I feel like people get lost when they think of happiness as a destination, we’re always thinking that someday we’ll be happy. That we’ll get that car, or that job, or that person in our lives that will fix everything. But happiness is a mood, and it’s a condition, not a destination. It’s like being tired or hungry, it’s not permanent. It comes and goes but that’s okay. I feel like if people thought of it that way, they’d find happiness more often.Unknown
Sometimes I wished this blog would be anonymous. How easy would it be to just write my heart out without worrying to get judged by people? Especially from the people I know from school etc.? Not that someone actually came up to me with a bad comment… but I’m my biggest critic, so the thing about what people might think of me is always killing me.
But being honest is being free. And I want to give the things I’m going through a reason. That may sound pathetic, I know, but for me, writing things out its a way of not losing my mind during this sh*t. Tracking progress is always helpful, and if I’m giving at least one person the feeling of not being alone then it was totally worth it.
Its 2 am. I’m sitting on my bed, it’s dark around me. Through the Skylight I can see the stars, even some flickering lights, moving from one side of the sky to the other. I always loved to guess where they are heading. These people up there in planes are free. Maybe they’re heading to an adventure, maybe they’re looking for their long lost love, maybe they’re visiting their family, maybe they are just on their way back home.
What is home?
Home, noun, the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
That’s what Google says.
So I have to feel like I’m home, haven’t I?
But why do I feel so damn lost all the time?
Yesterday everything collapsed. After almost two years of building a wall against all these thoughts, habits and feelings, it just cracked. All at once. Like glass. And here I am, at the bottom of life again – sad, lost, and definitely not at home.
My therapist once told me that a flower cannot grow in an environment in which it got sick. But right now it’s the first time I’m really feeling this. I just can’t exist like this anymore. Something has to change.
But I’m so freakin afraid of change. I always wanted to be ‘just normal’, you know – to live in a normal family, to look normal, to just be like everybody else. It’s like a curse, I think – because I always was the exact opposite of normal. My size was unnormal, my way to speak was unnormal, my family was unnormal…
With time I learned to accept the way I am more and more, but there’s still this little girl in me which just wants to be like everybody else. Because they’re happy, and I am not.
And a change would probably mean that I would need to do things which are not planned. But that’s okay. I can’t stay like this. And I’m ready to risk everything just to be happy again.
Depression is such a motherf*cker – I hate it. I hate to be sad all the time, I hate to hate myself, I hate to be a bad sister, a bad daughter, and a bad friend. I hate that it’s stealing all of the memories I could’ve made, all the things I could’ve experienced during my youth… and I hate that it lets me forget all the things I loved. Careful, and very slowly, it wraps it’s fingers about every happy moment and sucks the happiness out of it. Until I forget what being happy feels like. I don’t know how many nights I spent watching trash tv, just feeling totally empty.
But depression is a liar. There are these beautiful sweet things in life that are totally worth living for. Like a friend who goes with you through thick and thin. Like chirping birds in the early morning. Like someone who has the same music taste as you. Or the feeling when you’re dancing, maybe a little drunk, but with freedom under your wings.
I’ll find my way back home. Maybe Google is wrong. Maybe it’s more a feeling than a place.
And I’ll find this feeling. I wanna be happy again.
To be honest, guys, I’m not sure how much you are interested in this chapter of my life. I wrote this text for me, but should I talk more about my mental health in general? Please comment down below or slide in my DM’s, I would love to hear your opinion.
Oh, and I really hope that you all understand how vulnerable I make myself by posting this. Mental health is not an easy topic to talk about… And no, I don’t need your pity, I just want to share my experiences and feelings. Maybe I’m helping someone, maybe not. At least it’s helping me.