Okay, there’s so much negativity on this blog, mostly because I only write when I’m stressed or unhappy and rarely write when I’m happy because I’m too busy being happy and enjoying my life.
I don’t want any of this to come off like I’m ungrateful. I am very grateful, that’s why I have this to talk to myself instead of whining and complaining to others.
Anyways, lately, I’ve been super stressed, but I’m also very content, somewhat happier in contrast to last year. There’s this huge shift in my role as a person, daughter, aunt, friend, roommate, etc…like, in the way I see myself. I feel really focused on my life and I’ve been doing so well that dumb drama never consumes me for more than a couple of days (that or I lie myself to pretty well these days).
The future is scary, but for the first time since I began college I feel like maybe I’ve got this thing under control, as long as I work reallyreallyreally hard.
So thank you college, for forcing me to grow up. I love this independence even with all the stress it comes with. :’)
My passive demeanor in the professional world (because I like to get along with everyone) sometimes gets me into deep shit, where people think I’m responsible for them. I’m not responsible for anybody, ANYBODY but myself, and while I don’t mind at all helping out others when it comes to certain things as long as my time permits, I do not have to do anything for anybody.
I think sometimes because I’m not willing to touch beyond the surface of things with people, people often think I don’t have shit going on (almost like an automatic ‘my life is more difficult to yours because you haven’t presented evidence otherwise’). It’s like people automatically expect me to open up if they do that same, but I don’t feel that way, at all. And while I may open up bits and pieces to others, it’s nothing extremely personal (for myself). I really do like to separate my personal affairs with my professional world (school, job, etc.).
Anyways, lately, I’ve been suppressing everything. I don’t want to put too much focus onto negative things because I know when I get home and try to sleep, those things will keep me up anyways..and if that’s the case, I might as well spend the rest of the day trying to remain somewhat positive, does that make sense? I don’t even know if it’s because I don’t trust anybody lately, or because I don’t feel like talking about the things I go through. I can’t even muster about the deeper things regarding my life to Arianna anymore (even when I try to, which I have given up on), and when I catch up with Vicki and Carrianne, I still feel pretty distant, though I consider all of them close to me. I’m so frustrated in my own thoughts and I want to cry all the time because I feel so alone, but I hate crying (and refuse to every cry, though when I do want to cry, I never can), so I usually just throw myself into my studies and work and sleep in hopes that it’ll just go away…but then it all comes around to days like this.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to say, but deep down I’m incredibly unhappy. I feel myself wallowing into the deep end every day, and every morning I wake up pretending to myself that I need to do what my 5 year old self would want me to do-achieve all my childhood goals.
People hold this esteemed image about me that I’m just some privileged kid, and I am, I have very much lived a privileged life, but I’ve had my own struggles, you know? And just because I don’t wear it as a badge daily that I’ve overcome and survived certain situations, doesn’t give anybody the right to say shit to me because I’m not so willing to express in a 20 minute conversation, “I’m struggling as a college student trying to figure out how to pay my rent, electricity bill, groceries, tuition, etc. I work 29 hours a week and I’m taking 18 credits, while also finding other ways to fill up my resume (spare time is dedicated to scholarships, figuring out money expenses, etc.). Every day for the past two weeks, my dad has been calling me up to discuss money matters, asking me to help out by paying for this and that, and I just take it on myself because I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m struggling, contemplating about how I rather starve than not pay my bills on my own than ask for help in a time that he needs the most help. And how upset I still am at my dad for all the hurtful things he’s said, but forcing myself to grow up because he needs me now. And still upset about my nonexistent relationship with my parents, even after all this (upon coming home this past weekend and realizing this). I question how I’m going to make it after graduation because I don’t have the luxury to ‘just move back in’ after graduation. I’m doing what I want because I think that’s the only way to live my life, but I have a hard time trying to get others to understand where I’m coming from and it frustrates me. I want to kick and scream and punch a couple of holes in the wall and cry a lot because that’s all I’m feeling inside, but I never do. I just end my day with a couple of hours pretending this all doesn’t exist and going back to my mundane routine. I spend countless of hours in my thoughts upset about family matters. I come home to cure my homesickness but instead come back feeling worn out and withered knowing nothing at home changes. Watching fights ensue about things that don’t matter, and little kids that are involved and finding my own way to escape this all. Desperately spending all my time trying to figure out how to not be like my family, while also spending moments realizing that maybe running away is what led most of them into the pits of despair they’re in right now. Somewhere in between these thoughts, I lay and think about how I never properly mourned the anniversaries of deaths because truth is, I don”t want to. I didn’t visit graves that I should have, while burying my thoughts in silent prayers. And an egotistical part of me is always screaming, ‘there’s nothing you know about me,’ but really I am just so childish and afraid and don’t know how to express how I feel. Most of the time, I would rather mold into that image/person you think of me because it’s easier to deal with that than who I actually am.”
