Why I love Twitter but tolerate Facebook

Hello. My name is Samantha and I am a Twitter addict.

Well then you have no soul!!

Do you realise there are 582 people in the world who are hanging on to my every word, wondering what I will tweet next? At least, I like to believe there is. And who am I to deny the public what it wants. Supply and demand, people! And I've supplied the Twittersphere with 26,742 little drops of wisdom and humour. Ok, and a few photos of food I am about to eat. But those 582 people aren't under any sort of obligation to follow me. They choose to. If my posts take a direction they don't like or they finally get sick of me live-Tweeting Liverpool matches, they can (and do) unfollow me. Que Sera, Sera.

I have made new real life friends from Twitter (have even been asked on dates) and scored lots of cool free stuff - over $100 worth of Diva jewellery, anyone? Two nights accommodation in Melbourne thanks to WotIf? Yeah! I have been the first to know about breaking news and in turn, broken the news to my Facebook friends. I have witnessed scandal and suspicion and interacted directly with some of my favourite people in the world.

I have an iPhone. People always joke that I'm addicted to my iPhone but that's simply not true. Take my Echofon app off it & it would be much like my old Nokia 3315. It makes phone calls & receives text messages. But with Twitter, it's like carrying around your friends in your pocket. Waiting for a dentist appointment? Tweet about it & be entertained with a joke. Feeling sad? Tweet about it & let your friends cheer you up. Need advice? Ask Twitter if they can help with your problem. Don't know what to have for lunch? Do a quick Twitter poll. Don't want to watch a TV show alone? Search for the show's hashtag and join the conversation. Don't know something and need it explained in layman's terms? Tweet it with the hashtag #LazyWeb. Lost your dog? Tweet a photo and details and watch as your search for your dog becomes a trending topic as hundreds of strangers are on the lookout. Interested in the Titanic? Watch as @TitanicRealTime live tweets the whole event as it happened 100 years ago.

Basically my main argument for why any anti-Twitter sentiment is wrong is pretty much this. Twitter is only as awesome as the people you follow. I follow 378 carefully selected Twitter accounts. Some of them are celebrities, some are football related, some are humorous accounts, some are people I know in real life, some are just random citizens of this planet. I've been on Twitter for three years now. In three years, that's all I've accumulated - 378 accounts to follow. I've followed and then unfollowed some accounts but that's what happens on Twitter. It's no big deal like on Facebook. Facebook has this weird social obligation to be "friends" with someone who was in that Maths B class you took for a month before the school realised you weren't smart enough for algebra and you now have to put up with every single damn post about their toddler. On Twitter, those rules aren't as set in stone. With most people, you can just unfollow them. I've ignored friend requests from people who bullied me in high school. Why in the name of Kuzco the talking llama would they think I want to be "friends" with them?

Now if anything I've said about Facebook has left you confused or worse, you actually thought 'Luckily every one of my Facebook friends hangs on my every status update regarding the cute things about little Tilloffonee' (or whatever you named your spawn), then we probably won't be Twitter friends. Or you might follow me, but I probably won't follow you back. Twitter is all about MY interests and I'm sorry but I don't care what Tilloffonee did next. I liked your status when you announced you you were pregnant and again when you HAD the baby. That's it. I'm done. I don't like children all that much but I was happy for you! I would have looked at the first photo of your newborn and probably liked it, but from there on out, you became dead to me. I glaze over when you start posting about Tilloffonee and probably only get broken out of my stupor by some hilarious @ mention someone has posted on Twitter.

But notice I said I 'liked' your posts? Chances are I didn't comment because I don't want to be notified every time someone else posts the exact same damn post. "Congrats!", "OMG Congrats!" or the ever thrilling "Congrats x". I don't care. Besides, my post would have just been the same as that anyway. I recognise this.  If someone on Twitter gets a particularly entertaining response to the announcement, they will retweet it. Then I will read it. But on Twitter, I don't have to see any conversations between two people unless I choose to follow both of them. And when those conversations get annoying, I have been known to choose my favourite of the two and unfollow the other. Problem solved. Twitter is my world and it is my prerogative to mould it exactly how I want it to appear.

