The 2 Qualities I Wish I Had.

2 qualities that I wish I had are ambition, and confidence.

I feel that I lack both of these traits, and because of this I can never unlock my full potential. There seems to always be something holding me back, and the reason and excuse is always, inevitably, me.

I wish I had the drive and ambition so many of the people around me at my workplace seem to have. They’re almost like golden people, immortals stepping among us simpleton dullard mortals. Well, that’s how it feels to me anyways. I picture these proactive and vibrantly invigorated types as being almost god-like. Ubermenschen. Kinda like how the elves in Middle Earth were portrayed: they were just better than humans. They were graceful and lithe, athletic yet elegant, of such sound mind and formidable intelligence, of fleet of foot yet not brash. I can’t help but think of these people I work with like that, or at least in a similar way. And meanwhile I’m just a humble, simple hobbit, content with his lot and with ease, relaxation and hearth of home. I hope that being around this kind of energy, this kind of greatness will rub off on me somehow. They say that you should surround yourself with the type of people you would like to be, I assume because whomever one associates with, you will be affected by them just as they will affect you. Their traits will become a part of your own life, world and personality, and vice versa. So logically, go out and find the hottest most intelligent and caring people you can!

I do hope that there is some modicum of truth in this, as I want to be more like these people upstairs: upbeat, positive and proactive in their lives. I know I will never be 100% like this, I fear that the cynic and ironic skeptic in me is simply too far ingrained, yet I am a fervent believer in change. I know I am changing. I know that I am a far different creature than I was 10 years ago, 5 years ago or even 1 year ago.

I also know that in the future, I will continue to grow and to change. Yet I will still paradoxically be the same inherent person that I always have been, hopefully just a little more ambitious, charismatic and confidence.

So how do you attain something that is undefinable and intangible? If only this was a computer game, where I had set objectives and goals in order to clear a level, gain HP and XP, and modify and upgrade myself. If only I could tweak the notches about, raise my experience and add more points to my Ambition and Confidence traits.

Unfortunately, as much as I can spin analogy after analogy tying life in with a game like the Sims, reality is much messier, difficult and organic in nature. I can’t simply just expect that by doing, by achieving, that I will simply be allotted points to use to improve myself, although that sounds pretty fantastic I have to say. Our mindspaces are much less ordered and much more chaotic generally.

Life is not easy, fun, simple or linear. there are many factors that can irrevocably change things for the better or worse. Yet in amongst this, we do have a propensity for change and improvement. And the only way any of us can change, or allow ourselves to become better people is really to not be comfortable, and to say to oneself, ‘yes, I deserve this’. This for me is the only way I will ever be able to become more ambitious or self-confidence. I have to declutter my mind of the past, of the voices that once ran rampant in my mind telling me that I am never good enough. I need to dust away those cobwebs and be more open to new experiences that aren’t comfortable or necessarily fun, but will surely help me grow.

Anxious Anxious Me.

Anxious Anxious Me.

It strikes me without warning, so completely, and without any rhyme or reason. Tension and tightness  clamps my chest, my breathing quickens and becomes faster, shallow and less able to convey oxygen into my lungs. My skin sweats and shortly perspires and clams up. My face clearly changes, as does my demeanour. Shoulders might slump. Posture diminishes as an outward sign of feeling crumpled. My confidence shatters and dives. Coworkers, friends and family can clearly see me struggling. I wish I could explain how it feels, or what I feel at this moment.

I still can’t tell you where this sense of impending anxiety comes from. It just appears out of nowhere. I can’t say why one day I feel great, alive and invigorated and yet the very next flat, barely able to do simple tasks and full of internal monologue. I wake up on days like today and my heart feels as though it’s racing, barely restrained within me. I feel paranoid, wary and on guard, despite the fact that I have done nothing wrong, and have no guilt over anything as again, I can’t think of anything that I could have possibly done to make me feel this way. Is it because of worries in life? Work problems, family issues or problems with other loved ones? Did I get this nervousness from my mother?

There’s literally no real reason for me to have this anxiety which creeps around every few months. Life for me is good. I don’t suffer from want for anything. I work in a decent job, I have a great boyfriend and can afford my rent. So there’s plenty to feel grateful for. Perhaps it’s more the fact that I self-assess constantly. Maybe my overt self-examining of life leads me to consider myself unworthy, which then leads to anxiety attacks. It might strike me in the morning when I wake up. I may have had a great, restful sleep yet regardless, wake up with a sense of dread and fear.

Fight Or Flight

An instinct for me when I do get anxious and suffer an anxiety attack no matter how minor is that base bodily instinct, hard-wired into our biology, that of ‘Fight Or Flight‘. I’ll have to decide then and there whether I can fend off these feelings and attempt to modify my thoughts, regulate breathing and simply place it out of my mind and get on with my day or simply pack it in and find the nearest exit. It’s almost like a giant lever in my mind that cuts power. Or those old brakes made of cable that would hang above passengers in old steam trains you see in old movies that would activate the brakes. During these episodes, nothing is more attractive to me than being at home in my bed with the covers over me. My bed becomes the Starship Enterprise and my doona Deflector Shields impervious to all. Nothing can get through. All I want is to disappear for the day.

In the past, during these attacks, I have physically been unable to carry on with my day. I recall one instance whilst working at my previous workplace. I would usually catch the train in the morning. On one of these days commuting to work, I got off the train at the nearest station: a busy station close to the city airport. There were people bustling about in their morning commutes, tumbling out of packed trains, piling into further full trains, and herding themselves towards the exit turnstiles. The rumble of voices and footsteps echoing the large and imposing chamber-like walls of the station. I’ll never forget this day as I filed in line and shuffled into the herd-like crowd towards the turnstiles. I decided to pull back and wait for the crowds to process through the exits.

