Friday, September 23, 2011

The way it was

I probably use my quota of tissues all on Sunday nights, that's when I usually cry the most. I'm not sure what the others in the house are thinking, when they hear me blowing my snotty, clearly "crying" nose - I mean, you can muffle tears, but you can't really stifle the dripping, or rather, flowing nose - not for very long at least. Perhaps they have heard it long enough to not really listen or pay attention to it anymore - like the persistent cricket, hidden in a secret location, forever chirping - somehow you begin to ignore the sound, so that soon enough it's like it's not even there anymore. It has become background noise - and that's what I've become - background noise.

You get to a point where you start to think life can't really be like this, can it? But, it's not like we have anything else to really compare it to, do we? But I keep thinking to myself - in any case, I shouldn't be this way everyday, and I know, really I need to do something about it, for my own sanity - but then Monday sets in, and each day merges and melds into the next, and then before you know it you're back at the same spot, in the same pyjamas, having the same damn thoughts - only this time, writing them down for a change. Tell me; where do you go when you really have no where to go? What do you move onto, when you can't see anywhere else beyond this spot?

I think maybe everyone should have one shot in life to hit the rewind button - just once - a chance to undo what's done, and change something terrible, a bad choice - anything - but only once. Maybe this is all one crazy dream and sooner or later I'll wake up an 8 year old, getting ready for my first day back at school!

The beauty of life, is really, with all these interacting people, choices, lives crossing paths, that you just don't know what's going to be thrown at you next. Scary huh?

I hazard a guess, and say this was written by a much younger bird - perhaps when I was around 18. I stumbled upon it recently, written in a random notebook - there are many of these lying around the place. Funnily enough, even back then, writing it down did help. When I read over it now, I think to myself that sometimes I haven't come far - that I'm still that ultra confused teen who thinks too much and cries more often than she should; but, my logical mind knows that I am some distance from this girl - on most days. Back then, I knew the feelings, but I never had a name for them - for a very long time, I thought being down was a normal part of life - either that, or I was just cursed. It was some years after an entry like this was written that I came to acknowledge there was a problem bigger than a good weekend and the written word could fix - I saw a counsellor for a long time for my 'depression' and 'anxiety'.

Geez, I really hate that word 'depression' - it really undersells it. Oh, she's just a little depressed... Even now, I feel shame admitting it - it's such a dirty word. It's one of those things that once said out loud, cannot be taken back, people will treat you differently. I hate that.

I tell myself that some day in the future, when my life feels less rocky - when I find love, and I'm content, I will be 'better'.  Whatever that means. I hope that day comes.

SB xx

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