Memoirs & Michael Bolton..

I’m slightly certain I’ve probably thrown y’all off a loop with the title of today’s entry but you’ll understand it in just a few. Just to throw it out there, today’s entry is more on the light noted side so I want to in my own way give a heads up that anyone reading this, read it in a light spirit. I acknowledge that most times I write some pretty heavy stuff & I truly wish I had more ‘rainbows & unicorns’ to spew about but at the same time, I rather be real & honest, despite however unhappy it comes off…

Crying is hard guys… I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before that crying doesn’t come easy for me. I guess I don’t easily know how to tap into the part of myself that should express itself through tears cause if I sure did, I’d have a field day with that. On the few occasions where I do cry, it is a forced effort cause man, 🙆🏽 does it take a lot to get the tears rolling.. but in recent events, I cried in the comfort of my bed, in the midst of the dark and with Michael Bolton blasting through my ears singing to … “said I loved you, but I lied… “. Yes, it took me listening to old school music by Michael Bolton, Whitney Houston’s count on me with CeCe Winans, Lean on me by Bill Withers and N -Sync’s This I promise to finally choke up the tears …. Truth be told, I was crying for nothing and everything all together. I don’t exactly recall feeling forlorn that night but in those wee hours of the morning, listening to that music put me in such a vulnerable state of mind and emotion, I didn’t know what else to do other than just force out the lump that was lodged in my throat till all that came out were tears rolling down my cheeks. Like I said, tears for me feel a lot like a closed dam that’s impenetrable on most days. It was relieving ugly crying in my sheets and trying to swallow the whimpers that kept trying to get out. Worse than crying for me would be crying infront of anyone or anyone finding out I’m crying. That’s sadly where I draw the line when it comes to the few times when I do cry. Old school music for me has always been so soothing, I can’t begin to explain how much it calms me down. I love the groove and the mood it puts me in. I guess I got my love for it from all the years I heard my mum sing in the kitchen while cooking dinner for us as kids or when she was washing dishes. I greatly appreciate those memories cause that connection and love she had for that kind of music is something I believe she passed down to me. I guess when you combine all that with the overwhelming turbulence that’s my day to day living, it was enough reason to bring tears to my eyes.

So apart from the late night tears , I can say with absolute definition that I’m officially back to reading on a constant and God had I missed it. I’m not sure if I’d mentioned it before but I’d taken a forced leave from reading since the app I used to read from began charging and it became a lot of work to access it so it sorta put my reading on hold. It sucked cause reading is fundamental to me. It’s an escape, it’s a comfort, it’s a friend & a whole lot more for me. I can actually say this with certainty that since I started reading again, it’s improved a lot of my mental state, it serves as a great distraction from a lot of the forlorn feelings I get. So with finally being back to reading through out my day, I got a sense of curiosity over reading both fictional & non-fictional based books that center mainly on mental health. I guess with how my past couple months has been for me alongside how lonely and isolating the feeling of immense sadness has been, I wanted to explore the same feeling but from different minds. Probably among the fewer best decisions I’ve made in a while.

Just like with a lot of other things, the feeling of secrecy along with protection is one I get a lot with things that matter to me. The books that I’ve read and loved become very scared & dear to me. I’ve expressed before that I’ve felt something remotely similar that resembles possession towards my depression and a long comes this need to sorta hold it tight for myself, like a shield … not exactly sure why I feel like that but, the feeling is very much a like with how I am towards books that leave a mark on me. But despite this feeling of possession, I wanna share one or maybe two of the books that I’ve truly gotten the chance to fall in love with. Books that I’ve derived such a connection from especially with a lot of how it feels when caught in the throes of depression. My current favourite has to be one book by an author called Sally Brampton who wrote a memoir on depression called Shoot the damn dog. For starters when I started reading books based on mental health, I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic on reading biographies or memoirs. I didn’t want to necessarily read about people’s actual encounters with depression or any other mental illness so I stuck to fiction. It felt like a safe bet at the time to read what others had created but not necessarily experienced themselves. Shoot the damn dog is definitely a book I’d recommend to anyone who’s experienced depression, especially major depression. It brings you into the world of the author who goes through life dealing with this ‘monster’ that’s major depression in a time that wasn’t all too accepting of such a different and unpleasant trauma. I don’t want to go all in on what the book is about, just in case anyone who reads this wants to read the book but I will leave you with one of the many countless statements that stayed with me through out reading this book. ” I don’t believe that confronting an illness is necessarily an act of courage. The stigma surrounding depression just makes it seem that way. “

So where am I currently in terms of my mental spectrum..? I feel as if I’m waking up from hibernation; deep slumber. I’m groggy, I’m confused & trying to get a bearing of what my emotions are and how to calm the raging flow of clustered thoughts. That’s where I am. I know it’s not an entirely sensible painted picture of what I wish I could explain better as what I think is my state of mind but it definitely feels a lot like waking up. In this case, I’m waking up from the last couple of months of depressive episodes, dark thoughts, anxiety prone emotions & escalated self harm. That’s the sleepy fog I’m waking up from. So try envision how you wake up after a very long night’s sleep. Trying to gain a bearing of where you are, what you are feeling and trying to regain coherent thoughts flowing through your mind . I can’t ascertain that I’m not entirely out of the gutter mentally, but I do feel like I have a better chance at control over where my train of thought is and what I can detect as triggers for me. Frankly speaking, I was sure I’d be in the confines of depression all through till next year, but I guess with the resumption of school, I needed to really try gain a bearing for myself if I am to make it through the next two months in school for a semester.

Now with school starting in the next two weeks, I for sure don’t feel ready to tackle it. At all. I can say with enough conviction that a lot has changed about myself and I’m not sure how easily I can go back to masking my struggles like I did prior. One of my biggest concerns being that my cut scars are very visible, more prominent than the last time I was in school. I’m self conscious about them and anyone else seeing them or how they may react to them. I know I’m not ready to let that particular aspect of my struggle be something that I’m open to discussing with anyone who already doesn’t know about them. I’m naturally withdrawn from people but this time round, I feel like I have reasons enough to be consciously withdrawn from everyone around me, especially in school. I truly just want to be invisible for this next semester, hopefully, it will be my last. The fear of stigma is very much present for me especially since I’ve been on the receiving end of it first hand & in its self, it serves as a trigger for me. So if I intend to try survive school like a remotely normal human being, I need to not put myself in a position to get triggered. It’s frustrating as it is that I have to leave the confines of my home for school. I was fine hiding from the world and immersing myself in my books. That, I was comfortable doing for the rest of the year but I guess we can’t always get what we want. Wish me luck.

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