And that’s the moment it struck. My heart began to race, my skin began to sweat. I could feel the muscles in my face tensing and transforming my relatively calm face into one of worry and fear. I could remember thinking to myself, over and over: ‘I can’t do this today. It’s not possible. I need to get out. I need my own space.’ I felt like I was in a rather bleak Haruki Murakami moment. I could either press on into the crowd and through the exit and onto work, or escape. My instincts kicked in and I chose escape. I turned myself around, pale-faced and wide-eyed, and almost without any thought, floated back to the platforms, caught the train and before I could recall, I was home.  I became a ghost and disappeared out of there. An apologetic text was sent to my work, but the truth is, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face the day. I couldn’t be at work facing unhappy customers and mean demanding managers who misunderstood me. I needed that time to myself to have some silence and peace at home.

A part of me hates that I harp on about this subject. I know it can all be construed as something akin to whingeing and whining. I know I can come across as moody and brooding. I used to love the fact that I was seen as this. I would thrive off it. But I find confronting and writing about my ailments, problems and issues such as anxiety acts as a salve or healing agent, and these days I aim to be as open with myself as I can be. Sometimes it’s easier for me to express feelings this way as opposed to conversing. However, I always feel orders of magnitude better afterwards.

Misconception.

If there is one thing that I want to impart upon you, dear reader, is that if you do come across someone like me who visibly suffers from panic attacks or anxiety, don’t misconstrue them as being unfriendly, depressed all the time or negative. Understand that it’s not something they or myself choose to have happen. Maybe be genuine and ask if everything is alright. If that person can talk about it comfortably, let them. If not, perhaps give them some space. Let them have their time. If you manage someone who is prone to anxiety don’t be surprised or upset if they need to take a day off or leave early. If you have a friend that maybe isn’t coping with being out somewhere busy like a pub or club, don’t be surprised if they too ghost out of there. Sometimes a quiet environment and a moment of tranquility is needed. It’s just a period of time for this person to realign themselves. Just don’t think that this person is pissed off, doesn’t like you or thinks the world is out to get them.

It’s a simple thing to assume and have misconceptions. About anything, really. People, places, beliefs and ideology for instance. The concurrent thread through all of this is ignorance. Lack of information and experience creates ignorance which then bleeds contempt and misunderstanding. Whereas knowledge creates the opposite. Be kind to your wide-eyed anxious person that you know.

 

[De]Motivators

The biggest motivator that has been driving me lately has been time itself, and the fact that as every day that goes past that I don’t write or contribute is a day lost. I’m motivated lately by fear. Fear now, of looking back at my life and feeling shame at myself, for not trying hard enough and not working hard enough. I feel as though I am at a point where I really have to start pushing for myself, and to continue working with what I have and to make my goals a reality. In a month I turn 33, I’m no longer a youth. The days of being an aimless lout are far behind me. I’m supposed to, according to society, have my collective ‘shit together’. It still doesn’t feel that way. The last few years have seen me try to try to work out what it is that I’m good at, enjoy doing that will make me some money. The idea of ‘finding yourself’ can be cute and romantic, but not once you get into your mid 30’s. I’m not after fame and fortune, I’d rather just be comfortable and be able to have freedom to be able to travel, or perhaps one day own my own home. I can really feel the clock ticking these days, the nerves fraying, In back of my mind my own voice urging me to write more, contribute more, to take more of a chance, and to not let slip any possible potential opportunity that may come my way.

I guess sometimes fear of the future or of failure can be an immensely potent motivator, yet I also sense that it can bring ruination. As the flip side of this is the response of ‘well whats the use’ or ‘I’m doomed to fail anyways.’ It’s hard sometimes to stay focused and on the ball and to continue on when at times it all seems pointless. This has been something that I have definitely struggled with over and over again in the past. The smallest set back will trigger my confidence and morale to collapse. I picture it like an eagle posed, ready for flight, and when it takes that first sweep of its wings something goes wrong. It’s been a game in itself to keep my confidence up and in flight, it’s been an absolute disaster when my confidence and morale plummets. It’s something which takes time to re-balance itself enough for me to get back on my feet, dust myself off and try again.

It’s very easy to feel like a failure at life. Which is how I’m feeling at this moment. I feel that I’ve not accomplished enough, I’m not travelled enough, and I’m not doing enough in my life to bring me joy, happiness and yeh maybe a little success and prosperity. Success continually seems to elude me.

It’s very easy to place yourself next to someone else and consequently compare yourself to them. They might have all those things you desperately crave. A great job. Amazing looks. A great body. Lots of friends. People paying attention to them because of these things. In my world, it is easy for me to fall into this trap of envy. I find myself doing this more and more these days, and it worries me. Being in the Gay world of Sydney, as well as Melbourne, everyone seems to have something that they’re doing that brings them something quantifiable and desirable: money, career, attention or exposure. Everyone is to my eye out partying, doing photo shoots, getting great gigs, always at fun parties dressed up in crazy outfits. I get a little bit envious and down at times. All I seem to see is other’s displaying how fantastic their lives are, which isn’t even necessarily the truth. I feel sick about myself and insecure. If I’m not comfortable in my own skin at this point, when will I be? Does the act of me comparing myself to others work as a motivator, or de-motivator? What reason then do I want the things out of life that I do? For my own wellbeing and benefit, or simply so I can feel better about myself and what others think of me?

Motivation has to come from the right place, and lately for me it hasn’t. I’ve spent too much time comparing myself to others, which is a toxic and unhealthy approach. I see people taking selfies at the parties, dressed to the nines, at the gyms showing their biceps off. All of this self-aggrandisement has an effect on others. An effect that needs to be monitored and contemplated and considered. I’ve also thought of myself as ‘too old’ for the things I want, and that I am over the hill. None of this might necessarily be true, as I have met some fantastically talented people who have come into their own later in life, and found the things that I have been searching for, yet lately this has been something to which I have given much thought to in my life.

Does everyone struggle with this, and finds themselves motivated for the wrong reason? Is it wrong to motivated through envy, or is it simply a case of the means justifying the ends?

