. That by no means is to say that you don’t have to sweat blood and tears for it, that would be an outright lie. BUT if you get started with just a premise and a vague idea where you want to head with it, there is still plenty of time to let your characters show you the ropes while you are already writing. Let’s face it, your first chapter will suck. For most people even the first book is gonna suck. Setting up a whole library of notes and research is not gonna save you from desaster. We’re all headed for it. So let me repeat, the desire for safety is understandable, but should stay just that. A mere desire.

Even if the first book sucks then you still learn loads on your journey from chapter one to the final page. You don’t need to throw it away just because it isn’t perfect. Treat this bad book like the crippled drawing of trees that Mom used to pin to the fridge. They are your baby steps. If you still like the story and characters at the end of this first book, then chances are you can work on it. You can grow a stable, healthy tree out of the small crippled first one. The sucky book then becomes your first draft.

And if you don’t like the story and characters anymore … it is still a cause for celebration. YOU FINISHED SOMETHING! You have conquered this book and now you are a better writer for it. You developed a style, you fought the writing slump monsters (for they will happen to the best of  us) and you learned how to wrap the whole thing up and STOP. If that is not cause for cheering then I don’t know what is. All those bad pages you had to get out of your system, they are the steps you climb to level up your next project. And if you finished one, believe me, you can finish another. Live dangerous, be scared, but please, give those ideas in your head what they deserve: to grow up and become stories.


DISCLAIMER: I am still working on that one, so anyone who reads this is allowed to send me virtual asskicks if they like. I want to be true to my own advice. We all get caught up in our own heads a lot of the time. I am working on the same project for the second nanowrimo in a row. 

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