Rambling…

My reason for starting this blog was to have a place to write everything down and know that it’d still be there in the rare occurrence that things may turn out for the better, but this blog just causes me stress. Knowing that anyone – especially people who try so desperately to squeeze into mine and my families’ personal lives – can read all the things that I’ve always kept so deep inside. How am I suppose to comfortably write, blog, share when I’m so concern with who or what is reading my thoughts? I use to find comfort in that thought, the fact that people around the world would read my blog posts and in their own ways connect with me, or perhaps find comfort in knowing that their pain wasn’t abnormal. Now, every time I begin to write my anxiety spikes. My mind shuts down and I am unable to write anything.

But really, what more can I say? What else can I blog about that I haven’t said before? My life is just so repetitive, so boring; its comparable to writing the same sentence over and over again, and yet I do nothing to make it better, nothing to make my life more exciting and more worthy of being called a “life”. I just exist, that is all. I do not live life, or embrace the unpredictable, yet beautiful chaos that life brings. I idle, neither going forward nor backwards, in a place of unhappiness and entrapments. I often feel as though I am living in a glass box, able to see the glorious life that lays just feet away from me and yet I am unable to break, or escape from my enclosure and so I run in circles. I continue to run in circles, day in and day out, to incompetent to see that my glass house has no roof, to” comfortable” in my routine to see what is literally just above me, just feet in the air. I fear that if I do not begin to climb, jump, or reach for a way out I will be in this place forever. Stuck in a life that I am not happy in, stuck re-living the same day repeatedly and calling it a life.

I’ve always had so many excuses, whether it be my dad or my nephews, it was an excuse. I barely visited my dad, and my nephews didn’t need me as much as I made it seem, but saying I couldn’t leave because of my dad or nephews was easier than accepting the fact that I was just too scared. But fear is normal. Being scared means your stepping out of your comfort zone and making progress in your life. What isn’t normal is how unhappy of a person I am, how I haven’t had a relationship sense tenth grade, that I haven’t been in love sense Brandon, and that I haven’t moved on from things that happened so many years ago.

Why haven’t I moved on?

Why can’t I find the strength to learn from my mistakes and move forward, why haven’t I been living like a typical 20 something? I can’t continue to blame other people and past mistakes for why my present is such a mess.

                      How easy is it for me to say what I know needs to be done yet I am here still, still in the same place I was a year ago; the same place I was in 3 years ago.

I need to stop caring so much for the wellbeing of other people, because lord knows no one cares about me as deeply as I care about them, and begin to focus on me, on what will make me feel better. No matter how hard its going to be. I’m tired of being the person who is always there for everyone else, and yet I am constantly lonely. I am tired of crying in the shower or late at night because I am lonely.

I’m so lonely.

I’ve been so lonely sense the death of my best friend. No one understands, and I don’t know how to explain to people, why her death has messed me up so much. I don’t know how to tell people that she was my comfort. I don’t know how I’m suppose to tell people that she was the 17498646_10158508230045381_4974498748359248487_nonly thing on the planet that could calm me down when my anxiety was beating me down, how she was the only reason my depression didn’t consume me – she always knew when I was depressed and she’d curl up in my arms and gently lick away the tears from my face. She was the one thing in this world that I couldn’t imagine losing; and then I lost her. It was so sudden, it was so painful, I didn’t even get to sit with her, tell her I loved her one last time, and comfort her while they ended her suffering. I’m still so angry that I didn’t get the chance to make the decision whether I saw her pass away or not, and I resent my mom because of it. I love my mom, so much, but I hate what she did. I hate that I had to be in the dark about my best friend, and that I was at work while my bug took her last breath. I wish my mom would have allowed me to make the decision, I wish she knew how angry I am at her for taking that away from me. Jayda was more mine to me than just a dog, and I thought my mom knew that; it hurts so much that she doesn’t get it. I wanted to be there, that’s why I stayed up for 3 days making sure she didn’t die alone – yet she still did.  She died in a place that was unfamiliar, with nothing and no one. That breaks my heart more than anything, knowing she was so alone, and I hate myself everyday for it.                    