Why I stopped, and why I need to start again.

You may have noticed I’ve not posted much on this blog for months. I’ve felt somewhat paralysed and unsure about the future, or even the point, of continuing to write this blog. There’s been quite a bit of inner-monologuing which has resulted in me being incapable of action. And as much as I cringe at this, [truly I do] to paraphrase Ru Paul, I’ve let my ‘inner saboteur’ sabotage myself. Such cringe and cliche from the great, vaunted High Priestess of Drag herself, yet really fitting for how I’ve been feeling lately.

It’s been great to hear people’s responses to what I’ve posted, it’s also been great to know that a select few individuals have taken their time out of their lives to read about what I have to say. It makes me feel quite priveleged, and in a way, responsible. Responsible for the words I put down here, as well as the thoughts behind them.

Lately, I’ve had more than a few people remark on something I wrote months, or now, even a year or more ago. I’m chuffed when they praise, I’m interested when they critique. My ears instinctively perk up like an eager pup. Even negative criticism has had a positive effect, as it has meant that my stumbling about therefore has equated into experience.

So what happened, and why did I stop?

Life, in short.

In the past 6 months, I feel there has been someone out there in the great big blue sky, pushing a giant celestial finger on an equally over-sized heavenly fast-forward button. I finally left my old workplace of two years, [which was a drama in itself], I spent a couple months out of work and doing some office temping, and finally found my current workplace, which has been such a blessing and such a great ailment for what had been 2 years worth of work related anxiety and general unease.

My social circle has rapidly expanded with more characters I’m grateful to have in my life; I go out more, can socialise and I am able to generally be more daring with life experiences.

Adrian and I have been great together, we talk much more and have opened up exponentially. It’s been invigorating and revitalising having this level of dynamic energy and honesty in our relationship; communicating and being honest with each other has meant we have both grown and in turn, our relationship has grown leaps and bounds.

My new job has also given me a fresh new start and the chance to ‘reset’ myself. The stress related to my former workplace has diminished immeasurably. Day by day it gets better. I no longer sleep with unease. I no longer wake up in the morning with my stomach in knots of nervousness, and my heart sinking. I no longer feel as though I am constantly being spied upon from afar, [or worse yet], judged and taken advantage of. I feel more understood at my current work place, as well as more pro-active and generally interested. If any of you read this, all I can say is never work at an environment like Matt Blatt. But in the end, I learned a valuable life lesson in this: never let others take advantage of your hard-won skills and talent and be true to yourself. Being in that toxic work environment caused me much distress, and by the end, a sense of ‘giving up’ on my own self worth. Moving ahead to the moment, now I work in a great work environment for a large, professional company. I’m treated well, am trusted and get along with my job every day. The change has been something fantastic for me, a real chance for some much needed breathing room.

I don’t know exactly why it’s taken me months to get to the point to be able to write. Lately I’ve felt much of what has been going on in my life has given me much to reflect and think upon, and that I’ve felt much more grateful for the things I have. A part of me feels pangs of guilt for not continuing to post. I don’t know what could have come out of 3 months worth of writing and posting. Perhaps I’ve needed this time off. Maybe it’s actually been a good thing for me to take a break and step back from the blog and just try and enjoy my new job, friends and life in general. I’m re-learning how to relax, and to not feel riddled with guilt when enjoying those things in life that help me unwind and chill: reading, playing games, my new Dungeons and Dragons play group, cuddles, dinners out, a silly night dancing at the Imperial, et al.

It’s been a time of detoxifying and re-grouping, something that I feel I have needed for some time.

I guess with it being Spring comes a chance and time to re-assess, revalue and begin again.

So having said that, thank you, dear reader, for sticking with me, giving me pointers, following my [at times] angsty ramblings, and most of all for believing in me.

 

Much love,

Alessandro.

 

 

 

 

Dear Orlando

Dear Orlando,

This is a difficult post to write. So many thoughts have been running through my mind as I first punch down words on my keyboard. The last week since the tragic occurrence in Orlando has filled me with despair, sadness as well as volumes of guilt.

The portraits of the victims; all smiling, knowable people, the video footage, the imagery and accounts have all had a profound effect on us all no matter where we live. We are all your brothers and sisters. Pain and suffering has gripped us all. I’m sure I’m not the only one to say that we all have been thinking about you.

I was sitting by a pool in an idyllic tropical paradise when I found out what happened, initially via a friend who lives in Orlando who was letting everyone know on social media that he was alright, which made me slightly worried as no details had hit social media yet. This was followed closely by my sister who informed me of what had happened. My heart sank. My eyes welled up. My sister, my boyfriend and I, all three of us being LGBTIQ, looked at each other with shock.

Day by day, more information and more details were gleaned. Social media became absolutely saturated with posts about what happened, rainbow flags popped up everywhere like flowers in a show of solidarity. It became almost too much to take in and process. All of us reined in with posts, thoughts, condolences and information. Many of us changed our profile pictures in support, or re-posted articles. Vigils were held in Orlando as well as cities and locations further afield. A sense of unity grew yet for the saddest and most dire of reasons. Some 49 innocent people died. They died being themselves, being in what was meant to be a safe place. A place that many of our forebears had to fight and suffer and sometimes died to build and protect. These people died enjoying and celebrating their lives, their worlds and their ability to love and be loved and to show this to the whole world. I still look at images of those who died. I feel like I know these people. I think we all have. I’ve met them for coffees, had them over for dinner, met them out dancing and had cheeky romantic interludes with them. They are every one of us everywhere.

