Wowser, two weeks without a blog. If I had attempted to write anything, it probably would’ve been titled “caffeine: a love story”. Needless to say, once again, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, eating too many treats and most certainly damaging my adrenal glands. I don’t know whose decision it was to train to run my fastest half marathon while completing the hardest academic year I’ve ever done, with a side of running crews and all the other shit that goes along with being a human. Oh yeah, it was mine. It’s been a struggle. We have a chicken and like twenty ducks that fight each other all of the time, to the point that even when I’m at uni, I can still hear them squawking. I stand outside and I ask them to tell me why they’re fighting, I ask the chicken what she feels like eating, all I get in return is blank stares, but for a moment, they stop. Sometimes, I wonder what the neighbours think of me, but then I remember its probably less problematic than my Saturday night renditions of the Dreamgirls soundtrack. More often than I would like to admit, I really question what it means to be sane.
I don’t know how many times I’ve referred to ‘2007 Britney’ in the past year, you know the image, the umbrella-wielding, head shorn, teeth-baring Britney we all ridiculed. I often joke about it, but I’ve toed that line, I’ve teetered on that cliff, on the edge of a breakdown. Young people are going through a really tough time, and we’re joking about it. I send my friends jokes about terrible things, because none of us really know how to deal with these feelings of uncertainty and hopelessness. I definitely feel like it lightens the load, but then how do we know when someone is really, seriously struggling? While its getting easier to say that we’re not feeling great, it’s almost at a superficial level, it downplays it. This week it was brought to my attention that I refer to death too much, I trivialise it, I devalue my own life, and what a gift it is to be alive. So that’s what I’m working on, being conscious with the language I use when describing how I feel. I won’t say “I would rather die” when referring to a menial task that I don’t feel like doing. Our suicide and mental illness epidemics are real and we need to take it seriously. Every time we joke about it or tag a mate in a meme, we continue to dilute the seriousness of the issue. So let’s work harder, let’s value ourselves and each other, and really let your friends know that you’re there for them, beyond a “lol” at a dark meme.
Anyway, that’s all I’ve had on my mind recently. Other things to celebrate this week include getting a new tattoo, accepting a job (!!!) and getting the top mark in my class for my wildly depressing essay about the effect of Auckland’s housing crisis on mental health. I’ve got a hectic October ahead of me but I’m looking forward to the sense of achievement that will hopefully be waiting for me at the end.
Until next time, folks