As human beings, regardless of our backgrounds, we’ve become conditioned to evaluate our success in life based on the monetary value of our material possessions. The impact of this trending train of thought has become detrimental to our society, and is especially toxic for those of us who already struggle to find our sense of […]
Wow, I can’t believe it’s been almost three months since I last posted. To all of my followers, I’m sorry for being so unreliable! If you’ve read a decent amount of my posts, you’ll know enough to know that when life gets tough, I tend to pack it in and call it until things simmer down.
This time, though, I’m forcing myself back out of my shell. Depression is a never ending force in the lives of those who’ve experienced it, which I reckon is just about everyone these days.
Some days are better than others, as with any other illness or whatever else, but there are times you’re just sucked into these long patches of it. It leaves you feeling helpless and insignificant, yet the only person to blame is yourself.
We allow it to consume us, at times we fight, but generally, we’ve accepted that there’s nothing we can do other than just to bear down and weather the storm.
When frustrations hits it’s all time high though, sometimes I actually do things like this, have to actually force myself back into something that I know I love and need. Sometimes I think I’m punishing myself for being depressed by depriving myself of things I love, so this is me testing the waters, so to speak.
I hate posts like this, writing them, not reading them, because at least when I’m reading them, I feel moved to see someone trying to come out. Yet when it comes to myself, this just feels useless and forced, and that’s the total opposite of what I love about writing.
Sometimes doing counterintuitive things can be good for you, maybe I’ll grow from it, but I can never be sure anymore. I’m currently always battling myself when it comes to trusting my instincts, but I usually hate going outside of that box.
What I really need, more than anything in life, is a real life, genuine, actual friend. I haven’t been connecting for years now and I truly think it’s put me on this downward spiral I feel stuck on now.
Anyways, thanks for reading and understanding as always. Hopefully I’ll push something good out soon, but for now, this was a start, and we’ll just have to see where it goes.
Let’s talk about the life I’d rather lead, one where my family is happy and healthy. A life where I’m free from constant pain, where every single day doesn’t seem like a drain. A modicum of truth that we all must accept is that the only certainty to life is that it ends with our deaths. It’s morbid, most say, to think and live this way, but I think of it as simply being a realist.
I haven’t always been this jaded, it’s a result of decades of feeling unappreciated. I put so many others before myself, I forgot that I’m supposed to take care of myself. That’s one of the hardest things to do when there isn’t anything that can help fix you. The pain I feel now will only get worse, to the point where one day I’m unable to move. It’s sad for me to now admit that I’d rather die before that day hits.
A ray of sunshine used to shine light onto everything that’s ever been dark in my life, but I find myself lately trying to avoid it, afraid for anyone to see who I’ve turned into. I can’t help myself but feel ashamed that I’ve let the world make me this way, this isn’t who I wanna be, and I’m trying my best to get back to being me.
Ever have something completely terrible happen to you? I’m talking the kinda shit that makes you wanna cease to exist, the stuff that makes you wish you were never born? I find those things happening to me more and more as life goes on, yet I’m still so taken aback, so surprised and overwhelmed, and I never know quite how to respond.
In these moments, I find myself feeling a sense of surrealism, wondering if it’s really my life, if it’s a nightmare, or if it’s even real at all. But it’s very much reality, life can be torturous and unfortunate and completely and totally unfair, but we must continue on our journey for those we love, for those who love us.
We can’t just give up every time life throws us a curveball, but we can cut ourselves some slack and allow ourselves a break to readjust and let the dust settle before we jump back in. We’ve been reprogrammed to believe and think and feel that crying means weakness, but in my humble opinion, it’s the exact opposite really.
If we deny ourselves the one thing our bodies are programmed to do when something awful happens, how can we truly heal our wounds? If we don’t let ourselves fall down, how will we ever learn to get back up again? And furthermore, what example is that setting for our children, the future generation that we’re raising?