Being somewhere like Bali, which is such a haven for decadence, drunken and heinous behaviour and frivolity, I came to feel quite guilty. Guilt at enjoying my time there, guilt when going to a Gay bar, having a drink, meeting new people and yes maybe going on stage to dance with a go go dancer. How could I be there having fun when something so singularly terrible occurred? I still feel this acute pain and sentiment day by day since. How do any one of us feel safe in what is meant to be our own proscribed safe spaces? Should we be feeling this collective sense of guilt? Or is the answer to get into the bars and clubs as well as out on streets and show the wider community that we exist? This is the reason we need our spaces, more now so than ever. Here in Sydney, LGBTIQ spaces are on the decline. I blame our dependency on apps like Scruff and Grindr, which have taken out the middle man of the gay club and bar scene. Sex can be had in our own homes without having to head to a bar or sauna. But that’s another post.

Like my sister and my boyfriend, we were in Bali for a purpose, which was to celebrate my close cousin’s wedding where my sister and I were honoured to be a part of the bridal party. It was difficult for us both, as we were both there in this exotic locale celebrating an event to which we both can’t have for ourselves, and not to mention an event half way across the world which shook us both.

What really upset me was the lack of any response or condolences or a reaction at all from non LGBTIQ people, both in my family or further out. Only a couple close former work friends took time out to send me a message to talk about what had happened. To which warmed my heart. 49 people died viscously. I mentioned in passing to a family member that I was feeling a bit down because of what happened, yet sadly, this person wasn’t even aware. A blank face stared back at me. I guess we all live in our own microcosms of communities online through our online platforms like Facebook and Twitter, which is a great thing as we always will have our finger on the pulse, yet also negative as we run the danger of narrowing our scope. What is important to one person may not be to another. Like in this case. As obviously majority of my friends on Facebook are Gay or Lesbian, much news I consume is very LGBTIQ-centric.

Today, the United States Congress in the worst possible way has insulted this entire tragedy and those who died as well as their families by voting down measures that could ensure this does not happen again. This tragedy has been politicised, the issue at hand morphed and distorted. It has been taken out of our hands as a community. The fact remains that people have died. What is to become of their legacy? It pains and scares me to think of possible future occurrences that could be prevented so simply and with a finality.

The perpetrator of this massacre has become known to be a very broken and hurt person. A person who in hindsight  appeared not able to live with his sexuality and who appears to have wrangled and fought with the clash of his ideological beliefs in contrast with his sexuality. I actually pity this man. A man so torn and disrupted, who has now abruptly and savagely ended the lives of so many people. I wonder what he was thinking, what experiences he went through for him to do this.

I hope that the families of those who died can find some solace somehow and someway in the future.

I also hope we can all continue to look out and support each other. I hope we can all continue to be ourselves in public without fear of persecution, and I hope we can give love to all who need it.

The Folly Of Nationalism.

Pride in one’s nation can be a very dangerous thing. An accident of birth determines so much of one’s circumstances, whether being born as female or male, in differing socio-economic circumstances and geographic location determines one’s life to a substantive degree.

The fact that so much human misery and destruction, both to ourselves and to this planet we inhabit is due to what is in essence tribalism and factionalism magnified in macro makes me personally deride national pride. I know this may be a very controversial point of view, but I am against national pride, patriotism and nationalism as these concepts so easily lend themselves to the politics of hate and exclusion, namely right-wing political ideologies filled with hatred and racism such as Fascism.

Being a self-identified Social Democrat, my standpoint is one of inclusion, fraternity and opportunity for all, not to mention basic human rights that should be afforded to all. REGARDLESS of skin colour, gender, age and sexuality. Universal healthcare, education and welfare support to name a few. Luckily, I live in a nation that gives me access me these things, however we are facing a crossroads, one in which we can easily begin the long downward slide into rugged individualism, economic rationalism and 100% free marketeering. The aforementioned concepts of universal healthcare, education et al should not be a source of pride, they are EXPECTATIONS to me. All in all, I don’t want us, a post-colonial nation which has suffered from so much cultural cringe as well as a lack of identity, to become something akin to a 51st state of the USA.  The political, economic and social policies and goals of the current government, a conservative economo/finance-centric one, would have us simply become a facsimile of the United States. I know the likelihood of this is slim, but I find that some political factions in this country would dearly love this country to forgo and forget its important and indelibly widespread, and far-reaching social-based policies which have helped shape us as a nation. Policies, which established by the almost hallowed yet ultimately doomed and somewhat naive Whitlam government in the early 1970’s that have really become enmeshed and a vital component and makeup in our national identity.

Mateship, a buzzword so easily thrown around in a disparaging manner, especially with regards when describing the ‘true-blue ocker Aussie identity’, to me belies the sense of humanist spirit summed up in the classic phrase ‘egalite, fraternite, liberte’. The term mateship to me has a very real cringey self-involved aspect linking to the identity of the average Australian as a sun burnt, beer swilling tradie white Aussie battler, yet we all know this is far from the reality. It to me equates far more to the crux ideal that we are all in this together, that we are all a community and that in short, we are still affected by the plights and suffering of others.  We only need to look at how we have mistreated political refugees in recent years as well as the indigenous peoples of this nation not to mention the very real lag in progress for Gay marriage to see we have a long way to go. So, due to my political ideologies which have more concurrent concerns on the state and welfare of the human being as a part of a greater community than nationalist pride, I find this question, in fact the entire concept of national pride somewhat disturbing.

Australia has had somewhat a strange and if not at times quietly turbulent history. This nation was established on the plight, plunder and suffering of the indigenous populations and peoples that inhabited this land for many an epoch before the first European man set-foot on our shores. The colonies that formed the core of what would later become Australia in 1901 were established simply due to the fact that the British required pre-eminence and predominance in every aspect of society at the time in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Competition in trade, military strength and cultural influence was fierce between the imperial powers. Colonies were established simply to deny the other colonial and imperialist powers of the day namely France and Russia a foothold on this continent. Purposeless colonies established in order to restraining other nations from gaining a piece of this incongruous continent. A somewhat strange and wasteful notion. A continent with untold mysteries and clearly very misunderstood. For decades it was believed a large inland sea bisected the continent, where unbound arable lands were to be found. A localised El Dorado, almost. Water has always been much more important than gold here. The truth was, this land was and still is harsh; unforgiving yet also beautiful and compelling in its hardness and alien nature in comparison to Western Europe.

