In a burst of frustration and rage, I threw a stool. My mom woke me up and I was just falling asleep. She doesn’t understand that I haven’t been sleeping well because of my anxiety flairs at night when I’m trying to fall asleep. I wanted to tell her that but she was moving too fast and reminding me of all the shit I have to do. Like I don’t know. Like I wasn’t up all night worrying about all that shit. I probably shouldn’t think too much about why I threw it. I can’t help but realize that it’s out of character for me. I’m always frustrated when someone wakes me up. But I’ve never been this angry before.
It reminds me of those times when I was in high school. I would bring home a bad report card and they would scold me. I would get so angry and frustrated because they don’t know and I didn’t know how to tell them just how stressful school was for me. I would start backing away but they kept pressing me they kept yelling at me. I remember one time, in particular, I got so frustrated I almost broke. My parents backed me into a corner, literally and figuratively, and I started screaming and pulling my hair out. I couldn’t control myself I was so scared. I don’t remember how my parents reacted or what happened after that.
My worst fear is to have a psychotic breakdown and I’ll have to spend the rest of my life in an institute. I’ve always been scared of losing control and I feel like I’m losing control. I don’t know what to do.
Hello World, I think it’s time to reintroduce myself. My name is Aurea Fae and I am an African-American, Bisexual, Writer, Poet, and an Artist. It has taken me far too long to realize what I was born to do. Things got in the way, distracted me, held me down and I just let it happen. But not anymore.
For years I have been battling Depression and Anxiety “alone.” For years I allowed them to hold me back from achieving anything I want in my life. I kept it all inside and that has to come to a stop now. For years I let them talk me out of even trying something new. But not anymore.
All my life I lied to my parents out of fear they wouldn’t be proud of me. Or fear that I would disappoint them by not doing what they want me to do. By not being the daughter they wanted me to be. I have kept too many secrets from them. For fear that they wouldn’t even care or wouldn’t believe me. But not anymore.
For far too long I have been dishonest with myself. Listening to self-doubts. Believing that I have no purpose in life. And settling for whatever I can get. But not anymore.
Today is the day where everything changes. My mindset, my goals, my plans. Everything. I understand it won’t happen overnight. I will continue my battle Depression and Anxiety. I will get frustrated with my parents when I try to explain to them Who I am, What I want to do in life and How I need them to help me. I will have to face my fears head on. I will struggle to trust myself and my strength. I will have to find my voice and shout.
I will fall many times. I will get back up, dust myself off and keep moving forward out of this long dark tunnel.
There are stacks of antique TVs with old 80’s and 90’s smash hits music videos playing in my head. But they’re distorted, chopped and screwed. I like it better that way. It makes me feel something. Something is better than the nothing I’ve been feeling all these years. I start reminiscing about the “good old days.” But then I realize they weren’t so good were they? They’re actually filled with endless mistakes and regrets and missed opportunities. And the songs I held so dearly now possess a different meaning. They no longer remind me of the good old days. They remind me of all the things I wish I could have said. Things I could have done instead. And I have this overwhelming urge to go back and fix my life. But then I realize it’s all in vain. I already know how things will end. And I can’t change that. So I disassociate. And pretend that I don’t feel anything. Feeling nothing is better than feeling this.
I wanted to write something earlier but I had no Idea what I wanted to write. I tried to think up some poetry but I have no idea how I feel. I wanted to read a book but I couldn’t focus on anything today. So I just watched random videos. Scrolled through Tumblr. Watched some anime and played video games. I feel like a failure because I didn’t do anything productive.
I guess it’s this lazy Sunday weather. Too hot to think about doing anything. Too beautiful do spend it alone in the house. But also no money to go anywhere with friends. I’m tired of being broke and lonely. I wish I lived with my boyfriend but I don’t want him to have to pay for everything alone.
I’ve tried to get a job but that’s not working out for me. I’m trying to write and publish a book of poetry but depression and anxiety keep holding me back. Keeping me from writing because it’s painful. Keeping me from learning because it’s overwhelming. Keeping me from trying because it’s too much to think about on my own.
Tomorrow will be a new day. A fresh start. Tomorrow I will be more motivated to write and learn. Tomorrow I will do something other than sulk in the house. Tomorrow I will enjoy the beautiful weather.
Tomorrow I Will!
I had a dream where I was doing spoken word in a bar, I think. I can’t remember the full poem that I said but the last lines went:
I am one girl
pretending to be many
I have no idea where that came from. I don’t think I read that somewhere. But it’s so true. I often changed my personality to fit in with certain groups of people when I was in high school. I was obsessed with finding my “click.” But no matter how hard I tried I felt like I could never fit in. That was probably depression. Making me feel like I don’t belong anywhere.
