Diary Entry 5

 

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Well, it’s the second day of depression, and I haven’t jumped off a bridge or taken any medication, so that’s good. I am still feeling quite apathetic about everything. It’s as if nothing interests me anymore, and everything is boring.  Even the words I am typing right now take a tremendous deal of effort. Everything is painful, and difficult. Continue reading

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Diary Entry 3

Nothing much has been happening in my life lately, and I couldn’t think of a good topic to write about, so this will be another rambling entry, a peek into the life and mind of another human being. I haven’t been sleeping well these past few days, and it’s been bothering me. I can’t seem to get comfortable. I don’t much like beds, strangely enough; I find them to be dull and lonely places, and much prefer sleeping in public places, on transport and at libraries. Continue reading

A Special Feeling

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I am going to attempt to describe something I have felt many times before but have never properly put into words. It’s a feeling, what I’m trying to describe, or more of a mood, of sorts. It’s hard to put into words, it really is: it’s like trying to explain the taste of salt to someone who has never had any before, or colours to a person born blind and in the dark. There’s something transcendent and untouchable about it. Continue reading

Send Me A Miracle

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Lately, because I’ve been so bored with life, I’ve started praying to God for a miracle. Now, while I don’t entirely believe God exists, some part of me believes He does, and that was the part of me that was praying to Him these past couple of days. I wanted a miracle. No, I didn’t want Noah’s Ark to come trundling up to my front doorstep or anything like that; what I wanted was for something interesting and out of the ordinary to happen to me, just to break up the monotony of the days a little. Continue reading

20 Habits of INFPs

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**To get INFP and general life advice, or Skype counselling conversations, or to choose a blog topic, click HERE or the link: http://www.patreon.com/dreamerrambling
1. Taking different routes to places because they feel more “unique” and “exciting”, like following fairy trails or something like that. Continue reading

When Everything Seems Difficult

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One of the first signs that depression hasn’t completely released its hold on your life is if everything seems difficult, from the smallest of tasks, such as brushing one’s teeth, to bigger jobs, like applying for courses and making grown-up purchases. For me, it’s as if my brain has become, after the depressive episode, stuck in a kind of rut. Continue reading

Ways the World Could Be A Better Place For INFPs

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INFPs should have their own island. There, I said it, but it’s true: I sincerely believe that placing all INFPs on a particular island somewhere, preferably a place abundant in fresh springs and fruits, would be a good idea. So much of the world is industrialised these days, cities filled with bustling and busy people, that the entire planet has almost become a place difficult for INFPs to live on. Continue reading

Another Dreamer’s Rambling

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These days I can’t help feeling a little bored and disillusioned with life. It’s hard to explain exactly why this melancholy has fallen upon me, but I feel almost as though reality has nothing very exciting to offer anymore. I can see my life mapped out before me, very clearly–a lot of studying, followed by working, then perhaps meeting someone and starting my own family, going on holidays if I can save up for them and spending time with family and friends—and it just doesn’t seem the least  bit novel or interesting. Reality is bland, as bland as the world you see before you at the very moment, and perhaps this particular dreamer is being too ungrateful—after all, reality still has many wonderful things to offer, think of the wonders of nature!—but that is the way I feel at the moment, and that, I believe, is the way things will stay.

Everything seems like a game to me, with money the social lubricant. All of society is set up like some immense game, with investments in particular things, like stocks or education, leading to increases in money, which leads to increases in pleasures, like nice food or holidays, bigger houses and better cars. Very shallow and materialistic, if you ask me, and also very isolating; I don’t know about you, but there’s something about modern society that feels very lonely, as if people, in their cars, on their way to work, or driven by some force to be separate from one another. This “game-like” quality to society was one of the reasons I got so depressed a while back—I felt like I couldn’t play the game at all, because  I was such an introverted daydreamer that no jobs were suited to me, and I couldn’t succeed as a writer—though thankfully I am no over that and once more feel myself to be capable of being a productive member of society. So this dreamer will play the game, if only for a chance to gain at some happiness.

I can’t imagine finding someone, though, and by “someone”, yes, I do mean a significant other. Sometimes, to reassure myself, I remind myself that there are 7 billion people on the planet for a reason, so that even the most introverted and awkward of people certainly eventually find a mate. Still, it is hard to imagine someone entering my life in that particular way, if you know what I mean, something so entirely foreign and strange about it. I’m so accustomed to life revolving around my mother and sister that I can’t envision another person entering the scene, penetrating the defences of my heart, and becoming enfolded into my life. As a child, I longed for the typical marriage, for the perfect white wedding and my Prince in Charming, but now that I’ve grown older, my view on love and romance as changed, become more realistic, and all I hope for is someone who is reasonably good-looking, has a job and life of his own, and is kind. Even the idea of someone expressing interest in me is  unbelievable, to the point where if someone actually did show an interest in me,  I think I could feel as though reality had warped out of shape for a split second, gone awry.

Until July, which is when my course starts, I won’t have much to do–and finding a part-time job, for this particular introverted dreamer, has not been the easiest of things–so I’ll probably be posting one blog post a day, simply because I have so much spare time, and because my fiction writing crawls along at a snail pace, at the rate of a page a day, to stave off boredom. So I’m definitely back for good, though I’m not too sure how I am going to fill the next four months. I’m thinking of doing some volunteering, or perhaps visiting the library a little more often than I already do, to borrow books to read, and seeing as I have nothing else to do a little housework. It’s still not much, though, and I’m afraid of my depressive episode returning if I stay at home for too long doing nothing very much. C’est la vie.