The European policy of Terra Nullius, or ‘Empty Land’, which essentially equated the British or any other European imperialist power having right and reason to plant a flag anywhere that was not according to them inhabited [Farming, structures], meant that this land was forcibly and unjustly stolen from the indigenous tribes that very much inhabited this continent.

Add to this the penal and convict legacy of this country, as well as prevailing casual racism, the mistreatment of immigrants as well as indigenous peoples, and it makes me hard to have pride in my country of birth. In many ways I’m very lucky to be born in a nation that has afforded many including myself so many liberties and freedoms. Of course this is undeniable. A dark side of our culture has come to the fore in the past, and I’m sure will continue to flash and flare in the future. The Stolen Generations, the Cronulla riots of 2005, the plight and abject suffering of the asylum seekers and refugees of Manus Island are some examples to name a few.

No nation is perfect, no nation-state to me deserves pride and patriotism invested in it. Our governments and politicians who are the apparatus and nervous system of all nations deserve to fear their citizenry and treat them with an accordance of respect and deference, as the citizenry are the nation, not the artifice of national identity. Nations are simply lines drawn on a map, the reality is often much messier and much more prosaic and obtuse. There is never black and white, but always grey.

Yes, I know I sound like a raving rabble-rousing left-wing Marxist ideologue apparatchik but the truth is, nationalist pride for me is a very perilous concept, one that can create competition, enmity and disparity which can lead to human suffering and bloodshed.

My Marvellous Meds

Lately I’m getting asked quite regularly about my medication. I’ve been taking antidepressants/anti anxiety medication for just over a year now. I’m very open and honest about it, which is something I never thought I would be. I’m happy to share my experiences with medication.

Growing up in a family where mental illness was viewed a fixable state of mind that was able to be fixed through hard work, grit and physical activity lead me to believe that medication for mental illnesses was simply a taboo. I still remember my parents saying there is no such thing as stress, it’s just something made up for lazy people to get out of work.

In fact, I grew up believing that any form of medication as well as therapy strategies like psychologists, psychiatrists, counsellors and the like were detrimental, negative and simply a means to shirk responsibility.

If you’ve followed my blog you’ll note that much of my written subject matter since starting out in 2014 is charting my progress and journey from being undiagnosed with depression to seeking help and initiating treatment in the form of medication as well as therapy. It’s been a difficult road, and I still have my ups and downs. So I decided to write a post about my marvellous meds.

Why I take them

My medication has been a help. I can’t deny that. That’s why I take them. However, its not the 100% solution to solving all the problems in my life, but is simply one part of a larger strategy. Aside from meds, other strategies such as psychology sessions, exercise and positive thought modification techniques have meant I have a larger plan for attacking my depression. A bigger picture, which lets me work through my bad days. Meds have really helped improve my general mood however. I still have my less-than great days, but for the most part it’s really helped me manage my moods. It’s been tougher for me lately as I’m currently in between jobs, and I find when I’m not busy at a job or working on a project my mind can run off it’s hinges and into darker territory.

What they don’t do

Meds aren’t going to put the fucked up parts of your life back together, or automatically stop the shitty thoughts in your head as you try to get some sleep at 3am. They won’t necessarily have a direct effect on the course of your career, relationship or mental makeup. They won’t magically transform you into a wide-smiling, motivated go-getter overnight. They won’t make you a better lover or friend, they won’t make your bed in the morning or write emails or perform better at work/study. They take time, and you won’t see any change quickly. How they do work is more akin to something in the background humming away that has a purpose, like a fridge. You know its there doing it’s thing but you don’t pay much mind to it.

What they do

It has a job to do, and sometimes you’re aware of the proverbial humming fridge sound which means it’s working and keeping your shit cool. But for the most part, I just tend to go about my day as per usual. What I have found however after being on them for over a year is that my ups are much higher, and my lows occur less frequently and are generally much less world-ending or fraught with despair. The best way to describe this is with the idea of a wave pattern. Before starting medication, the wave would crescendo then quickly dip low. Nowadays, that wave is more uniform. I still feel down sometimes, yet the main thing is that the low in the wave is not as low as before. I am also more productive, although this is still something I need to work on. The fact that I have kept this blog going for almost two years is a testament to that. I don’t get so affected by something that has previously had a monumental effect on me, and I’m also able to deal can deal with negativity much more efficiently.

In the words of Aahliyah [RIP], I can figuratively ‘dust it off and try again’.

Hey gurl.

I also find myself being more relaxed in social settings and being less nervous when meeting new people, or in high stress situations, not to mention not being as anxious when attending large social gatherings.

Chop and change

I’ve already changed my meds once since starting them, as I found the previous prescribed medication had side effects on me which I didn’t care too much about, like lowered libido, increase in headaches and stomach aches. My thoughts on this are if it’s not feeling right, change it. Hit your GP up to change your script. I simply spoke to my GP with my concerns and was given a new set to try, which have been way better for me. Since opening up about this issue, I’ve met and spoken to many people who have given me advice as well as how they’re feeling on what they’re taking. It almost feels like speaking about your drink of choice, or what cheese you like. I like this as it has de-stigmatised this from being a taboo subject into something more grounded and social, and strangely has made me feel a part of a club. Brie or camembert?

