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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Its Sunday, and It’s raining today, for the first time in who-knows how long, the tiny rain drops fall like wet kisses upon my head.

And I think of you.

I think of how, like tiny drops of rain, your tears fell from your eyes the last day I saw you. And how you planted wet kisses upon my head whenever you’d say goodbye.

I think about the day you left, and how the sky cried for you. How I tried, oh how I tried, to disguise the pain I felt and the gloomy cloud that somehow followed me wherever I went.

I think of your laugh, your infectious laugh that I can still hear in my dreams, and I think about how wonderful each moment spent with you was, how Sundays were filled with visits to your house, the best peanut butter cookies in the world, and spending time with you.

As each raindrop lands on me I smile, engulfed by the idea that each drop of rain is a kiss from you, and each time my tears mix with the rain I am restored with faith that you are all around us still.

Its Sunday, and it’s raining today, for the first time in who-knows how long, the tiny raindrops fall like wet kisses upon my head.

And I think of you, and how grateful I am to have known you.

you know that weird feeling you get when you are pushed under water and someone sits on you, the overwhelming sensation of panic that overwhelms you to the point that our heart begins to race and you begin to only see darkness. When you physically feel as though you are floating away and watching your body struggle to return to the land. You can see your friends laughing, unsure if they are actually laughing at the fact that they are hurting you, or if in their immaturity they don’t realize that you are actually suffering. Just as you begin to feel the light surround you, you feel your friend get off you and you are gasping for air above the surface. 

It feels like a life time when you’re in that moment, yet you know it was seconds. 

That’s what depression and anxiety feels like. In that moment you feel as though nothing you can do will help you escape that dark and terrifying place. Your heart rate elevates to the point where you can physically see your pulse under your skin and you begin to sweat and yet nothing is physically holding you down. 

Depression makes it so I cannot looking forward to the future, it makes me see the world in a very dull and grey tone. I am simply surviving – not living. Depression eats away at me, it makes the small stuff seem giant and the big things – like death and change – seem enormous. It causes my hair to fall out, and my stomach to turn.

Anxiety feels like everyone is staring at you, it feels like you are trapped in a glass box with no escape, with no where to go. It makes my lungs constrict and my heart to beat so fast it feels as though it might explode. Anxiety feels like getting hit in the head with a volley ball and passing out, it feels like you are hot and cold all at once. My body shakes and I am unable to look at anyone, talk to anyone, or feel comfortable in my own skin.

Together they sink me.

O1.

It was like you were the light; Bright, vibrant and attractive 

      And I was the unexpecting insect; curious and in awe of you and so, I risked my life just to be close to you. 

But I soon realized that, the closer I flew towards your glow, the more damaging you became. 

    Your touch sent fire to my veins and restricted my air. Your guiding glow became my home. No matter how much you hurt me, no matter how many times your power knocked me to the ground, I would collected myself, wipe off the dirt, and fly back to you hoping that this time would be the one time you wouldn’t scorch my wings. 

It’s been years since the first night I laid eyes on your light, I am all but a body now. My wings have been burnt to ash and my legs are broken. However, I’m still here, Im still clinging on to the unrealistic hope that you will lift me up with your powerful light and love me the way I love you. 

But all I am is a bug, and you, you are a radiant and powerful light. 

Remember in elementary school how they would ask everyone what the wanted to be when they grew up, and we’d whole heartily exclaim that we wanted to be astronauts, lawyers, doctors, ballerinas, cowboys, and Princess’. We’d draw pictures of our future lives and proudly hang them up for the rest of the world to see, we’d dream of the day when we would be grown ups and have careers, and homes, and families.

