While everyone else was getting ready for church or work yesterday I slept until noon and woke to an empty house. I felt relieved but also kind of alone. I just can’t wait for the days where I wake up with my boyfriend next to me.
I made some tea and tried to focus on learning Scrivener again but the tutorial in the program wasn’t working out for me. I had to look online for some video tutorials. I found a couple that I really like on Skillshare.
I then tried to focus on actually building my poetry book in Scrivener. I kept jumping around from different elements that go into an ebook and ended up over whelmed again.
So now I’m going to stop; Make a list of elements that go into a published book, do those elements one by one until it’s complete. Once my manuscript is completed all I have to work on is marketing. I have a mini panic attack just thinking of all the people I have to talk to in this phase.
I often find myself wondering why I started writing in the first place. I use to say that I write because I have a story to tell. But now I say that I write to be understood. But I don’t write just for me or just about me. I’m writing for everyone else that feels misunderstood, those who feel lonely but are not alone, and those who are suffering in silence. I’m writing for all of us who are depressed but don’t know how to put it in words or explain to our friends and family.
That’s the only thing that keeps me writing. The only thing that keeps me learning how to self-publish.
I have been around my family for three whole days. I finally some alone time so I can write.
My mom told me Friday night that we were going to Virginia in the morning to help my grandmother and my two aunts to pack up and move to their new apartment. I was reluctant at first to go but I thought the exercise and free food would do me some justice. I did not, however, foresee that the fog would hit me so hard even after all that moving around and eating I’ve been doing. It probably hit so hard because I didn’t get the right amount of sleep. I should be doing yoga because my body feels so tense since I’m sleeping on the couch.
The only alone time I got what when I went to the bathroom. So I just had to suck it up and keep pretending. I definitely didn’t want to tell them about my depression because they’ll just shove bible quotes down my throat and I didn’t feel like hearing that. I hope one day I’ll be able to tell them. I hope I find the courage to do so before I publish a book about what I’m going through.
I kind of got mad at my boyfriend because the one time I tell him I really need him asap he doesn’t text back until five hours later because he’s hanging out with a friend. I was having suicidal thoughts and I was scared of being alone. I’ve never had them so intense before so I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell him about the thoughts though. I just told him I was ready to “give up on life.”
But now I’m confused. Am I asking too much from him? Am I being too needy? Am I being selfish? I don’t know but he apologized like a thousand times and promised to be there for me more. But I still don’t know if I should just try to manage without him because I know its unrealistic to expect him to be there 24/7. But he wants to try. So I’ll let him try. Maybe he should come to therapy with me next time so he can learn how to help me manage.
My mom suggested that she and dad come to one of my therapy sessions. While I do think it a good idea the very thought of being interrogated by them in such a small room terrifies me. I don’t know if I can handle it yet. But I know its important that I try talking to them so they can understand how I feel.
The past few days have been so stressful. But at least I’m still alive. Since I survived this I can get through another few days of family gatherings.
I was in a really bad place for the past few days. So bad that I started thinking about suicide. I started going to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and I finally feel something other than empty and hopeless. I feel more optimistic than before but I still feel like I won’t be able to do all the things I need to manage my depression.
Eat healthier, get at least 8 hours of sleep, and exercise.
The only thing I’m really worried about is eating healthier. I don’t have money. I don’t have a job. I have a mini panic attack when I even think about going to an interview. So I’m trying to learn how to self-publish. The more I learn the more I realize I have to talk to people. In person. Face to face. That scares me too. I know I can ask my friends for money so I can get food but I feel like I already ask them for too much. And I don’t want to burden my parents anymore. I don’t know what to do.
I can try to change my sleeping habits. I usually put on a documentary and watch that until I fall asleep. It helps sometimes but other times I’m actually interested in the documentary and I want to keep watching. That’s what I get for being so inquisitive.
