Old habits

Darkness engulfs me, I really can’t seem to find a way out; maybe I’m not really looking hard enough. I stand at the edge of a steep cliff centimeters away from falling to my death, it’s overwhelming and I take a step forward. I am thrown back into reality, fluorescent lights shine brightly above me, cooking my brain and making it feel as though my head is boiling over and about to explode. I am brought back to my feet planted firmly on hard floors, back to expectations, and standards I don’t think I’ll ever measure up to. Back to the feeling of being the size of a grain of sand, back to feeling insignificant, back to being replaceable; and with a single misspoken word, or action I am back in that dark place, blinded by the dark midnight black that surrounds me.

My chest tightens and it becomes almost unbearable to breath, to move, to think. Those typical nervous butterflies have turned into angry wasps and are fighting for a way out. I am shaking, I am clammy and cold, yet I am dripping sweat and I feel as though I just drank 50 espresso shots, 5 Red Bull’s, and washed it all down with speed. I am fidgety and I am hyper-vigilant to anything and anyone around me; I am attempting to force myself to focus on a single task so I do not fly away like a helium balloon. Nothing helps, my over stimulated heart is dancing with the angry wasps and I feel faint. I return to that I-must-have-been-hit-in-the-head feeling and slowly collapse into the darkness; hoping I’ll find a way out.

My past, visions of all the things I did wrong, all the times where I was made to feel inferior to those around me – to those who are suppose to be my family, suppose to be my friends – plays over and over again, reminding me of how worthless I am, how I have never been and never will be enough for anyone.

After what feels like a life time, the panic and anxiety hides its self away and I can feel “normal” for a few beautiful moments. But it never goes away, no drug or drink, no prescription for Antidepressants or Anti-anxiety medicine can take away this worthless feeling, this self distructive behavior, or the constant reminder that I have failed young me, I have failed her, my parents, and God so many times, and it breaks my heart; because 7 year old me had so many dreams.

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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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L O V E

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

 

Love is such a normal human – mammal thing yet my generation seems to fear love, myself included. Or perhaps I am not afraid of love, I can express my love to the people I keep close to my heart but the idea of allowing another part time person to dwell within the walls of my heart scares me to the core. My fears run ramped because no one understands the true meaning of love, or that just because its not the way it was at the beginning of the relationship, that hot and fierce kinda love, it means that you no longer have a connection Give-Strength-02.pngor that you have fallen out of love. This immature love is what 90% of my generation considers “real love” and its not. Real love is enduring, it is deep and comforting; it encourages personal growth and is ever lasting. I crave the comfortable love, when the butterflies and pounding heart no longer takes away your breath because their love is like oxygen and it encourages you to breath.When silence is no longer awkward, when you can be as open and honest with each other, when you know you’re relationship is built on more then just the idea of being together and the lust that fuels our entire world. I am tired of this immature love, the love that has no promise of tomorrow or growing old together. I want love that lasts, that lifts me when my anxiety and depression pushes me down. Love that encourages, empowers and helps both of us grow. I crave the love that fights through the lows, the disagreements and prevails everytime; a love full of trust and compromise. A relationship in which we are still two separate people with lives outside of our relationship but we work together to better ourselves and each other, to make a life that is harmonized and beautifully ours. I dream of a love ever lasting and strong, a love that will break through any barriers or obstacles that this world may throw our way.   I dream of the kind of love Shakespeare wrote about, that Nicholas Sparks based novels on; a love that strengthens your soul and gives you the courage to be vulnerable.

Vulnerable..

Being vulnerable isn’t my thing, I haven’t been able to allow my heart to be open and inviting since B, and I don’t think I’ll ever will be a hopeless romantic again. I use to dream of love, of finding my “prince charming” and living happily ever after; these dreams don’t come around anymore. I wish they did, I wish I could open up and stop allowing my past to control my present and future. But I guess I tend to let my past control all aspects of my life..