words

Change is the end result of all true learning

As an infant, we were taught to speak and our parents rejoiced when we half heartily mumbled the first mama or dada. We are encouraged as children to learn and expand our vocabulary, knowing that we may never use these long complicated words in everyday life, yet we are praised on our intelligence. Everyday we are expected to communicate verbally, whether it’s at work or in your personal life. But what happens, or what consequences are we faced with when the one thing we were encouraged and praise for becomes something that’s used to hurt other people? Why can’t we – as a generation – learn to speak and listen without blame, without judgement, without fear that our words, thoughts, or beliefs will be disregarded or used as a weapon in destroying our self worth. Better still, why are we so careless with the words we use?

We, as a whole, have a rather bad case of speaking without thinking, of judging without knowing, of disregarding what other people have to say if it is opposite of what we believe. I remember visiting my dads side of the family as a child and being told to be quiet, not to speak out of turn, and basically, to be seen but not heard. I never understood this, I never understood why I was being discouraged to speak around my family. Particularly because my mother’s family rejoiced in noise and talking and laughing. I couldn’t understand why I was told to be quiet in class, yet told to speak louder when asking or answering a question and I was unable to defer the two, especially at 6. I never understood, I still don’t understand, how its okay to be loud when people want you too and yet you are judged for being loud or “obnoxious” when you are having fun with friends. Why is the volume of one’s voice so important to other people? Why are we either labeled quiet or loud when we are simply just human? We are a generation, a human race, that sit behind computer or phone screens proclaiming that our beliefs trump those who disagree with us. We have bred wars, we have encouraged hate, we have teleported back in time where race is the most important thing of our lives. We have ruined the world out forefathers (and mothers) worked so hard to create. We have allowed ignorance to cloud our perspectives.

I digress often.

Perhaps I’m aging myself, but who remembers that little rhyme we’d say as children “Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”? It was in those words that we minimalized the impact that insults an gossip truly hurts. The bruises your sticks and stones leave, the broken bones, the scrapes and cuts will heal, however words stay with you. My mothers’ favorite line was “they’re just words” and I suppose that was the way she was raised, but in my personal, and not so personal, experience words cause just as much, if not more, damage. Damage that is irreversible once they fester, damage that no cast or band aid or kiss can heal. We blurt out insults and judgements and think that a simple word – sorry – will take away that hurt, when in reality it doesn’t help. Sorry is just another word, another half-hearted compound of sounds that we have given too much power too. We are expected and encourage to act like nothing happened once a person says sorry, like the knives that were thrown into our souls didn’t cut us.

Our words have so much more power than people like to believe, or care to acknowledge.

Again, maybe its just me; The way that words and phrases that have been said to you stick with you. Like the first time you were rejected or the first time someone told you they loved you. The syllables and compounds that come together to form words replay in your mind, the entire memory engulfs you and you relive the happiness, excitement, or pain all over again. This happens a little too often to me and it cuts a little deeper each time. How can someone who claims that they care about you mutter the words they know will hurt you. Why would someone who “loves you” spew cruel and degrading insults at you?

I grew up with so many unstable people, so many people who spoke without thinking, and used my insecurities and downfalls against me. I grew up caring too much about the words people said, and now words are my biggest enemy. I am constantly fearful that I will be judged and ridiculed for the things I say, that I wont be deemed truthful. I fear these things based on my past, based on the things that happened to me, the way the people around me did things.  But I know consciously, now that I have had the time to grow, that I cannot be consumed with what happened in the past. I cannot live in the rear-view mirror if I ever want to get ‘better’. If I ever want to be healthy and happy again I need to internally change. I know nothing is built in a day, but I have begun to deal with my past. I have been able to speak openly about the things that happened in my life, from the sexual assault that I allowed to ruin my life, to the loss of my dog and everything in between. I have been able to address and confront the people and words that have torn apart my soul. The things that use to be my dark secrets are now just another part of my journey and I am proud of that now.

Again, I find myself digressing from the topic I am trying to address.

