I smoke among the dead at night…

I smoke among the dead at night. Most people would be shaken at the thought of that mere occurrence but I’m not. When I think of it now, I wonder why that little aspect of things has never really phased me considering I have been out there at the wee hours of the morning. My mind has fears of its own, dead people just isn’t one of them.

Maybe it is the silence that calms me. It sure isn’t the cigarettes I’m taking twice a night and four times a day. Or maybe it could be the darkness of the dead of night that gives me a sense of resemblance. It shows me that the darkness inside couldn’t possibly be that scary, at least not scary enough to stop me from staring at it alone, with the company of the seven gravesites in the backyard of my balcony. How about, it could also be that those dead folks who are buried there can feel my silent screams from the inside every night as I exhale the smoke out of my lungs. I try not to cough, we have a no sound policy out there when it’s just our souls that seem to come alive.

I hope they know of the nights that I wish I was in there with them, buried under the soil to where it is said to be peaceful. The adage, ‘’rest in peace’’ had to have had a mild relevance to the fact that besides your soul, your body and mind too can rest on the ground six feet under where not a beep of the darkness of depression can touch you. I smoke in the midst of the dead. I feel nothing and everything the darkness has to offer. I welcome it with open arms just as I do with every inhale and exhale of the cigarettes that lay print of their smoke in the middle of my fingers.

Its been a hot minute since I last wrote but I’m guessing that didn’t really matter to most or anyone for that matter. I could have been dead for what it’s worth. My God I hate my life. Anyway, I’m not dead if you may still be thinking so. Death right now feels too infinite for me. The part me that I wish was more optimistic and even slightly hopeful believes that somewhere out there, there’s something for my wrecked soul. I may not see it now, but I at least have hope there is.

I want to say a lot has happened since I last wrote but technically, it’s not been much at all.. It’s more of my emotions that deceive me to thinking a lot has happened, since I wouldn’t be here if things were any easier for me. For those who might not know this ,I write when I’m most fucked up. I’ve created such an illusion for myself that I have been trying to have things under control but here, I don’t have to decive myself. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, everyday is utterly ridiculously differently fucked. In the span of two months, I’ve gotten casual at ‘self hate ‘.I don’t have anything more to say on that, apart from that life’s shit, I’ve gotten over it, you should too …or not. Anyway, back to what my weeks been like ,I met a boy ,majorly got a crush, he was a douche like they all are and now I’m getting it sorted by plotting possible murder for the emotional turmoil I’ve felt for his sorry ass. My God am I gullible and dum right, I fell right into that one didn’t I? Cute boy, cute enough smile and just the right amount of asshole in him… Mercy’s perfect dose of stupid.

Over time, I’ve learned that there’s quite a lot of things that my lack of self love acts as a disadvantage for me. I’m so emotionally dependent on those I love, I pour it in torrents, I have zero left for me. Just to put it out there ,I’m a cling lover so try not getting me in love with you or remotely infatuated with you…God knows I wish I could understand what exactly it would mean for me to love myself more than I put into loving others. I’m my own undertaker. I dig my own grave and bury myself in it. That’s what gullibility is for me. So here I am, ready to cling to any one or anything capable enough of loving me for the both us. Sad isn’t it,,,Que pity party ,,,,,where’s my blade at ??

So for my gullibility to stay on a leash long enough for me to understand the complexity of self love, I’m gonna put my head down and try ‘hate’ people instead .Maybe, just maybe, it’s about time to let in a little bit of no love.

It’s been thirteen days … I don’t have a general term to express what those days have been for me… In honesty, they have been a blur ….typically my normalcy. I laughed ,I interacted, I left the house, just my typical blurry life. But, despite all that, I haven’t cut. Wish I could say I felt proud of myself but truly it doesn’t feel much of a win because it doesn’t rule out that I still thought of it. In every single day of those thirteen days ,it crossed my mind. Felt like an unfinished piece of myself I kept leaving out. Sad how much of it has become part of me now.

