Defining "Normal"

9:35am on Wednesday Morning. Third day of Term 2, Year 12. Mum didn’t wake me up this morning. Tired eyes rolled over to a woman with crazy pupils and an aggressive posture too violent for a wake up call. Contemplating transport to school, I somehow ended up on my journey to my friend’s house.

Why can’t I have a normal life? With normal problems? Surrounded by normal people?

Hm, what does the word “normal” even mean?

Is it possible that my life line (on my mother’s side) is cursed? Is it possible that we are all doomed to never touch wealth, and persistently be devoured by depression and anxiety? Will we all have an addiction to a drug of some form; prescription, Methamphetamines and party pills?

Viewers, I am crying out to the skies with my knees on the floor and my hands to the clouds. I am screaming with every muscle moving between my forehead and the bottom of my stomach. I am calling out for help.

It all seems gloomy and unfortunate. Potentially as if nothing positive will ever happen again. I must remind myself that this time last year I was still a new comer in my old house. I was still anxious and constantly saddened. Sneaking food into my room so I wouldn’t have to face them and showering my red, swollen eyes away before they truly knew that I was dying emotionally.

Having no mother was at the end of my capabilities. I couldn’t fathom a life where my mother wanted nothing to do with me. It was certainly a feeling like no other.

If you haven’t noticed, my last 3 blogs have been back to reminiscing on my past and present with my mother. It’s a broken record in my thoughts and I apologies for the bore in topics.

I remember laying in my bed crying my soul out and almost every day forcing myself to sleep that feeling away. Waking up with a heavy body and after 13 hours sleep, still struggling to keep my eyes open. Going for days without eating, and days where I couldn’t stop. Letting people walk all over me to being angry and cruel.

Some days I remember walking through school seeing all their faces and feeling numb to the soils of this earth. I didn’t care what anyone felt, or who they were, or what they achieved. To me, no body was worth anything because I had finally felt what it was like to hurt. To experiences a misfortune. And to me, no one else understood what that was like.

My point to this dwelling conversation is that I am here today. Despite ending up in the emergency room back in 2015, I know how to over come this urge to just turn all of the lights off – Darkness. Emotionless. and motionless -  Although absolutely everything is so low right now, I know that I can climb this obstacle and over rule this battle.

So.. who am I?

I am Samara Ward. McDonald’s Employee. Used to work at an Indian, and an Italian Restaurant. Grew up in a small town called Lowood and was educated at a very large, Anglican School. When I was 7 I had the potential to participate in the Olympic games for Gymnastics and then moved to the Gold Coast. Sure, my problems on the Gold Coast were purely social based, but even though every day I went home it was life threatening, abusive, violent, or argumentative, I managed to continue a goal to attend University.

Discovery A go,

I just learnt that when things become difficult, I know how to over come it. Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves of who we are, what we want and what we are capable of achieving on our own.

“Be Gold When It’s Gray” – A quote I learnt from school