Olivia. Twenty Two.
Sydney, Australia.
♬ Music Theatre Graduate.

In 'recovery' from:
· Suicide Attempts (Overdose)
· Rape
· Chronic PTSD
· Non-Purging Bulimia
· Major Depression
· Self-Harm (Cutting)
↳Weapon of choice: razor/scalpel
· Perfectionism
· Abortion

Psychiatric Ward Admissions: 4
Total Hospitalised Days: 117

I'm so used to talking about the intimate details of my life to psychotherapists, psychiatrists, psychologists, counselors, mental health nurses or doctors suturing my wrists, that it hardly seems strange to be divulging this to an internet full of strangers.

This blog is about things that make sense on the inside, when they don't on the outside. I think too much, I indulge in my flaws and I'll stand up for justice until it ruins me.

These are literally the pages of my diary. I do not post to glorify any part of my 'illness', behaviour or experiences, rather to seek comfort and support from those who understand, and perhaps can guide me on the path of recovery. I actively encourage all those suffering to seek treatment as I have.
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I can’t believe how fucked up everything is and how depressed I am right now. There is no possible way I can pass uni and also survive in this family at the same time in this current situation.

I want to write, ‘I want to die’ but that will worry people I know that foliow me so instead I shall write, ‘Everything is very shit right now.”


I wish I had therapy tomorrow.

Paint a face on.
Draw on a smile.
Notice it took a little longer than yesterday.
But try not to look in the mirror.
Definitely don’t look yourself in the eye.
Smile at the strangers.
Smile at the customers.
Smile at the shop assistants.
Smile at the bus driver.
But try not to look them in the eye.
Try to be present.
Try try try.
Avoid the reflections.
Lurking everywhere.
The bus windows.
The shiny shop surfaces.
Avoid everything that may incite hatred.
Avoid a lot of things.
Try to be present.
But also try to avoid yourself.
Avoid thinking
feeling
being.



Saturday 30th August

I remembered how it was last time. How I didn’t scream. How I didn’t struggle. I remember thinking afterwards, how silly it all was. That there were people in the next room, our beds almost touching except for being separated by a paper thin wall. It all could have stopped if. if. if.

And so when I found myself under him, I remembered, and I opened my mouth, and I screamed.
Only no noise came out.
And no one came.
And the dream continued.
Him, on top of me.
Raping me in my own front yard.

Later I awoke from the nightmare. I lay there for a while, still, and quiet, traumatised by the power of my own mind. The task ahead now completely daunted me, and I lay paralysed, staring at the ceiling. Somehow I had to get up out of bed, and teach a class-full of children as if nothing had happened to me. And the hardest part was knowing that nothing had happened to me. 

It didn’t feel that way. It felt as real as being raped four-and-a-half years ago.

How did I do that? Four years ago I was a frail eighteen-year-old child. How did I get up and go on as if nothing had happened? Stand in lines in supermarkets and smile at strangers as if the worst and most degrading thing hadn’t happened to me the night before?

The alarm rang a third time. I got up. I got dressed. I smiled at strangers. I stared into the eyes of children no older than five and tried not to think of rape.

It was hard.

My friend cancelled our lunch plans. I smiled on the outside. It was hard.

Reality is getting harder and harder. At school there was always a fresh start. A new school year. A new notebook. A new chance to write neatly and do all of the homework and study for all the exams. And I would, for awhile, but I would always slip up along the way. And there was always a fresh school year to start all over again.

In life there is no restart button. There is an ‘exit’, but there is no blank slate beginning. There are far too many things that are wrong right now for me to even begin to comprehend fixing them. 

In my adolescence I remember clearly telling my friends that I was going to run away. It was a sports day, the last day of school before the holidays begun. I hated the school holidays. We watched the events from the bleachers all day while they sat, miserably, trying to convince me otherwise.

Of course I never did. It just sits among all the horrible trials and tribulations my friends endured by happening to know me.

But running away sounds awfully tempting right now.




Friday 29th August

Waking up to a missed call on my phone means that my doctor has cancelled on me. Again.

I see another doctor for the physical ailments and reschedule another appointment with my doctor for the declining depression. I had been intending to accept my doctors recommendation of antidepressants, but instead I’m forced just to ask the replacement doctor to check my ear.

An hour after my scheduled appointment time, the new doctor finally sees me, and before I can practically sit down I’m sent on my way; my ear apparently not in need of being syringed.

I’m so angry. At my doctor for cancelling. At the new doctor for being so useless! At the compensation agency for failing to contact me “by the end of the week” like they said. I have half a mind to storm back in, demand my full medical file, and take it to a new medical practice.

But I don’t. I stand outside the surgery in the dark. I cry. I stamp my foot. I spit angry words at no one in particular.

And then I walk to the bus stop, still crying, still furious.

I eat a whole pizza by myself in the cold. The box reads, ‘Hope this pizza makes you happy!’. It doesn’t. It makes me angry.



Dreaming Of…

Rape: “To dream that you were raped or almost raped indicates vengeful or resentful feelings toward the opposite sex. You feel that you have been violated or that you have been taken advantage of. Something or someone is jeopardising your self-esteem and emotional well-being. Things are being forced upon you. Dreams of rape are also common for those who were actually raped in their waking life.”


Dreaming of…

Death: “If you see a stranger die in your dream, then it implies that you are feeling detached from the changes that are happening around you.”

Grief: “To dream that you are in bereavement suggests that you are repressing your grief. Perhaps something is bothering you more than you realise. You need to express your sadness and not keep it inside.”

Doctor: “To dream that you are seeing the doctor indicates your need for emotional and spiritual healing.”

Pap Smear: “To dream that you are getting a pap smear indicates concerns with your body and/or sexuality. You are feeling insecure.”


"You’re just so lucky that I always liked you."
Words you’ll never say.




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