Sometimes I cradle these thoughts so carefully, afraid of how broken I would feel if I tried to attempt opening up to someone because everyone thinks I’m doing so well. But I’m really tired of being the strong one for my family. I almost feel like I could never be a kid, or I never was, and I share this suffering with others so I feel guilty for feeling this way…all the time. I really want to be how I feel sometimes without people looking away in disgust because I’m not entitled to the same feelings as others because of how I’ve been all these years.
Today, a little snarky comment was made to me, and I immediately got irritated and felt like crying. It was the cherry on top to all the stress I’ve been hiding. Instead, I hurriedly finished my business and walked away from everyone without speaking a single parting word. I could care less if I came off as a bitch. Just because I don’t wear my struggles on my outer appearance/attitude (for the whole world to see) and I rather treat people kindly and nicely NO MATTER WHAT situation when I’m in my professional mask, does not fucking mean I have nothing else going on in my life and you can BLATANTLY disrespect me because it’s easy to bully others who you feel are not as invested in drama as you. No, I’m not going to put up with it.
scrolled through my other tumblr to find this piece of writing
going to leave it here to remind myself how far I’ve come
May 24th afternoon, I peered outside of the door waiting for a safe time to tip toe over to my sister’s room. I stuck my head underneath her bed, startled by her swollen face and perched my body by the wall next to the edge of the bed. She silently wept, masking her face with her hands, sending bouquets of apologies my way as she propped her body to face away from me.
I always asked her, “What are you sorry for?”
And she would hush me off, continuing to cry to herself.
"But that’s mom, and that’s dad, and they were like that before you came."
Sunday night, mom and dad had gotten into a fight and mom protested her misery with a deep slit to the wrist. Dad fumed with anger and continued to argue with her as the blood gushed onto the carpet floor, counting unhappiness by the amount of drips that hit the floor. I never visited the hospital and dad never brought it up to us again.
I never quite remembered dates as fragments of events as I grew, but counted them as normality and kept them as mental notes, that would never be recorded or written down in hopes they would vanish from my memories upon age.
I relayed events with, “One time,” when asked, and always laughed afterwards to forget how much they were still buried in my soul.
One time, my dad got into an argument with my sister and yelled at her when she locked herself in the bathroom, punching his fist into the door as declaration of manhood, before walking away in defeat.
She spent the next couple of years locking herself in the bathroom at late hours of the night, slitting the cuts on her body as deep as her heavy eyelids. I was too young to understand, and she was getting to that age where explanation of feelings were hard to communicate. She would never tell, but I always waited until she left the bathroom at night to return to bed, before I allowed myself to fall asleep.
“I’m not going to be like my family, I’m not going to be like my family, I’m not going to be like my family,” I repeated until I fell asleep.
I wish I could rhyme.
Or write really well.
Sometimes I read people’s writings and I’m in complete awe.
Looking back at adolescence, I immediately smirk at my old writings because of the dramatization. When you’re young (including now, one day, I will look back at this and chuckle/cringe), everything is the end of the world. I remember at the beginning of the year I was skimming through the pages of an old journal and I ripped out the whole book after reading it. I was so over-dramatic about my life even though some of it was “well-deserved.”
I thought I would regret ripping out some of those pages as I pulled the pages off the binding, like I just ripped a part of myself and willingly threw it away, but it was a different feeling. I didn’t need memories of how I once wrote and the way I felt because I was past it. I was growing up, you know? And I didn’t miss it, no matter how nostalgic it was.
Boy, it’s been such a long time since I’ve written. I feel kind of rusty at this, I’m not sure how to word things. It’s a stream of consciousness, spilling and spilling and spilling.
