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The Truth About Being Open With Your Feelings

29th September 2015

Nearly a year ago now, my life took a sudden and drastic change as I was released from an emotional prison and flew freely into a world where I didn't have to ask permission or be drowned away from family and friends. Suddenly, I had a voice again, and after two years of near silence I opened my mouth and spilled out the feelings. I worked hard to be as open and honest as possible, to everybody who asked or showed concern. I began to speak about things like the intense sadness, the even more intense highs and the borderline like traits that shape each decision and choice I make. But is it for the better, or for worse?

It's really quite a complex thing to answer I suppose, but in a nutshell... It is for worse. It is not better to tell people, or not everyone, anyway. Some of you may agree, others may not. But in my experience, people care less now and ignore me a lot more than when I was silent and nervous. Circumstances have no doubt changed, and the way we share our feelings also makes a difference. Cue the list...

If they can't click "like", its gonna get scrolled past. Using social media as an outlet for your feelings is THE WORST thing you could do. Nothing wants to make you cry in the woods alone more than a post that nobody has liked or dared to comment upon. It makes you feel very, very alone. Blogging about it is also probably almost as bad (oops). Modern communication makes a lonely person feel significantly more alone, even if people will talk to them. Call somebody, or better yet, go talk to their face. If you find somebody that actually listens (or does a damn good job pretending to), cherish them. They are a RARE find.

A bit much to drink again, me thinks.

Image: One of those pictures I don't remember getting taken. If you have no one who cares, DRINK!!! 24/08/2014.

The reckless outlet was FAR funnier. So I finally get blessed with the opportunity to open my mouth, but it seems no one really wants to hear it. I kind of get why, because when it was all held in silence, the pain came out in hilarious and often dangerous ways. Bursting into laughter at the most serious times was probably entertaining for some (but not Day, sorry Day). Also watching me get so drunk that I forgot my name and took my clothes off must have been a right gag too. The insane drunken Parkour was no doubt thrilling also. My hidden pain manifested in amazing ways, but sadly it never made me feel any happier. As I lost weight from stress and started pulling my beautiful hair out, it was clear to me (but still no one else) that I was beginning the process of dying, and only I cared enough to stop it.

The good gossip stories are gone. It must have been great at the time when every week revealed new and exciting (not for me) rumours. The town constantly had new dirt to rummage; why the bars were failing and who was the next guy visiting the one man brothel I was so closely associated to. All the time I was relatively silent, so it was easy to speculate as to what might be going on behind closed doors. Everyone heard the whispers, watched the business collapse and gossip of the slashed tires, those physical displays almost speaking on my behalf. When finally it was over though, the flashbacks and nightmares didn't just vanish with the culprit. Cleaning up the emotional mess left behind is long and boring, nobody wants to hear about cleaning up mess!

If its not a quick fix, its not worth it. The worst thing about mental illnesses has got to be this; they take bloody ages to recover from. We all know it, or have seen it. The sad truth it seems though, is that people soon tire of listening and stop caring if it lasts more than a few months. Best get yourself off to a councellor, they are professionally trained in pretending to give a damn. I get it that people don't want to hear too much negativity in their lives, but sometimes having a person to talk to is all that stops the relapses and fatal downfalls.

So, am I saying I regret opening up about my troubles? No. Because doing so allowed me to discover who would remain by my side, and who would slip off in the night like a thief. Now I know that actually, a few people do genuinely give a damn as to whether I'm alive or face down in a ditch. But I should probably learn that the majority of people, don't. I should learn not to even bother beginning to explain to them what is happening, because they don't really want to know. You need to be both open and hidden in this life, selecting who is a worthy key holder for your fragile emotions. Those who don't care are best just to see the fake smile and skip along in their hunky dory world of selfishness. Think about the welfare of others? Preposterous! Give your heart only to those who have earned it.