I allowed a boy’s – he’s an adult now, but he’s still just a boy in my eyes – drunken words to fool me into thinking that I was enough for him. I allowed his broken promises and dishonest “feelings” to break me into 10,000 pieces and I never once confronted him about it, until recently. I finally stood up to the one person who always had the one up over me because I let him. I finally stood my ground and in a way, it back fired. By standing up for myself he is no longer in my life, by voicing my opinion and speaking up against him I lost who I thought was my best friend. Twice in one year I am faced with the sobering reality that I am without the two beings that knew me the best. Jayda and Peter knew everything about me, and I shared so much with both and to have neither one of them here for me or with me feels like my entire life has changed; and it has changed, I have changed. I realize now that by removing him from my life I have lifted a rock that was crushing me. I can breathe again, despite the pain. I use to think that our friendship could withstand any storm but failed to realize that he was the storm. His passive aggressive comments and mentally abusive tactics formed waves that engulfed me and pulled me back into the water no matter how hard I tried to escape. I thought that without him I would be lost, but it wasn’t until I was at my lowest that I found that he kept me lost. He spun me around in circles until I was weak and unable to see straight, and then left me to figure out where to go afterwards. His compassion was tainted with selfishness and pushed me away when I needed more, he dangled a dream in front of me just far enough away that I couldn’t reach and then gave a piece of it to any aboriginal, dark eyed girl he could see. He killed parts of me, parts of myself I use to like. I gave so much to someone because I fell for the words he spoke, because I believed fabricated tales of a life we could make together. I have learned to hard way that I must learn to fall for actions and not words. I fell to rock bottom, but it was there I was able to rediscover what I need and deserve.

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Don’t forget that people will judge you by your actions, not by your intentions.

My intentions were never to be like this; I did not dream of the day I would grow up and hate people, nor did I wish I’d be a ball full of anxiety worried a2531474066c6fb1857fc0c773f7ae10.jpgabout what other people may say or think about me. My intentions were never to hurt anyone or to disappoint anyone, but my actions spoke otherwise. My actions disappointed, hurt and angered people; my actions show that I do worry about what people say and think of me.

I suppose my actions reflect my inward self, while my intentions were – are good in theory they are not what I am doing, or being. I allow my pain, the anxiety to cloud my judgement.

Honestly, I could handle the bursts of crying, the sadness, the depression; it makes sense. I have gone through a life changing experience, my dad died way to young. He was plagued with a disease that took more then just his muscles away and I hate that he went through all he went through and, in retrospect, I understand why he wanted to end his life. I’m depressed and hurting because of the disease, his life is important, we need him and this illness took him away from us. His bones creaked and muscles hurt as they died slowly, his lungs fought to expand – making breathing difficult and nearly impossible, he was never able to hold his grandkids or celebrate 25 years of marriage with my mom. I hurt because of these things,  not because he died but because he was robbed of life even before his soul left. He never got to teach his car obsessed grandson how to work on cars, or give them piggy back rides, 6c2c975ae3b5a736624ae3c870bcd10c.jpghe’ll never be physically here to watch them grow up, to grow old with my mom. My pain is not for myself; yet I am wallowing in it.
I am unable to understand the anxiety. The flashbacks. The dreams. It’s the never-ending doubting, second guessing, worrying and hypothetical ‘what-ifs’ that makes my mind race. My obsessively need to check my phone, email all throughout the day in fears that something may have happened and I missed the call – again. My restless mind that awakens me many times throughout the night to check if my mom is breathing, to try to hear my dogs moving; All of which leaves me exhausted for days afterwards. I do not understand why, why I am unable to relax and rest like a normal person. Why one terrible situation turned me back into the anxious sleep deprived, antisocial person I tried so hard to leave in my past. Anxiety is a part of me; a huge storm cloud that follows me wherever I go and yet I still do not know why I have anxiety, what caused it. I do not know why I went from everyone’s friend to someone who hates everyone, or why I went from a person that loved hugging people to someone who can’t stand being touch. Well, I sort of do. Anxiety happens because of many things apparently, environmental, disasters, loss and so on. I think I realized how scary, how unpredictable life could be when I was 8 and my neighbor, who was nothing but wonderful to us and a friend to my dad, and his son’s were shot at. When someone died on the corner in front of my house because of gun violence, when I watched the cops pull marijuana plants from his house. I think my anxiety multiplied when my grandma died and my dad got sick, and escalated even more when I was molested and no one believed me. But all of this was in the past, so far in the past that it’s nearly ancient history.

