When it's easier to be a feminist in winter

Sun on my skin,

Wind through my hair

💁🏾☀️💨

Forgot to shave my underarms...

Fuck.

Depression

Hey :)

I haven’t written anything for a while and I should’ve, but better late than never.

The title's kinda to the point, right?

This is just something to describe part of my experience with depression. I don’t really know why I’m sharing it… I guess I just want to be honest. It’s hardly a stunning piece of literature either but hopefully it at least makes sense. Maybe it’ll help someone, that’d be great too.

Final but important note:

I use words like ‘psycho’ and ‘crazy’ just because this is how I see myself sometimes. It’s not nice to call people these kinds of things, even if they use these words themselves. You just don’t really have the right to do it, and I’m telling you it does not make a person feel good.

I can only reflect my experience in my life with my perspective. I can't and don't represent every depressed person ever. Everyone's experience is unique, although some parts can be similar, and I'm luckier than a lot of people who have endured much worse with much less support than I have. 

Self-titled psycho and proven true

But just take care of me, baby

I only want things my way.

Who knew I could be that crazy?

Do you love me?

Of course not.

There’s not much left to love.

DEPRESSION. Depression.

That’s the heavy weight on my chest

Which keeps me from hauling my sorry self out of bed

That’s when nights are long

And sleep is not your friend

And you are not your friend

And some friends are less than friends, for the moment

Brushing my teeth is an achievement

And making breakfast (at 2pm, granted)

An achievement just the same.

It’s… feeling hunger but everything is just too…

Salty. Greasy. Sweet. Sour. Bland. Dry. Soggy.

Even your favourites can’t satisfy you…

Even 3 takeaway pizzas that you can’t afford!

Because it’s all the same grey lump that goes round and round in your mouth

Until you’ve chewed it small enough to swallow

(If you can be bothered)

What an ordeal!

Happy?

The high mood

The I love everything and everyone and I could do anything and everything and today will be the day that everything gets better and all my demons are slain because I never wanted to be depressed anyway!

POSITIVITY, DARLING!

C

    r   

       a 

           s

              h

(It’s quicker than that really

And heavier)

Sadness takes over, inevitably.

It’s your eyes threatening to leak with every breath...

Only threatening though,

Because you ran out of authentic tears a long time ago

You retreat from the world to ‘sob’

(The world’s no place for you anyway.)

And ‘sob’ because your body kind of does the actions,

And kind of makes the noises,

But there’s no relief -

Anything remains too much.

You need to escape but you can’t,

There is no respite.

Morning breaks and so does your spirit,

You’re scared,

(Because) You’re crazy,

Depression.

Congrats for getting all the way to the end! Thoughts? Comment below:

Love Poem of Sorts

When I was a little girl I used to wonder why songs were always about love. I think I know now...

It’s because love is incredible,

In many ways:

It can make you happy,

It can feel like magic

But somehow it’s real.

It can make dreams come true

And every bad thing in the world

Irrelevant.

It can make every bad thing in the world

Something you can triumph over… together.

And before you know it,

Love has taken over your life

You live love, you live through your love and you love…

You  love  your  love.

You’re glowing

You finally feel alive

You're savouring every moment

But love is not perfect

Love is not impenetrable

Love is more than want or hope

Love is doing

Love is actively doing and actively loving

Love suffers with unhappiness

And when the unhappiness grows to a point where 
It is more visible than the love

The  love  begins  to  die

It can be dying before you realise, before you realise how much you needed it

How much it meant to you

What you wanted to build with it

And before long, once the unhappiness morphs into destruction

The love dies. 

Dead. 

A thing of the past

One of you may try to revive it

But while the other is ready to bury it, this won’t happen

And as much as you want to tear the shovel from his hands

He will not let go (of it).

You waste time

You waste energy

If anything, you make him dig with increased urgency

Breaking the earth until there’s nothing left to stand on

Just a deep, dark hole to Hell

Why?

There are no definite answers

But in this moment 

Your despair and desperation scares him

And even the memories of your love become

Warped.

It was good then

It is bitter now

You want it to be good again

It might

But in this moment

You cannot mourn the love

There is no time for that, life keeps going

The clock keeps ticking

And the world keeps turning

It is a privilege to experience true love

You were lucky

Now you’re back in the real world

Some people will be lucky 

And you will not envy them because you’ve been lucky

And will be lucky again.

Love comes in many forms

Love comes when it’s ready, not when you are

As you know

Because the love you had knocked you off your feet

(It carried you, you flew with it)

Time to stand up again.

A Poem of Sorts by Antonia Francis, 1st Jan 2015