A letter to the Girl who should Be.

Just like everything else I do different, this isn’t a conventional letter to you. It may as well be an apology for I feel I should be sorry for the failed attempt to be you, to attain the likes of you. I should be You but I sadly haven’t achieved that yet. It’s all but a hope that some day I will.

Like a ripple in still waters, you are a blur to my reflection. Tucked behind the walls of my mind, entirely unknown to anyone. Still very much just a concept of who I should be and not what I am. You are intertwined with my dreams & hopes of who I wish I could become. Like a living torment, you are a just but a vision of who I wish I wasn’t scared to become. I easily get lost in merely just envisioning what it’d be like to exist as you.

You’re the girl who should be, and not me. I feel like I owe you an apology for not fulfilling you as my potential. I’m sorry for my failed attempts to grow into you. You deserve to be a whole lot better than everything I’ve made you out to be to the world. Life for you should never have to feel like a bargain for everything. A bargain with God, a bargain for love & attention or even a bargain with me not to possibly destroy what’s left of me. You deserve to feel deserving of everything great and at the back of my mind, I know we are deserving, I’ve just never felt ready to fight for those great things for myself. You deserve better than a body that reeks of fear. Like a permanent stench, it’s stuck to me. It’s what has grown so much, enough to never bring you into exsistence. I apologize for all its done is hold me back from actualizing into the girl who should be and not the girl that is. The fear of rejection has stopped me from becoming you; a loving wild child, with no inhibitions or stresses over things beyond her control. It’s this same fear that has me willing to take unrequited love from just about anyone. I know we deserve better than that…a whole lot better.

God knows you deserve to be…. You deserve to live a life that doesn’t hold you back from feeling happy and not just the kind of happiness that is with everyone else. You deserve the out of this world kind of happiness that pours out of your soul in torrents. You deserve to hear yourself say the word Happy without it weighing heavy on your conscious.

Like I said, this letter is a lot more of an apology, for you deserve better. You deserve more than the ungraceful hands that have tainted the most intimate parts of our body. I have no defense for that fault to our body that instead should have known nothing less than adoration & glorification. I apologize for my reckless need to feel a sense of intimacy & validation, especially from all the wrong people. You deserve a skin not marred by my self inflicted scars… A conscious mind loving enough to know it doesn’t need to feel pain to feel alive. You deserve the kind of flaws viewed as beautiful to the world where one is capable of falling in love with you just cause of those said flaws. Your spirit should be filled with will & purpose… not one that takes time to break itself down at every waking chance it gets. You deserve a spirit so unforgiving and unrelenting at achiving everything it wants and desires. One willing to take risks and venture into terrifyingly exhilarating fields.

I can’t ascertain if this letter expresses a dime of how much I wish things were different and that you were here rather than me. To the girl who should be, you deserve more than just a meager letter from me, you deserve a step at proving myself worthy of becoming You. I’m sorry I’m not sure how to achieve everything that you deserve but all I can do now is hope to meet you somewhere along the way in our journey. The least I can hope for is that I’ve not entirely ruined the transition of becoming you. That despite everything, there’s still a chance for me to correct and prove myself worthy to bring you into existence without a doubt.

Finally, I need you to know that I don’t expect perfection from you. I’m not looking into becoming perfect or prime & proper. All I hope to achieve is to bring you into being someone I can be proud of. Someone not driven by fear or bargain but one willing to fight for their spot in the world. One filled with everything self love. I may not have that now, just cause you’re yet to actualize but I can all but hope to actualize you as myself & feel worthy of it.

What now? 🚬

What now? You’re probably wondering what else about my depressing life I’ve unearthed…and to answer that question, there’s nothing new really. I truly sometimes hate that the best I’ve always got to give to anyone who reads my posts is entirely centered on my depressive life cycle. I truly hate that and I hope it’s a consolation to you knowing that I don’t like always being a Debbie Downer. I find it extremely hard to write anything general based on my life. Like currently, I’ve got a ton of things I could vent about concerning nothing depressive but I have no idea where I’d even start or how I’d express those piled up thoughts & feelings together. I never feel like those thoughts are what trigger my niche for writing. It’s always gotta be something dramatically sad. I guess that’s entirely just what sums up my life…

What now seems like the perfect question right now. For me and for anyone wondering what else this sad’ist has come up with. For me, I’m asking this question cause I very well don’t know what to do now… what’s next. You may be wondering what’s next from what; what next after a long eight months of being in a depressed state. I’ve said it before that it feels a lot like waking up from a hibernation period. So here I am, a month in from a long period of exhausting ‘slumber’ …I’m reeling from quite a few new experiences from the past couple of months, not sure what to do with myself, I’m not as accustomed to feeling normal. Normal for me in this case is everything non suicidal, non chaotic, nothing self harm, non overwhelming… Make no mistake, I’m not complaining about feeling better from all that. It’s a break and I’m glad that I’m not mentally sinking. Though, I’m not delusional enough to think that this feeling will last forever, nah, depression doesn’t work like that just in case you don’t know. It’s taking a break, and just like every break, it eventually comes to an end.