We also talked about triggers of depression, then the thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and physical symptoms of depression. The Cycle of Depression. For me, my main trigger is my financial stress. Which stems from being unemployed with student loan debts. My next trigger is family stress. Like when my parents keep pushing me to do things when I can’t do basic things like eating right or cleaning up after myself. It’s hard to talk to them sometimes because they think they know the answer but they don’t and I don’t know how to tell them they’re wrong without offending them.
Those are the two main triggers I have. The one that affects me almost daily is the financial stress. Because I want to do some much but I can’t because I don’t have any money. And I don’t want to keep asking. Especially when I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay people back. My friends keep telling me I can ask for whatever I need but I still feel like I’m taking advantage of them.
Then I start looking for a job and when I read the requirements I lose hope. Because all the jobs I apply for are looking for “outgoing” “people orientated” applicants and that’s just not me. I could lie but then I would have to pretend and that’s too much work. I’m already pretending almost every day to be more put together than I really am. I can’t possibly pretend to be the “perfect employee.”
There are ways I can earn money online as a creative individual though. Thanks to modern technology. I just have to learn how to use it. And I’m doing that thanks to Skillshare. And YouTube. And Google. I just have to take 30 minutes every single day and learn. Then take another hour or two to apply what I learned.
When I write it down it sounds so easy but I know I’ll struggle to apply myself. I should start with my CBT assignments before I work on my writing projects.
I forgot what I was doing all this for. Writing poetry and blogging. I forgot why I started. Or perhaps I just didn’t have an initial reason. This is definitely the depression talking but I feel like giving up. Trying to explain now I feel to someone who doesn’t live inside my head is just too exhausting. I don’t feel like doing it anymore. Because when I do my parents still don’t understand and ask too much from me. I’m tired of working up the nerve and courage to keep trying to explain and not going anywhere.
But depression is so important to understand. And I can’t give up in trying to explain it. My life and the lives of millions of people are at stake. And depression is so misunderstood. I have to keep trying to get people to see what it really is and help them help those who need it.
I feel so stuck. Like I’m sinking further into quicksand and I’m not even trying to get out of it. I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to flip out, throw things and scream. But I’m scared of losing control and hurting myself or someone else. And I don’t want to be sent off to a mental institute because I’m a danger to myself and others. But I don’t know what else to do right now. I feel like everything I’ve been working towards since I started this blog and since I started learning self-publishing is going down the drain.
I feel like everything I’ve been working towards since I started this blog and since I started learning self-publishing is going down the drain. Because for the past few days I haven’t had the energy to get up and take care of myself let alone write something. And no one understands how hard it was for me to get up and do things. But I started going to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy yesterday and I’m learning how to manage it as well as learning how to talk about it. Hopefully, I’ll won’t miss any appointments.
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 still don’t feel like doing anything or going anywhere. But my dad is in his cleaning happy mood early in the morning so I have to clean the bathroom. I guess since I’ll be in a separate room I can have some peace and quiet. If only his music wasn’t so loud. I would ask him to turn it down but then I’ll have to talk and I don’t feel like doing that.
I’ve been waking up the past few days with a dry throat. Like I’m not drinking enough water. But I know I am. I don’t drink a gallon but I’ll drink multiple glasses a day. I don’t know how many exactly. I should start keeping count.
I didn’t get much sleep last night. I actually stayed up until 5 am and it’s almost 8 now. Been up since my dad turned his music on. At least he’s not blasting rock or metal. That would have pissed me off. Not like I don’t like rock or metal I do. It would just irritate me if he was blasting it while I’m sleeping. But I feel like I can’t get mad at him. This is his home. I’m not paying for it. He can do whatever he wants and I can always leave.
I really want to leave. And never come back. If I had the money I would build myself a small house on a trailer and go everywhere. Somewhere comfortable and quiet where I can be free. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life. I was never the type to fuss over money and things because I already knew that they didn’t give me any long term satisfaction. But living in nature away from all this fake stuff sure would.
But of course I would get lonely and I can’t even think about going anywhere without my boyfriend. Who I’m jealous of by the way. Not like jealous where I can’t stand being around him though. I’m just jealous he has the life I always dreamed of.