This dream got me thinking about making spoken word videos. I’ve been thinking about making a YouTube channel for years now but I keep changing what type of content I want to create. But now since I’m writing a book of poetry I feel like making a channel for spoken word seems to be a great way to build an audience.
If I do make a YouYube channel I would probably also make a Patreon because I’m literally a starving artist. But I will have to learn how to use Patreon and YouTube and together on top of learning how to self-publish and write better poetry. That’s a lot of learning I have to do.
This is probably my anxiety speaking but I’m starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the things I have to learn. And I feel like I’m all alone here. I don’t know how to reach out to other people for help. I feel like I’m trying to do too much at the same time and I don’t know what to focus on first.
She didn’t care what other people thought of her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and say what she wanted. She was a bit lonely. She wished her parents didn’t work so much. She wished they didn’t move so much. She barely had time to make friends. She forgot how to make friends after the 5th elementary school she started in. She started to get bullied by then.
She lost her innocence. It was stolen from her. Along with her strength. The world seemed smaller then. He was always around the corner waiting for them to be alone. So they can do it again. And she just let him. She felt weak when she didn’t stop him. She felt numb with him. Too scared to stop him. She could only watch them. Escaped from her own body. She locked herself in her own mind. Then the confusion set in.
New emotions she’s unfamiliar with. It doesn’t feel right but it’s the only thing she knows. So it had to be right. Right? No one told her otherwise. She could never tell anyone anyway. She doesn’t think they’ll believe her anyway. Why didn’t she feel anything? Wasn’t she supposed to like this? Enjoy this? No one told her otherwise. She just felt empty. She never stopped it. So she had to be enjoying it?
She learned quickly that she was just a plaything. Nothing more. And she wasn’t the only one. But they enjoyed it more. What was wrong with her? Was she broken? Probably. But she continued to be his plaything. She tried to enjoy it. She kept saying she did. But she really didn’t. She wanted him to stop. But she didn’t want him to. She was confused. She didn’t know what she really wanted. Why?
They got caught in the act. She thought this was her chance to stop this once and for all. But mom went to talk to him first. She was left alone. The last this she wanted to be. She tried to think of what to say. She tried to tell mom that she didn’t want this to happen. She wanted to stop it. She didn’t ask him to do anything. It was all a blur to her. Why didn’t mom believe her?
It’s been years since he touched her. But the memories still haunt her. She tried to put this behind her. It never happened. It would never happen. Don’t tell anyone. They won’t believe you anyway. Just let it go. Don’t think about it. Just let it go. But the nightmares continued. Followed her for the rest of her life. It became a constant companion. The only friend that believed her.
Can not find the words I
Desperately want to say to you when
I feel the electrified fog coming in
Have this knot
Right in my throat that
Holds the words hostage and
Refuses to set them free
And in my mind the flash backs of my innocence being stolen from me without my consent leaves me paralyzed just as I weep
Inside I try to stay strong outside because I do not want to unleash the lightning onto you
This frightens me
things will get better with time
they always say and sometimes
they are correct but when the
sadness lasts for months and
when the anxiety from not being
successful keeps you in bed paralyzed
by fear of trying again and again and
again and still getting nowhere don’t
hate me when i say and believe that
it won’t get better for me
It’s something we all look for or have looked for at least once in our lives. Some of us might have found it while a good portion of us are still searching. Some say it’s something that comes to you when you least expect it. Others say it’s given to you at birth from a higher power. Some others have said that there is no divine reason for anything and we are simply here to live, reproduce and die.
I am not sure which of these theories I wish to believe. Perhaps I shouldn’t believe in any of them. Perhaps I should stop thinking and search so hard for something so intangible. But growing up with Anxiety and Depression forces me to think long into the night about the meaning of life. I fear that I may be searching for the purpose of my existence for years without any answers.
I know I may be over thinking things. A fatal flaw from existential angst. I can’t help but be envious of those who have found their purpose. I know it didn’t come easy for a lot of them. And I know that I should probably be patient and let it fall in my lap. But there’s something itching for me to find it now. Presumably, my depression weighing me down with thoughts large enough to fill the room and suffocate me until I finally collapse into a restless slumber. At least that’s what it feels like to me.
Then I wake the next morning, or sometimes evening, and think about all the things I must do to be a functioning member of society. And I never do them. Because I don’t believe my purpose it to be a “functioning member of society.” Whatever that means.
Perhaps I will never truly find my purpose for existing. Perhaps it will come later when I least expect it. Perhaps I will find it in my passions; Writing and Art. As soon as I get over the anxiety of being a writer and an artist full time.