I just wish I knew why I lost her… She was my baby…

That’s another thing…

I’m almost 27 and I’m no closer to having a baby than I was 5 years ago, actually I was closer 5 years ago, and yet it appears everyone around me are having babies – my sister included.

I love my sister, but she never wanted to be a mom and here she is a mom of almost 3 and I have nothing. I use to dream of being a mom, I use to play house – imagining that I was a house wife and my husband was working – and care for my dolls as though they were real. I took care of my parents friends son when I was 13, and dreamed of the day when I had one of my own – all the while my sister locked herself in her room and would stay far away from children. So why is she the one who gets to have babies, and I’m the one who has Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome? Life’s not fair I suppose…

Ugh, I guess I’ll end this here since I’m rambling..

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FEB 25TH

Perhaps one day, I’ll wake up and know what it feels like to embrace the day. I’ll know where I’m suppose to be and what I’m suppose to do and my heart will be full.

That’s not today though, I wish it was but it’s not.

Today I woke up angry and sad, feeling belittled and taken advantage of from my work and the people around me. Jealous of the people who are able to put a smile on their faces and img_0710allow love into their hearts. Jealous of the women that are pregnant and in love, jealous of the little families that make their way through the door of my job everyday. Envious of the sweet soul my co-worker has, and the fact that without even trying has landed herself a man who loves her for her. Today I woke up and begged the universe to “not make me” do today. Today I woke up with the feeling of stomach acid and pent up emotions rising up from my stomach. Right now I am unsure of where I am suppose to be, who I’m suppose to be, and where I fit in to this crazy world we live in. My fight or flight instincts are in high alert today and all I want to do is run; run and hide like a small animal trying to escape a hungry lion that wants nothing more than to eat me up in one bite. The world is that lion, my anxiety and depression is that lion, and right now, it’s winning. My head pounds and my eyes hurt from holding back tears, my throat burns with the pain I’m afraid to show because no one understands.

So, I guess once again today won’t be the day that I wake up and embrace the day.

I wish I could explain to everyone how I actually feel and how the emptiness is almost unbearable. I need something or someone who’ll help me get over my past. The things that happened to me, happened so long ago and it’s time for me to move on.

The worst part is that no matter how hard I try to cope with the things I’ve been through, no matter how much I talk about it or how much “power” I take from the situations that haunt me I can’t seem to move on. I can’t seem to look forward into the future, I can’t help but remember the situations and memories that fill every street in this city. I hate that places, smells, and features remind me of the moments I so strongly wish to forget. One day, hopefully, I’ll escape from the hell this place keeps me in. 

Maybe One day…

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Before you were conceived you were loved

Dear Future Babies

I know this is weird, a random old post from before you were conceived but I dream of you everyday. I can’t wait to watch you grow up, learn and explore with you, see the world the way you do. I can’t wait for the grey hairs, the sleepless nights or the feisty attitude I know you’ll have. 

I’m sorry that I am not perfect and that I get fustrated at you sometimes and scream and yell, at these times I hope you know that I still love you more then you’ll ever know I’m just overwhelmed or scared. I hope your daddy is still around, that you have him wrapped around your finger and he’s your bestfriend, even though I’ll be jealous that I’m not. I hope he shows you how a woman is suppose to be treated and he’s more of a role model then a bad influence, that his faults don’t make you hate him but love him more because you understand he’s learning too. 

I wish you will never suffer from depression in silence or have to battle your demons alone, and that you know no matter how many things I have to do or how busy I may seem you are my first priority and if you need me I’m always there. Please never be afraid to tell me anything. I promise to never violate your privacy by reading your diary or messages, I know peer pressure and adolescence is a hard, confusing and scary time in your life and you need to make mistakes to grow; however I will try to protect you from this chaotic world as long as possible. I hope you never hurt another person intentionally, that you stay committed to one person and cherish their heart as if it was your own. I hope you stay away from drugs and alcohol as long as possible and keep your innocence until your older. 