Nobody follows the exact same 378 accounts I do. If a Twit just wants their feed to be filled with musicians, then that's what they do. They may be followed by sports fanatics, new mums and porn stars but they don't have to care about that. It's their Twitter feed that becomes their own personal Twittersphere. How many followers you have is irrelevant (until the @ mentions start, then Twitter can get really awesome!) But people reading this may be bored to tears with my Twitter feed. In fact, here is my Twitter feed as it appears right now. Not that interesting, right?

{Click to enlarge}

But I don't care what you think, because I find it interesting. I may be bored to tears by other's Twitter feeds. So what?

You see, Twitter is like free speech and who doesn't love free speech? Communists, that's who! And you don't want to be known as a Communist, do you?

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you prefer Facebook or Twitter? Why?
• Have you ever tried Twitter? What happened?
• Should I be following you on Twitter? Plead your case! :P
• Why aren't you following @SAMawdsley and @Princess_Sassy?

Notice I don't own Facebook merch.?

How to pretend you know about soccer

I am a girl. This may come as a shock to some people, but I am.

I also like soccer. Ok, I love soccer. Don't worry, there aren't any more big shocks coming, I promise. So if you're not sitting down, you're probably OK to keep reading.

So I am a girl and I love soccer. Now for some guys, this gives me huge bonus points in the dating realm. Growing up with two soccer mad guys (my dad and my brother) I just know a lot about soccer but for some girls, you might like to able to fake it.

Now I don't want to get you into trouble and have you floundering on a first date when the potential boyfriend asks you your opinion on the passive offside rule, I just want to teach you enough to be able to hold a brief conversation and show an interest.

BEFORE reading this article:
How a guy sees you + football

So, step 1.

STOP calling it soccer! The proper name for the sport is Association Football and someone, somewhere decided that you could take the 'soc' out of Association Football and roll it out to be 'soccer'. It took every ounce of my strength to write the word 'soccer' up until this point and that is the last time I will do so. Unless you are in America. The sport is not called football there, but in almost every other place, it is called football. I know there are many other sports that claim to be 'football' as well, but this sport is also known as 'The World Game'. The FIFA World Cup is held every four years because it actually takes four years of qualifying matches to come down to the final 32 teams! From there, it takes a month to bring those teams down to the final two. More countries enter the World Cup than the Olympics.

Step 2.

Choose a favourite English Premier League Team. The 2011-2012 season consists of these 20 teams.

Manchester United (Manchester)

Manchester City (Manchester)

Arsenal (London)

Tottenham (London)

Chelsea (London)

Newcastle (Newcastle)

Liverpool (Liverpool)

Sunderland (Sunderland)

Everton (Liverpool)

Swansea (Swansea)

Norwich (Norwich)

Stoke (Stoke-On-Trent)

Fulham (Fulham)

West Bromwich Albion (West Bromwich)

Aston Villa (Birmingham)

Blackburn Rovers (Blackburn)

Bolton Wanderers (Bolton)

Queens Park Rangers (London)

Wigan Athletic (Greater Manchester)

Wolverhampton Wanderers (Wolverhampton)

Be careful to see where your new favourite team is on the current table because the bottom three will be relegated to first division and will no longer play in the English Premier League next season. Then you'll have to pick a new team or try and follow a team that does not get much media coverage outside of England.

You can choose a team based on the name (Stoke's nickname is the Potters if you're a Harry Potter fan, but it is based on the pottery industry, not the wizard), a colour (Wolves are bright orange!) or any other cute reason. As long as you can explain why you like the team, I'm sure the boy won't mind. If you're dad or brother likes a team, it's a safe bet to pick that one as 'family history' is a strong factor! If you pick one of the big four, you might be in for a bit of questioning. Manchester United is particulary dangerous and they have many "bandwagon supporters" who pretend to like Man Utd because it's the only team they've really heard of. The others are Liverpool, Arsenal and Chelsea based on their many years of success. Manchester City are a recent addition but their success is a lot to do with money.

Step 3.