I remember being a child and thinking that I could not wait for the day that I was an adult, when I could do what I want and do it whenever I chose. Little me never understood that you needed money to do things, and that for you to make money, you must work. I use to think as an adult I would have the ability to stand up for myself, that no one could tell me what I could or could not do, I would not have to listen to other people’s rules, or cower in fear that I would be punished. I never feared adults as a child, I respected my elders and worried about disappointing them, but I never feared adults the way I fear them now. I fear the “women” I work with because their catty remarks and unkind gossip is enough to leave me broken and crying by the end of a week, I fear the repercussion of speaking out against the way things are being taken care of at work, I fear that by speaking “out of turn” I will, without questioning, be out of a job. I fear that I will never be enough for the people that are ranked above me.

As a child, I use to dream of being a mother; of taking care of my home and children, while my husband was working hard for us. I dreamed about being a housewife. Its less disheartening to learn that your childhood career isn’t your right fit, for who do we know that grew up to be an astronaut or a Princess? But, a dream to be a mom and a wife is something that comes so easily to others, and for that dream to be crushed, to surpass your own ‘time line” you conducted in your head, is something that can easily destroy you.

I sit here trying to rack my brain, trying to figure out what I want to go in debt to be. People keep asking me if what I’m going to go to college for because being a sales associate is not what I ever wanted or dreamed to be – would you like a gift receipt feels like my own “would you like fries with that” and its equally demeaning. I usually shrug my shoulders when someone asks what I “want to be”, not because I’m trying to be rude, but because I don’t know. Because what I want to do with my life doesn’t come from a university or college, although it almost should, I would rather stay up all night with a sick baby, than stay up all night cramming for a midterm, and I would rather be exhausted from cleaning my house, and caring for my children than be emotionally drained from work. But without the ability to trust anyone, including myself, how do I expect to fall in love and be a wife and a mom?

***

My life is at a point, a low point, where it feels like nothing will ever get better, I’m angry, hurt, and ready to throw in the towel. I’m angry at the world, at the fact that I tried so hard to be a good person, to help others, and believed that maybe people would do the same to and for me. I’m angry because for years I asked God for strength and healing, only to come to the sobering realization that there isn’t a man above the clouds that somehow hears our silent prayers. He did not heal me when my grandma passed away, or walked beside me the night I was sexually assualted. He didn’t cure my dad, or help us cope, and he stole my best friend. If he’s the one who created life and death, why didn’t he help Jayda, why didn’t he listen to my cries and healed her? Where are these so called miracles? I went to church and Sunday school as a kid, because I wanted to. I talk to god, read the Bible, I believed. I changed my life, all in hopes that this imaginary person would heal me and yet all I’ve received is pain. I’m hurting, between the deafening loneliness that seems to surround me, the realization that I have no true friends, and the fact that I seem to only be enough for my family when I’m doing things for them. Im hurting because no matter what I do it never seems to be enough; Enough for me, enough for anyone. 

And I know none of this is new, but nothing can change if nothing changes, and I don’t even know where or how to change. 

I wish I knew what drove these people who rise up from the flames, what lies in them that allows them to take large leaps of faith, or courage and keep going. Maybe its something they’ve found, maybe they had to hit their lowest point in order to find a way to reach their highs; maybe the universe thinks I haven’t hit my bottom; or maybe subconsciously I don’t think I’ve hit my bottom. I don’t even know what my bottom is.. I feel like I’ve hit bottom so many times already.

I think, or rather maybe I’ve always know, it’s because I still hold on to the possibility that he might one day decide to love me.

Although I know that will never happen

***

I know that by holding on to this made up fairy tale I’m sabotaging a love that could be waiting for me out there. I compare everyone to him, I punish other people because of his words, I assume that everyone feels, thinks, and acts like him; I’m smarter than that though, smart enough to know that not all men are the same, not all men are him. Its difficult for me not to, though, after years of telling myself that he was right and that I was not enough for anyone, it kinda sticks with you, you know? I don’t know why I can’t just cut him out of my life like I have so many people, but I’m tired of hearing about other girls, I’m tired of always being the friend, i’m tired of being reminded that I can’t have the only guy I ever held on to for so long, I’m tired of doing this, 10 years is to long..  I’m just so tired of it all.. 