But most of all I hope you are happy, healthy and know that I love you now and forever. 

Love your momma xox

Resolutions

Hands up, Who made a New years resolution this year?

It’s a common tradition that we aim to change who and what we are when a new year starts, we make all kinda of promises to ourselves; Quit smoking, diet, work out, get organized, save money ect ect. But how often do we fall back into our normal habits after the novelty of the season ends? More often then not we fail to achieve these unrealistic expectations we place on ourselves. I say unrealistic because we are not a species that adapts to change well, most of us anyways. We give ourselves all these expectations and tear ourselves apart until we get them all done, all at once and if that isn’t a recipe for disaster then I don’t know what it.

Expectations ruin – whether you end that with relationships, situations or just life. Expectations are responsible for a lot of people falling into the evil hands anxiety, depression and self-wallowing. Why do we start a new year making promises that will just make us disappointed in ourselves if we do not get to where we think we will. I am the queen of expectations. I have lived in a world of “This is has to happen” for so long that I am unable to live in a world without expectations.

That’s my resolution for 2016, to have less expectations. That is kind of an oxymoron but I need to stop going into situations expecting something to happen that never will.

xoxoxo Donna 

 

Change can be scary. 

‘The bad news is, your choices and intentions, some people and places, those nights spent awake and all you’ve done, can lead you to the bottom of the pit. The good news is this wouldn’t be the first time someone’s crawled, tooth and nail, out of hell.’

I, now, know nothing is permanent, nothing stays the same; no matter how hard we wish, hope or dream. tumblr_mezu7x36r01rh85cao1_500.gif

I think, while its quite late for this realization, I am finally understanding that life is this never ending, never predictable, never planned lesson. We have to experience pain, depression, change and hardships in order to grow as a person. Like an addict that hits rock bottom before asking for help; I feel as though I have fallen as well. I’ve lived – stayed – in the past for far to long, a choice that is killing me slowly, a choice I made. I have known the same people, same places. I have relived the same days over and over. I have wallowed in the same self-pity, the same hardships that happened many moons ago, and yet I allow them to continue to beat me down. I have kept the same feelings towards certain people, held grudges that aren’t helping me, nor effecting them. I have been through things that should help me grow, but sadly I would rather let them fester and become infected.

I have allowed myself to become a prisoner to feelings that I don’t even really believe in anymore, nor do I feel the way my mind makes me think I do. I allowed myself to believe I am comfortable being alone, that I am holding out for someone who is never going to be mine. I have, for far to
long, been obsessed with the idea of one person, one life, one name, one dream. But sometimes we need to grow and learn that a dream is just a sugar coated, rose colored nightmare that will rip us apart if we let it. I am merely a pawn in this game of life, my wants, my needs are not going to be granted just because I cry, scream or get angry about it. I am tumblr_mbp4633Vev1qlccb8o1_500.pngthe only person, in a interpersonal selfish way, that will give me the things I desire or need.

I cannot go on with life expressing how sorry I feel for myself, for the things that life has tested me with. Yes these things, some anyways, require my attention, my sadness, my emotions but not in the way that I have been allowing these things to rule my life. Yes, I have been hurt, I have insecurities that eat me alive, and I have expectations but who hasn’t, who doesn’t? We all have our shortcomings; things that make us scared or unsure, things we wish we could change and things we keep buried in the deepest parts of ourselves. We aren’t broken or different because of these things, it is human, it is the way the world teaches us and it’s the things that help us. I have so much life to experience, so many hardships and glory to go through and I cant let the things of my pass hold me back any longer.

2016, the rest of 2015, I am going to resist the urge to revert back to the past as I always do, instead I will marvel in the present, look forward to the future and learn from the past. I’m going to throw away my “plan” of how my life was suppose to be. I’m going to change, change for no one but me.