Refer to the English Premier League as the EPL. Do remember what it stands for, but it's most commonly just shorted to 'EPL' or 'Premier League' in context of a discussion about English football.

Step 4.

Read the Wikipedia page for your new club. You will be caught out if you pretend to be a Liverpool fan and meet the word 'Hillsborough' with a blank look. Just familiarise yourself. You should be able to list a few accomplishments, know where abouts they are on the table and be aware of any club rivalries. For example, if you pick Tottenham and you go on a date with a Chelsea supporter, be prepared for a few fireworks and good natured ribbing. You should definitely be able to name the stadium your team calls home.

Step 5.

This one is tricky, but it's pretty essential that you try to remember the usual starting 11. There are 11 players from each team on the field and the same 16 or so rotate who starts or comes later in the game. Familiarise yourself with the names, particularly the stars of the team (and pay attention to the pronunciation as you will look a bit stupid if you start referring to 'Teevees' when it is 'Teves' or pronounce 'De Jong' with a hard J instead of the soft J.)

Step 6.

Famous names. You won't be able to recognise their picture but you should recognise these names.

Pele: Arguably the greatest football player ever. He played for Brazil and is the greatest goal scorer of all time. His name is pronounced 'Pell-ay'.

Maradonna: An Argentinian mid-fielder / striker who is famous for his 'hand of God' goal in the 1986 World Cup. Argentina beat England 2-1 and one of the goals was a clear handball to everyone with eyesight except the referee, who allowed it. Maradonna himself claimed later the goal was, "a little with the head of Maradona and a little with the hand of God". The appropriate response to this is outrage.

Messi: Ah, Lionel Messi. YouTube him. If someone asks you about Messi, you should arrange your face into one of pure adoration and say these words, "It's like he has the ball attached to his foot with a string!" The person will assume you know just who he is. (He's a striker for Barcelona, a Spanish football team, by the way.)

Ronaldo: You probably know the name Cristiano Ronaldo. He was in The Simpsons after all and he's somewhat good-looking so he makes the gossip mags sometimes. He used to play for Manchester United but now plays for Real Madrid (another Spanish football team). He was player of the year many times running and contrary to popular belief, does NOT play for Brazil. A suspicious guy may try and trip you up if you mention Ronaldo. His international team is Portugal. OK?

Step 7.

Random facts that you should know and be able to throw into conversation should they come up.

Spain won the last World Cup.

The next World Cup is being held in Brazil in 2014.

The current EPL title race is between Manchester City and Manchester United.

In league football, a team gets three points for a win, 1 point for a draw and no points for a loss.

Each EPL season runs from August to May and your team will play every other team in the EPL twice - once at home and once at the home of the opponent.

AFTER reading this article:
How a guy sees you + football

If you get caught out, put on your cutest smile and say, 'Oh, really? I didn't know that!' Don't admit you aren't interested, listen intently and try to learn. You're obviously pretty damn awesome or he wouldn't be talking to you anyway, right? And you don't need to be one of the guys, just hold a conversation. But football is the most watched sport in the world, so why not join the crowds? Or better yet, sign up to a local team and really learn to play!

Miss SAMawdsley xx


You'll Never Walk Alone...

#IDidNotReport

~ Samantha Mawdsley, 2008

Hot breath leers at my neck

I blink my eyes

The darkness is thick from my slumber

I should be safe in my bed

Am I still asleep?

Am I dreaming?

His eyes swim in the darkness

they drink me in

In the moment I see that hungry look

too many unwanted touches…

I am remembering

I am repulsed

I don’t understand

why this man is standing over me

And yet my innocence knows

exactly what brought him here

But he is family

You trust family

His own family, his stepdaughter

lies sleeping beside me

All I can think is please not her

don’t let her see

or understand

or sympathise…

He tells me he couldn’t sleep

He needs me

I watch his face contort and relax

He asks me to kiss him

I repress

I forget

I don’t want to remember that Christmas…

I used to have nightmares when I was a child

And there was a monster

I woke up…

I lived a nightmare when I was seventeen

I woke up

And there was a monster

I copied and pasted that from my DeviantArt account. I don't want to reread it. I don't want to go back to that place. But that is the starting point for my story.

