I love what we have so much that any hostility that threatens the connection we have absolutely wrecks me. It could be something so insignificant. A minute of silence too. And I notice it all. And I’ll be told it’s in my head, and I’ll convince myself it is because there’s already so much in my head and it makes more sense that way. 

And here’s my mother, bragging to her friends about me being a size small, while conveniently forgetting all the times she fat-shamed me.

Good morning, or is it? I think I’d have stayed in bed and snoozed all my alarms till noon if my mom hadn’t woken me up. At least that made me go to work, which is a good start.

I don’t know what the day holds. I was up past five, overthinking every little thing that was eating me up. I’ve realized I’ve begun to be more paranoid than usual. I really need to start therapy again before I start losing my mind, I think.

You know how this little desperation in you craves these conversations that would completely exhaust your worries? And when your attempts fall short, it just ends in more contempt. Which makes it worse. But not trying is quite terrible in itself; it’d just be a bunch of assumptions without any real basis. But trying and not succeeding? That hurts more.

Anyways, I could go in circles in these but that’s all for now.

I can’t shake this feeling off. I just can’t. It’s annoying the hell out of me. One minute I feel so close to you and the next I just don’t know anymore.

And sometimes you have to save in drafts the lengthy text you wanted to send because you’re sure they’ll think you’re crazy if you send it to them.

It’s been quite a morning. Mother woke me up to tell me a fire broke out in the neighborhood, and I looked out the balcony to see huge dark clouds fuming and thick smoke filling the apartment. Our initial instinct was to evacuate, so we did, only to see how extensive the fire was when we got there. We were genuinely worried due to the fire’s unpredictable movement because it appeared to be sufficiently threatening and the area was completely covered in smoke. Fortunately, everything is under control now, and we were able to get back inside the house.

And, given my fatigue from yesterday and the events of this morning, I have no energy to go to work. Yesterday was the worst; I was unable to move. Was fatigued and nauseated. This is exactly how I felt with covid, but it doesn’t feel like covid this time.  I do feel a bit careless doing this, but hey, sometimes your body is just tired, right? And you can’t be mad at it; simply allow it to rest. But at least there’s no fever, so that’s good. 

In other exciting news, I got myself a new study table yesterday. It looks super nice and is a perfect addition. I did this in the hopes of being able to concentrate more on my studies and work rather than slacking off. Let’s hope it works.

Nobody wants to be with someone who’s mentally preparing to be without you. Dropping expectations and just loving with half a heart.

Todays the worst. I feel sick. My entire body is in pain. Have been in bed all day. It sucks.

Yesterday I felt too much, today I want the opposite. I can’t have another overwhelming day. Going to cancel everything else and just go watch the sunset, or moonrise. This is my last free weekend before exams start getting on my nerves. Going to make the best of it hence.

Aaaaah it’s Friday! Well, half the day is gone; I spent it as I deserved in bed. Because that is what Fridays are for—the one day a week you can properly unwind and leave everything behind. It’s nice. I spent most of yesterday anxious and overwhelmed. I feel slightly better today, but I guess I have other worries today. The whole daily blogging thing is slightly challenging because I don’t really have enough time to sink in with a daily post, as I usually do it in the morning right before I start work. And once I start work, it’s one after the other, and then the day is over, and then there’s either classes or gym, and by then my brain can’t brain enough. So that’s why I get it out of the way in the morning. Because if I don’t do it then I probably couldn’t do it later. But it’s a fun habit in creation, it allows me to stay connected to myself a lot more. And since it’s a commitment, I’m really committed to seeing it through, So far, so good in that manner. 

I’ve been having the usual trouble with the mother, this time over a bloody chair. Honestly, when does this ever get better? It’s so taboo to talk about mothers who don’t get along with you, yet it’s actually so common. It’s just frowned upon to even consider your mothers in such an unusual way. But they too are humans, even though we put them on pedestals, and they too are flawed, just like us. So yes, sometimes it’s more challenging. 

It’s even more challenging when you’re as detached as I am. I feel like I’ve completely disconnected from familial relations. I tried to make them better, but every time I tried, it just hit me back harder in a more painful way, and finally, I decided I just couldn’t any longer. They are what they are, and I can’t force them to be what they aren’t. The pain of being from a small yet incredibly dysfunctional family is just not something I share the burden of with anyone else, so it’s like my own battlefield. And I know im no perfect daughter, but well, I tried.

Every bad day is frequently caused by the absence of a proper family and its dependencies. I keep blaming my failures on my upbringing. And yes, it’s so fucking unfair to do that when you’re a nearly 30-year-old woman. But see, the thing with my life was, as a child, I grew up and I remained strong; all my head told me to be was “you got this,” “you will make it through,” “you will be better,” and I think I manifested it just right; I survived; I was strong. I made it through. But now here I am. I’m not the strong girl I once was; I’m weak, weak as fuck, and it’s infuriating, but that is not a reality I can change. I don’t know what’s worse or what would’ve been better—would it have been better to not fight as hard for my life when I was younger? Would I have more energy in me today if I had done that? Or would I have given up sooner if I hadn’t found the courage to fight then? But I’ve used up all my courage and hope. And now there’s little to nothing left. Every time something goes wrong, I feel like a four-year-old. As a near-30-year-old woman, that is exactly how I feel, and that kills me. To have come this far in life, to have fought so long, to only come here and feel this vulnerable, helpless, weak, and sad. It’s like I want someone to take away all my problems and troubles for me so I can finally breathe, you know. I’m just really tired of being the strong, independent woman, and I no longer have it in me to be the tough one. I’m not tough anymore. I’m just done.

But maybe I messed up by setting this bar for myself, which I now can’t come back from. People expect me to come back strong, to survive, and to be fine. All I hear is, “You got this. I don’t wanna got this. I just want to be gotten. I love the song ‘Gotten’ by Slash. I relate to it so hard. But god, this millennial independent girl era is tough, you can’t just clock out and expect someone to take care of you anymore. I’m tired of counting on myself. 

Angrier today. My anger and resentment keep winning. Gratitude falls behind, and everything feels pointless.

I miss therapy. I think days like this really show how magnified the underlying emotional regulation issues I have are. And I hate them. I feel lower than zero today, if that is even possible.