It is 23:49 and I am awake. I am crying, again, as stabbing pains hit my chest and I try to keep quiet so as not to alert my flatmate.
Today has been a rare day, where I had nothing I had to do, or nothing planned. I slept until I felt I was awake, I made bread, I put a wash on. So far, so very good. I eventually got out of my pyjamas just after lunch, which was a supremely cheesy omelette, and snuggled on my sofa to watch a DVD.
As lovely and ideal, and comfortable, as that sounds, there is a reason these days are rare. I hate having nothing planned, because without distraction all I do is think.
Thinking can be very dangerous for me. I can go from believing I am on top of the world, and achieving great things in this difficult world, to convincing myself the world is a better place without me ina matter of minutes. I panic about falling behind, about failing, as I think of my friends who have things that I want but can’t seem to hold on to. I worry I am unloveable, or never going to experience love, as I think about all of the times people have made me feel like I am both too much and not enough at the same time. I think about the mistakes I have made, the times I pushed people away only to desperately claw them back- being a hindrance, not a support or help.
I relive the moments I found out I didn’t get that job, or times I have been broken up with. I remember the times that my idea of a future that I was excited about was almost stripped away. And when I think about these times I constantly blame myself. I blame myself for lashing out, for making others unhappy and not being in better control of my mental health. I blame myself for not being this shining good force that people wanted around.
When others make me happy, I become addicted to it because that feeling of being safe and wanted makes me feel like I can do anything. But I convince myself that I will never be truly happy, because I can’t make others happy in anywhere near the same way.
But what next? Do I stay trapped in this cycle of self loathing? I know I don’t want to feel this way forever, and I think I know the answer. Which is even more terrifying than any of what I have already talked about, and super cheesy and ridiculous at the same time.
I have to learn to love myself. I have to learn to find happiness for, and in myself. I have to remember the days where I do what I want to do, and how much freer I feel. Whether it is going on adventures,walks, or baking, cooking, writing, or having a long bubble bath
There are qualities in me that I would encourage others to love about themselves. I try to be kind to others, and I am always helpful- maybe to the detriment of myself. I have taken scary but big steps in mycareer, carving a different path to what I expected. I bake bread, and organise adventures to llama farms and beaches. However, when I turn my thoughts back towards myself and look inwardly, I see an empty failure. I feel like this badness inside me spreads and impacts those around me, making them unhappy in my presence.
I hope one day I can look at myself and feel positive emotions: proud of my achievements, love for exactly who I am, even acceptance. I know it will be a long road of fighting my instincts, but I hope I will one day find ways to do this.