I am going to break the blogging fourth wall and be completely, unabashedly honest for the few minutes it will take for you to read this.
I am not about to censor myself for the sake of people whom I know may not in the past, currently, or ever in the future be in my position. I wrung my hands over writing this because I know that I am the black sheep. It is not something I believe makes me interesting or cool, and I don’t take pride in it. In fact, it is not something I desire at all. I tried to be a part of something, but it wasn’t for me. We’ve all been there, wearing a mask, trying to fit or blend in where we don’t belong. It ends in self destruction and fear of trying to truly find yourself.
I hate writing this way because it doesn’t sound elegant at all. However, I wanted to write this specific message out of all of the possibilities because I am an honest person and if I do anything with my life, it is going to be to stand by who I am and what I believe is valuable and important. I will always seek to listen before I speak and stand ready to be corrected, but I always want to be free to be myself. I am worried because I imagine that there is an idea of who I should be and how I should write that I need to uphold where this value I hold of being true to myself may be compromised. That is my biggest fear right now.
My biggest struggle right now in my life is determining what my purpose is. I am trying to find, or rather, make meaning for myself. I look at the world I live in, the society I waver between trying to appease and trying to revolutionize, and I can’t help but feel like it’s all an affliction. Life is just downright painful and often times not worth living, I tell myself, unless I can find a sustainable and consistent way to love myself and make myself see the good in the world.
My biggest problem at most times is that other people find solace in believing in something bigger than ourselves. I tried that and I couldn’t do it. I don’t have faith. I know I won’t find joy in the same things that other do. I had that life for a while and I was just as unhappy and dissatisfied and confused as I am now.
I just want to feel like my life has a point, despite my differences. I want to be loved and respected as the person I have grown to be. And when you struggle to love yourself when you’re part of the incrowd, how do you expect to improve your selflove when you’re an outsider?
I don’t want to continue getting so sad that I fantasize about one of two things. If I’m driving, I want to crash my vehicle into something so large and so solid that there is no doubt that I would not survive. If I’m walking on the street, I want so desperately to throw my waste of an existence in front of vehicle that is passing by. I have had these thoughts for years. It feels like an eternity ago that I was hiding my wrists and arms from everyone and making up answers to questions of, “what happened?” Today I don’t think about whether or not I need to hide, it’s just a part of who I am.
I’ve accepted my own self destructive nature. Yet now my primary goal is to seek meaning and joy out of my life, and so you see the cognitive dissonance here. How can I simultaneously wish for death, hate the world I live in, and yet cry out every night for something beautiful to cling onto? How can other people find it in something that I had, but didn’t solve my dilemma? I believe it exists, and so I have made it my quest to discover it and allow myself to embrace it and continue to seek it further. I have spent far too much time feeling undeserving of goodness.
As much as it is an ongoing battle with myself and there is no definite end to my occasional bouts of misery, I do believe I have control over the way I act and react. Being sad or confused or hurt or even thinking about giving up is a choice. I made those choices and teetered on the edge of wanting to live and longing for an end for far too long. I am still someone who tends to naturally think that everything that happens to me could be the end of the world, but my prime directive is to twist that way of thinking, dismantle it and reassemble it so that is resembles hope and optimism.
I live in a haze of anxieties, paranoia, and irrationality most days. But I’ve realized that this is not living. Everything I want cannot be mine when I choose to not learn how to be happy, how to be myself, how to pursue things that are important to me, and perhaps most importantly, how to have a voice.
I understand what it means to say to one another that it is okay to not be okay; to be encouraged that someone understands and can help remove the stigma that surrounds depression and mental illnesses. Our bodies are strange and amazing, but they are weak and susceptible to imbalances at times. But what a statement like, “it’s okay to not be okay” doesn’t mean for me is that I always have to choose to remain unhappy or in pain. Most days I am afraid to be myself because I don’t want to be ostracized.
I am depressed and self destructive. I am a little rough around the edges, sure. But at the end of the day, I think loving myself is most important and has to precede having love for others. I am looking for that love, and with it, my meaning and purpose in life. I am learning to change the way that I see the world. It doesn’t have to be a curse to have been born. I need hope – to be able to look forward with desire and some sort of confidence.
I will always have the option to speak and be heard.
I will always have the option to seek help.
I will always have the option to change my perspective on life.
I will always have the option to learn, grow, and flourish.
I will always have the option to be myself.
You have the same options and choices, too.
It is my hope that you make them.
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