This is without a doubt one of the shortest posts I have written in the the entirety of my time on WordPress.
The good news: I’m working on a new blogging project. The bad news is that I’m trying to raise awareness about an issue that’s affected so many and never should have in the first place.
Slight Trigger Warning for Rape
Following the femicide in South Africa I started doing research into rape statistics.
Over 40% of womxn will be raped at least once in their lifetime. Only 1 in 4 womxn will report their rape. In 2017/18 alone over 40 000 new cases of rape were filed. Only 6% of cases end in conviction.
It’s really heartbreaking to know how many people’s lives have been affected by rape and rape culture and it’s hard to know what to do to help.
The post will cover myths, safety tips, survivors in the media, personal experiences etc.
It’s a post that means a lot to me and I’d really and truly appreciate it if you filled in the Google form below to share your experience anonymously. If you’d like your name to be featured in the post please DM on Instagram (@adriapetrov) or email me at email@example.com
I’m kiddding. Bad joke, I know but I feel like you can make an exception for your sad little apricot.
I’ve been in a slump for a month, nearly two. Don’t get me wrong I can tell it’s coming, the sadness and all, because that’s just how it works, I get super happy and excited and inspired and then I crash.
But it always sucks.
I dissociate, on average twice a year. It’s never been as long as it was this time and it’s never had such a huge snowball effect on my life. It started off with me feeling uninspired and lost and completely detached from my feelings and then the next thing I know everything’s too vivid to be real. Fast forward a month later(around June 12) to me posting this, because I couldn’t deal with the thought of not writing any longer and then to two days ago where after nearly two months of not feeling anything I had a breakdown.
Oh how I love my life.
Totally not appropriate sorry!
But to go from not feeling anything:
Here is my heart. Place it right in front of a wrecking ball and take a swing because I can’t feel a single thing.
Here is my heart.
Place it front of a wrecking ball and take your best shot. Make it go splat against a wall. I just need to know there’s something inside of it.
I need to know I’m not losing myself.
To feeling everything in an instant, hurts.
It was one of those major breakdowns where I immediately sent out an SOS to a couple of my friends and they responded back almost instantly and they were lovely and kind and supportive and understanding. And then I felt horrible because I still felt bad after everything. You know that scene in Mean Girls where Regina George gets hit by a bus?
I’ve never felt more like Regina George.
I didn’t want to classify this as an if we were having cheesecake post because whilst I do write about some sad stuff there, that’s not why I started it. I wanted cake humor and life updates and oh dear me, I must be cake deprived.
So here’s a very boring update for you in a few sentences because I don’t think I can write much more.
I’m sad and exhausted and uninspired. And none of my coping tips are doing much of anything and everything seems topsy-turvy. And did I mention my laptop is broken too?
If any of you have any tips for getting out of a rut or passion project ideas that I could do whilst I ‘recover’ from whatever one would call this, please let me know.
I posted a couple of weeks(days??) ago but it still feels it’s been forever. I haven’t written a proper post in so long that all of this feels kind of foreign to me but hopefully by the time you’re reading this, this post won’t seem like an uncomfortable and awkward attempt at my usual writing style.
So I’ve been gone for a while and a lot has happened over the past month or so and I feel like an in depth catch up is needed but at the same time I’m in no position to be writing lengthy posts.
champagne kisses and whispered promises shared between tangled limbs//you taste like everything i could never have and yet gazing at the cotton candied sky i’ve never been more convinced that stars can be people too//in the summer we run through the vineyard and soak up the sun it’s the kind of life that’s easy to lose yourself in//weeks feels like years that melt into forever but time slips through my fingers lately
In case reading that wasn’t a major clue, I don’t have a poetic bone in my body but I’ve been forcing myself to write for the past month.
This is the part where we pretend I didn’t disappear for a month.
I might change the title at some point (or not) and I might explain my disappearance(maybe not) but in case you were wondering I’m still here.