 

Some say I’m a dreamer, but I can’t be the only one. 

Imagine, if you will. That everything we say was real. 

“I’m fine” no longer was a way to get out of admitting your pain. Our natural instinct wouldn’t be to push our feelings out of the way, imagine what we would gain. 

Our deepest regrets and our suffering would no longer be just ours, no longer just manifesting in our minds. We wouldn’t die with regrets or unspoken lines.

Instead we would live in a world that knows that we are not brave, strong or “robot” enough to deal with things that destroy us alone. We can openly say “my heart is broken” or “your actions and words hurt” instead of crying while acting like we don’t care behind the screen of a phone. 

We wouldn’t take our lives, cut our skin or swallow pills in a desperate attempt to quiet the demons and pain, if we weren’t ashamed to share what hurt us. No brave faces, no unspoken words just honesty, anger, crying and fuss. 

We wouldn’t need to question the actions, the feelings of others, we wouldn’t be afraid to expose our vulneralable side. Imagine the people we could be, the ones we could have saved, if humanity didn’t make us feel like we have be someone else, that we have to hide. 

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Even now I’m sitting here, unable to vocalize what I am feeling to anyone because “fine” is the easiest answer.

I get asked daily how I am, it’s part of that annoying way we are expected to greet people. I tell them I’m good, or fine, and continue on with the way I’m expected to act. Expectations.. That’s what wrong with society. We’re expected to be kind, to be quiet, to follow rules set for us through parents, teachers, employers and of course theinfamous  “girl/bro codes”. We are constantly told how to be, given time lines on feelings, expected to be and act a certain way after something or someone inflicts pain on us. We are encouraged to put on a happy face and go with the flow, we are told to fake it until we make it and having “walls” up is so common these days that I don’t think anyone allows their true self show. 

I am beyond guilty of this. 

Instead of allowing my true feelings show I fake a smile, change the topic or pretend that the situation doesn’t hurt. I hate it, I loathe the fact that I am unable to be real with people because I am afraid of what they will say or think. What they will say behind my back, hushed whispers when I’m around. We are all such cowards, talking about people rather to them. Complaining instead of fixing, backstabbing instead of uplifting. This is what we’ve become. 

Oh what a world we live in. 

I find the most peace at night, when the world is less busy and I’m warm in my bed. This is usually when I think the most, which is extremely problematic when I’m exhausted. I also find myself buried in so much regret and anxiety at night, the “should haves” and “what ifs” weigh heavily on my mind. The things I did and didn’t do or the things I should of should not of done race through my mind. 

After being molested, after having my first love come out, after having my heart broken time and time again I’ve become so cut off, so distance to the most human thing in the world; Love. 

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have a man, a family. It’s always been a dream of mine, waking up at 5am to fix coffee and lunch for my man before he heads off to work, take care of our babies and our house, make a home. I never thought I’d become so jaded, so incapable of letting my walls down and people in. 

It’s hard, and I know I need more professional help then I can afford or care to do. 

I’m 25 on October 4th, and my dream was to have at least one child by now, but how can you have a baby, be intimate with anyone when you are afraid that there is something wrong with you, when being touched by anyone makes you uncomfortable, when you hate yourself in such a way that you can’t imagine that anyone would love you. I don’t think it’s possible. The only time I’ve been able to have sex since being molested is when I’m drinking, and I haven’t touched alcohol in 3 years. 

I think that’s why I’m so taken back by the way people treat their children, that some individuals can abort their babies, allow their children to be taken into ministry care because of neglect. I understand that no ones perfect but if they really took a step back and realized how many people, myself included, would love the chance to have a baby, to be a mother I would hope they would begin to understand how precious and amazing their child is. 

The only thing I really wish for this year is strength. 

The strength I need to move on, the strength it takes not to give up. I wish for a happy life, something I haven’t had in far to long. I wish to fall in love, to allow myself to be vulnerable.