Why does it feel this hard rolling back to this mind space, away from the darkness & turmoil ? I’ve done it before, two years in a row I’ve gone through this. Gone through a space of depression for a couple months and towards the end of the year, I ween off it like waking up from a long exhausting sleep. I expect myself to fall back into routine and tackle life as it comes. I’m no longer depressed after all, right? Then what’s so damn different about this time round? Why I’m I so darn tired, why don’t I like it as much, the aspect of being back to ‘normal’ ? Why is it that assimilating back to my own life is so hard…

..Or maybe, it could be cause I’m having to pick up the pieces of the tarnished person I was in those last eight months. Maybe it’s cause I’m having to deal with the judgement from others around me who seemed to have spent their time better than I did. For sure spending time finding ways to make short change was way better than popping pills & slashing wrist…yeah. Maybe it’s cause of the overwhelming guilt & shame I’m having to feel for not trying hard enough to be a stronger person… Jeez, how hard could it be to get myself out of sadness. I ask myself that every single day too. Pardon me for not acknowledging that struggling mentally is a ‘comfort zone’ which isn’t a good enough reason for why I never tried harder or why I never came up with ways to get myself a little bit of money … I’m ‘sorry’ that I was working on staying alive rather than making pocket change.

Being caught in this rift of shame makes it even harder for me to convince myself into believing that it’s not my fault that those last months were hard for me. That if things had been different, I’d have done more for myself. I already feel conflicted as it about what exactly is wrong with me, I honestly don’t need anyone else pushing it down my throat that I don’t try hard enough.

So here I am, clueless, frustrated and still not good enough for the world. In no place or time do I seem to be doing the right thing so honestly why start now… All I’ve been having all year long is a pity party for dear old me, well guess what, I’m tired of that too. It’s been so tiresome for me to try act normal that I even picked up smoking. I’ve been holding off on saying this so I don’t continue doing everything wrong in my life but guess what, this girl needs to quit caring. I’ve pondered over the thought of smoking cigarettes for a while now actually, I’d thought I’d replace ripping open my wrist with a more calmer, less bloody and more slower towards death kind of way. Best part about it, I like it. Couldn’t wait to simply admit that but truthfully speaking, that shit is so relaxing, makes me feel like a pretty butterfly.. Maybe not pretty, more like a floating butterfly. Been told that it’s addictive and I see why. I’ve smoked pot before but it doesn’t really do much for me besides make me loopy. With a cigarette, I’m just mild. I’ve never had a poison before, but I think I might just have found myself one. I’ll actually keep you posted on how smoking is going for me. I’ve not had something excite me in a long while and this does.

Tainted on a ‘normal’ world canvas.

I’ve always sorta prided myself over being a ‘different’ depressive. At the beginning when I learned that the cloud of sadness I walked around with wasn’t meant to be a part of me and that it was a shadowy black ghost by the name depression, I felt a part of a similar community. A community of depressives who struggled understanding why everything seemed to mean nothing to them. That was three years ago. Now, I lost myself in the midst of that crowd and became an alien even among those I’d considered my ‘flock’.

Everything has a stereotype, this inclusive of depressives. What would be considered as stereotypical characteristics of any kind of depressive is; the inability to get out of bed, the overwhelming turbulence of sadness, the need to cry everytime, the overwhelming urge to be alone, being so caught up in one’s mind, in every sense possible and the list is endless… I’d be arrogant enough to believe that my readers can tick off what among those characteristics I fall under from what they’ve read from my writing in previous post over the years but I can’t truly afford to feel arrogant right now. In the year 2018, when I first projected my pain to the world through writing, I did experience the wrenching difficulty of getting out of bed. It’s not a nice feeling if I may say so myself. It’s exhausting but what’s more toll taking is trying to get out of the bed exhaustion. It’s a lot like a tag of war, between will & exhaustion. Not only does your body loose any sense of need to leave your bed in the day but your mind doesn’t conjure any reason valid enough besides maybe to use the toilet. In my case now, I’ve escalated on the ladder of a depressive and being stuck in bed just doesn’t happen as less willingly as before. I do spend most of my time in bed but not out of complete mental drain but more as the only secure, secluded & silent place I have.

