Continuing with my “I’m an open book” theme, I am actually sharing an excerpt from a journal I kept in 2015 (aged twenty-seven), during a really tough time in my life.
I spent some time last week working on de-cluttering my room (I do this when I’m too emotional – I either crash and cannot move or I do too much and throw away shit that I actually need) and came across old journals and lots of loose pages, all filled with my writing about my (disturbed) emotions. FUN.
This journal entry particularly got my attention.
I’m sharing this, because it really shows how much I have changed, and how much I went through but I never let myself feel it, looking back now it seems so surreal.
It’s as if I spent all those months dissociating non stop; mind and body were completely disconnected. My way of coping I guess.
I have a feeling many go through this too…not my story word for word, but the struggle and the unhealthy copings habits. So, here is me…
“Date: March 2015
It’s March. We moved here (Down Under) in November 2014 and all I have done is be sick and tired. Bed bound. This is not how I thought this new chapter of my life would go.
I feel nothing. I don’t care for getting up. I don’t care for changing. I don’t care for washing. I don’t care for tomorrow or even the rest of the today. I don’t care for going out or staying in. Even if I could physically move. I just don’t care. I feel nothing. I’m empty. Even holding my phone is too hard. It’s exhausting just to reach for it.
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!
Who am I?
I’m not sure I even know what is running through my head most of the time. What is it you want? What is it you need? What is going to make you feel okay? Huh?! Tell me. Communicate with me somehow!
You were fine last night. Well, at least some of the night. You were laughing, and it was an honest laugh and all! Not the crap laugh that you fake most of the time. You felt lighter and some happiness actually creeping in. What is your problem?!
Are you really just a spoilt dramatic bitch?!
Are you like this because of the shit that goes through your head? And the way everything makes you scared?
What is it?
Or are you just so desperate to…for what?! What are you even desperate to do or for?! You don’t even know this.
If you stay (in Aussieland), you might stay unhappy. If you go back to London, you might still be unhappy. Will anything make you happy?
You’re broken girl. Once you break, how do you fix yourself? Is is even possible?
It feels like I’m lonely. I’m very lonely. I’m craving company, of someone I like and someone or people who understand me. I’m craving being around people who I don’t have to hide from and people who won’t judge me. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I’m so lonely. I need people I can be honest to.
I’m sick of lying. I’m sick of having fake conversations. I want something real. I need real and easy. Easy. Peace. Peace of mind. Calm. Happy. It all sounds so good, and so out of reach. Impossible to achieve.
What do you feel? Right now.
What do you feel? Label it. Remember your Mindfulness classes; label the feeling. What are you fucking feeling?
Empty? Dark. A black hole of emptiness. And lost. I’m not sure I was ever found though. Have I always been lost? Lost in a black hole of emptiness. Yes, that’s it. I feel lost in a black hole of emptiness. With a half paralysed face. And a tired, fat and sore body. That’s me.
Nothingness. Like I said earlier.
Now, how do we fix this then? What happens next? Nope, trying to kill yourself is not an option anymore. You can’t even do that right. And you’re not that desperate, are you? You were last year and you may have had a bad episode or two recently, but are you willing to die to end this? Are we that desperate girl? Oh my god, are we that desperate.
This time last year you were pretty bad, and you managed to get back up. If you got yourself back up then, you can do it again this time. You can do it. You can get yourself out of this black hole too.
And you can get better, physically too. You’re doing well. Just keep pushing. Duck (my boyfriend) does and he does it well.
It’s okay if you need some help to do so. It’s okay. It’s okay if you need hand holding for a little bit.
This move was supposed to be good for you. It’s fucked you up even more. You were doing okay.
You were getting somewhere. Somewhere good for you. You were on a good path.
Where are you now?
How do you get back to yourself, my girl? You’re happy, you’re confident, you’re bubbly and you don’t care what people think of you. You don’t judge yourself or others. You just live, and enjoy living. THAT is the real you. You’re not scared.
You are not scared. You are brave. Be brave.
*(I’m interrupted by my flatmate knocking on my bedroom door. I think I pretend to be asleep, and then I continue to write)*
Can everyone just go away?! Aarrrrghhhhhhh!!!! Can I ever get a day alone in this house, just so I don’t feel scared of going into the fucking kitchen because somebody is there?! I would do anything just to not feel like any minute now, somebody could knock on this door and want to make small talk, where I have to fake happiness one more time.
What is the purpose of life? It all seems like bullshit right now. You’re born. You are told how to be by your school and others. You grow up to be that way. But it’s not ever good enough. You live. You work. You work. You follow the “rules”. Then you die. Is that it? What is the point?
I knew she’d help *(Random side note: I’m guessing I’m talking about my mothership here)*. She’s so wise. And she knows me so well.
It feels like I’m going through another breakdown. Or episode. Or spell. Or whatever the fuck I call it, it still fucking feels like the same painful, never-ending, black hole. But this time, I’m going through that breakdown but with my boyfriend’s job rather than mine. I thought I was leaving this events world and this life behind me. The point of Australia, for me, was to have fun, go on adventures, learn to surf, be stress free and move on from the reasons I broke down last time. I wanted to be happy. Is that so much to ask for? And I know it’s what Duck (my boyfriend at the time) wanted too. At least I think so. So why are we sick and stressed out with managing events again? How did we get here? Where did it go wrong?
I do love you Duck. I question if this relationship is good for me though. I hold on to things that you did. Things that hurt me. You did hurt me. And I’m not sure I can stop the pain you caused *(Random side note: I have no recollection of writing this, it’s my subconscious was trying to communicate, but I just was not ready for it at all back then)*
I feel hollow. light. floaty. I’m floating. I’m on the ceiling looking down at myself. I’m floooaaating. What the fuck is this?! I feel tiny. Everything around me is SO BIG. I feel tiny and like I’m sinking. I am sinking.
I’m floating and sinking through life.”
It’s now April 2017, and I am 29.
I read this and look back now, and feel compassion for that girl. It has now been over two years since I wrote those words in my journal, and now I see how abusive that relationship was and how much I truly struggled during that time of my life.
And as sorry as I feel for the girl that I was and what I put her through, I am also so glad to be in a very different place; in a safer and healthier place.
I’m healing. Mentally and Physically.
And I didn’t get where I am without a fight.