Reaching Out

I’ve been crying a lot lately…

My worst problem has been feeling like I’m “alone”. Especially at night, when it’s just me and the four walls, and my computer running silently in the background. When it’s just me and my thoughts, constantly telling me, almost every second, that I don’t matter. I want to die most days, but I shuffle through, hoping something will happen to give me a “reason” to be here. 

I know it’s not fair, but…

I feel like I can’t help but rely desperately on people now. I hate feeling so reliant, but I don’t know what else to do now. I need people. It kills me to admit publicly, but I need people. There was a recent period of time when I felt so low that I would just show up at my friend’s houses crying, from as early as 6AM to as late as 3AM. I couldn’t trust myself to be alone because my thoughts would go to such a dark, dark place, and there was no one here but me–my weak self–to fight that voice. I hate feeling like such a burden on everyone, but I’ve been so afraid.

I’ve lost myself…

And that’s the worst feeling of all. Feeling like I don’t know who I am anymore. Everything I used to love doesn’t feel so special anymore. And the things about myself that I put so much work into developing feel worthless now. It’s like I’ve stumbled into a dark cave on half a battery, lost the flashlight, and now I’m just stumbling in the darkness after having made countless turns. I don’t know If I’m getting closer to the light and staggering deeper into the darkness.

 I’ve been questioning so much lately…

Why am I so weak? Why am I so scared? Why am I so dependent? What happened to me? Why can’t I just control it, hold back, and stop making such an embarrassment of myself? What’s wrong? What can I do? What can I do? And why do I always feel so alone? Even when people talk to me, even when I’ve been told before that I do matter, why do I still feel like I don’t matter? Like I’m going nowhere? Like I’m of no use to anyone?

It just sucks, you know?

It feels like I’ve lost parts of my life too. When there are those things that you loved that become attached to people who hurt you, you develop a stigma for those things. And maybe it’s more extreme for me. Not being able to drive down certain streets. Not going to certain places I used to love to visit. Not being able to listen to certain songs or watch certain movies or shows that I used to love. Being afraid to think about certain things that actually used to make me happy. Even parts of my own personality are being subconsciously suppressed because they remind me of certain people.

Most of all, I’m just sick of the crying…

…But my personal strength has been drained. I feel like I’ve used up so much of my strength trying to help other people that I don’t have any left for myself anymore. Is that why I’m so weak? I don’t know. I get jealous of other people who seem so confident, and I used to be able to do that myself. I had a philosophy about it:

“No one is really confident. We’re all just faking it. Some of us have to fake it harder than others, but we’re all faking it.”

That alone carried me through a lot. Job interviews, making new friends, coming out of my shell to talk to girls, even as just friends (which honestly terrified me). It wasn’t like I ever looked in the mirror and thought I was ugly or anything. I worked hard to maintain a decent appearance and actually thought myself attractive (not to the point of narcissism or anything), but anyone who has “that voice” in their head, and that low self-esteem knows that your appearance doesn’t really matter. You can feel and act as ugly, and worthless, and depressed as anyone who actually does look in the mirror and say “God, I’m so ugly”. And vice-versa when there are people who you might (secretly) believe to be unattractive who somehow seem to have so much more confidence, luck, and charisma than you do. It’s hard to be who you want to be or who you feel you need to be when you’re feeling “shattered”.

But… I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve managed to find some light in this darkness…

That darkness brought me here, to other people like me. Maybe trapped in the same place, And I’m incredibly thankful for the friends I’ve made, and the friends I hope to make in the future. I’m admitting, despite how much it makes me tremble, that I need help. I need friends. I need people. And I’m glad to have found them.

So… Thank you…

Despite the tears, I guess I am happy in a way. It’s a strange and fragile happiness, but I’ll have to hold onto it with everything I’ve got for now, because this happiness is what I’ve needed more than anything.

Whatever stops the crying. 