But its a part of me.

It has made me scared and distrusting, it’s made it hard for me to open up; to show anyone my true authentic self (I don’t even know who that is though). Anxiety is my worse enemy, yet my closest companion. Its brought along its own demons, own problems and it’s destroyed my perception of the world. My only wish this up coming year is to deal with these demons, to open up to someone and maybe end up falling in love.

 

 

 

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.

 

Writers block?

I’m so preoccupied in my own self doubting, self conscious thoughts that I am unable to write about anything.

cropped-img_1343-0.jpgHundreds of millions of Americans and Canadians feel overwhelmed and stressed out everyday, we believe that our stress and our minor problems are crushing and numbing; Myself included. While I know people have it worse, I also know that people have it better.

I know I was a blessed kid, ‘santa’ always got me my wishes, in moderation of course, My parents were together, I had clothes and a home, and more love that surrounded me then I knew what to do with. I saw an appropriate amount of affection, but I wasn’t raised with men and/or women in and out of my parents bed’s. I knew what love was, I knew what happiness was, I knew what so many people don’t; and because of that I should feel beyond blessed and grateful for the life that I live.

But for some reason, unknown to even myself, I am not.

My inability to look pass the past; the time in my life that I wasn’t in the midst of depression, or an anxiety attack. I wasn’t this angry, this sad; this radical. I did not do things out of anger, or because I ‘couldn’t deal’. I did not know what a panic attack was, or how hard it is to look someone in the eyes because something about them, or the person before them, sends me into an anxiety attack. I am not rude, or unkind; I do not avoid eye contact, or small talk because I think I am better then anyone. I know I’m less then many people. I am 25 years old, and I am unable to be a productive part of the world. I feel like I have jumped into a fire, or a freezing cold lake, and I have to try to live through all the consequences of that one mistake. I still don’t know what mistake I made, if I am being punished for being dishonest and drinking without telling my parents, for having sex to young, or maybe all of this is just a test; something only god knows the answer to.

If this is a test, father, please show me a clear sign that this is teaching me, or leading me to something far better then the pain and suffering myself and my family have gone through. tumblr_mc6pf3dKAb1r1iv4bo1_500

I am, I have been for a while, clinically depressed. Following my fathers passing it resurfaced, not exactly in the way it has in the past, I am not suicidal, I do feel hopeless. This hopeless feeling is what cost me my job, I know this. I am in need of a change, a drastic change that will make me happy. That’s all I ever wanted, you know, happiness.

I couldn’t care less about material things, a huge house, or lots of money as long as I was happy. 

Maybe this is just a chapter in my book, maybe this ‘closed door’ will open another one, one that will provide me with happiness. Maybe everything does happen for a reason.

******

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My insecurities could eat me alive

I have been, and I think I always will be an insecure person. I always feel judged, which is a part of my social anxiety, I have this over powering feeling that I’ll never be good enough, or as pretty as other females my age. 

These worries, these insecurities make me so cut off from relationships because I’m positive he could and will find someone better then me. My anxiety makes me over think everything and my depression makes me moody and even more cut off. 

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I haven’t wrote in a while cause I hate where I am emotionally. 

I feel like all I do is repeat myself, my worries seem so minimal when I think of what the people on the other side of the world must be going through. Yet every little thing sets me off, but not into anger but sadness. How can I even begin to live a life, heal, when I can’t follow a schedule because my hours at work change? How can I even think about putting myself first when I have things and people that come before me because they are more emotionally distressed then I am? How do I break down my walls in order to be happy when I built my walls so high and thick even the deepest love can’t seem to penetrate them. 