I wish I felt worthy enough to fight this waging war in my head but I’m not sure where to start. Everything is at a pause. Can’t seem to bring myself to sit through therapy again, just extremely exhausted to keep going on in circles with it. I’m done being cliche about this. I’m done writing about it despite it being the only possible outlet I have for my emotions & thoughts. I’m exhausted and just want to rest. I’ve lost focus on how normal it is to handle life’s challenges without needing an escape. I’ve quit trying to be strong. I don’t know what it means to be okay. I now understand what it’s like to have a cloud shadow over my head because in all honesty, I can’t focus on anything besides the voices in my head. That’s my depression, that’s my battle. I can’t keep trying to act normal when my mind keeps tipping over the edge every chance it gets.

Thirteen Days . In the last ten minutes or so, this thirteen days would have been irrelevant. They would have held no sense of importance to me. With a slit of my wrist, those thirteen days would have been twelve days of my ‘sobriety’ down the drain. I read somewhere that relapsing doesn’t mean I failed. It doesn’t mean I didn’t make steps forward. Well, if it doesn’t mean failure, what exactly does it mean? Not really expecting a response or an answer for that matter. Just cause I can afford a smile on my face, doesn’t mean anyone can see the pain & hollow fade behind my eyes . I’m not sure I want anyone to see it anyways .

I’m waiting it out. Waiting for the storm that’s coming. I can feel it. I’m not done falling. Until I can get the strength to hold on to something, anything, I’ll keep on falling, I’ll keep on sinking deeper into the depths of darkness that’s my mind. For now, I am hoping to keep up my facade till after my birthday. Not that it’s as important to me as I wish it was prior. I just don’t have it in me to feel excited about it. So until then, I’m gonna fake it. I’m gonna stand under my heated shower & pretend to wash away the waking ache to cut. For my birthday, I will pause that fall. Can’t promise I’ll make the most rational decisions after because again, the storm is coming and it’s unrelenting. It’s just a matter of time.

The BRIDGE I crossed

I’ll try be discreet… It’s all am trying to be right now…not draw any attention to myself .Today I crossed a bridge. A bridge I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I would cross. A bridge I never thought would be in my life story .I always thought I was better than that….Ironic huh! That I would never have to feel the need to cross that bridge, but I did.

I wish I could retrace back so many steps that I took today but I can’t. It’s already done. I crossed a bridge I should never have. Not even in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would be strong enough to do it but crossing it for me just proved how strongly weak I am. I didn’t fight myself from it even when I know I should have. I didn’t try to stop it, I went ahead & did it.

As I took to crossing that bridge, I lost a bit of myself with every step I made. I could feel pieces of myself detach from me and break a little bit more .I wept for each piece of me that died today on that bridge. I wept for each person who I disappointed for crossing that bridge. I most especially wept for I knew what it fully meant me crossing that bridge. Those tears were my grief for the person who kept breaking as she took steady calculated steps across. I don’t recognize that person as myself anymore.

Finally, we crossed the bridge. The me now, took time to look over at all what I had lost over the period of crossing over. I saw the pieces of me that I will never get back. I saw the once hopeful little girl who thought that despite the little dark place in her mind that whispered to her, she could overcome it . She wept for me, she too saw the pieces that died along that fateful bridge.

Now here we are. More hollow than we ever were before. I walked away from that little girl because she no longer could save herself. I am a shell of the person I was today morning. I never quite understood what sort of peace people spoke about after crossing that bridge ;it sounded absurd to me especially since its not a bed of roses. But I felt it. It was crazy how quickly calm and collected I felt. I thought I was numb before, this calmness took numbness to an entirely different level. I didn’t feel, I didn’t hear, I didn’t think. It was QUIET. So quiet in my mind, I haven’t had such an eerie feeling before that that was that calming. I now well understand the peace that came with crossing that bridge. The whispers finally shut up because they got what they wanted. Through that bridge, I made a deal with the devil in my head and there’s nothing I can do to go back from it.

A weakness in Love 👩‍❤️‍👩

I’ve never been one to show weakness out front to the world.. The most I have revealed myself and torn down my high built walls is on this platform. As I write this, I am for the first time choosing to strip myself of my confidence and let it out that I feel a weakness that has been with me & am not sure if I will ever learn to depart from it. It’s a feeling that has rendered me weak for nearly five years now. I knew I wasn’t invisible to it, I just never thought I would feel it this intensely. Just thinking about it is enough to render my heart beats a little bit fast than usual.

