Your happiness is a state of mind. It’s your thoughts, your choices, your words that put you into situations. You can’t expect everything to just magically fix itself, it doesn’t work that way. When you truly hate yourself, hate the way you look, the person you are. Then you’re the only one that can change that, do something about it. because nothing good will ever happen if you just sit around dwelling on those demon thoughts. I’ve been there. I’ve wanted to hurt myself so many times. I thought about killing myself. Admittedly I still do sometimes. But that’s in my head. No one else can get it. They can’t fix me, I’m not broken. But if I let myself continue to dwell on those demon ideas, then there’s no one around to stop me from doing something stupid.
You have to make yourself stop. Be positive. Distract yourself and keep busy. Do the things you love. Surround yourself with friends. Good friends who can listen to your rants and distract you from the dark things in life. But pile all your problems onto them and expect them to come up with words of wisdom every time you send a long depressive Facebook rant. There’s only so much they can do.
Why am I writing all this? Why am I sharing shit on the internet that not many people know? Because I know too many people who won’t talk about it. Too many people who hide everything away until it all comes out at once. They end up hurting everyone else. Been there too. If you let it build up too much you end up with this mental house of anger in your head, and one day someone will say something that triggers the door of that house to fling open. And BAM you’re a spontaneous emotional wreck lashing out on everything around you.
So this may sound odd but I feel that throughout my almost 21 years of life I have had several different versions of ‘me’. So from birth up until the start of secondary school is the childhood phase, where I don’t remember much but hell do I miss it. Then there’s the awkward preteen phase with the whole ‘I don’t fit in where do I belong?’. But then I started fixated on staying connected with my childhood and dreading growing up. Like seriously I used to think about it every day then I’d put on a Disney film and cry myself to sleep. Every. Single. Night. Then in 2007 I lost a dog and both grandmothers. Then I went into what seemed like an endless spiral in the dark abyss. Nothing felt right, there was nothing that could make me happy. I have eczema and used to continuously scratch my legs till they bled, I had it on my eye lids and the inner joints of my elbows. I couldn’t stop it. I just thought about all the negativity and I couldn’t help myself. I deserved to bleed. I deserved the pain.
I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I wouldn’t allow myself to be positive. The shit feeling just consumed everything. In the end I saw a councillor. But I don’t think she was the reason I got better. Sometimes you have to do things by yourself. I felt like I bored people with the same problems every day. I said the same things over and over, but what could they do about it?
I think that’s when I turned to reading. For me reading a book is an escape from reality. It’s how I run away from everything, it’s my distraction. But I still hated how I was, who I was. I hated that feeling inside me telling me that nobody wants you, they’ll reject you if you don’t get happy. I wanted to tear my flesh off, turn back time, say goodbye. Everything was my fault. I had dug myself down into the dirt. But sometimes you have to reach your lowest point before you can find the light again. You have to fight, you have to realise what it’s doing to you. Battle your demons. The bad thoughts were in my head so I had to use my head to put them down.
Start accepting that this is the way things are now. No one can change it. It’s happened, man up and deal with it. Yes everyone needs time to grieve about stuff. But you can’t do that forever.
But how do you deal with a death? How do you cope when someone’s been there your entire life but suddenly they’re just gone? Yes everything falls apart and the tiniest thing will remind you of them. You’ll reach for the phone to tell them about your promotion at work, only to realise they won’t pick up. You’ll be lost for a while, but it will get better once you allow yourself to go on. The honest truth is that it will never heal 100% it’s been eight years and I still cry when a memory decides to show itself. I can’t remember the sound of their voices or Holly’s bark. But I still remember picking bluebells and playing cards in the caravan. I’ll always cling to those. But we have to let go a little. Otherwise we’d be trapped in remorse and sorrow. Accept that they’ve moved on.
With every knock down, you have to build yourself back up. Every time you rise again you become stronger. So the next problem that tries to bulldoze you in the face will only scratch the surface. You’re not going into the coma of sadness again. You’re a fighter, battle your way to happiness.