The Freedom of Truth

You would think I’d have had enough. All of the assignments, the lectures, the stress. Yet, I have spent all day waiting for 5pm. Not for the rest or the break away from work, but for writing.

The relief of knowing I no longer have restrictions placed on my writing to be academic, to be reflective. I can write to enjoy it, write to unwind. The joy of it, the satisfaction of the words coming together and all of it making sense in the end… I have missed it.

Life has taken over and it has taken ‘writing for pleasure’ away from me. Instead, all I have had is writing to meet the domains, to tick boxes on that ever-growing list of things that University ask of us.

I have missed this. I have missed my laptop, missed choosing the font that I want and not the font that University insists we use. All of the little things that make up the bigger ones.

I have missed the freedom of my own truth, my own words, my own self.

I welcome writing back into my life with open arms.

Until the next time.   

The Fear

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These pills, when first prescribed, terrified me.

I have to take these, it is within my own best interests, for my physical health. The mentality I had when on anti-depressants of ‘it doesn’t matter’ does not work here.

My mentality was forced into, ‘it doesn’t matter how, it just matters that you do’. So, I hid them in food and tried to trick myself into believing I wasn’t taking medication – it was just a chocolate treat.

6 weeks of these pills and I have an empty pill box. I succeeded in something that I have never succeeded in before. I have never finished a course of medication and I have never taken pills regularly enough to get into the habit of it.

Celebrate all the victories, especially the big ones that appear small to others.

Now onto the next 2 boxes.

I Wished For You, Too

The years have been hard,
A dullness, a dark room without any light.

Hands always stretching out ahead, chasing,
Everything always just out of reach.

I thought of you when I needed some colour in the darkness,
A flash of hope, of what I might one day find.

I always had you in the back of my mind, a faceless silhouette,
An imaginary hand to hold, someone to have my back.

Always a hope, an imaginary person who could never exist,
A mind broken and unrepairable, always wanting the impossible.

A decade later and I found ways to light up my own self,
Ways to heal my own soul.

My imaginary person no longer a hope to be held onto,
A dream lost, acceptance and independence taking its place.

A few more years come to pass,
A complete loss of hope, of self.

A change of scenery,
A new found freedom, new beginnings.

A new person,
Appearing out of nowhere, a shock to the system.

Like a breath of fresh air, a sudden cold shower,
Life was no longer just a dim light, colours were returning.

So many words, positive and freeing,
Butterflies and rainbows and everything else in between.

Nights spent talking, sharing,
Happiness no longer seemingly out of reach.

Fate always finds a way,
Destiny, it seems, cannot be avoided.