He lived in a house all his life. He’s a talented musician. He grew up fostering his love for cars and got a job doing what he enjoys. He didn’t have to go to college so he’s not in debt. He has friends he can call and hang with anytime he wants. He doesn’t have anxiety or depression. Oh and he gets paid time off. He’s not perfect I know but his life sure is better than mine. I wouldn’t trade places with him tho. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Not even someone I truly hated.
I’m tired of sleeping on this hard futon. I’m so stiff when I get up. There’s no comfortable way to lie on this thing. My back, shoulders, hips, and jaw hurt and feel stiff if the morning and all day. I suppose that means I have to start doing yoga again. I keep looking at my yoga mat and I want to do yoga again. I just don’t have the energy. And I know yoga will give me a boost in energy. It’s just really hard to start again. A body at rest wants to stay at rest.
My dads out doing whatever. I don’t know how much time I have to myself but I sure do wish it could stay this quiet all day. I think I rambled enough. I going to eat and try to do something productive today.
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!
At writing workshop a friend shared a poem she wrote about her rape and it triggered me. I tried, like I always do, to stay strong and hide the tears but they were too strong. My throat was raw and my heart hurt. But I couldn’t get any words out. I never could. The only thing I could say is that I felt numb and I didn’t like it and I was confused. It’s the only thing I could say. Why is that the only thing I can say?
Writing about things has always been easier than saying things. I usually write about it and “feel better” then ignore it until it pops in my head again. That’s not healthy I know. But what will saying it do? Will it help? That I’m not really sure of but I feel like I have to say it out loud. I feel like if I say it then it will be easier to get over it. I know it will be a part of me forever. But I don’t want to cry everytime someone reads a poem about rape.
Writing this collection of poems really got me sensitive to everything. I’m crying now more that I ever had in my life. I’m crying at random too. Like last night. She said it might trigger but I thought I would be ok since I’m writing about my own rape. Then I cry in fear because my boyfriend didn’t text me. And now I’m fighting tears for who knows what reason. I don’t even know.
I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. All this crying. I don’t know if it’s anxiety or if it’s old feelings resurfacing. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I wish I could talk about it instead of write about it. Therapy seems so far away. Way too far away. Ten days is too long. I wish I could just go whenever I felt like it. I need to talk to someone. I need to figure some things out.
*Trigger Warning: Rape*
I was sexually abused for years when I was a child by my cousin. I didn’t stop it. I wanted to stop it. I was confused. I felt numb when he touched me. It was all a blur and it feels like a dream. Then I was molested by a guy from high school. I was scared to call him a friend but I did. He kept grabbing me and making me touch him. I just wanted him to stop. Then I was raped in my sleep by someone I thought I could trust. After I told him I was raped and molested. I guess he thought he could have his fun too.
I write about the things that happened to me. But I don’t talk about them. I should probably talk about them. I desperately want to talk about it but I can’t bring myself to say the words. I don’t even know why I want to say it out loud.
One day I will say these words out loud. One day it won’t feel like a nightmare. One day it won’t pop into my head when I don’t want it to. Right? Or will it continue to haunt me forever? Will I ever rid myself of these memories? Why should I even say it out loud? Do I really have to? Can’t I just keep it buried in the back of my mind forever? Can’t I just pretend to be okay? Can’t I just forget it ever happened like him?
Did he even forget? Does he even feel sorry? Would deny it now? I’m scared to find out. What if it was just a nightmare. What if it never actually happened. What if I lied? What if I asked for it?
Alone in this cell
I created for myself
The fog expelled
from my breath
My thoughts yell
from all around
They whip me
and I let them
I did this to myself
I let them control me
I try to squirm away
but the welts
sting too much
I wiggled my way
to the cell’s bars and scream
I clutch the bars as my thoughts
try to pull me back
to the hell
I created for myself
I let my thoughts win
this is my punishment
I lose touch
with my strength
I did this to myself
I let them win