2018: A Year of Growth, of Struggles, of Learning, of Love

I'm sitting in my room, lights off except for Christmas lights I have hanging around my window, a lukewarm cup of pour-over coffee resting near me, and Chopin playing in my ears.

2018 was a whirlwind; but it was also years within itself.

I'm not even sure where to begin, as it feels like there is a lot to reflect on, but also nothing at all.

I can tell you I remember where I was last year around this time.
In Oceanside, California.
Spending New Year's Eve with my boyfriend.
Trying not to fight - as it was something we were doing pretty much every day at that point, going on for a couple weeks by then.
I remember near midnight we ended up getting in his Jeep, driving to go to a grocery store, talking on the way there about nothing memorable, parked outside the store and continued talking, and then midnight hit.
Which I pointed out.
And we kissed.

My first New Year's Eve kiss.
With the most perfect-for-me man in the world.

And now here we are a year later.
Living in central California.
I have my own place.
(Thank GOD no more roommates.)
I am with the man who holds my heart.
I have a job that isn't terrible.
I have experienced life, I have mourned, I have grown, I have struggled, I have fought, and survived.

As I already mentioned, 2018 felt like years happened within it.
Most likely, from everything that happened and took place.

We adventured a lot.
We went to Yosemite in March so I should shoot a friend's winter wonderland wedding (oh my, it was gorgeous).
We went hiking to a lot of different nearby places in relation to where we lived.
We fought almost every day for the first month and a half of the new year (and a couple weeks prior to the new year).
I continued to go to counselling to try to figure myself out; Carlos started going to begin to figure himself out.
We overcame the struggles we faced and became stronger for it.
I hit some really, really low points.
I continued to work out here and there with Carlos.
I met his family.
We went camping in late August with my (extended) family, where Carlos got to meet them, and he also accepted Christ as his Saviour.
We moved to central California.
Carlos started the process to join active duty again (with the Army this time).
We went hiking in new-to-us places.
We visited my hometown a couple times to continue to explore and see the raw beauty it contains.
We fought here and there, but have continued to grow and learn from it.
Our relationship reached a new level.

There is just so much.

And honestly, I'm pretty tired and my brain isn't functioning the best right now, so I'm not even entirely sure what I want to say.

(Not that I usually have anything to say, anyway.)

As usual for most things in my life, I have no expectations for 2019.
But, don't get me wrong, this isn't because I am avoiding vast disappointment.
Rather, I try not to hold expectations, because I don't want what I expect to limit what can happen in my life.

I grew a lot this past year.
Therapy started to move along and I did some hard work via EMDR method, where I learned the source(s) of several things I struggle with now in my adult life.
I learned how to co-function in a relationship; to work alongside someone, and not just operate separately from them.
I learned to fight for the things I believe in (like my relationship, and even the things I grew up learning to believe).
I learned that grace is far more vast and incomprehensible than I once thought.
I learned that someone can love me in spite of the things I say or do, or mistakes I make, and even when I'm cruel and selfish, that their love still carries on.  And because of this, I have someone in my life who shows me what unconditional love looks like on a daily basis, and I am floored whenever I think about it (which is a fucking lot).
My creativity found some new paths.
I started being able to read again.
I found determination to go to the gym as a daily habit.
I stopped drinking.
I discovered what it was like to work in a legit professional work environment and to have management that actually supports you.
I found that I could survive on my own without family nearby; pay rent, pay the bills, still feed myself, still get by (even if just barely, and really the thing that kept me sane was my boyfriend).
I learned that sometimes you have to stop thinking about things before they drive you insane from grief (like obsessing and replaying in your head what you think the murder of people you once knew may have looked like).
I learned that too little, too late is very much a thing, but at least people still learn and grow and acknowledge their mistakes...even if it's much too late to go back and change things.
I learned that family is who you actively choose to include in your life; your family is who you compose it to be, albeit friends, blood relatives, even co-workers.
I learned that friends stick by you no matter how much time passes between texts or phone calls; they still are there to talk and listen when you need them.
I learned that my opinions and how I feel actually does matter to some extent.
I learned that being in a relationship isn't easy, but nothing worthwhile - as it turns out - hardly ever is.  Just like anything worth investing in with time or energy or effort, it's hard, it takes time, but if it's worth it...it's. worth. it.

I have a little insight into what 2019 might hold.
And from what I can tell, it's going to be great.
It's going to be a struggle, don't get me wrong, but it's going to be worth it.
The year is going to start off with an opportunity for me to grow, as My Heart leaves for 14 weeks for training.
Which means I will use those weeks and the sadness I'll feel as fuel in the gym for getting my body healthy and strong.
I will have that time to re-discover who I am as an individual; and do a lot of self-reflecting, self-adjusting, and growth.
I will also take that time to treasure even more the time I do have with him when he's with me in person.
And then, when he gets back, another huge adventure in life will start with him.
And from there, who knows what will happen.


So here's to a New Year.
The first one - in many, many years - that is, I think, actually filled with hope.

(Warning:
I am aware that the following post may fall into the cliche category, that I may be screaming and shaking my fist at a thing that will never go away and only become more present in this world.  But I still have thoughts, which is exactly what this platform is for.)


Social media is killing romance.

The internet in general, is.

Even more so than romance, though, I think it's killing human sociality.

In a world where there are screens everywhere you look, where the information of the world and humanity is at your fingertips, nothing feels thrilling anymore.
Want to know how many miles it is from Spain to Russia?
Google it.
Want to know what the longest orgasm of all time was?
Google it.
Want to see what's going on in the world?
You can pretty much pull into a gas station and watch a screen tell you about news events while filling up your gas tank.

Information is everywhere.
And there's an overload of it.

But even more so, why go out and meet someone what we've now deemed as the "old fashioned" way, when all you can do is download four or five apps on your phone and you have hundreds - if not thousands - of choices for who you want to bang next.
And forget getting to know someone through spending time with them and asking questions and discovering who they really are.  All you have to do is type in the right words, spend less than a half-hour browsing the internet, and you know where they're from, how many siblings they have, how old they are, all their past residence locations, their fashion style, their likes and dislikes, and everything else they choose to portray to the online world (regardless if that's the real them or not).

Where's the thrill of wondering what a person's body looks like under all that clothing they wear when you see them, when you can pretty much find a picture of them at the beach during the summer time, and you no longer need to imagine?

Why be present and enjoy that intimate moment with your significant other, when you can take a picture or video and post it online for all to see?

I hate that the internet, that our phones and computers and tablets, are such amazing tools capable of incredible things, but that they literally suck the life out of their users.

Not only is staring at a screen for hours and hours day after day terrible for your eyesight (much less posture), but it takes away from actually living.

The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that this generation that is growing up with phones in their hands, will reach the ends of their lives, look back, and realise how much they've wasted.

Hell, even I'm at that point, and the internet was still a baby back when I was in school.

I hate that I go out with people, with my boyfriend, and a phone is always there.  Always out.  Whether it's to take pictures or look something up or even to fill in the blank, boring pockets of time by mindless scrolling through social media, a phone is still OUT.  Maybe not even in use, but in hand, ready for the quick draw should it be needed or not.