Today on Twitter I came across a hashtag, #IDidNotReport & people were detailing why they did not report being the victim of sexual violence or abuse. It began because of a poor attitude to rape. A player on a team might say "Man, we raped the opposition Friday night." This is casual. So when a girl is actually raped on Saturday night, no big deal. I know this is a very extreme view, but forgive, I was knocked unconscious in a football game last night & thinking too much hurts my head.

Many people believe sexual assault or violence is not that common. Because according to the statistics, it's not. But what #IDidNotReport actually shows is just how often victims do not report the crimes against them. I don't think I have an IRL girlfriend who does not have their own #IDidNotReport story.

@A_hectic_bloke #ididnotreport because he was ~respected~ in the ~scene~ and I didn't want to lose friends. Or upset his fiancée.

@Stubbornella #ididnotreport because I was too little to know I had any right to my own body... to say no.

@elmyra #ididnotreport the guy who groped me on the train home, aged 14. Thought I had to deal with it by myself.

@TheFatGirlGuide #ididnotreport because ppl think because you're plus size, you should take what you get.

@Princess_Sassy #IDidNotReport but told my family what my "uncle" tried to do. Nobody in the family talks to me anymore even though every girl said 'me too'

You get the idea. And yes, the last one is me. So why didn't I report it? I'm comfortable enough in myself to talk about many things - my mental illnesses, my experience with domestic violence, my phobias & I'm even brave enough to post near naked photos in the interests of loving your body. Well I did tell somebody. I told my mum. The "uncle" & his family wouldn't have been at the end of our street before I was running into my mum, calm tears pouring down my cheeks, telling her what happened. This was two days after the event. I was eighteen. They were staying with us for Christmas.

Why didn't I run straight into my mum's bedroom after it happened? Better yet, why didn't I scream when he tried? I didn't want to wake my cousin, his stepdaughter, who was asleep beside me. I didn't want to cause a giant fight with my uncles and aunty's, cousins and my grandmother. I waited until everybody left - two whole days of playing happy families - before I admitted what happened. I thought of everyone but myself.

I have two female cousins on that side of my family. One of them admitted straight away he had tried it with her too. The other, his stepdaughter, kept quiet for a few weeks. Then one day when her mum dropped her off at school, she turned around and ran back to the car. Wordlessly she shoved a note at her before running away. She was also a victim but she had to live with him.

My brother wasn't told. I just asked my father if I told him or not. Apparently my brother told him - many years later when he found out. Mum said she would handle it. That involved not telling my brother or father because truth be told, they very well may have killed him. I just apologised to my father for not telling him.

I don't talk to that side of the family. I was asked to please be civil and go to my real uncle's birthday party even though he would be there. They tried to coax me, admitting it was a surprise wedding. I still refused. So my "uncle" went. I did not. I cannot keep the peace, I just can't. I demand to be treated with more respect than that and they didn't like it. I am a pleasant and amicable person but people do not like those rare days when I grow a back bone.

I have cousins and young friends who may be reading this. And I hope they are. I want them to know my advice - talk to me. Talk to someone. Do NOT suffer in silence. Do NOT put yourself through anything to protect somebody who would hurt you. There is NO reason you should feel you should be silenced. Talk about it. And do NOT, and I can't stress this enough, DO NOT be ashamed.

MY UNCLE TRIED TO MOLEST ME!!!!!

But sadly, and as much as I wish I had, #IDidNotReport

Miss SAMawdsley xx

My tea party funeral

I went to a funeral today. If you've ever read my blog, you'll know I have thanatophobia (fear of death). My aunty expected me not to come but I always feel I should honour the life of someone I knew & loved, even if it makes me terribly uneasy.

On the way to the funeral, I had a chat to Dad about our funerals. The funny thing is we would be the one to organise the other's funeral if we died any time soon. I have ideas about what I would do for Dad & I shared those with him. His idea for his own funeral was a big football game that all attendees have to play! But I was also curious what he would do for me.