Despite my progress in pain, the sadness has to be the most permanent aspect of feeling anything depressive. It never leaves. I can’t express that any further than with the fact that its always there, in the good times, in the quiet times but especially in the bad times, it escalates. It clouds everything & tints every little ray of light that could be trying to penetrate through to you. When it comes to crying, from a stereotypical point of view, it seems normal for a depressed person to cry but it’s never been for me at least. I’ve never been one to cry, and I still don’t cry now… only maybe to Michael Bolton on the occasion of my vulnerability. And finally, I’ve withdrawn & still withdraw now more than ever before. At the start, I was naive to think that being vocal about what I was feeling was going to be my saving grace but it turned out that most people don’t truly care. At least not until their so called ‘advice’ seems not to work for you and you are still immensely unhappy. You just end up looking more of annoying to those who aren’t in your shoes. They often times can’t wrap their minds over why anyone would be stuck at feeling like shit and as a depressive, you’re caught between hating them for judging you & also trying to prove to them that your choice in the case of feeling depression quit mattering ages ago.

And now to make sense of where all this is steming from. I’ve gotta admit, there is still a lot of unearthed reasons entirely unknown to me of why I feel the way I do in my daily life. My self awareness radar is deeply unknown to me. On most days, I can’t tell what’s real in my head and what’s not. What’s logical and what’s absolutely illogical. What’s part of being Dawn and what’s part of my attached illness. Just thinking about all those unknowns is mind paining. Until recently, I’ve never truly wanted to acknowledge my lack of ‘direction’ in life. I’m in my last semester of college and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do after I’m done with my diploma. My peers seem to be flourishing and now this imaginary pressure has landed on my shoulders that is pushing for me to have to think further than just a few hours from now. Trying to justify to anyone that I’m trying to take it a damn day at a time and not a month from now, comes off to everyone else like a petty excuse.. and what makes this even more gut wrenching is that I’m beginning to feel like it might just be exactly as they are seeing it, just a petty excuse.

Feeling this conflicted isn’t fun for me. I don’t feel it lightly or regard it as something normal. Nothing about me has ever fit in the spectrum of normal. I don’t want to feel like I need to defend myself to everyone on why I don’t have my shit together. I don’t even know what it means to me for me to have my shit together so all this just makes me want to hide. Yesterday it made me want to die. I fight to never feel the need to die cause I might not have a visionary future like everyone else but I do have a family that I know would feel devastated if I died from my own hands. Fighting feeling suicidal is probably the greatest effort I’ve had to put into anything in my life. I fight to live for everything & everyone else but I still can’t seem to do it for myself. I don’t want to feel like I have no purpose in life cause it will be just a matter of time before that’s not just a thought but more of a replayed tune in my head and eventually, nothing will be worth trying for anymore.

I know that the world isn’t waiting for me to start living or to fit in with everyone. I may not match everyone’s energy at being a ‘normal human ‘ but I’m trying. I’m not glad that the world doesn’t give time outs, it would surely be a whole lot more easier if it did. But I’m trying, I’m trying to find reason to live, even when I’ve lost will within myself to do so.

P. S This entry is a jumble of too many thoughts and i feel like I haven’t made a lot of sense therefore if I truly do apologize if my none train of thought isn’t appealing to anyone who reads this. I shouldn’t care but I’m me, I care always and I care too much. Bear with me.

From your cool depressive,

Daddy’s Young Lady.

..fat old Lady

Today I’m gonna go straight in cause I don’t wanna loose my drift or train of thought. So I truly had an eventful past week. Eventful in that I got called fat, old and had an anxiety attack all in a span of a couple days. I can definitely say I was on a roll. Sadly, not the good kind. So to break it down for you, I’m back to school after a long eight months of being out of it.. both literally & figuratively. I won’t go into the details of the reasons why school’s back in session, its probably happening all over the world so you can take a guess on why I had to resume. It’s my last semester in college and boy am I glad. School is just one of the things that have never ever appealed to me. Its always been a circumstantial issue for me, never voluntary. If I may say so myself, I’ve hated school since I was in daycare. Anything that required me to get out of the house for an entire day in such an excruciatingly pressurized experience, never did suit me.