I have looked in mirrors and not recognised the person staring back at me
I have sat alone at events wondering how long it would take for someone to notice
I have been on stages, and never performed as myself
I have read thousands of words because I needed to escape
I have written thousands of words because I am lost, I am so lost and then I am found and then I am not and then I don’t want to be
I have downloaded apps and videos and music to keep me breathing because I have days where doing so without isn’t an option
I have walked around with rocks where my heart should be
I’ve had lengthy conversations with Death and catch up sessions with the universe
I have existed in the spaces between everything else because I never knew how to exist in any other way
I have tried my best everyday to help people because I don’t think I get saved in this story
I think it ends with self-destruction
So I’m sorry if I’m too vulnerable for your liking. I’m sorry if I can’t hide the worst parts of me because I am broken and I’d rather save someone else than save me. I am sorry if you think I’m romanticizing an illness that became my identity way before any diagnosis. I’m sorry if the scars on my body make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that the only reason I’m here is because of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, even if it was never in person and feel like I have to fill this space because I would never have seen 14 if it hadn’t been for them. I’m sorry that I’m so messed up.
Trigger warning:mentions self harm and suicidal ideations
On my best days I scream from rooftops. On my worst I become a shell. The opposite of everything I want to be. I wallow in my thoughts, flounder in my tears, allow myself to become prisoner to my illness. I smile and say ‘I’m okay’, I laugh, I flirt, I am the definition of beautiful madness. And then when everyone goes back to their lives I turn off the lights and bury myself under bedsheets the same way I would be 6 feet under.
And I convince my brain that I’m not okay, that I need to try my coping mechanisms and so I run my hands under cold water and draw on myself with markers till I look like artwork. The world’s definition of beauty. But my eyes betray me. Red not from hash but from war. I am fighting my own mind.
It says Drown. Recovery says Swim. I compromise Float. In between both.
It says Cut. Recovery says Colour. I compromise, Both. I cut anyway tinting my skin red.
It says Stop Breathing. Recovery says Deep breaths. I give short panicky painful I- Can’t-Breathe ones.
When I started this blog I made a promise to myself to talk about whatever I wanted to as openly and raw and real as possible. And somewhere in this promise, right at the end actually, I made a promise to myself to talk about everything except race and religion.
For a few reasons
a) I’m not as educated on these topics as I would like to be
b) There’s a bunch of backlash that comes with talking about those two things
c) As much as I believe those are both things that should be talked about, it also tends to divide people and I didn’t want this space to be like that. I wanted to have a space that didn’t have anything to do with either of those topics, a space where none of those things had to matter.
I say this a lot but I truly have grown a lot since I started blogging and there have been things going on for some time now that I’ve continued to ignore on here, for the same three reasons I gave above.
And I can’t do that anymore.
“You cannot be an ally if you shy away from confrontation
If you watch the news or you’ve been on Twitter today, there’s a chance you’ve heard about the terrorist attacks in New Zealand. Earlier today, Brenton Tarrant walked into two mosques in Christchurch New Zealand and proceeded to open fire at the people praying inside the mosques.
So far, there have been 49 killed and 20 seriously injured. The shooter, a 28 year old white man with an 87 page manifesto with anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim ideas.
To everyone who blamed his actions on mental illness I say this:
Yes, mental illness causes people to do drastic things. But there is no excusing anyone who think it’s okay to harm others.
There is no excuse for a racist, radicalized adult who thinks it’s okay to hurt innocent people. And I would just like to clarify that not every terrorist has a mental illness and not every mental illness makes you violent.
He is not mentally ill, he is a terrorist. It is not just an act of violence, it is terrorism. And there is no excuse, there is no fucking excuse for the crimes he has committed.
Terrorism has no religion. No colour. No country.
This is about so much more than just a hashtag. This is about the 49 people who lost their lives today and the 20 others in critical condition. This about the hate directed towards the Muslim community. To those who live in fear, who are not safe in their homes, in their mosques, in their cars and in their schools. Who go about their daily lives petrified, wondering if each day will be their last.
50 million hashtags or tweets or Instagram captions, may spread awareness, but they will only change so much in the long run.
Read the entire thread. And do something about it.
Your hashtag will not save a life, but taking further action just might.
I don’t want this to just be a headline. Big news today, and then nothing tomorrow until the next terrorist attack.
While you’re still horrified by the mosque shooting, I’m going to share something I don’t normally share. Because tomorrow, it won’t be so fresh, and that feeling you have right now, where even a small, kindhearted country like NZ isn’t safe won’t be filling your heart the 1/