I have tried to be conscious, to be aware, of my use of my phone when out with friends.  To try to give them the attention they deserve, by not having my phone in sight, or having it loud enough to be heard with a new text, or answering a phone call right away.

Imagine me saying this really slowly:
It is not the end of the world if you don't immediately respond to every message on every social platform that you get.  It is not the end of the world if you don't respond to a text right away or ignore a phone call.  It is not the end of the world if someone doesn't respond to you immediately.

Try it.  You may find out that you aren't dead at the end of that very long moment.  In fact, you may even get a sense of relief from not being available 24/7 for people who don't even matter that much to you.

Unplug. 
Live your goddamn life. 
Be present and thankful and exchange conversation with the people directly in front of you.  The people who make it an effort to be physically present in your life. 
Those people who are far away may or may not have a choice in the matter, but they can wait.  Everyone can exercise a little patience when they don't get a response right away.  They can take that time waiting for a response to go out and live their own life, too.

Like I said.
It's not the end of the world if you don't respond/get an immediate response.

Fucking live.

Do you ever feel like you're not everything that people say or think you are?
Because I do.  To the extent of what feels like all the time.

But maybe that's the depression talking.

Fighting depression is like a living a nightmare you can't escape from.
Not easily, at least.

And I think I realised something earlier.
A side effect of depression is being tired all the time.
And I am constantly exhausted.

But, perhaps, there's more to it than just being depressed.

Because, you see, the thing is, I fight it.
Every. Single. Fucking. Day.
I fight the sadness.
I fight the urge to want to give up. To call it quits.
I fight the apathy, the exhaustion, the not caring, the closing myself off to everyone around me, to growing hard and rough edged.

I fight to care, to stay alert, to remain open and vulnerable and honest, to stay soft and kind.

And it is a constant battle.
A daily one.

So maybe there's more to my exhaustion than just a depression side effect.

Perhaps my tiredness is amplified because I am constantly battling to remain present.
To remain all the good things that depression demands to take away.
To stay alive.

I don't know.
It's just a thought.
But it kind of makes sense.

Being in constant battle with no time to rest and recuperate means that, eventually, you will be worn down and caught off guard and die.

Perhaps my time to die isn't so far off in the future.
Because this battle has been going on for years.

Who knows.
Maybe someday soon I will finally be at peace.

You ever just start thinking and then you start writing down your thoughts and then you begin to spiral because you're giving in to going down that never ending free-fall tunnel and by then it's too late and you're past the point of no return?

Because I just did that.

Perhaps that's why I keep myself from thinking these days.
Because I know that my mind is unkind to me; in fact, it is very much my enemy.
And as much as thinking and processing and sorting and figuring out shit might be good...usually it ends up being not good at all.

For me, at least.

I am learning.
Which is good.  For if I was not learning, how would I be growing and maturing?  Learning is a part of life, and cursed be the day that one stops learning.
However.
It is a hell of a time trying to learn and figure out who you are as an individual (and allllll the complicated things that come with that) when you are also learning how to function as a unit with your significant other.

Trial and error.
And that goes for life, too.

But where does it end?  That is, will there ever be solidly based conclusions to all the thoughts that consistently cycle my mind?  Or will they forever be just vicious, endless circles going and going and going and eventually driving me crazy?

For I am halfway there already.

I know - I have known - that people do not understand the power their words hold.  In general, for sure.  Though more specifically, with me.  All I need is for someone to tell me one time that what I feel doesn't matter, and for the rest of my relationship with that person, I will cease to tell them how I feel in any given situation.  Likewise, if I am told that I am selfish, or that every activity chosen is always something I want to do, but never what anyone else wants to do, then I will stop giving input (as much as possible on a case-to-case basis) and let others choose what to do.

So how do you find a balance?

In my unfortunate time of conscious thought, I have recently discovered that for the majority of my life, I have ignored my needs.  I have ignored things I wanted, things I needed, things I have felt, because if any other individual is around, they come first. 
I do not even place.

I give up and ignore what I might need to better protect and strengthen my mental health and overall well-being, if someone else is around.  Because their needs, their wants, their feelings...these are all of utmost importance and are completely valid.  My needs?  My wants?  My feelings?  Totally useless and completely invalid.

Perhaps I am trying to grow, to change, now that I have recognised this.  To speak up for myself, to say how something makes me feel, to state what my immediate need in a situation is, so that I can better protect myself to ensure that my health of all factions is taken care of.  But one situation where I am forced to ignore what I need to better meet the needs of those around me?  Forever afterwards will I continue to ignore what I need, because it was clearly implied that I am invalid.

So it goes.

And continues.
Because what if things you feel, you feel to have a solid base for being good, but you feel completely controlling and selfish for even thinking them?  And if - heaven forbid - you state them aloud, you will come across as the very type of person you have tried to avoid being your entire life?  Selfish and controlling.

So you keep quiet.  Because why would you speak up if it's to be selfish and continue to get your own way?  Why would you say what you need when the other person's needs are clearly more important (as ranked within your own mind)?

One moment, one situation, one word of how you always get your way, how that's "not fair," or anything else that you might think of, and that's it.  The straw that breaks the camel's back, if you will.  I will keep quiet, shut down, process, suppress, and move on.

Rinse and repeat.
Rinse and repeat.
Rinse and repeat.

(And so the spiral continues.)

We were driving by trees earlier on our way home.

And it suddenly hit me - I'm near trees again.
Which may not seem significant to you, but as someone who has grown up surrounded by redwoods, trees are as much a part of me (and my happiness), as water is to a fish.  Not to mention, they're green, which is my favourite colour, because it signifies life.

But how odd...that I should be around trees again, and not even notice how much more abundant they are in my surroundings, when I've missed them so much and for so long.

Realising this got me thinking.  How many other things - and people - have there been present in my life that I have taken for granted; only to notice how much they mean to me when they're gone.

And what a vicious cycle this is, for it is not the first time I've been aware of this conundrum.  We exist, we live.  People, places, objects, are a part of our daily routine, our daily interactions, our daily sights.  And then the moment these items of comfort and familiarity are ripped out of our fingers, we are painfully and torturously aware of their absence.

Is it inescapable...this cycle of fate, of expected and counted on objects, to have them eventually exit our lives in some manner, and then - and only then - realise just how much significance those things held?  Are we just fickle enough beings to where our minds are only ever focused on the things we need to get done, to accomplish, or the things we don't have that we think we need to have, only to ignore the precious gifts we already behold?  Is there any possible way to retrain or rewire our brains to be present, to be aware, to give thanks for that with which we are blessed with?


Perhaps there's more than one reason why we're commanded to think on good and honourable things*.  Not only to renew our minds, and focus on the good, and thus the goodness of God, but also to remember and focus on what we already have...and be grateful for it.

I don't want to live a life of regret, of chasing after and working hard for things that I may eventually attain, only to pass by and look over the things I already have.  I want to learn to be present, to be grateful for what I have.  And that isn't to say to stop working hard, to cease to have goals; no, by all means, to continue to strive for greater things, for an enriched life.  But in the midst of working hard to reach goals and achieve dreams, to be grounded in what I have.  To be thankful for a roof over my head, for food to eat, for the beauty of the earth around me, for someone who loves me unconditionally, for friends who remain friends in spite of distance, for the goodness and grace of God that is granted to me every day.