Don’t feel bad for taking them

Is it right however, to use medication with the purpose of altering one’s mood or general demeanour? Again, growing up in a household that was quite conservative in its views on medication for mental illnesses, I always viewed meds as something only those who were suicidal took; a last resort. To me, the mind was something inviolable, holy and unalterable. I was brought up to believe that medication causes one to become something unnatural. An automaton that isn’t the real you, a modified version of you with a layer of nauseating cheerfulness draped over skin. It took some time for me to educate myself and to understand that the mind is chemical-based. I lacked and still lack the right chemical mix that most people take for granted. I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t normal to experience running the daily gauntlet of emotions and despair I felt. My mind quite literally stopped me from experiencing life. Which is why I personally don’t feel bad at all for taking medication, and neither should you. Perhaps me as a teenager would have been dismayed that I would have need of them, but hey, in short they’re designed to put in balance what some of us lack.

So never feel bad or feel as though you’re a failure or you’re somehow inadequate for needing them. I find that increasingly people are opening up about this, and the more I speak to and open up to people, the more I hear that medication has really helped people for the better and works for them. Which is a bit rad really.

On Being Afraid.

Fear, and feeling afraid of anything can be such a life-halting force. It can deter us from moving forward in our lives, it can tempt us into drinking the bittersweet nectar of self-wallowing. It can drive us off the proverbial cliff; yet at the same time fear can be a potent motivator for many. The fear of failure, or mediocrity in this case for me, is a constant in my world.

I’m afraid of failure, right now at this point in my life. Failure is something that is on my mind a lot these days. Far too much mental energy is expended in my mind to thinking about my life, and how I feel as though I’m not reaching my potential. I’m afraid of mediocrity, of living life in the box, of every year that goes past being identical to the last. A generation of us have grown up with the ideal that we can all be ‘Whatever we want’ as long as we put our grit, determination and drive to it and work hard for it. Is this the truth? Is it possible to work hard and reach that impossible dream, or are we all setting ourselves up for a fall?   For me, I feel as though it has been a long, slow and difficult progression, getting what I want, and where I want to be in life. Right now, my career [or lack thereof] is what has been filling me with fear.

Truly, I’m afraid of being 40 and still being a Human Vending Machine. It all comes back to this. I don’t want to be folding clothes, tidying pillows, putting chairs away and wasting my days away with a ‘hi, how are you?’ I just can’t do it, and I refuse to. Yes, I know that so many other people are struggling with so many problems of much more magnitude than my little conundrum, yet lately I have been putting a lot of brain power and thought to my future, and my escape plan out of my current job. I just don’t want to be there forever, my dream is to be in a workplace where my skills other than that of selling are appreciated, a place where I am motivated to give my all because I actually enjoy being there. Where I am now currently is far from this. It is a factory. Fast Furniture. It’s terribly difficult to face the day there sometimes, to put on a brave face and live day in day out. I started my current job almost two years ago, with the intention of progression. Which inevitably has not happened. I’m forever thinking about my future at work, and formulating little plans and fantasies in my mind, the foremost being the moment I finally attain that job that will lead me to an actual career, and I tell everyone there that I’m leaving, with a big unapologetic grin. Am I placing too much strain on myself? Is this fear something that will leverage the best out of me to get me off my arse and get out into the world, or will it make me drift in a malaise?

I’m afraid of being in stasis,I’m afraid of every year morphing into the next, each segmented division of time being the same as the previous, as well as the next.I’m afraid of not changing, growing or evolving. Of being static. I want to change. ‘I Am Willing To Change’ is something I tell myself almost daily. It’s a simple self-affirmation that I will say to myself in the mirror when I wake up, or at work on particularly difficult days. I Am Willing To Change. We all can change. I truly believe this. We keep the core of ourselves intact, yet we are always in a state of flux. Transforming, discarding and shedding our old selves, and forming our new selves.

What is life without change? Meaningless, stale and fetid. I know this is quite a dramatic statement, but in my eyes we all have to be willing to change ourselves, to adapt, to be dynamic. I’m not the same person I was 7 years ago. Both literally and figuratively. My skin grows, dies and is replaced by fresh new skin. My hair gets greyer each year. My mind grows un-incapacitated, expanding like an infinite USB memory stick. I learn more and more every day. I collect information, no matter how trivial, and I manage to store it away for future use. I collect life experience as well, and snapshot every event in my mind.

I am afraid of losing this ability, of not being able to collect things like experience and information, of taking things at face value, of not looking past the present, of not breaking life down into its core components. I’m afraid of my world being confined like an ornamental garden: manicured, pleasant and placidly safe.

Fear and being afraid can be a positive thing; it’s what makes us strive to achieve foremost. What would life, the world and existence itself be like if it weren’t for a small dose of fear to motivate us into doing things? Into achieving and reaching higher and higher goals? It can help us grit our teeth and carry on towards the light on the hill. Perhaps I should choose not to be afraid, but to look forward to my future, to take every step towards that future with a determination and undaunted, unbowed outlook.

The Gay Long Term Relationship.

‘You’ve been together for almost 7 years? That’s like 49 years in Gay Years’

 

Oh, the wit and banter of the online Gay scene.

Chatting to a fellow 30-something Gay guy before work, mixed in with the flirtations were general probings into each others lives. Getting to know someone online is like a game of Pong. Back and forward. As I share my Relationship Status on any Online Dating app, [I’m in an open relationship, which I will divulge the details of in another post], I find that many guys I speak to are curious about my relationship with my boyfriend. Besides the workings and machinations of us being open, the fact that yes, for a Gay couple, we have been together for what most people equate to an eon.

As it was before work, all I wanted was some simple flirtatious banter, so my mind was relatively sluggish when I read this fellow’s reaction to me having informed him that I had been with my guy for almost 7 years. My first reaction was honestly ‘why is it such a big deal?’. 

Why is it such a massively big deal for Gays to be in a long-term relationship indeed? Successful relationships in the Gay world seem either looked at in amazement like discovering the Holy Grail, or thinly veiled derision. Anyone in a long term relationship is deduced to a tittering old married couple who should simply be shut out to the rest of the Gay community due to them taking up valuable time away from single Gay men’s missions of finding a date. Many Gay men feel that relationships in general are simply for the ‘Straights’. I tried to explain my relationship as simple as I could: I love the guy, it was chance we met, we get along well and he’s as handsome as fuck.