I need to reevaluate my priorities, my needs, my own happiness and maybe reach within myself and find a way to rise from this sorrow I’ve been wallowing in for far to long.

“From the end of the earth I will cry to You, When my heart is overwhelmed; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

– ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭61:2‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

(even though I’m having a hard time believing in God.)

 Until Next time xoxox

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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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Perspective

If you change the way YOU look at things, The things you look at change.

– Unknown

I have written about this before, how I have never really been the type of person who was overly social or keen on meeting people. I was always happy – er, content, with my small group of “friends”. I perceived the people outside of my group as people who wanted to hurt me, or to belittle me; only to find out along the way that the people in “my corner” were the ones who were truly out to hurt, embarrass and belittle me.

I wish I had known earlier the beauty in the world. The beauty that each and every person can bring into it and into my life. I was always so concerned with being a certain way, or not socializing with other people because my “friends” didn’t like them, or thought they were lame, or because the year that we were born weren’t the same. I was naïve in the ways of the world, the real world, and I am grateful for everything and every being that got me this far in life because without them, without the little things that helped me seek help  or face up to the demons that still hide in the corners of my soul and scream at me to be weary of strangers, I wouldn’t of been able to meet the people I know now. Working in retail has taught me a lot, mostly that we cant always judge a person by what we think we know about them. I use to look at someone and judge them based on what they looked like and write them off as weird, or snobby, or some other adjective that didn’t describe their true selves. From co-workers, like one of my most treasured of friends Stephanie, to regulars I can talk to for hours I have been reminded of the beauty and goodness in the world that my pain and past blinded me from. I have had the opportunity to work with people who have opened my eyes in ways I never knew possible. Who changed my opinions of people, who’ve shown me that no matter their nationality or religion there are good and bad people. That we all have something that changed us, some of us have gone through unspeakable things and still see the beauty in the world; those people are my heros.

But that’s not the point I’m trying to get at.

I have looked at men and judged them based on the few unsavory characters I have allowed into my life and head. I judge people I don’t know based on the people I know, and the things men have said to me in regards to women. I allow the things that others have done blind me from realizing that just because I have been hurt in the arms of many men not all men are the same. I fail to recognize effort, I allow my assumptions to cause problems, and I throw away good things before they even get the chance to become anything. My perspective of men are that they are all the same, all liars and cheaters who drink to much and proclaim their love to girls who take it too seriously. That they make bets and joke about women, that men aren’t concerned with building anything real anymore. I fear men, I fear their touch, I fear allowing them into my life because trusting men has caused me more anxiety and emotional distress then I’d like to admit. But this is also hurting me. The loneliness that comes hand in hand with trust issues is enough to make anyone go crazy. Its human nature to want to be close to someone, it has been scientifically proven that hugging or being close to someone you love and trust can lower anxiety and increase oxytocin, and because I am fearful of being close to anyone my mental well being is being significantly impacted. But I still, after 12 years, have no idea how to move on from my past.

There’s this girl I work with, she’s a refugee of two different wars. She was born in Iraq to a family who are Christian and from the tiny amount of information she’s told me life was far from easy. She told me that because her family was Christian her father received death threats from people who followed the other religion almost daily. I wanted to cry for her, for all the pain that she must have went through. She told me they fled to Syria in hopes that they would be able to live a safer life; but it wasn’t. She told me that she wasn’t aloud to go to school because her parents feared that she would get hurt, that she would be somewhere and it would be bombed. They waited for 5 years before north America would accept their family as refugees and on the day they were suppose to leave the air port was bombed. She’s only 22 and she has witnessed so much death and trauma and yet she is still happy, and smiling and still believes in god and the goodness in the world. I wish I had her will to live and her disposition.

I think I really need to buckle down and work on myself, and the things insecurities I have so I can move on with life.

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