I want to be present.
I want to give thanks.
I want to live and experience and breathe and to not forget or take for granted that which I already have.



*"Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things."
                                                                                                                Philippians 4:8

An Update. Processing. Learning. Changing.

Sometimes you wake up at 0200 in the morning for no reason at all, and lay in bed trying to fall back asleep, but to no avail.
So you get up.

Which brings me to here.
Alone, awake in the early hours of the morning, and thoughts racing around in my head.
Nothing at all out of the ordinary, to be honest.

A lot of change has happened in my life in the past couple of months.
I moved hundreds of miles away from where I was last located.  I have a new job title (but still within the same company).  I have my first ever, real life adult one-bedroom apartment that I can call my own, and I don't have to share it with a single damn person, which makes coming home a relief and not something to dread...major introvert, anyone? :P  But even more so, that means I have a place that can be a safe haven for friends, a place where I can show people hospitality through love and homemade food (and tea).

Even so, even with all these changes, I still stare at myself in the mirror and inside my head, I wonder if I even know what the fuck I'm doing with my life.  Because sure, maybe on the outside to anyone looking in, it seems as if I'm a normal, functioning adult who has got my shit together, but to me?  I marvel at the fact that I'm even able to function at all.

Who would've thought, right?

Don't get me wrong, I know this is how it is for every 20 or 30-something adult.  Everyone thinks that everyone else but them knows what they're doing.  That somehow on a certain age, you receive a card in the mail for your birthday with instructions on "how to adult" properly.  That you're the only one playing pretend on how to be a functioning adult, when it's like a second nature for all the people around you.

False.

A lot of adults in their younger years still question a lot what the hell they're doing.  Wondering if they're making the right decisions, if they're actually adulting properly, questioning if it will ever feel "normal" to them.  I have it on good authority from people who have been adults for a lot longer than I, that it does become a normal thing.  As natural as breathing air.  So that's comforting, to a degree.


I don't feel like I've changed.  And that's not in the sense of "I'm a whole different person, who was I five years ago??" but more so in the sense of, I still feel like I'm who I was at, say...21; except, several years have passed since then, so the only true change that has occurred is that I've aged.  Though I guess that's not true.

I have had people in my life remind me, point out to me, that I have changed.  And have grown.  And that it shows.  Which I suppose it does, even if it doesn't feel like it.  But hey, feelings can't always be trusted, so why am I going by that anyway?

Maybe I should just reflect, and list things to remind myself of the growth that has taken place.

I moved away from home.  A place in which I resided for 20+ years; I had an opportunity offered to me by a family member, and I took it.  Which was a rescue, of sorts, because home (the general location, not the actual building) had become a toxic environment.  It was wearing on my mental health, and was a negative impact, not a positive one.  So having that escape was a good thing.

A couple months after moving, I finally got a job (it was a long search).  So I began working, which meant income, which meant I could finally pay to go to therapy.  And I started doing so.

Therapy...something I had wanted to start for years, but the black hole in which my hometown resides, resources were extremely limited, and that wasn't really an option there.  But it was after I moved.  And it was good.

A few months after that, I began taking anti-depressants.  Again, something I had wanted to start for a couple of years, but lack of good healthcare and healthcare professionals who actually listen to their patients, it wasn't something that ever happened for me.  But being in a new location, meant that I had a better opportunity to be heard.  And I was.

I met someone.  A wonderful, good man, with the biggest, kindest heart of any man that I have met, who has chosen to love me and stick by my side through thick and thin.  I have been in a committed relationship for over a year now, and that relationship has a long future ahead of it.  Me...someone who was afraid of commitment, of being tied down, of giving my heart away and being vulnerable with someone... But I found someone who is worthy of my heart, and who deserves my openness and vulnerability.

I began to live on my own and support myself.  Well, not "on my own" if we're going to be technical.  I was renting a room from a married couple.  But I was still paying rent every month, paying bills, buying my own food, going to the gym, working two jobs...I was being an adult.  Or more of what people expect an average adult to look like, I guess.

I began to get better.  Not just with my physical health, but mental as well.  I found a safe space to go to every week to talk about my problems, to process, to grieve, to understand myself and how I fit into this world.  How I fit into my own world.  I was able to discuss how I was in love with someone for years without admitting that I was in love with them.  And through talking about it and processing it and finding someone who chose me for being me, I was able to let all of that go.  To heal and be free from it and move on.

I have learned and I have grown and I have lost and I have loved and while life is still bitter at times, the sweetness is that much more tasteful and prevalent.


I don't know if I would have grown or learned as much as I have without the help of therapy.  Or even being in a relationship for that matter.  Life happens in different stages, and as each stage occurs, maturity and growth usually take place with it as well.  You get into a relationship.  You learn how to function as a unit, and not as an individual with another individual (though still remaining individuals yourselves).  You marry; you learn to live and function when two lives become intertwined in an intimate way.  You have children; you learn to be selfless and how to raise little humans to be good and honest and kind, and you discover just how much of an influence and example you are to those around you.

I have learned a lot from being with someone.  Not just in general, but a lot about myself and who I am and how I function...and discovering even more ways of how messed up I am.  Which isn't a bad thing, per se.  Just more so my eyes being opened to a wider vision of things that I need to work on regarding myself.  And, again, going to therapy helped immensely.  I don't know if I would have gotten through what I experienced if I didn't have that safe space to go to every week.

There are so many things that I could list about what I've discovered about myself from being with him.  Some of them hard lessons; hard, but necessary.  Necessary to grow, to change, to mature.  To not only learn how to be with someone, but perhaps even more important, learn how I function.  And by learning how I function, I can learn to understand myself, and thus communicate that with him, so that he can understand me, too.

I think there are hard truths everyone has to face about themselves when they decide to commit to another individual.  Of course, you can always turn a blind eye to these things, but that is 1) on you, and 2) a very immature, selfish thing to do.  Don't get me wrong, I'm no paragon of what it looks like to be in a relationship.  But I know enough to know that if you aren't willing to acknowledge the ugly side of you that appears in a relationship, than you have no business being in a relationship at all.  That means that you aren't willing enough to change to become a better version of yourself for that person.  That you're selfish and you want them to change and fix their lives to form around you, while you just stay where you are, thinking that the rest of the world has to catch up with you.  Because, obviously, you know everything, and you're just waiting for everyone else to catch up.

Wrong.

I think I knew before I was in a relationship that I was a selfish person.  But since being in a relationship, I have realised just how selfish I am.  How self-involved I can get, and forget so easily that my words and actions can affect someone else.  How so often I worry about me, me, me, and fail to think of the other person involved in this relationship. What their worries are.  How I can meet their needs and their wants and desires.

I have not solved this issue, by any means.  I remember so often just how selfish I am.  And how I don't deserve the patience and kindness and willingness to take care of me that is shown by my better half.  For how often I get caught up in my own mind and worry about things I have to take care of, he is right beside me, putting off things that he shouldn't be, simply because he sees my needs as more important than his.  I come first, he comes second.  He has lost out on a lot because of me.  And those sacrifices seem like nothing to him, because of just how much he loves me.