My life changed a lot when I was 14-16, and I feel like I ended up frozen in that time, in those feelings. It’s been over 10 years of being afraid to love, afraid of that broken hearted feeling. My grandma dying, my dad getting sick and my ex coming out all happened so closely together that I didn’t have the time to grieve each thing individually and I think that’s a huge reason why I’m so gaurded. When my dad was diagnosed with ALS the guy who said he “loved me” was no where to be found. When my grandma died he wasn’t around, I found comfort in my guy friends instead of someone I gave the most personal thing you could ever give someone. How could he claim he loved me, give me a promise ring, allow me to become the most vulneralable I’ve ever been just to come out and tell me he’s always known. I understand that coming out is hard, and 11 years ago it was even harder but he was the one who persuaded the entire relationship; and then cheated on me with men. Risked my health by engaging in anal sex and then having unprotected sex with me. It’s not even him being gay that bothers me, it was that he was never honest with me. He was never there when I needed him the most and yes I understand love when your a teenager and love when your an adult is different, but in my city most of the guys never really grew up. My pain was disregarded and made fun of by teachers and other students at school, the pain I was going through at home, not having my grandma anymore, watching my dad drop things and get more and more frustrated killed me but because all people saw was him being gay those things didn’t matter. 

No one was there for me when my world was falling apart, I was trapped in my own hell. I was scared to tell anyone anything because I told people one thing and the next thing I knew it was all over the school.

A year and a half later in the middle of the night I was touched, his hard penis pressing up against my back, and no one believed me. I asked for it, I lead him on. I was blacked out drunk for the first time in my entire life, and if I had been leading him on I wouldn’t have grabbed my friends hand to wake her up for help. I wouldn’t of told him no and pushed his hand away. I wouldn’t be forever tormented by the smell of beer. 

In what world would I want to trust someone or be vulnerable when everytime I was, I was hurt. 

How am I suppose to move on from that? Everyone who promised to be there for me, told me they loved me has walked away, lied or betrayed me in some sort of way. 

Because you are not good enough, Donna. 

All these things and everything since then has turned me into someone I hate I can’t look in a mirror at myself without noticing everything wrong with me. My teeth are over lapped and not white enough, the bridge of my nose has a bump that needs to be removed, my eyes have dark bag underneath them, my breasts aren’t as perky as I wish they were. I could go on forever. 

I’m not blaming them completely though even though it seems like I am. If I didn’t make stupid decisions like thinking I was mature enough at barely fourteen to have sex and to continue to drink after knowing I was already intoxicated I would have never been in the position to be hurt. 

I wish, every single day, that I will be able to use the pain of the past to strengthen me and not pull me deeper into this angry place; this depression. That I will find a man, or rather have a man come into my life that shows me that not all men are like the ones I’ve encountered and that I’ll open my heart to the possibility of loving someone other then my family (and my dogs).

But who knows how long that’ll take. 

  
I’m sorry for the poor quality of writing today, I can’t find the motivation to form proper sentences or use the correct terminology/adjectives.  

Anxiety, depression and life

How I can I begin to explain, explain what causes an anxiety attack when I don’t know myself, explain why my heart beats twice as fast when I have to answer a phone call or send a text that may be taken the wrong way. Trying to explain the causes of an anxiety attack to someone who does not suffer from anxiety is like trying to explain what water tastes like. Nearly impossible. 

Trying to explain the bad days I experience because of my depression is even harder. 

How can I tell someone that my bad days, which happen far to often these days, bring their own set of symptoms; their own agenda. On my bad days I can hardly get out of bed, and sometimes I don’t. I can’t engage in conversation or even have the energy to stand for more then 10 minutes. My head pounds, my body hurts and I feel physically and emotionally drained. 

My anxiety and depression take away so much.

It took away my smile, my happiness. It took away my outgoing personality I once had. It damaged even the deepest parts of my soul and no matter what I try to do I can’t escape. I can’t shake this useless feeling. I can’t help but feel like a failure no matter what. I try so hard every day to feel, act, live normal but I can’t. And then im ridiculed by the one person I hoped would be on my side no matter what. 

Does anyone realize how hard living after loss is for someone who is already a big ball of depression and anxiety? 

I hate being here.. Driving near his care home sends me into an anxiety attack that feels like its sucking the life out of me. How can I move on, be happy when I can’t breath when I go near where he was? Everything seems so much harder..