What This INFP Has Been Up To

 

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So it’s been a while since I’ve posted or written anything on this blog, but there has been good reason for it. For the last half year or so, I descended into a period I like to call “productive depression”. I was most definitely depressed, because I had all the symptoms—low mood, lethargy, complete lack of interest in activities, etc.—but at the same time, I was still able to write snippets here and there of my own fiction, so the entire period of time I was away wasn’t entirely wasted.

Finally, after a hospital stay for suicidal thoughts, I am partially healed of my depression and have returned to the blogosphere, to continue writing my thoughts and sharing with the internet my own, little life. So what, exactly, have I been up to, apart from moping about and trying not to kill myself? Well, I completed an 8,000 word children’s book, which I have already sent in to a publisher, but I don’t even have my fingers crossed for it because I have very little hope my horrible little book will be published. It just won’t happen, I can feel it, but at the very least I did something during my depressive episode, at least I did practice my writing a little bit.

Because of anxiety and depression, I had to leave school early, which means that I have needed to quickly find some way of gaining education that would lead to employment, because, suffice to say, this particular INFP has realized that her dream of becoming a writer, at least for now, will certainly not put food on the table; so in July this year, I will be enrolling in an Aged Care course that will allow me to take care of elderly people in a residential setting, helping them with tasks such as showering, eating, toileting and the like. It is not the most glamorous of jobs, but it will put food on the table, and even INFPs need to be realistic sooner or later when it comes to earning money; and after a while, if I want, I can transition into nursing by doing a Diploma of Nursing and then going on to do a Bachelor of Nursing, and becoming a Division 1 Nurse, So, basically, I will work in the aged care industry or go on to become a nurse, and do my writing on the side, as a sort of hobby, because the publishing industry is a very hard nut to crack, and I just don’t think my writing ability or the quality of my work is good enough to get published yet.

It’s not the most ideal path—I mean, I’m not too sure if INFPs are completely cut out for working with elderly people, I am a very caring person and I certainly would like taking care of and conversing with old people, but there is the small matter of dealing with difficult elderly people, who might have dementia or behavioural issues, that I am rather concerned about, simply because, like a typical INFP, I am terrible at dealing with aggression of any kind. However one needs to put food on the table, and this is the best educational option suited to my temperament that I have at the moment, especially since it will be a long time, if ever, before my writing pays for necessities like food and rent, so I’m sticking with it for now.

Anything else? Oh, yes. I cut my hair. Yes, that’s right: during my depressive episode, I cut all my hair off, until I practically looked like a man. Well, no, I still look like a woman, but it does, in my opinion, look very ugly; I feel exactly like a shorn sheep, bedraggled and naked. All my long, silky, beautiful black hair I cut off, because I was so depressed and felt like doing something earth-shattering and immense to snap myself out of my depressive state at the time, and now it will take forever to grow back. It’s a small and insignificant thing, perhaps, to the people around me, but to me, it’s enormous and horrible, and I feel almost as though I will never be beautiful again. It’ll take two years, at the very least, for it to grow back to shoulder-length, because my hair is very thick and grows very slowly, and in the meantime, I am miserable and morose whenever I look into a mirror.

As for my writing—well, this INFP is having very mixed feelings at the moment about her writing. Almost every INFP I know likes writing, and I am no different, but to make a career out of it, especially in fiction writing (in particular, fantasy, the genre I like to write in) is something very difficult to do indeed. My problem at the moment is that while I might have brilliant flashes of inspiration, I find it very difficult to flesh them out into proper books, with proper characters and things that happen; more often than not, whenever I try to write fiction, I just start off with a great idea that peters out into nothing, because I don’t have the ability or the writing skills to truly turn a seed of an idea into a flourishing beanstalk of a book. It’s very aggravating, and something that makes me feel as though I will never become a writer, never be published, because ideas without execution are nothing, little less than leaves on the wind. So this particular INFP is getting a bit more realistic about her airy-fairy dreams, and going into aged care instead—sometimes, the real world will break your heart, because unfortunately, banks are stronger and more powerful than castles in the air.

And money is something I cannot live without at the moment. I am turning 20 this year, and have very little money to my name, and still live with my single mother, who works as a cleaner and doesn’t earn very much at all. What’s more, what I’ve discovered with writing is that I can’t pursue it full-time, because whenever I write for too long, I get stuck, and the characters and the descriptions of the world start to go nowhere. Basically, my optimum level of writing, I’ve found, is a page of words a day, if I want to keep myself from getting bored with my own writing, and at that pace, I end up turning out short, mediocre childrens’ fantasy books. Not a good omen for a future in the publishing industry, I can tell you that. So in order to earn money I’ve had to be more realistic; even dreamers, after all, need to eat. I’ll be writing more posts soon—I’ve returned for good this time—especially about romance, and my own loneliness as a young INFP who has never so much as dabbled in the world of love—so keep tuned. I hope everyone is well, and has been doing much better than I have been.