He loves me so well. 

I never used to have the set mentality of thinking that I, a person who struggles with depression, was unworthy of love; but I will admit that if I thought about it, sometimes it seemed as if I would never find a person who was willing to put up with all my bullshit of stupidity and mental health issues because a depressed person is not worth putting up with.  Which was kind of more solidly confirmed by a person I was seeing before I moved.  As they so kindly put it, they "couldn't be committed to someone who wasn't committed to taking care of themselves."

Because of course, one day, I woke up, and decided that I wanted to be depressed.  That I wanted to struggle to get out of bed, to care about anything in my life, to have the consistent, lingering thought in the back of my head that maybe death is better than life.  Yes.  I definitely chose that path.  And yes, I let myself go.  Why commit to taking care of myself and wake up and get dressed and have a daily routine and go to work and function in society and visit medical "professionals" over and over again to try to figure out what was wrong with me but without any help or true effort from them?  Yeah, what a dumb idea.  I wasn't about to do that.

(That was sarcastic, in case you couldn't tell.)

But then he came along.  He knew from the start - because I told him - that I had my own demons to fight.  My own baggage to carry.  He knew, and yet he stayed.  He told me he wanted to see me get better.  He wanted to help me get better. 

What?

That was so foreign for me to hear.  Someone wanted to help me get better?  Not just stand idly by and wait for me to get better?  Someone barely knew me and yet already cared for me a lot?  Someone listened to me talk about my issues and wasn't scared away by them?  Someone saw who I was, and was willing to be with me for exactly who that was?

(Honestly, it's something I'm still trying to wrap my mind around.)

And he has stuck around.  As he is so good at reminding me, he's not going anywhere.  He is with me, he is not leaving, I am not alone.

He has been more of an example to me of unconditional love, than almost anyone else in my life.  (Family doesn't count, they're kind of obligated by contract of blood.)  In the moments when I've been cruel and harsh, he stays.  In the times of grieving and sorrow, he mourns with me.  In the times of unbearable sadness and struggling to function in any capacity, he holds me and dulls the pain of life. 

He has been so patient and kind and loving.  He cares for me, and he takes care of me.  He has seen me at my worst, and still chooses me.  He has seen me at my best, and he rejoices for the good day.

He knows exactly who I am - flaws (and there are so many of them) and all, and he still loves me.
He still loves me.

I have no idea how I managed to capture his attention or his love, but somehow I have.  And every day I think about it, and I can't believe how much of a blessing, of a good thing, he has been in my life.  He has helped me heal, he has helped me grow, he has helped me understand me more than I ever have.

He is a good man.


I know that I am not in the least bit close to being perfect.  To achieving the knowledge of everything there is to know about life and how to handle all the blows it deals.  I know that I still have miles and miles to go of growing and learning and changing and maturing.  Which is good.  It means that I am moving forward and not remaining where I am.  That I am going to new places, not staying stale and stagnant and rotting away in "perfection."

Change is hard.  It's always been a difficult thing for me to handle.  Regardless, I still face it.  I still let it happen (as if I had a choice anyway).  I still know that it's good for me, even if I don't like it.  Like a child who hates eating vegetables.  Ha.

But I know change can bring about amazing things.  It has shown me that I can provide for myself and handle being on my own.  It has shown me that in spite of my baggage and the cloud of sadness that looms over my head every day, that I am worthy of being loved.  It has shown me that there is a lot of me that I need to understand and fix, but that I am not broken.


I have grown.  I am growing.  I am learning, I am changing, I am maturing.  Leastways, I hope I am.  I think the fact that I can look back and see some changes is a good thing.  Even more so, having important people in my life, speak into my life, and remind me how far I have come, has been helpful and encouraging.

I am, I think, excited for what is to come.  I have no idea what this next season will look like,  I have no idea how long some struggles will go on, but I know that we - not I, but we - will come out stronger on the other side.

And in the midst of it all?
God is still good.
He will provide.
And not only our relationship with each other, but also with Him, will continue to strengthen.


It's going to be good.

I don't know why I feel this way.

Just that I want to die.
To cease to exist.

...That's normal...right?

The sadness is so deep.
Grief so unforgettable.

That I cannot escape it.

The only true sweet relief would be death.

And yet...
I cannot escape that natural instinct to fight.
To stay alive.

What a conundrum.

I want to give up.
To give in.

No longer trying,
No longer making an effort,
Just that permanent relief of no more worry.
No more hurt.
Or pain.

...Or sadness.

I can't escape it.

It's there, haunting me.
Every day.
Every waking moment.
I cannot escape it.

(And I'm not sure I want to.)

Do you ever just wonder if you'll be able to make it?

Like, if you're going to survive this thing called life?

Sometimes you're doing fine and you actually feel that abnormal feeling others refer to as "happiness;" and then suddenly it's 3 o'clock in the morning, you can't sleep, and you begin to question if you're going to be able to live.

To survive, to push through, to survive.

And it seems next to impossible that you will.

Live, that is.

And then the existential crisis begins [again].
This vicious cycle.
Of experience life, of having a clear mind, of feeling happy enough that you forget the sadness is there.
But then in the early hours of the morning when the rest of the world is asleep, but your mind is awake and racing with thoughts, you remember the sadness.
Though it's not just your normal sadness.
Although it is.
It's your normal sadness in a vengeful state.
Deciding to get back to you for feeling happy - because you, of all people, don't deserve to be happy.
That's not a thing.
And so it breaks out from the grave in which happiness buried it.
That sadness claws its way to the surface - angrily - and hunts you down.
Scratching, clawing, biting you in retaliation for trying to be rid of it.
Tying itself up in your mind, closing the handcuff link between it and you and throwing away the key.
As a reminder that it will always be around, always hunt you down, never fully letting you have peace of mind.

And you continue to stay awake.
Sinking, sinking, sinking.
Deeper and deeper and deeper until you're so far under the surface, there's no chance for you to break above to gasp for air.
So you open your mouth and gasp anyway, hoping that you'll magically appear above the surface.
But no such luck.
None whatsoever.
Instead you gasp in a lung-full of that sadness and it consumes you.

You drown in it.

And you realise there's no way to escape.
No hope to ever truly be free of it.
No relief from the darkness until the ultimate darkness consumes you.


...Death.

My mind is so overwhelmed, and I don't even know where to begin to sort things out.
I suppose for some people it's a good thing for things like massive change to happen quickly in their lives.  To just go, go, go, make things happen, get it done and over with, and move on.

...I am not one of those people.

I just got done packing up all my shit and moving from a place I lived a little over a year and a half, to moving to a place I am mostly unfamiliar with, but have a little idea of the location.

However.
While I mostly (yeah, it's complicated) have a job lined up, I definitely do NOT have a place to live yet.
And after driving almost 500 miles to move, I unloaded all of my things (not as nicely packed as I would have preferred) into a storage locker.
And then continued to proceed to the very place I initially moved from in order to get away.  Because it was a horrible, toxic environment, in which I have a love-hate relationship with.

And so here I am.
Back in an old place.
And I feel myself dying inside.