He said he would bury me dressed like Alice in Wonderland. That made me so happy! I'd never considered what I would wear, I guess I just thought a pretty dress but with this idea, I imagined, rather than being buried, I would be tumbling down a rabbit hole & this thought made me smile. I actually find this thought comforts me!

Goodbye...

Music wise, he would play 'You'll never walk alone' by Gerry & The Pacemakers. It's the Liverpool anthem, it was sung at my grandfather's funeral & it will be sung at my dad's, my brother's and my funeral too. I don't know what other songs Dad would pick.

Dad told me he would, rather than have a traditional wake, have everyone attend a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I could just imagine all the people I love best gathered together eating scones & drinking tea from mismatched tea cups - sharing (hopefully fond) memories of me.

I asked Dad if he could invite my Twitter followers. That may sound weird, but when ever I feel alone, I remember I have a stack of people who enjoy my "company" - even if it is on the Internet. And if they felt they would like to attend to say goodbye to me, I would love them to do so.

One thing I did say was I don't know who would speak at my funeral. I am the public speaker in the family & none of my friends are enthusiastic public speakers. I would like to know who would step up & do it. I would love to know who would share stories & what their favourite stories would be. Would they write a script or poem like I would or would they tell stories, off the cuff?

Isn't it funny that the occasion that supposedly represents your entire existence is arranged by people other than you. It will not be my party, it will be the party my loved ones have for me. Firstly I hope it's a long way off & secondly, I hope it is a happy occasion full of people who love me but smile because they knew me!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• What thoughts or plans do you have for your own funeral?
• Who would plan your funeral & what do you think they would arrange for you?

'Ambition > Talent' or 'The true story of the death of my Olympic dream'

Ambition is more important than talent. And I am proof.

I was born in 1985. I started gymnastics at my local PCYC when I was about five. I loved gymnastics. I have always had amazing balance. I walked at nine months old & at the same age, Dad would hold me on his hand in the air & I would balance there. True story. I have photos.

Two years later a gymnastics talent scout approached my parents and asked if I could attend an... I guess you'd call it an audition?... to enter training for the 2000 Olympic team.

Mum and Dad took me to Chandler Sports Complex where I spent the day tumbling, cartwheeling, stretching, swinging and balancing. At the end of the day, the Olympic talent people decided I had the right height, the right body shape, was flexible, had amazing balance & that I could go much, much further. As in 2000 Olympics further.

I had talent.

I never made it to the 2000 Olympics. Not because I wasn't talented enough. No, I never made it because I didn't have the ambition.

Mum, Dad and I talked about it coming home. I was seven and I had "won the audition" so I was happy. We talked about it again during the week. Dad was nervous about how we would manage. As a family, we were already time poor and financially struggling, but he never let that on to me. Ultimately, the decision was mine. I remember thinking about it, little seven year old blonde bundle of cuteness I was. The 1992 Olympics has just been on so I sort of knew what it meant, but I guess I couldn't quite grasp what it entailed for me to be like the girls I'd watched on TV so I finally asked Dad what it was the Olympic people wanted me to do. Dad said, "well, you have to practice a lot to be good enough to be in the Olympics. You have to learn to do all the things they do on TV. You have to to get up really early every day to go to gymnastics training." And I was out.

Seven year old Samantha had talent. But seven year old Samantha did not have ambition. No way was I getting out of bed early. I liked gymnastics, but not that much! Looking back now, I regret what could have been. I would have liked to be 'Samantha Mawdsley, Olympic gold medalist.' I'd even like to be 'Samantha Mawdsley, former Olympic gymnast'. Hell, I'd be happy with 'Samantha Mawdsley, who can do the splits!' But Australia managed to field an Olympic team at the 2000 Sydney games without me. They found girls just as talented as me, probably more so, but who had ambition. They had determination, passion, drive and dreams and they taught them to be amazing gymnasts. But they couldn't teach me ambition. I just happened to be damn good at bouncing on a trampoline...

Still am...

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you think ambition is more important than talent?
• Do you regret not trying harder to do something?
• Has ambition ever failed you or gotten you ahead?