So thank you to everyone who’s been there, and commented, and replied when I put on my “brave face” to reach out. It means more to me than you’ll ever know. 🙂


More Ranting

I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what is wrong with me.

I used to not be so insecure, you know? I made friends easily, I was outgoing, smiled without a problem, and wasn’t afraid to go after whatever I wanted (embarrassment be damned).  I knew what I wanted in life and what I wanted to do with myself. I knew what made me happy. What made me feel whole. I felt, for the most part, that I had everything I wanted, and was content with everything I had.

So what changed?

A lot, I guess.

It isn’t like I’m unfamiliar with heartbreak or anything, but this new situation feels like a “next level” issue. And I’m not sure if I have OCD or any form of Major Depression, or even a Bipolar Disorder, but I feel like something in me is keeping me from being happy. I don’t want to be sad, and I don’t think anyone really does, but it’s difficult to silence the voice in your own head when it’s constantly leaking into your self-esteem. Growing, festering, and empowering itself like cancer. I’ve been spending a lot of time recently looking up different symptoms to see what this “thing” could be. Whether it’s my own fault or certain circumstances I don’t understand that are making me feel “stuck”. Or like things just don’t work out.

Whatever it is, I want to fix it and find my happiness. I want to be happy, vague as that is. And I’ve learned that what seems to make other people happy isn’t quite enough for me. Or, at least, doesn’t make me as happy as it makes everyone else.  I want to come out of my shell again and know what I need to do. I want to be strong and confident and social, like I used to be. I want to find myself again, wherever I’ve gone.

I’m sick of feeling lost in my own body, wandering around like a puppet, manipulating myself into doing what the old me used to do, if only to feel somewhat complete. Maybe I have to accept that the person I was isn’t the person I am now. But once I accept that, what happens?

I don’t know, and I think that’s what upsets me the most. The “unknown” used to make me feel energetic and empowered. Nowadays, it just seems to scare me, and I’m sick, sick, sick of being scared!

Finding Motivation

Before I begin anything, I want to pose a question. I’m not sure if anyone will read this or respond, but I can’t help but cast the line out.

What do you do when you’ve lost motivation?

I don’t mean something like writer’s block, but just the “heart” to do what you love.

Lately, I’ve still had all of these ideas for the story I want to tell, and I’ve been coming across the inspiration necessary to make myself write it, but my heart doesn’t have that love it used to. Like being in a relationship that’s gone stale, wanting to salvage it, but merely “going through the motions” of the things that used to be fun in your relationship. 

It’s going on 2:30AM now.

I think the greatest issue with me is that writing was all I wanted and needed, for years. When I didn’t have much else to be proud of in life, I always had my stories. My characters I created, the adventures they had, the way they grew and evolved–I proved to myself every day, through writing, that I had something that made me valuable. And beyond that, these characters helped me to never feel alone in a world where I felt like no one understood me. I had these constant voices in my head, carrying on conversations with each other and motivating me through every step of my life. I know that sounds crazy, but it was a beautiful feeling to always have someone there like that.

And most of all, I wanted these characters, who felt so much like real people to me, to get out there and help other people. To inspire people to never buckle under pressure, to ever feel alone, and to do whatever they have to do to be happy. To do what others what they had been doing for me for years. They helped me through my mother passing, helped me through a harsh breakup, and helped me through general stress in life. Feeling like a failure. And as much as I loved it, I also felt it my responsibility and privilege to share them with other people.

But then suddenly, the voices stopped. And I can’t stand the silence.

I know it’s all still in there, and with all the work and development I’ve put into it since 2007, I can’t just give up and put the pen down now. That is why it kills me. This isn’t something I can feel content with giving up just because it hasn’t been working out.

But what do I do now?

I’m mostly writing this in hope that someone will have an answer, or some words of advice. Maybe even anyone else, lost as I am, who’s struggling with a similar crisis. 

Mostly, at this point, I just don’t want to feel alone in this.