I look around and I hate what I see.
Every day I sink more and more inside myself, to try to protect the little mental sanity I've gained while being gone.
The weather only adds to my already low-key desire of wishing I was dead everyday.

And that is all that is in front of me.

Let's not forget the fact that once I'm done here, I leave to go back to a brand new place.
With no place to live.
No covered building to call my "home" and make my own safe space.
Nothing solid to hold on to, to return to, nothing unmovable that helps keep me sane.
Just a bunch of question marks and unknowns and lots of wanting to die when I wake up because my mind is just too overwhelmed and I want to shut down because I can't handle any of this.

It's really fun, in case you were wondering.
Having nothing solid, feeling the life sucked out of you from your surroundings, and wanting to die all the time.

Anyway.

Lots going on in my life.
But also just the same death-wish.
(Only a lot stronger right now.)

I am spiraling.

The darkness keeps growing, keeps looming.

There is so much going on in my life that I am trying to sort, trying to figure out.
And I already live my life in a state of high-key stress, which comes across as being calm and collected all the time.
But to have the added stress of trying to figure shit out...I feel like I am constantly on the verge of going crazy.

Or maybe I am crazy.

This past week has been one of the longest weeks of my life.

I am unable to process.
Or to grieve.
Or to understand.  Anything.

I feel like I've been walking around like a zombie.
The last time I felt like this was years ago, back in high school.

July has been the worst month of the year for the past six years.
And it only continues to get worse.
Sorrow upon sorrow, horror upon horror.

Why am I still here.

What makes life worth living if I cannot process tragedy and grief.
If a singular month continues to pain me every time it comes around.

I have been confused and unsure for so many months now.
No clarity.
No surety.

And added pressure of things that are beyond my control...

I am breaking.

I am spiraling.

The darkness continues to suffocate and I am losing my strength in fighting.

I so desperately want to give up and give in.
To end all of this forever.

It would end the torment.
It would end my negative impact on those around me.
It would be better overall.

But I remain a coward.

Living in darkness and unable to let it swallow me whole.

Maybe someday I'll get there.
Be able to end the torture.
The unbearable sadness.
The unprocessed grief.

Unfortunately, today is not that day.


How very pathetic.

If you think something is too good to be true...

...it probably is.

I never asked to be depressed.
I never wished for it to happen, never romanticised it, never thought it would be fun.

I never asked to be low-key sad all the time.
Never asked to be constantly tired and running on next to no energy, despite how much or how little sleep I get every night.
I never asked for the people closest to me to be on the receiving end of how depression affects me.

It hit me tonight that I never asked for these things, never wanted them; and yet still I live with them on a daily basis.

I don't like being sad.

I don't like having no energy on a daily basis; much less being an introvert working in a people-facing job, which takes away more energy than I have to give.

I don't like not feeling things, only to feel psychotic and bipolar whenever I actually do feel things.
I don't like disappointing my boyfriend over and over and over again when it comes to making plans or doing things, when after a day at work, I know any other activity will push me over the line and things will only get worse (and damage our relationship in the process).
I don't like not being able to process things, because my mind is so foggy and occupied, that any clarity needed to process emotions is next to impossible, because I'm already distracted as it is.

Depression is a bitch.

Which I've said before.
And I'll say again.

It's a metaphorical vampire.
Taking life away, sucking energy and willpower and emotions.
It robs me of enjoyment, of living in the moment, of taking a moment to appreciate what I live and feel and experience right there in that second of time when I'm with the people I love and life isn't as horrible as it usually it.
It claws and tears and buries me deeper in the darkness when things happen that I cannot control, things I don't see coming, things I find myself unable to process or comprehend.

I am unsure how to continue.

With this blog post.
With life.

And I have been depressed for so long, I don't even remember what it used to be like when I was a child and things were innocent and carefree and happy.

Happy.

What does that even feel like?

That's not to say I haven't felt it in recent times.  I have.
But the happiness isn't consistent, it isn't long-lasting.

It's fleeting and momentary and as soon as I blink, it's gone.

I wonder if people know what a nightmare it is to live in my head.
Feeling trapped, like a ship lost at sea in a thick fog that never lifts, hoping against hope that someday it will and that I'll find my way to the shores of clarity and joy.
But knowing that that hope is basically futile.

Sometimes I feel so tired.
So tired and weary of being a burden.
Of having this sadness affect me to such a deep extent, that it causes damage to the relationship most important to me, rather than help heal it or make it grow in a healthy manner.
Tired of not being understood, of not being able to explain how I wish it would go away, how I wish I could magically snap my fingers and refill my energy levels to 100% and go go go.
Tired of being tired.
So, so tired.

Of making plans, of breaking them, of wishing I could conjure up time and energy to care, but never caring enough, never trying hard enough, never being able to do enough.

I hate being sad.
I hate not having energy.
I hate being in a stupor every day of my life and not being able to feel like the skies are sunny and clear in my head.


I hate the world.

I didn't choose to be sad.
I never asked for this.
I never wanted this.

And how I wish to God that it could just be taken away and my brain chemicals go back to a normal balance and I would remember what it's like to see the world clearly and feel happy and not be dizzy all the time (un-related to depression issue going on).

Fuck depression, man.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick.

Sometimes I forget that people need me.

Wait.
Strike that.
Let me try again...

At all times, I forget that people need me.

Me?
Of all people?
Who makes little to no difference in the lives of the people who know me (to whatever extent)?

Why would people need me?

An incident happened at my job the other day which involved a regular customer of old age who ended up needing help with his physical health, and a coworker told me to go to that customer and check on them because they needed me.
(Let me note that this customer makes my job a pretty much regular stop in his life routine, and I'm the one he seeks out because he's taken to me and I take the time to listen and care for him to the best of my abilities.)
When my coworker told me that our customer "needed me," it was a concept so foreign, it made the cogs in my brain stop because I was unable to process that bit of information.

I guess there are several factors that play into my mindset regarding this.

For one, I have lived the past long, several years of my life trying to not need people.  Forging myself to be fiercely independent, to learn things on my own, to not depend on anyone or any thing, because at the end of the day, it's still just me.  And I can only fully rely on myself.  Other people will - ultimately - always fail me, intentionally or not, because they are human, and that is how life goes. 

At the same time, I think each person out there was created for a wonderful and unique purpose, and there is beauty in that.  And I find joy in building people up, encouraging them to try things out that will help better them or reach their goal(s) or face their fears.  People hold the ultimate value in my mind, and while I may not personally get along with them (or even like them), I still think they are valuable and priceless and worth fighting for. 

But I do not think that how I treat people and how I invest in them (personal feelings aside) determines that I am needed by them.  I imagine that if I went out of their life the next day, that their lives wouldn't change at all, other than I would become that person that they "used to know." 

 A need is a necessity.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this.  But this has been on my mind the past couple of days ever since that incident at work happened.  And I'm still processing the idea of people "needing" me.  As foreign and strange and fake as that sounds.

Honestly, I still don't believe it.  And I'm not sure I ever will.  Because people don't need me.  I'm not that special or significant or important.  People need Jesus.  They need His grace and His mercy and His Love and His peace and His patience.  They need Him to know how magnificently and incredibly they are Loved.  And how fearfully and wonderfully they are made.  But they don't need me.