To heart, or not to heart, Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Seriously, is there any worse faux-holiday? It causes me such anxiety whether I am single or not (which I am). But I love it all the same…

When I was a little girl, Dad used to get me a mini version of whatever he got Mum. Mum would normally get a bunch of flowers, a big heart shaped chocolate and a diamante encrusted heart shaped pin with her name engraved on it. I would get a little flower, a small heart shaped chocolate (or heart shaped lollipop) and a plain heart shaped pin with my name engraved on it. As much as I loved it, I felt I was intruding on their Valentine's Day.

When I was a little bit older, Mum left Dad. In the first week of February. Valentine's Day just made me so sad. Dad kept my brother and I. Just days after Mum left, Dad took us to a florist. He ordered a huge bunch of beautiful red roses to be delivered to Mum at her mother’s place. The florist asked my dad what he would like written in the card. He proceeded to recite one of the most beautiful poems I’ve ever heard. I asked where he got it. He told me he wrote it in his head a few nights prior and memorised it. I am certain that, collectively, all three of us held our breaths to see if this gesture, this last chance to be a family again, would work. It did not.

Years later I found the card she received from “the other man” that same Valentine's Day. It went with a bear that once replaced Puppy that time I forgot to bring him with me to Mum’s house. I threw that horrid bear out of my room and refused to let him ever come back in. No one ever asked why and I never found the card my dad sent her.

When I got to high school, there was a shame-inducing tradition of selling flowers to be delivered throughout the school. $2.50 got you a dying carnation with a small badly cut up tag tied on with cheap ribbon and your chosen sentiment hand-scrawled by a grade 12 girl who couldn’t care less. My first year there, my friend and I panicked at the horror of being the only girls not receiving flowers come Valentine's Day. Luckily we both received ‘From your secret admirer’ flowers. Turns out $2.50 can also buy insurance against being one of those girls who didn’t receive a flower.

I didn’t receive another flower until grade 12. That year I received one from a dear friend telling me “blonde becomes me” and another was one of the sweetest gestures I’ve ever received. My best guy friend (and technically ex-boyfriend) had a rose delivered to me asking me to be his date for the formal. Everyone in the grade knew I was getting this flower and when I looked up from reading it, every girl in the class was looking at me before one brave girl (funnily enough, the ex-friend who was in on the secret admirer scam from years prior) blurted out “Well, what are you going to say?” For the girl who was picked on mercilessly, the fact that I was the only girl to be asked to the formal through a flower and the first of all the girls (save the ones with boyfriends, I expect) to be asked to the formal meant the world to me. I had been dreading the formal for years, fully believing no one would ask me, purely thanks to the social stigma of being “the milk girl” (I worked on a milk run after school) but instead, I was the first girl to be snapped up!

That special moment was only a counter-balance for the fact that I had no way of stopping the crappy carnation that was winging its way to my ex-boyfriend who’d broken up with me on the 12th. That was just awkward for all involved. But my dad made it better by having big ugly plastic roses in the car for me ad my best friend when he picked us up that afternoon to drop us into the Brisbane Motor Show.

I had a boyfriend most Valentine's Days since then. But my heart still always breaks for my dad. I know that every Valentines Day he just remembers the last one he tried to share with my mum. He thinks of that poem, those roses and that desperate clinging to the family we once had before it slipped away forever. I always try to do something special for my dad. Ex-boyfriends of the past know that my dad is my main Valentine. Two years ago I bought him a black rose with a note that said “For the only one who can see the bright side of my dark side”. I don’t remember what I got my boyfriend at the time.

Last year I tried to kill myself just days before Valentine's Day. I say that bluntly, but a fact is a fact. It wasn't anything to do with Valentine's Day. My dad took me to a movie about life-after-life. I just cried and told him I wanted to die. This year, I need to make it up to Dad.

The boyfriends that I’ve had usually spoilt me. I have photos, teddies, cards, jewellery and fake flowers from many years and boys gone by.

This year is the first Valentine's Day I remember for a long time that I will be single (last year was a blur of suicide watch and therapy). I don’t know what to make of it. Obviously Dad will be my main Valentine again. But as a girl, its nice to know someone is thinking of me - thinking that I’m special, thinking that I’m beautiful, thinking that I’m worth something, anything, on Valentine's Day.