I never signed up to feel this kind of way. I never signed up to love someone who at times didn’t feel worth loving ….but I still did. I hate that it’s not new to you for me to speak about how much turmoil this love has brought me. It’s crazy because it ever seems to me like I feel it dig deeper than before. I’ve seen and felt just a substantial amount of pain just for feeling this kind of love. It’s gotten me so damn scared to let go as well as so petrified to try again. I’ve never really known with this kind of love, but one thing’s for sure, it’s given me a weakness I’m not so sure I like to feel.

Time and time again I have gone in circles about how toxic I’ve felt for just feeling this kind of love. I feel unworthy to even mention the love’s name for fear of the shame it may bring me due to prior cases of having written about them. I hate the constant intrusion of thoughts of them being in my mind just because I can’t seem to quite shake off the weak feeling I get from loving them. It’s been an exhausting kind of love to feel if I’m being truly honest. It’s caused me more pain than I wish to go down memory lane for.

Not too long ago, a thought that I want to consider absurd popped up in my mind …that maybe this twisted connection that was created could have been a soul mate connection. But the little scared girl in me is too weak to let that thought out there just in case I stand a chance of great humiliation for even remotely thinking that my sense of weakness could feel as intensely as I do. “On too many occasions did it feel like loving you and you loving me was a game of tag . In all our time together, I placed the burden on you for me being too scared to acknowledge that I was just scared of being alone. I should have handled that better. But even now despite my light bulb moment, I still feel like I will always fall second to you. I will never be enough when it’s all I ever just wanted to be for you. I have hurt you previously because I needed to build a shield for myself to ease the constant feeling of failure of never being good enough.I am now truly sorry for all those times I strived to make you feel like you had to fight just a little for all of my attention when truly In my heart, all you just needed to do was ask. Call this petty or melodramatic but our relationship was never like any other that resembled ours. It’s what made me feel like we were special…the fact that I had never cared for anyone else before you like I did you. My heart had only ever felt that connected to my mother who was in doubt not a stranger to me but with you, you were in all certainty a stranger to me… And that’s what made you special and loving you became a weakness. Because I learned to love you when my heart was bleeding, torn and felt beyond repair. I squeezed you in a heart built of closed off tears and an immense grief that chokes me till date….and for that, you gained a place in a deserted hole too dark to know the difference between pained grief and being understanding …you built a love that became a weakness for me to you …

As I conclude this mini monologue I just had, I’m not too sure I wanna feel this weak anymore. I’m not certain there is an anymore for’ us ‘…It truly hasn’t been the easiest thing letting go. I thought that if I put enough strength into hating you, it would change how I feel about truly still caring for you.. I don’t wanna put myself up for another feel or sense of loss like I already do now. I just want to be comfortable enough to let go of caring enough to let myself go from having you as a weakness. I need to quit tying myself around you over and over again and finally just slowly and fully let you go. I don’t wish that our story would have been different because then I never would have felt like we were the special duo that we both can agree to have been. I hope that when I don’t feel so weak and so scared, I will be able to cross that bridge enough to be this weak upfront with you.

What I have become 😳

Well, I just recently realized (half a minute ago) that all I ever dwell on when it comes to me wanting to write is what I have been going through lately. Anxiety & depression and all the sappiness that comes with my sad stories. Probably it’s not interesting for those who take time to read but as I much as I wish I had something better to blog about,anxiety is my reality. For now at least.

It’s been better for me lately. Previously not so long ago,my life felt a lot like drowning on the inside was the order of the day for me. Falling in and out of depression &anxiety was slowly and sadly becoming a norm for. I don’t want to really delve on the reasons why it’s been easier for me now because for one I am not sure whether it’s gonna last or it’s just be for a while. It’s scary when I really think about the consequences of the little glimmer of hope I am holding on to that’s preventing me from falling off the rails again. I feel like I might just be putting a little bit too much pressure on my current source of peace, happiness, tranquility & mental stability in thinking that it will last with me forever. It might just slip off my fingers. All in all ,this is a sign enough for me to know am not completely getting over anxiety because anxiety for me stems from fear. I feed so deep into my fears of the unknown that they bring out false realities and camouflage themselves as possible outcomes.

