That is how everything I write begins, with a deep breath and a few words inside my head. I can hear them now as I type.
The last few weeks have been very bloody hard. I had a lot of school stuff to worry about, some heartache, diet struggles and I really started to lose my energy, physical and mental. And so I cried and got upset and didn’t handle things in the usual manner.
The other day I asked a friend if I had changed, if all that I had been contending with had changed me. She said I was still me, with the same personality, just minus a chunk of happiness. That is why I haven’t been writing and that I why I have let everyone down. She asked me about whether I had considered sleep meds or antidepressants to which I said no. Sleep has been an issue my whole life, because as the type who likes to be busy I find it pointless. Even when I was a little kid I would make my mum sing me to sleep and talk to her about anything just so I could stay awake. And recently I have been going to bed later and later. It takes me at least an hour from getting into bed to falling asleep so I am always tired. Depression however that is a whole other story.
I think I am relapsing slowly but surely. Like sliding from the edge into the swimming pool rather than just dive bombing. I cried down Facetime to my bestfriend the other day because I had finally had enough. I had laid on the radiator in Spanish and had enough. Its warmth drew me in and then I started to cry but stopped myself, holding it in til I got home. Because I couldn’t deal with the things I was going through. Hitting a brick wall with my diet, feeling rejected again, having so much work to do and feeling like an utter failure.
I’ve lost half a stone, which is about 3.1kg but I can’t see it in the mirror.
I still feel fat. I look at myself and I still hate it all. I mean for God’s sake someone complimented me on my legs the other day and it felt so good. But then I got home and still wanted to go out for a run. Because I’m not addicted to eating healthily, I’m addicted to going out and burning it off. And it is making me to tired. I honestly can’t keep awake.
Because I can’t love myself no one is ever going to love me, or that is how it feels at least. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.
Just so scared.
My general consensus this year was that I wasn’t going to marry or have kids. I was going to live my life selfishly and travel around and make the most of this existence. But I realized I was only saying it to make me feel better when no one wanted me.
The shittiest part is that I know I shouldn’t need someone else to make me happy but a part of me does.
I’m just feeling so alone and down that I don’t think my filters are really working.
I think I’m breaking down a little here, sorry.
I just hate feeling not good enough for myself, because it makes me think I’m not good enough for anyone else. I feel like I’m failing and falling and I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
I’m not going on meds and I’m not going to have this discussion with anyone because I don’t need to relive all the stuff I have been feeling over the past few days. I miss eating whatever I like and I miss being bubbly, I just can’t quite remember how to be really happy anymore.
There is this huge pressure I have put on myself to make something of myself. Because in my head if you aren’t pretty you have to make something of yourself, because when you are plain like me, your brains and humor are all you have. And I don’t think I’m smart enough to do that.
And I’m losing myself. All this over exercising mixed with under eating and school stress and unhappiness has changed me. I just want to go back to being me. The girl who is strong and funny and clever and makes her friends smile. I have found myself in a labyrinth from which I cannot escape.