[Diary] My State of Mind

Here's something that I wrote two years ago:

The first quarter of the year was rough on me. I experienced a lot of stress thanks to my job. I lost an awesome boss then I became delusional that I might be able to replace him. I lost a lot of sleep. I spent money that I don't have. I can't even pay my debts. I moved to a different house yet again. My father keeps trying to contact me and I hate it. I don't think I'd ever seen my life so fucked up. I don't think my body ever slowed down and the adrenaline never stopped. I was living in constant stress.

I've always been the kind of person who will just roll with the punches and live in the moment. I used to say thank you for good times and bad times. I didn't show my suicidal tendencies because I could handle myself. I could cry quietly and then smile the next day. I was a friendly bitch and I trusted everybody.

I don't get why people don't understand that I'm now a different person. I'm afraid of trusting people, I'm scared of sudden changes and I'm not willing to give up my routine because it's my anchor. I don't bother to pretend that I'm happy, funny or likable. I just think fuck this and start using my authentic self: moody, bitchy and pessimistic.

I don't understand anymore why people still expect me to be okay when I'm obviously not okay. I've been trying to pick up the pieces of myself for so long that I didn't realize that my palms are bleeding because they're jagged and doesn't fit well with each other. I can't live up to other people's expectations anymore. I can't live up to my expectations.

I'm broken. I don't think I can smile happily, laugh freely or live in the sun. I will always see the shadows at the corners and the curve on my lips will never reach my eyes. I'm trying my best to bounce back. I got a therapist, doctors and medicine. I'm trying to manage my illness as best as I can. My brokenness isn't connected to faith. It's just like the tiny ballerina with broken legs that's sitting in my music box. Something broke and it can't get fixed.

I do wish that I could smile again. I wish I can be happy again. I wish I can wake up and feel some kind of joy in the new day.

I sincerely hate it when people ask me to write a gratitude list or to be thankful for this and that. I do. I really wish I can punch them in the throat. Here I am in the middle of an embarrassment of riches but I'm still unhappy! Thanks for the sad-shaming and the guilt-trip. I do know that I am fortunate for all of the blessings, including life. Yet that doesn't stop me from feeling this way. Depression is like a fog that will never go away. I really wish I can be happy because I'm so lucky. I also hate it when people tell me to help myself. What do you call doctor visits and stress eating and drinking my medicine on time? Why do I even bother praying the rosary and going to Mass?

What do you call that?

I also hate it when people say that I fixate on my problem too much. I really hate you. Thanks for not trying to understand what I'm going through. You got your own problems and I respect that. I really wish you know how much it hurts inside because I'm not normal like you.

I wish the next quarter of the year will be kinder. I hope that I can enjoy the sunny days without worrying about the rain. Maybe this time the pieces will fall into place. Maybe this time I could see the sun without averting my eyes.

I want to thank you for all of the kindness you extended to me in my dark times. I'm sincerely grateful. Facebook isn't a diary but I'm too lazy to open my blog. I'm already out anyway. I wish I can look back on this year after twenty years and laugh (maniacally). Maybe I haven't lost my mind.