 

‘That’s ok, I’ll find the one eventually, till then I’ll just be a slut’.  

 

…Whoa guy. Whoa. What, did you miss the OPEN part of the term ‘Open Relationship? I retorted. And why do you equate promiscuity with being single? I went on to inform this rather [in my mind] uninformed yet devilishly handsome fellow that alas, we don’t simply shut ourselves in and entertain close friends with lavish dinner parties. I’m not 65, I don’t call myself ‘discreet’ and I don’t own a house to entertain in anyways. We love going out, meeting people and experiencing life just as much as any single guy in this town. Even though we are a couple, we have independent lives from each other, and aren’t in each others pockets constantly. Some of the best nights I have is when I kick the guy out of the house so he can have his own fun and vice versa.

This was just one scenario that I have come across with respect to the perception of being Gay and in a relationship that lasts longer than a few months. There is a definite sentiment from many Gays that Gay men are not built for stable relationships. Like installing an .exe file on a Mac, that shit just ain’t gunna work. For many, that stereotype of the drama-magnet, sex fiend yet conversely always pining for a relationship Gay man appears to be the status quo. Which is obviously beyond untrue. BEYOND. However, I can’t help but get my Carrie Bradshaw on and think:

‘Are Gay men intended as a community to be simply promiscuous and unable to maintain a stable relationship? Are most of us simply hard-wired and destined for singledom? Are expectations for many just too high? Should we be setting our own rules and standards for relationships? Do some of us believe the myth and stereotype of Gay men being randy and salacious creatures who only live for the next fuck?’ Cue me in a well-appointed New York flat with frizzy hair, dark roots showing, a cigarette in hand and clacking my fingers on the keyboard of an old Mac laptop ala Sex And The City c 1998.

Many of us want the Chris Hemworths, Paul Walkers and Zac Efrons of the world with their perfectly chiselled features and bodies, however that ideal for most is unattainable. I’m nowhere as pleasing on the eye as any of them, at best I’m a 7 if I’ve had a good sleep, but for me when I was single the one thing I longed for was affection above anything else. Looks came in second. Yes, a very close second but second none the less. Not saying that my guy is a troll either, he stole my heart with his looks as well as charm.

Yet after years with the boyf, I don’t go around acting like a long term relationship is a badge of honour or something like levelling up in an MMORPG game like World Of Warcraft. Simply put I’m extremely lucky to be with someone who loves me as much as I love him. I know, hard to believe huh. It can feel like I’m an alien or an anomaly when I tell people I have just met about the length of my relationship. I see their eyes widen, the look of amazement as though I have told them that my penis is 15 inches long and shoots rainbow-coloured cum. Is it because Gay men in long-term relationships are viewed as something that happens decades after the heady party-fuelled 20’s are over? Are we meant to party our youth away then couple once we turn 40? At times, I have hesitated informing people of the length of my relationship mainly because I don’t want to go through this whole rigmarole of a scenario. Of course however, many if not most people are genuinely impressed and happy for us, and we unintentionally can come across as the LTR Gay Poster Couple.

We have our ups and downs just like anyone else. We fight and carry on like everyone else. Ie the Great Ham Fight of ’15. The difference is that we both want to work at any problems we have with each other, as I know it’s worth sticking together for. All in all, my life with my boyfriend is all the richer for it. We make our own rules, we defy any sort of compartmentalising of life and relationship status. To those who look down on LGBTIQ couples, I can only say that it saddens me, as my life is just as vibrant and the equal to that of the next guy.

 

 

 

Hetero-Normativity In Gay Relationships.

The other week I had a fight with my boyfriend of almost 7 years about ham. Ham. I went to the shop armed with a list of items to get for dinner as provided by my culinary genius husband-man, one of the items listed being simply ‘ham’. So I picked up some sliced ham at the shop and returned home, little to know what a giant shit-storm was about to take place once I got back.

To cut a rather long and incredibly dull story short involving accusations of idiocy, lack of intelligence and logic, I came home with the wrong ham. The boyfriend blew up at me, I blew up at him, and once the initial wave of hot-blooded Italian tempers gave way and reason returned, we realised we were fighting about HAM.

This is a relatively normal occurrence for us. The bi and sometimes tri-monthly fights about things which are so inane and rudimentary yet at the time seem monumental and colossal in importance for us are a fixture in our otherwise serene 6 and a half year-long relationship. The both of us share very similar upbringings, including Italian backgrounds, which means, aside from consuming way too much pasta and carbs in general, we like to lose our tempers and proclaim vendettas against eachother quite easily and quickly, leaving logic and reason far, far behind. Knives and any sharp objects in general should be well hidden and secure. In short, we’re honouring the time-old Italian tradition of Vendetta, but without all the dueling and bloodshed. We both feel however that it’s better getting the crazy out and yelling at each other than bottling it up and creating yet more fun neuroses for us to enjoy.Again this is because of our similar upbringings, where emotion and passion go hand in hand.

I feel like most couples have the same, or a similar experience in life, regardless of sexual orientation or socio-economic circumstance. Which made me think how alike to straight people LGBT co-dependents can be, or have become; which then in turn led me to think about what the status and/or validity of Gay/Lesbian/Trans et al relationships.

 

Find your soulmate, pair off, buy the house in the ‘burbs with an accompanying purebred dog and a Range Rover or VW Golf. Possibly have kids down the track and many a wine-fuelled soiree along the way.