This post, like most others, is kind of useless.  Just a space to process thoughts still roaming around in my head; with me trying to capture the essence of them on a computer screen.  Perhaps I will think about this more.  Perhaps I will let it go after this posts.

I guess I'll see.

I am beginning to realise how a relationship - of any kind - cannot grow unless the environment of that relationship is one which plants trust and safety and respect and understanding...and nurtures these traits and allows them to grow.
If a person bares their soul, if they force themselves to talk about something that takes every ounce of their strength to share, if they openly say "I'm hurting" or "I feel..." or anything that makes them vulnerable, and their vulnerability is met with judgement and harsh criticisms and they aren't heard, then the likelihood of that person ever sharing again to the one who responded in such manners, decreases exponentially.

I know for me personally, I tend to shut down and not give anything a second chance if I feel unheard.  If I feel like I'm not being understood.  (I don't need you to be able to relate, but just accept, and understand.)

If I have a relationship (friendship or romantic) with someone, and I don't feel safe enough to talk about anything and everything, there is a problem.  A good relationship, a healthy one, should create an environment of safety and understanding and respect.  You should always feel heard.  You should feel confident in the fact that your "no" will be taken as a no, and your "yes" will be taken as a yes.  No arguments, no fights, no being told you're wrong or your decision doesn't make sense if you can't explain it.  You know you are respected enough to be listened to, and your decisions respected.

There is such a large and noticeable difference in a relationship where you feel comfortable sharing some things, but not everything because you know you won't be heard and understood; and in a relationship where you know you can talk about your deepest secrets and your darkest shames, knowing you won't be judged, knowing you are safe, knowing you are still loved.

But if you are in a relationship of the former, where you don't feel completely safe, the growth and health of that relationship is stagnant.  And you feel trapped. And things need to change.

I don't know where I was going with this.  I'll probably delete it later, since I can't follow my earlier thought process.

Oh well.

You are a product of your environment.

So am I.
Everybody is.

There are so many sayings that talk about associating yourself with people you want to be like, or surrounding yourself with success...every one making the point that you are who you hang out with.  You can make a pretty good judgement call on who a person is and what their character is like based off of who their friends are.  Successful people hang out with successful people. Lazy people hang out with other lazy people. And so on and so forth.

But I don't think it's just who you actively and consciously choose to spend your time with. I have begun to realise that even people you spend a lot of your time with tend to rub off on you if you aren't consciously aware and choosing to become the person you want to be. This means you can be pretty strongly influnced by people like your coworkers or your roommates.

If you work with people who are consistently negative and complain all the time, chances are high that you'll start to develop that same mindset. If you live with people who are home all the time and forever watching tv and never going out and getting things done, you will follow suit. On the other hand, if you live with roommates who are constantly active, going out and doing things in their spare time, and are only ever really home to eat and sleep, chances are, you'll begin to follow that lifestyle as well and your productivity may increase more than what it already is.

I can't say I have ever fully, consciously surrounded myself with people I want to be like. But I know I choose the people that I want to be involved in my life pretty carefully. Partly because I like to have close, intimate friendships. And partly because I want to have people in my life who will encourage me, help me grow, point me towards Christ, and correct me when I'm wrong because they love me too much to leave me the way I am.

But I have also actively chosen to be alone. To often keep to myself, and keep the time I spend with others to a minimum. Of course, there are a lot of factors that go into that decision. For one, I don't want to forget who I am. And I know that if I spend a lot of time with other people, I begin to lose sight of myself. I begin to take on their traits and become someone other than me. I also am self-motivated (on my good days). I know that at the end of the day, it's always going to be just me. Just me, in the sense that I am reaponsible for me and the choices I made that day and the actions I decided to put forth. I can't put the blame on other people for my failures, I can't say it was someone else's fault that I didn't get done what I had planned for the day. It all falls back on me. And if I spend time with people who do not hold themselves accountable, who give in to being lazy or putting off today what they can do tomorrow, than I begin to be like that as well. And since it is hard to find disciplined, structured people who are like me, I try ro limit how much time I spend with those who won't exactly help me maintain that lifestyle.

Don't misunderstand me. I still love people and I want to be someone who influences them to do better. But if I begin to be more like them than they are like me, that's when I need to step back and reevaluate. Am I strong enough to continue to spend time with them? Are they rubbing off on me and am I slacking because I'm influenced by them? Where is my responsibility in this and how can I make it better?

We are products of our environments, yes.
But we cannot let that be an all-encompassing excuse for why we are the way we are.
You alone are responsible for your actions and your choices; which means you alone are who you report to at the end of the day if you've failed to do what you set out to do.
So you need to consciously make the choice who you allow near to you and how much time you spend with them.
And see where you go from there.

I don't know about anyone else out there, but I want to work as hard as I possibly can. I want to be disciplined, I want to willingly sacrifice the now for the long-term satisfaction and goals, I want to thrive and succeed.
I want to see if I can do that on my own and not be influenced by those around me.
But I also want to make sure I surround myself with people who will push me and inspire me and motivate me to do better.


I guess we'll see as time goes on who I turn out to be.

(If you have the time, read this great article that talks about surrounding yourself with people who hold you to a higher standard.)

Do you ever just feel consistently...broken?

You try and try and try to make things work, to do your best, to work hard, to love hard, to exist and try to find the bright side of things, to fight, to rest, to give...
And yet you fail.
Every time.
It never seems good enough.
You feel like you can always do better.
But you never match up to your standards.

So you wonder if there's something wrong with you.
Wonder if you're the fluke, the fake, the glitch in the system of the rest of society.
Mimicking what everyone else around you is doing, what everyone else is feeling, but inside you know that it's not real and everything is just an act.

Because that's what mental illness does.

Depression mutes.
It dims.
It muffles the vibrant colours of life and suffocates any kind of semblance of real emotion.

And then add to it the stress of sensory overload and never getting enough rest or time away from people, and it's a whole hurricane of chaos.

When you're on your own, it's fine.
When you're responsible for you and you alone, you can handle it.

But when you add other people to the mix?

It's one big clusterfuck.

On your own you can make plans ahead of time with people, not see them until said plans are executed, and you follow through.
You have time to mentally prepare yourself for going out, for interacting with other humans.
You store enough energy aside for the day that you made plans for.

With someone else, it's exact opposite.
You make plans, but having that person be a priority in your life - which means seeing them all the time - sometimes any little thing can set you off.
You can have plans, but you didn't get enough sleep, and work drains you, and by the end of the day, you know following through on those plans can only cause harm, and not good.
So you cancel.
Over and over and over again.
And you break your word.
And you break yourself.

Because you can make plans, but you are entitled to changing your mind.
You have the right to cancel, because you know what's best for you.
And what is best for you is what you need to do.
Even though it harms things in the moment.
Because if you don't cancel, it will cause greater harm overall.
For everyone.

Struggling to find a balance.
Of wanting to be around the person you love, but also needing to know when to say no.
Where to set the boundaries.
And hoping to not come across as the bad guy for holding to your decisions and putting a stop to things because it's what you need to cater to your mental health.

Where on earth is the balance?