I know its a Hallmark holiday that isn’t even worth the cheap paper that all those cheesy, sappy, soon-to-be-thrown-out cards are printed on, but I still want to be part of it. Everyone says it’s just a gimmick and a poor excuse to make couples spend money and that’s totally true. But no one wants to be excluded. I could shout from the rooftops and use my blog as a stand and say “No to Valentine's Day” but I don’t want to. I like the sentiment. I like the feeling of being special, in some way, to somebody. Whatever reason that may be. I don’t want to just feel like the girl who is in the way, the girl who’s future with a live-in mother hangs on a poem, the girl who sends herself a “secret admirer” flower, the girl who feels the shame of giving an unwanted Valentine's day gift, the girl who spends Valentine's Day making sure her dad is ok… but I don’t need to be the girl who received an $80 dozen roses, the girl who wakes up to a serenade outside her window, the girl who sees a proposal hanging on the overpass on the way to work, the girl who is whisked away for a romantic dinner for two… I just want to be the girl who knows she is special… to somebody…

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?
• What does the holiday mean to you?

I'd like to wish a very happy Valentine's Day to some wonderful people who may be reading this.

Lori - who deserves all the love in the world

My best friend - who has been there for me every day for 21 years
Adam's mummy - who is spending her first Valentine's Day in 10 years as a fabulous single girl

Player - who sent me love purely for the sake of love

Simon - who is the best guy a girl could ever ask for

Someone - who has taken a tiny piece of my heart to a far off world. You damn well better bring it back one day! "I like you!" xx

I reject your reality & substitute my own!

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My psychiatrist told me I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I rejected his diagnosis. Because that's how it works, right?

"Mrs Jones, I'm afraid you have cancer."

"No I don't. I am sick of young whippersnappers like you telling me what I do and do not have! Now give me a prescription for Endone and I'll be on my way!"

Is Mrs Jones' cancer like Schrodinger's cat? Unless she looks she neither has, nor does not have, cancer, right? Because that's exactly how I feel about BPD. I neither have, nor do not have, BPD - unless I go back to my psychiatrist. And I haven't. It's been nearly a year. It was March last year.

"Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a psychological condition marked by a prolonged disturbance of personality function, characterized by depth and variability of moods.

The disorder typically involves unusual levels of instability in mood and black-and-white thinking, or splitting. BPD often manifests itself in idealization and devaluation episodes and chaotic and unstable interpersonal relationships, self-image, identity, and behavior; as well as a disturbance in the individual's sense of self."

To be diagnosed as BPD, a patient needs to present with five out of these nine symptoms.

* frantic efforts to avoid feared abandonment

I will do anything to avoid being abandoned. I have broken up with boyfriends, purely so they couldn't break up with me. When people move away, as people tend to do throughout life, I take it so personally. To me, the fact of the matter is I am not worth enough to them for them to stay near to me. Whatever the reason for the move (work, family, relationships, etc.) it is simply more important to the person than I am. And that hurts so deeply.

* intensity and instability in relationships

* suicidal behaviour, or acts of self-harm

I cut myself throughout high school. I would carve a sparkly spiral on my wrist whenever I was sad. If that was already bloody and scabby, I would carve a star into my ankle. I planned to kill myself in 2005. My dad went to football on Monday nights. On the Sunday, I decided to wait until he went to football and then take every tablet I could find and lay down in bed. If I was still alive when Dad got home, he would just assume I was sleeping & leave me be & I'd be dead by the morning.

Last February I made an attempt. Late one night, I was so overwhelmed by everything that I got up from my bed & headed towards the kitchen of my shared unit for a big sharp knife. As I walked past my housemate's room, I felt a small voice creep up & I squeaked out his name. The sound of my voice, so pitiful, terrified me and I ran back into my room sobbing hysterically. My housemate came running into my room to find me begging him not to let me kill myself. He'd later tell me I had screamed his name & sounded terrified, not pitiful.
These days, I discovered I have physical urticaria. I can stratch myself, feel pain, see an angry red weal & know it will be gone by morning.

