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..

untitled

Advertisements

Maybe your just jaded from some nobody’s unforgotten words.Maybe your just faded, a little grey from all the times that you’ve been hurt. So your looking for your skin, that you never did fit in

I miss you more and more everyday JayBugg. 

I’m giving up.

Emotionally, physically, mentally; I’m giving up.

I haven’t anymore fight in me, no more will to do better, be better or act better. I have no hopes, no dreams – just strife, just pain and suffering. Unhappiness and resentment. I can’t really explain how I feel, I am not depressed in the way of being overly sad. I’m just in a rut. A rut that I have no real way out of. More and more things are encouraging my departure from the horrible place, this horrible life. I miss my dog more then anyone can ever imagine. Her beautiful soul is missing in my life and its making life so much harder. She was my best friend, my confidante, and the only thing that was constant in my life. God takes away everything I care about and Im so tired of it. I want to be happy, but it just seems impossible. Every time I think I’m happy, or that things are going well something bad happens. But maybe that’s what life is about? Maybe we are diamonds, shaping under the weight of the world; the pain and the strife of everything life has thrown at us. Maybe I’ll come out of this stronger, better.. Maybe. But Maybe is never something that actually happens, and I dont want to live a life that is just a giant “maybe”.

I have lived in a constant state of “What if” for years. I have told myself everyday that It’ll get better and it never does and I dont know how to make it feel better, be better.

It sounds so hopeless and depressing but I just have nothing to look forward to, especially here. I say that so often but never go anywhere, I never have a chance or a place to go to. I have wanted to escape from the hell that lives in this city, this area, this house since I was 18 years old. Theres nothing about a city that intrigues me. I dont like busy places, or going out late at night. I dont like highways and traffic. I don’t like busy shopping malls that forces reused hot/cold air into your lungs. I dont like living where there are more tall buildings then tall trees, where there is more roads then sidewalks. My soul does not flourish in the middle of a city. My happiness is not material – which is a lot of what makes city dwellers happy.

I would rather live in the country, surrounded by fresh air and animals. Somewhere I could imagine falling in love and raising a family, somewhere that has potential. 

Surrey, the lower mainland, cities in general – Have no potential in my eyes. In the city we
do not raise our children because we are so obsessed with appearances. We’re so worried about what the world perceives us to be that we dont care that they are basically raising themselves and that they are becoming zombies glued to electronics that “keep the occupied” while your taking your fifteenth selfie of the day, or snap chatting your bikini body that was achieved from the lines you snort on the weekend after your parents take your children and the diet pills you pop because “you don’t have time to work out”.And yes I know that’s generalizing and a lot of people do work hard for their bodies, but here thats how a huge portion of these girls keep their waists tiny. In the country they have so much things to do. They are happier, they are more successful. Basically, I am jealous and envious that I had to be raised here, around hookers selling themselves in front of a corner store and drug dealers living next door. That I grew up with people whose parents were crack whores, who knew too much about life to soon – so in theory I had too, to. It’s not that my parents wanted to stay here, but because of my moms up-bringing she was determined to keep us happy. She moved so much and wanted us to have the opportunity to stay with our friends and as usual my sister made a stink about moving and we stayed here. Its just another thing I’m resentful about towards my sister – which isnt really her fault.

I just need something new, something more then this..

 

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.

 

  
Dear my amazing, strong loved ones. 

I am beyond blessed to have you, have people that will be my back bone when mine has turned to jello, to calm me down when anxiety takes over my mind; when my depression clouds my heart. 

I am sorry, sorry that on some days I am overly anxious and so lost in my own worries that I don’t have the energy to text, or the strength to leave my mostly-safe home; That I cannot answer your phone calls or be spontaneous. That I am selfish and boring 80% of the time. 

But I appreciate you, your strength and your support. Your to-the-point advice and the time we spend together that gives my mind a break from the war that’s going on inside. 

To those I’ve lost, those I haven’t given a chance to and those I’ve hurt

I am beyond sorry that my anxiety has hurt you, that I am so lost in my own self-hate, anxiety and depression that I couldn’t explain to you what is going through my mind. How little things set me off and I shut down, how I push the entire world away on my bad days and usually that’s when I hurt, disappoint, stand-up and avoid you. I have the greatest intentions that “tomorrow” I will find the strength to over come these anxious thoughts, that I will no longer hurt the people around me, yet this day has yet to come.

I am sorry that I am the type of person that doesn’t ever text first, call you back or ask to hang out. I hope you know this isn’t because I don’t want to talk to you, but because I am worried that I am bothering you. 

One day, soon I hope, my anxiety will no longer stop me from living a normal life. I hope that I will be able to all I know I can be. Until then I apologize to and thank everyone who is still in my life. 

Feeling.. Misplaced 

A Broken record, a playlist with only one song, that’s how I feel but this isn’t just about hating where I live, and all the memories and pain it brings. 

I feel like an outsider in my own family, there’s no first Christmas pictures or videos of me, very few pictures of me as infant. I was never really photographed with my parents. I feel like an alien in my family, my morals and attitude is so much different then everyone around me. I don’t curse, drink, party or sleep around. I do not find comfort in the arms of strangers, I do not think farting, burping and blowing it in someone’s face or slapping someone in the face with ham is funny. I am not loud, usually, I do not like attention, I do not seek sympathy. 

Maybe this why I always feel so.. Sad. 

Where do I belong? Why am I so different then the people I share blood with. I’m not doubting that I am my parents child, I look like both of them, but I wish I knew who I act like. I wish I knew where I get my curly hair from, my bottom lip. Why do I get chills(the good kind) every time I hear traditional Native American music? Where did my grandfathers come from? 

I don’t think I’ll ever find my real grandfathers, I don’t think any of my questions will be answered, but I hope to find out at least a little of who I am. 

  
About 3 weeks ago I purchased a Ancestry DNA kit and it came in the mail 2 days ago. It takes about 1/4 tsp of saliva and some blue stabilizing liquid and then you send it off to Ireland to be tested. I’m not sure how truthful it will be but I’m hopeful. In 6-8 weeks I’ll have the results. 

We shall see. 

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? 

————————————————————-

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 now? 

So your gone, life continues.. People live their lives, new life is brought into the world, time moves on. But I can’t. 

Did I think 11 years ago that I would still be in this place? Encased in memories and sorrow, unable to live because the world dealt my father a bad hand? Of course not. I had dreams and I had goals. I wanted what every girl wanted and yet I allowed my life to stop, but not really stop. I left it to idle in one spot. Anxiety and depression took over my life, because I let it. 

And that overwhelming feeling of guilt. That awful feeling that you have the chance to live and because of your own choices you won’t. You won’t because your afraid of loosing your dad, your afraid you’ll get sexually assaulted again, your afraid your heart will get broken again. 

I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of being tied to the things and places I know. 

My dad was the most courageous, strong and loving person even through his struggles and pain; oh I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he felt daily. His body working against him everyday, being stuck in a bed unable to do anything; the sorrow you must of felt daddy would have distoryed me. He fought like hell from the day he was born, birthed by a woman that cared more about herself then her young children, he was forced to fend for himself and Yet he was not afraid to love a woman, to be a husband and father. 

He was able to overcome his past, build a family and fight a disease that has no cure and still smile. I know he taught me better, I know I am stronger then the pain I’m feeling, but his memory is in every inch of this house and city. I long to leave, to start my life but I don’t know how, or where to go from here or How to change every aspect of my life and start over. 

  

 
I know running away doesnt solve problems, but I can’t move on, live, in a place my dad was born, lived and died in, where I was sexually assaulted or where all the bad memories live.