Fighting, clawing, struggling to make sense of your own world is hard enough.
Struggling to make sense of it when your world becomes intertwined with someone else's?

That feels damn near impossible.

You take mental energy you don't have to try to remedy things.
To talk them out.
And it wears you down even more.
And you question - as you seem to question every day - when this will all end.
When you will finally feel rested.
For days.
And have energy again.
And feel again.
And not just go through the motions that have become so familiar because you've been going through them all your life, so while now it's just an act, before it used to mean something because you had zeal for life.

Now you have nothing.

Questions and questions and questions, and no answers, and no clarity, and never amounting up to the expectations you set for yourself.
And constantly being aware of your shortcomings, of your failures - and even more fun - being told by others of your failures, where you fall short.


Life used to be good.
Not good in the sense of easy, in the sense of everything going right.
But good in the sense that despite struggles, despite hardships, despite doubts and worries and fears, that you knew you were taken care of.
You knew that your future was in good Hands.
And while worrying was a habit that you cultivated, you were able to curb it to some extent, because you had confidence in the One who formed you in your mother's womb.
The One whose thoughts of you number more than the grains of sand.
The One who takes your cares, takes your burdens, and sustains you and cares for you.

When will I get back to that?
When will I set aside my selfish ways, my stubbornness to do life my way, my iron grip on my past, my hurts, my wounds...and give them up for Life and the fullness of Joy?
When will I surrender everything in my life so that I can learn to trust Jesus completely?
(Especially the things that I'm clinging so hard to because I'm afraid to let go?)

My heart has felt weary for so long.
And I am tired of feeling broken.
I am tired of not knowing, of being hurt, of trusting in fallible things, in people who will always fail (because that's what we as humans do), of trying to shoulder and carry my burdens on my own.

Love conquered death.
Truth will always prevail.
And God is faithful to the end.

How easy it is to forget lessons we have learned.

Perhaps it is time to begin to seek out grace once more...

People find God's love to be the easiest thing to accept about Him.
That Jesus sacrificed Himself on the cross for our sins out of His love for us.
So that while we were still sinners, He died for us.
Out of love.

Love.

I know that Love is the most powerful force on earth.
I know that without a doubt.
Yet still...
God's love has  probably been THE most difficult thing for me to accept...and live with the knowledge of that in my heart.

Sometimes I feel isolated from the world.

Everyone is over there, living their lives, knowing, understanding, and [easily] accepting that they are loved; and loving in return.  And I'm over here by myself, knowing that love is a thing, knowing that it is the most powerful thing to exist (it did, after all, conquer death), but unable to grasp such an abstract concept.

In my head, I know that God loves me.
In my head, I know that my family, my friends, my boyfriend - they all love me.
In my head, I know that I love them.

But head knowledge is nothing if the truth of that knowledge doesn't seep into your heart and plant itself deeply, causing your whole life and perspective to change based off of the heart knowledge of that truth.

I can't really ever recall a time in my life when I knew with my heart that I was loved; and that the truth of that changed how I lived my life.
Except maybe once, for a few months, when I was nineteen.
But that time has come and gone, due to my own self-destruction.

What is it?
Is it just that love is clumped with all the other emotions I can't process or understand?
Is it that I am so fearful of being hurt so deeply that I can't recover, and so I block myself from being able to accept love?
Or is it the fact that I feel like I have to earn every single thing that comes my way, and so then love - of course - must be earned as well.

But how can love be earned?
And if that is the only kind of love I allow myself to take, than what kind of love am I giving those around me, if not love that they must earn as well?

That is not at all the way to live.

How do I change it though?
How do I understand love?
Love without condition?
Agape - God's kind of love.  Unconditional.

It is a foreign concept to me.
I think my personality plays a huge part into this.
Things must be earned, they cannot be taken without proving oneself to be worthy of them.

But that goes completely against what love really is.
And completely cheapens the price that Christ paid on the cross.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

I guess I am still trying to understand and process why I cannot just take and believe people when they tell me they love me.
Much less believe - truly believe - that the Creator of the universe loves me, simply for who I am.
Flaws, mistakes, imperfections, purposeful rebellious decisions, and all.

Who knows.
Maybe (hopefully) one day I'll figure it out.
Because God knows I want to.

Not for my sake, but for the sake of those in my life who are important to me.

I am struggling, straining, grasping.
For straws, for air, for hope.

I think I have learned that hopelessness is far more painul than heartbreak.

Or perhaps I knew that in my head before...but not by experience.

Hope is what pushes us.
It is what keeps us moving.
And those who are completely depleted of hope?
They end their lives.

Heartbreak is terrible.
You feel sick, you can't eat, you can't sleep.
But eventually dawn breaks, and hope is still there.
The hope of knowing that love like that exists out there, and that if you found it once, perhaps you will find it again.

But hope?
Once hope is gone - once it is truly extinguished - you are gone as well.


I have been struggling with hope for so long.
Clawing, digging, scratching to find it.
To cling to what little I had.
To strain my eyes towards that pinprick of light in the distance, knowing that hope exists, but barely being able to see it.

There is hope.
There is always hope.

But my God, how hard it is to see sometimes.

Any hope I may have, I bury deep inside.
Because as much as I long to cradle it, to nurture it...I am terrified of losing it.
Because it has been slipping out of my grasp for so long.
And I cannot bear to continue to lose it.

So here I am.
Struggling to not give in.
To not hold my breath to wait and see what happens.
Because if things do not pan out, if the requirements are not met...

All hope is lost.
And my heart will be shattered again.
(And I am sure I will not be able to recover this time.)


Please, oh please, let truth be sought after and the power of Love be evident.
Help me get back to where I used to be.
Where life had meaning and fear was not prevalent and the unknown was exciting because I had trust in the hand of Who was in control.
And peace ruled instead of chaos.

To get back to that place.
To who I was.
Someone who found energy from a source when I was dry, because the well-being of others and giving time and love to them was infinitely more important than my own self.
Selfless and more concerned with building those around me up, rather than focusing on my selfish needs and desires.
Working harder and caring more and living life to the fullest despite the sadness.

I cannot ask what happened between then and now because I know.
But I can only hope that one day I will return to that.
Not so much for my benefit.
But for the benefit of those in my life whom I love.

Someday.
Someday.

...

How did I end up here?

Falling back on something I once overcame?

After years of struggling, to recovery, and now back to the same old habit?

I guess when you're addicted, you're addicted.
And that's the end of that.

...right?

People talk about how it's good to feel things, how it's good to have emotions...hell, even how it's good to feel things deeply.

But what happens if you feel things (everything) deeply, but are unable to handle how you feel?

You find coping mechanisms.

Sometimes healthy.

Sometimes not.

Usually not, in my case.

And the funny thing is, is you think you have it under control.
You think you can just resort to it during the really bad times, but handle the easy stuff on your own.
But then even the "easy" stuff becomes something you can't handle anymore.
And it ends up controlling you.

And you trick yourself into thinking you can stop at any time you choose.
And maybe you can.
If nothing was within your reach to use.
But the inability to find that release would drive you near insanity.
So you keep it quiet and "under control."

And there you are.
In pain.
Hurting.
Alive, but dead.