So yeah, back to reopening school. It being my last semester, means that I’ve got my major final exam right around the corner and it entails a project that I had already started on at the beginning of the year in my first semester. But before I even get to that, let me bring you into things in a more chronological manner. Day one was on Wednesday and I started off my term by sitting for exams that had been prior cut short right at the beginning due to the surge of covid so it meant that right after school opened, we’d resume our exams which explains why I was sitting for a paper on my first day back. Wednesday morning, I gracefully arrive in class, somewhat set to sit for my first paper and since it had been a while since my classmates had seen each other, they was already a buzz in the air of people catching up on how they’ve been. Your girl here, quiet & in her element of silence & seclusion only said hi when greeted first. I’m not what one would consider approachable to my peers, I just rather not have people be comfortable airing their lives or opinions to me cause I’ll probably drift off somewhere in my mind but I guess due to the prolonged period of absence, a classmate of mine whom to be specific I’m not so fond of, came over to my seat and was blatantly open enough to tell me how “big” I had grown and further went ahead to ask me what exactly had I been eating over that period out of school. I honestly truly try never to let such comments and snide remarks get to me on most days but this just hit a nerve. She wasn’t done though, oh no! While walking away to her seat she finalized her opinion of how ‘old looking ‘ I’ve become…. Now this just threw me off a loop and I just smiled and shrugged it off.

Her words stayed with me. It got to me. Maybe it was the way she said it or the snide tone behind her words that struck a nerve. Whichever it was, it warranted a punch to her throat. For those who may not be aware, I’m meek on the outside but I’m very violent on the inside, especially when it comes to being vengeful. It wasn’t her assumption of that I probably ate a lot over the period I was out of school that ticked me off, it was her stupidity & insensitivity in believing I cared of what she thought of me. “For your information, Joan, the extra weight on me is from the different amounts and types of antidepressants I’ve had to be on to stay alive, you insensitive piece of shit “. It doesn’t matter if she was aware of why I am bigger than she last left me, she should have kept her two cents to herself cause she unconsciously planted an insecurity I didn’t need on my first day back. Weirdly enough, she wasn’t the only one daft enough to make that comment to me, a few other girls in my class who I might mention are nothing more than just classmates, thought it was in their place to tell me about how big I’ve become. I’m gonna leave this at that cause it truly isn’t my responsibility to coach anyone on being sensitive. It’s a conscious effort from the mind, clearly not everyone has it.

Right now, the pressure is high in school and I don’t work well under pressure. I get anxious and it topples down from there rendering me completely in a state of panic. Besides my exams, I’ve got a back log of work that I should probably have been done with but didn’t get around to completing, ie my project. After a day of being back in town, I enquired from a few school mates on where they were at in their projects and most of them are done. That and learning of it’s due date being sooner than I expected, put me in a complete state of anxiety. It made feel cornered and I just wanted to hide back in my bedroom at home where it’s been my safe haven. I didn’t think being depressed would be reason valid enough to explain why I never got around to completing my project which carries part of my exams points for my final exam. My productivity was pretty much non existent ; I could only basically handle waking up and trying to live through the day but despite being aware of this, I still feel like I failed at trying to do anything productive. When I told my sister about how I was panicking and was just about to quit school and run away, she asked me about the days when I wasn’t as depressed, and why I didn’t work on it on those days. Truthfully speaking, that just aggravated my guilt on how unmotivated I was to do anything. It sure didn’t help with the anxiety, it pretty much heightened it.

For the past one month or so, I’ve been on a quest to get the right diagnosis for what exactly ails me. I’m not advocating for self prognosis. It isn’t right but for my case, all I’ve felt and still feel is helplessness when it comes to not having a concrete understanding of what happens to me when I go into a depressive state of mind. My mind has conjured everything and anything under the sun to try make sense of what goes wrong but even with my search for an answer, I still intend to get a professional psychiatrical opinion and evaluation. Besides wanting to know what goes wrong, I want to finally have the validity of reason to explain why certain things for me are more difficult to either achieve or to stop. It is frustrating not feeling valid even in turmoil and darkness. It begs the question of how do I prove to the world that I don’t always have an answer for what happens to me or for why I do or feel or react to things in a certain way. How do I prove that it’s not just all in my head and that there’s a messed up reason for the things that happen. I know I shouldn’t try to prove it to anyone, I owe it to no one. I know it’s an illness but I need the world around me not to look at me like some narcissistic cynic who slits her wrist for pleasure. I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore, or at all.

So here I am, still trying to calm down from the anxiety and formulate a plan on how to start working again on my project in a more clear mind. So that’s been my eventful first week back in school, I’m the fat old lady with anxiety 😊…

P. S I took this cute photos of myself today cause I felt like I’ve not seen myself remotely look pretty in forever so I’m going to share this with you just cause I think they are kinda cute.😄