* an unstable self-image or sense of self

This is a huge one for me an I have trouble explaining it. I believe I am very different to other people. I don't understand the way other people's brains work and why they do what they do. I'm confused by basic human interactions and am always paranoid that I am doing it wrong. I feel like I wear myself as a costume that fools people but inside this costume is a weird alien who desperately pretends to be normal. It's really hard to describe...

* impulsive behaviour (eg. spending, substance use, reckless driving, sex, binge eating)

* emotional instability due to reactivity of mood

I am shocking with this. The smallest things affect my emotions and they do it in a huge way. A few careless words can send me deep into a spiral of sadness and paranoia. I analyse everything and come to conclusions that are usually painful to deal with and upsetting to me. I hate going to the grocery shops and will come home in a bad mood that I have been known to take out on people I love. Recently, I got insanely angry at my dog for not helping me carry my groceries into the house. Yeah, I know...

* chronic feelings of emptiness

This could be BPD and this could be thanatophobia / existential anxiety. Either way, I absolutely cannot fathom the point of life. I sit and ponder why... just, why...? I am the kind of person who needs goals. I am that donkey that will only walk if there is a carrot dangling right in front of me.

* intense, inappropriate or uncontrollable anger

In grade 10, a guy in manual arts was teasing me. The next thing I remember, my friend touched me on the shoulder. I had opened my tool cabinet, grabbed a chisel & was making my way towards him while the class looked shocked. I describe the part I don't remember as 'red'. It's like my memory was replaced by blindingly bright red. And getting angry at my dog for not bothering to help me carry groceries is not exactly appropriate, is it?

* paranoid thinking under stress or 'dissociative' symptoms

I play football. I'm pretty good. But I won't try to do anything - tricky passes that I am perfectly capable of doing or dribbling the ball up the field, taking on a player - because I am so paranoid the team will hate me if it goes wrong. Even though if they do the same, I'm OK & just yell out encouragement. Some players haven't come back this season. I am convinced it is my fault. I don't know why, I just am. They were there last season when they didn't know I had joined the team, but they won't come back this season.

If someone is upset - or I perceive they may be upset - I believe it's my fault. I usually can't think of a logical reason why it's my fault. And then I believe that it's because I'm so selfish and such a bad person that I didn't even notice what I did to upset them. It's exhausting being so paranoid.

And the dissociative symptoms? I have repressed so much of my life - moments I have been stressed, movie endings that have upset me, confrontational conversations... I just dissociate and somehow come out the other end alive.

It's still something I am considering - whether to accept this diagnosis or not. And in all honesty, this is the main reason I don't want to accept the diagnosis:

"Pejorative terms to describe persons with BPD such as “difficult,” “treatment resistant,” “manipulative,” “demanding” and “attention seeking" are often used."

Imagine a trained professional basically saying to you, "you are mentally ill. How do I know? Because you are difficult, manipulative, demanding and attention-seeking." It hurts. I'll tell you that. Luckily, the few people I have told this to have laughed. They say that if they were to describe me, they would never ever use any of those words. Except "attention-seeking". But they would use it in the "I like to be the centre of attention by being bright, bubbly and entertaining - not by faking drama or making stuff up to get attention. They understand that I am still 'me'. And if 'me' has BPD, so be it. They still love me for who I am, mental illnesses and all.

You may think I am being too open and revealing by writing this blog post. But I am me. If I wrote about the complications of pregnancy, that would be fine. If I wrote about having diabetes, that would be fine. If I wrote about actually being diagnosed with cancer, that would be fine. Obviously they would all be sad, but  in revealing my tragic medical history, I wouldn't be revealing too much. Well I have a mental illness. I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I have thanatophobia / existential anxiety. I may have Borderline Personality Disorder. And if I do, that kind of sucks... but I refuse to be ashamed of it. Like the ad says, "I can treat my mental illness. I can't help how you treat me."

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Do you have a mental illness that you have kept hidden? Why?
• What is your opinion on being open about having a mental illness?
• Have you pledged to support a change in attitudes to mental illness? PLEDGE NOW