I guess I still get upset now and then but I’ve really learned there’s no such thing as having no control. There’s the illusion of things being beyond one’s control but you know what I think about it? It’s bullshit.
The day I decided I didn’t want to feel the way I felt anymore, I savored the days I felt good, felt happy, and stopped feeling bad for myself. I tried to do something about my life. I kept myself busy and it worked. It’s a work in the process but I genuinely believe there is nothing, no pain harvested in your childhood that you can’t overcome. Only a few exceptions can be made, but those exceptions can’t be excuses forever (in my personal experience). There will be a time where you have to snip off that invisible umbilical cord and grow the fuck up.
That’s how I feel about everything. Therapy. Depression. Mental illnesses these days. They are not reasons for bad behavior, they are learning experiences of the human condition and I wish everybody will realize that. Take advantage of the few moments you are happy, do the most you can in that time frame and eventually you will just be…better. Does that make sense? No amount of therapy will help if you never decide for yourself that you want to be better. And of course I can sympathize with those who are dealing with whatever they’re dealing with (and the stigma), but I believe the reason suicide is so high is because it’s this self-guilt people carry around for feeling the way they feel. Never feel bad for the way you feel, but also never use it as an excuse to stop trying. Just that much. Idk.
I rarely talk to my dad anymore since our fight, but I guess it’s time to grow up. Despite everything in my past, there’s nothing in the world that could make me hate my parents. I acknowledge their failures with us, but I also acknowledge their hard work.
Sometimes I lay in bed and think so much. I used to cry a lot about not having a relationship with my parents and being fearful that one day they’re going to die and I won’t get a chance to let them know I always loved them. I used to frequently tell them I was thankful when I was in high school and tried really hard to close the gap between us but they would always throw it back in my face and said they didn’t need it because I didn’t mean it. It used to hurt my feelings (a lot…lol) so I stopped trying.
But as I got older, I learned to look at things in a different light. Life’s tough. People say things they don’t mean, so it’s important to also look at one’s actions. And I look at my parents’ actions and I know they love me, though they say really harsh and mean things, I know they love me.
I haven’t uttered much of one word about my private life with many people this year because I don’t feel like I need to anymore. I rant about petty things and keep the more important things engulfed in my head to deal with on my own. Sharing the weight on my shoulders isn’t a concern anymore because I can absolutely handle it this year (and I’m confident that I can handle it). I think that’s a sign where I’ve changed drastically from last year. I don’t need many people anymore, if any.
Today my dad called me to let me know he was laid off and that I would have to help pay for most of my bills (and save) but I didn’t mind, because I was already doing that, and now I just need to pay bigger portions (a.k.a rent)…but I think I’ll be fine. That’s an example where I feel my ability to make my own decisions in the long run benefited me (since my dad never wanted me to have a job while in school). If I can’t come back next year, whatever.
I talked about it briefly with Pegah, and Arianna knows because she was there with me when I found out, but mostly I’m keeping it to myself. I’m half worried and half confident enough that it’ll work out on its own. Most of my worries has nothing to do with my studies (and if I’ll finish college), most of my worries reside in how tense and shitty it will be at home. And I feel bad for my dad because he’s filled with doubts.
I wanted to write more but my thoughts are still a bit jumbled right now lol.
Deep red gone from your veins,
Embodiment of Has-Been(s),
Once were, Never was, Never will.
Visitation of memories during unfamiliar times of the night,
Famished thoughts trickling down in the outskirts of the sunrise,
Frequently left your mother in a daze.
December always consumed me,
When I remembered you in past tense.
I’ve been avoiding writing down my thoughts or poetry or anything because every time I write, I come out more upset than before. But voiding my mind with distractions doesn’t satisfy me either.
There is a ridiculous amount of yelling and screaming in this house.
I don’t like to talk because I know it’s going to result in me joining in on the yelling.
I just blast my music and hope everybody will eventually shut up.
Sometimes I have to talk to myself to calm myself down.
I know it sounds crazy, but I will have to say stupid shit like, “It will be okay,” out loud to myself.
It’s really embarrassing, but it’s worse when I don’t talk to myself at times if I’m getting upset. It’s better for me if I say it out loud, but if I’m in the company of people, I try to compensate by talking to myself in my head.