 

Increasingly to me, this is becoming the status quo and norm of LGBT relationships. Is it because I’m getting older and leaving my so-called party days in the past? This may not apply for all members of the community who are in relationships obviously; yet more and more it seems that a ‘hetero-normative’ conformity is becoming the standard. What’s this mean? That Gay and Lesbian relationships which are stable and monogamous are on the rise. Something akin to a traditional straight relationship. Which leads many [including myself] to wonder what is to become of us. Are we wrong to want to instinctively seek out monogamous or monogamous-appearing relationships? Does this mean we are becoming simply facsimiles of what many of us don’t want to be: the stable, unexciting and dull loveless heterosexual couple? There are many LGBTIQ people out there who rail against and abhor this supposed heteronormative conformity, the catch cry always: ‘Why do I want to be married? I’m not straight and I don’t want to be’.

The well-appointed house or flat, the fancy car and/or purebreed pets. A steady and high-paying job with a lot of upward mobility. Preferably in a design/creative field. All the trappings of a typically urbane, staid and comfortable existence. I for one can’t talk as I live in one of those ‘well-appointed abodes’, or ‘Hipster Apartment’ as a friend remarked the other day. Is this all a positive evolution? Through the rise of the stable monogamous relationship, are we able to prove to the wider world our worth; a place where we can have our rightfully fought-for and earned position in society along with the responsibilities that go along with it?

Do we even need to prove this point to the mainstream community?

Do we need to actually prove anything to anyone at all?

If we can have the freedom to marry [something which we in Australia cannot do yet but that’s another blog post], do we become something very akin to the run-of-the-mill straight couple in every suburb in the country? Or are we as a community, by entering in very ‘hetero-normative’ relationship becoming the very things so many brave and fearless individuals have fought against? Do we lose our Queer identities and richly vibrant culture by evolving into what is expected by the wider society: coupled-off interchangeable hetero-induced straight-for-all-intents-and-purposes couples?

I recently read an article posted online at HuffPost about the ramifications of LGBT relationships being legitimised by the wider society, foremost being the fact that the poster boys and girls of this wave of controversially titled ‘LGBT Assimilation’ in terms of hetero-normatised relationships are generally going to be Middle-Class or above, Caucasian, cisgendered [I still struggle with that term], and relatively prosperous. As author of this article Colin Walmsley states, with the fight for marriage equality almost at an end in the Western world, have we lost the very essence of what it means to be Queer? Have we also left behind those who aren’t so fortunate, such as transgendered, homeless or other marginalised segments of the LGBT community?

‘After all, although marriage is a declaration of love, in many ways it is also an expression of interpersonal stability, economic security and social respectability — attributes that many marginalized LGBT people do not have. So while love may have won for middle and upper class gays, many transgender people, queer people of color and queer homeless youths instead find themselves left behind by a community that has become increasingly defined by the interests of its white, cisgender, middle and upper class members.’ 

Another point made in this article is that because of the rise of the so-called onrush of LGBT assimilation, more LGBT people are transitioning from being on the fringe of society to ebbing towards the hubs and centres of societal power and authority. As many of us prosper and climb the ladders of success, what effect does this have? As concluded in this article, those who fought for Gay and Lesbian rights from some 50 years ago were the ones whose unconventionality and diversity gave birth to the very idea of Queer/LGBT culture and the fight for equality.

And they’re the ones being forgotten.

We all know about the ‘whitewashing‘ of the new film based on the historically important Stonewall Riots, where important figures in history who are non-white, non-cisgendered individuals have been replaced by stereotypically handsome white youngsters. This is just the latest.

With our expensive clothes, exclusive club nights, gym memberships, vintage cars and elegant homes, are we killing the very thing that has brought us to this point in time? Or is it simply logical once full equality is achieved to want to be ‘like everyone else’ and fit in?

As the well known artist and long time advocate for the Bohemian lifestyle David Hockney recently stated in an interview,

‘Too many gay men have become ‘boring’ and ‘conservative’… too many gay men were determined to lead ‘ordinary’ lives by entering into civil partnerships and having children through adoption or surrogate mothers;
“They want to be ordinary – they want to fit in,” said Hockney, “Well I don’t care about that. I don’t care about fitting in. Everywhere is so conservative.”

He has a very valid point. Our sense of ‘Bohemia’ is fast becoming a thing of the past. You only need to see the state of things in my hometown Sydney for yourself. Gay-friendly venues are shutting doors more and more frequently. Why is this? Because traditionally LGBT communities have been ones living and growing on the far-flung fringes of society, away from the societal structures of power, protected by this protracted distance which meant that new and previously unseen support networks, subcultures, art and concepts emerged and arose. You only need to recall the impact of LGBT people on so much of society which stems from these communities in history, how much art and culture and innovation has been borne of these petri-dishes of new and experimental cultures that were created out of necessity. Warhol, Mapplethorpe, Oscar Wilde Turman Capote Annie Leibowitz. I could go on indefinitely. The one thing besides being supremely talented and Gay or Lesbian was that they were all involved with the subversive and underground Bohemian LGBT cultures of their times.

Will we loose this streak of creative fury and inventiveness, as well as our zeal, steadfastness and willingness to dare and fight for what’s right? Is the future of LGBT/Queer culture to be one of ‘beige’ sensibilities, where the acceptance of full marriage equality has led to a loss of this once-vibrant culture? Is the first thrown brick through a window going to be replaced with a French Bulldog or some other trendy purebred dog, clutched in a well-toned arm as opposed to being flung into a window of course. I fear that this may be the case, or that there will somewhat be a growing divide in our community between those who long for a ‘conventional’ relationship and those who don’t. I know that relationships aren’t for everybody.Which is ok with me. I know marriage isn’t for everyone, again which is ok. My life with my partner works well for me, but I don’t disrespect those who believe that being in a relationship tends to be a hetero-conformative concept placed on us from above. And I’d like those who have the opposite viewpoint to not disrespect me for being in a relationship.

For me personally it is quite difficult for me to say which way I feel about this argument, as I agree with both sides. LGBT people need to continue to work at being accepted in our society in general, and one way this can happen is if our modal relationships are somewhat normalised to a degree. However, I accept that we are far from dull and normal as a segment of society, and that we should be all inclusive and not forget who and what makes us, and our special community great.