This is what I have become. I seat on the edge of my emotions simple waiting for whatever bubble buster that’s going to pop the small reason of sanity I have been holding on to. I may not necessarily be dealing with the anxiety in the same intensity I was previously but I can’t help but admit it still lurks in the shadows of my mind. On a daily I learn something new about anxiety that I probably portrayed but was oblivious to.Its all sometimes overwhelming thinking about it. I could spend all my time racking my brain on what anxiety is doing to me and come up with all possible reasons why I will never seem to get rid of it. It’s no longer just about letting the world know that this actually happens to people but it’s about letting people know sometimes I just don’t know anymore. For instance now I have in some form alienated myself from my friends and even those closest to me have not an absolute clue of probably why I am not talking to them. I too don’t know why I am not talking to them cause probably I feel like even when it’s comes to the general stuff, they won’t understand me so I find no need to converse with them. But then again, I do want them to be there for me, understanding or not. That entire controversy of not really knowing what it is I want is what I have become.

There is also a good side to the multiple perks of what I have become. I have found new sources of happiness that even for those small moments I am able to do them, I am distracted in a good way. I am able to engage myself in acts that bring me joy. Knitting is for one. It first came as a thought to me when I was dealing with baby fever and I thought why not start knitting baby clothes for my soon to be little one.I didn’t have a clue on where to start but YouTube came in handy and so when I started dealing with depression, I chose to engross myself fully in it. Then again, I have been very interested in cooking more. I wasn’t the greatest fan of it before but now I keep looking up recipes on Pinterest that are cheap and easy to cook. So I still have something despite how little it is to be grateful for. My hope is that I can delve more on the more positive perks than on the negative and become better at them. ✌

..Wounded Healer

Well here goes nothing… Been a while since I wrote. Been a while since I did a lot of things. I’ve had a really hard and hectic couple of weeks and men has it been messed up 😧. Every time I intended to write I would have an anxiety attack and couldn’t bring myself to face that I was in a black 🕳. I don’t really even know where I would start if I decided to explain what I have been dealing with. The perks are that depression and anxiety are real and they push you to lengths that you are incapable of thinking straight.You don’t have the normalcy you hold every other day of your life. Happiness, joy, tranquility and stability tend to be extremely farfetched in those moments and sometimes you drown in all that but don’t necessarily die so it’s continuous. You wish to talk to someone, just one person to understand you and wish to help you pick up your pieces because at that very moment you’re crumbled to bits of who you were before. You want that person to listen and tell you not just once that things will get better but to walk you through getting there because then your like a baby learning how to walk all over again.

I had emotional breakdowns whenever I was alone because all I wanted was to sink farther in my bed and just drown in the sorrow I was feeling. There are moments when I would feel okay but whenever a memory of pain or sorry would sneak it’s way in, It would be like a snap of a finger and I would turn into a shell of person. Depression got me screaming on the inside but was too exhausted to bother about it on the outside.It got me presumably to start having thoughts of self harm 😔. That was my ‘hit rock bottom moment ‘.I knew then that I needed to talk to someone else about it and preferably a therapist. Best choice I had made in a while.

In my luck, those thoughts of harming myself only went as far as thoughts and it’s thanks to my sister. She has been my greatest anchor, only she knew what went on behind our closed doors. My therapist was finally the shimmer of light I was looking for, she became more than just my therapist but my friend who understood and she has a special place in my nearly destroyed heart. She pointed me in the direction that I could get better and she took my hand and walked with me. She makes me see that I can be happy with myself and with my insecurities too. She reminds me everyday that life is a step at a time,I probably knew that, I was just taking life in fifty steps instead. My friend as I like to call her is the other clutch I was looking for and I am happy I found her.

I am still going to therapy every once a week and it’s opened my mind to a whole lot about my life and how to deal with the things I go through. My therapist/friend has taught me to enjoy the simple pleasures of life and I am learning that for me knitting is one of them too. I haven’t thought about hurting myself for a week now and that to me is progress I never thought I would make. So I am grateful. Mental health is not something that should be downplayed like it is by so many people. Going through anxiety should not be a normal for anyone and neither should depression. I still have those moments where it’s hard to pick myself up but I am grateful for my family and my therapist because I am able to be motivated to pick myself up for me and for those I love. I am a wounded healer.

p.s If you got anything at all you may be going through, don’t hesitate to text me if you want to have that friend I never had and kept looking for. I’m always open to help someone else from dealing with mental health issues. Please don’t downplay it and assume it thinking it will go away. It will always hover like a dark cloud in your mind and when your most weak, it will creep back like it never left. ✌..And a beautiful picture of me 😁.