And it eats you.
Alive.
And you hear its call every second of every day and you want to run to it as soon as you get home behind closed doors.

Just one more time.
I just need to feel something.
How else am I supposed to express what I feel inside?

Again.
Again.
Again.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

A temporary release.
For control.
For pain.
For life.

Emotions may be good, but they drive you mad.
They drive you sad.

And you feel and you don't and you wonder if there's an escape.

(But you also hope there's not.)

There is a reason I never wanted to be in love.

Well.

Multiple reasons.

Loving so deeply you'll be hurt deeply?

Nah.

No thanks, bro.

I've had enough hurt to last me a lifetime; why would I subject myself willingly to that?

As. If.

Joke's on you, kid.

Years after swearing off love and marriage and being soft, you are the exact opposite of that now.

You fucking fool.

It is amazing how loving so deeply, can mean hurting just as deeply.

It is fascinating that someone could have such power and influence over me, that in the morning I wake up with actual energy to go out and do things I want to do, but a few words of harshness are exchanged and one leaves feeling sad and disappointed, all the wind is sucked out of my sails and the only thing I want to do for the rest of the day...is sleep.

How do you have such an influence over me?

How can your words do such damage? Or bring such life?

How can your wandering eyes and not-thought-out comments on the bodies of other girls hurt so much?

How can your mistrust and blurted out thoughts of me being with, or liking another male, cut deeper and deeper every time you say something like that?

Words can mend and heal and bring life.

Or they can wound and destroy and ultimately bring death.

There is no in between.

I have wanted to give up, to flee, to die. Because things get so difficult and there is so much hurt, I don't know if I can take it.

But I haven't made those choices.

I have fought, I have stayed, I have lived.

Because as much as it doesn't feel like it, I know this is worth it.

We are worth it.

You are worth it.

And I choose you.

I want to shut down.

I want to go the easy way.

The way of not being open, or vulnerable, or soft.

I want to close up shop, I want to rebuild the walls I spend half my life building up, I want to get back my rock-hard skin to where nothing anyone says (especially you) affects me.

But I know that is not the way.

And if it is, I need to be that way on my own.

Because being that way would not be fair to you.

You deserve better.

So I am searching and clawing to find hope. That we will get better. To trust again. To expect and hope and not get disappointed or crushed.

Tell me that this is worth it.

Tell me that not giving up is the right thing to do.

Because I am lost.

And without hope.

And my heart hurts.

(I am tired.)

     The demons are extra loud and the sharpness of a blade doesn't bite like it used to, and so I resort back to what is most familiar: words.

     Deep inside of me, perhaps, there is hope that if I write and write and write, that maybe if I use enough words, I'll find the right ones, the right combination that will adequately explain how I feel.

     So where do I even begin?

     Why does such deep sadness produce a brain on overload, the inability to sleep due to restlessness, and a heart that is slowly falling apart over time?

     I have wracked my brain.
     I have run plays over in my head trying to find answers.
     I have reflected and examined and observed myself trying to figure out my failings.

     I have theories, I have conjectures, I have possibilities.

   
     I am not perfect.

     I am human.
     I am flawed.
     I make mistakes.

     I try to be fair, honest, honourable.  I try to admit when I'm wrong (and change accordingly), to be open to new things, to trust people (until they prove to me they can't be trusted).

     Perhaps I am not meant for this.

     Am I too selfish?
     (Yes.)
     Am I too much of an individual?
     (Yes.)
     Am I incapable of love?
     ...
     Yes.

     It is beyond unfair to commit to someone when you yourself are broken and unmended.  When you know you have issues that need to be fixed.  When you know that it would be better to be alone so things won't be as complicated.  That you won't wound anyone else you care about.

     And it is completely unfair to be with someone when you know you can't accept love, and when you most certainly can't love them to the extent that they deserve.

     Because then you're left with less than a whole between two people; since you yourself do not make a complete half.

     And how is life fair if you do not know how to let love in?


     You cannot convince a person to change how she sees herself overnight.

     It is a process that takes both time...and patience.
     Slowly, here and there, you water them with reminders of how you see them.
     You allow them to bask in the light of your love and affection.
     And just like a fruit tree that takes years to grow and then eventually bear fruit, so it goes for that person as well.
     With words of life and affirmation, with patience and love, they will grow and blossom and learn to see themselves as you see them.

     But like all good things, it will take a lot of time and patience and understanding.

     Years worth.

     And you have to make the choice if it is worth it.
     If it is worth all that time and effort.


     Everything in life comes down to a choice.

     You can choose to fight or to give up.
     You can choose to get angry or to control your anger.
     You can choose to shut down or to remain open and vulnerable.

     Everything is a choice.
     Everything.


     I lost track of where I was going...


     I think I know where the solution lies.
     But the problem is, is that I flat-out don't want to do it.
     There is hurt and anger and resentment that needs to be worked out before I would even want to want to pursue a relationship with God again.

     ...

     Even though I know that doing so would help...everything.

     It would take away my selfish nature.  It would help my mental health.  It would help me get back to living a pure and upright life.

     And it would probably help me learn to love.


     So this boils down to a choice, too.

     Do I continue to live as I have: selfishly and ungiving and incapable of love?
     Or do I choose to pursue God to make things right again, all the while risking the fact that it will significantly change me and may cause those who love me now to stop loving me once I've changed?


     This is one of those instances in my life where I am profoundly aware that this choice I am faced with will change the entirety of my future.

     So.

     What is it going to be?

Another New Year

2017 was a year of a lot of change. A lot of firsts. My first relationship (of sorts - he wasn't committed at all). My first time moving away from home in a permanent way. My first time living on my own. My first boyfriend.

It was filled with so much good and bad. The past five years have been so up and down and more bad and sadness than good. They have been rough and filled with pain and heartache and more questions than answers and a general sense of confusion instead of clarity.

I had no idea what 2017 would hold for me. I thought it started off well enough, but it ended up being more of a struggle than I expected. Not being good enough for someone, not being over another person, being incredibly homesick and without a job, experiencing debilitating depression, having no clue what I was doing...I felt at a complete loss for the first half of the year.

But I was, at least, out of a toxic environment. And away from people I needed to forget. I started going to counselling. I started taking anti-depressants. I began to heal; and my mental health began to improve.

And then things picked up. I had steady work (even if it was two jobs and I was killing myself with not enough sleep). I was able to start writing and feel inspired again. I even found a boy who barely knew me, yet was so protective of me and my well-being, it felt too good to be true.

And now 2018 is here.

A new year.

That started out with a kiss from the man I love.

And I expect things to only go up from here.

I still have no idea what I'm doing. But I have a more steady life routine. I live on my own and I am proving to myself that I can take care of myself like a real life adult.

I have adventures planned that involve doing something I love. I have someone who loves to travel and adventure as much as I do - so who knows what unexpected journeys will come our way. I'm dreaming of a future with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

So who knows what this year will bring. What it has in store. Is it scary, not knowing? Always. But is it just as exciting to discover life as it unfolds along the way? Indubitably. And to know that I have people in my life who love and care about me, and are there to support me and offer wisdom when I need it, helps even more. Especially when one of those people loves me for being me...flaws and all.

Here's to you, 2018.

Let's see what you've got.