I understand that the pain won’t go away over night and that we’re only given what he knows we can handle but I physically can’t do this anymore. I need some sort of relief, a break away from the pain. 

It’s not even just my dad, while that’s a huge part of it I am also lost in every aspect of my life. 

My life plan is not to be in retail until I retire, or to live in this awful city. My plan was never to live at home at 25, with no child. I understand, but do not accept, that life has its own plan but I can’t help but wallow in self pity. 

I want, which is a word I so rarely say, a life that I am happy. I use to be a huge believer in things unseen helping us but these days I can’t bring myself to see, feel or even believe in the magic of the unknown. Without that Magic my depression wins. Without that magic no antidepressant can fight my anxiety. 

I prayed every night to see my dad in a dream, to show me what im suppose to do now and instead I don’t dream, or dream of things that are impossible. I dream of TV actors and of flying cars, of work and of impossible situations. All which leave me more exhausted every morning. 

How can I feel better when sleep doesn’t even ease my mind? 

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Daddy, grandma I know you can’t read this, I know your gone but I need you both more then ever. Please help me, help me to heal. I know I was the worse daughter and granddaughter and I’m deeply sorry that I was not there more, but I hope you both know I love you more then I could ever put into words. I miss you both so much and wish everyday that I could turn back the hands of time and take your place. You both were so loved and so needed here and I still can’t understand why we lost two of the best people in this messed up world. I can’t even begin to understand what either of you went through but I’m tired of this pain, I’m tired of crying every night, of feeling so helpless. 

I love you both so much and I’ll miss you every day until I die

  

What hurts the most was being so close & watching you walk away.

Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable. 


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If you could go back, not in time exactly but to a point in your own life what would you choose? Where would you go? What would you re-live? Would you see a loved one, one more time? Tell an old crush your real feelings? The choice is completely yours.

Now what if you knew your whole life would change if you went back, would you still go? 

Would you be willing to change your life today to re-live yesterday? All your memories and experience would be replaced, your life today would be completely different. 

Personally, I would give the entire world to go back. Even if I knew my whole life would be different I know it would be worth the risk to return to 2005 and see my grandma once more, to warn my dad, to discourage my uncles decisions. I’d return to 2007/2008 and finish my last year of school, I wouldn’t have gone to that party, I wouldn’t of got molested. 

However 

As always my mind is torn. I would LOVE the chance to see my grandma, hug her one last time and hear her voice, tell her I love her and spend time with her I know that loosing her taught me to appreciate the people in my life because they’re gone to quickly. Who would I be without experiencing such guilt? Would I have met the one man that restores my faith in this generation? 

I couldn’t live knowing I no longer had him in my life, he’s more important to me then so many people in my family. Except for my mom he’s the one constant person in my life no matter what. I always believed my grandma brought him to me, two years after she passed away he was the one who talked me out of going to be with her. 

Getting molested by Ryan brought him and I closer. He was there for me when no one else knew, he comforted me when I was upset over it. 

As much as I hate the pain the past brought me, it’s brought along its own joy. 

It brought him into my life. 

He’s my bestfriend, the first man I loved after B, the first man I woke up with, the first person I go to when I’m hurting, the first one I tell my good news to. The first and last person I talk to everyday. I learned that love, real love, overpowers any hurt feelings, any nasty words and when a person belongs in your life, romantically or just as a friend, they’ll withstand the depths of hell to stay. 

Which is what he’s done. 

Which brings me to my next dilemma. Years ago we agreed, our friendship is to valuable to risk becoming a couple. We agreed we were better friends. But recently, sadly, I’ve become a slave to what my heart wants; him. 

He’s everything I ever wanted in a man, he’s respectful, he works, and he knows the ugly parts of me and still stays. 

I hate that my thoughts are constantly clouded by visions of him and I together when I know it’ll never happen. What he wants is something I’ll never be, and I had accepted that, I was moving on. I think, as hard as it’s going to be, I have to distance myself from he. Allow my mind to become clearer and stop reading into things that aren’t even there. 

I hate that I can’t be with him, but I understand. He means to much to never have him in my life again even if it means only as a friend. 

I’d rather settle for someone else then hold on to something that’s never going to happen.