This Shit Ain’t Easy

 

Sometimes I hate having to deal with the constant battle of depression, C-PTSD, anxiety, and all the shit that comes with it.

I hate that I have to deal with this on a daily basis.

I hate that this is the life I’ve been given.

I hate that everything seems like such a damn chore.

I hate the constant unsettled feeling I have inside of me.

I hate the heaviness that weighs on me day in and day out.

I hate the hyper-vigilance.

I hate the constant questioning and self doubt.

I hate cyclical good day/bad day shit and the never knowing which one it’s going to be.

I hate taking the meds I can’t miss without everything going to shit within 48 hours.

I hate the pressure I feel from everyone to just do this or just do that (if only it were that damn easy).

I hate the thought of disappointing others if I don’t do this or that.

I hate the loneliness, which is very different that being alone.

I hate the fear that holds me back.

I hate the pressure of leaning into that fear.

I hate the lack of control I have over parts of my life.

I hate that I’m not further along in the healing process than I am.

I hate that I can’t just beat this shit and move on with my life.

I hate that I don’t understand why this shit holds onto me so much or why I hold onto this shit so much.

I hate that I can’t just let it all go.

I hate that the healing process is so mother-fucking hard!

 

 

Then your band-aid just hasn’t gotten wet yet

Then your band-aid just hasn’t gotten wet yet

My entire life I’ve felt like a failure, a disappointment. I felt like I wasn’t good enough or smart enough. I felt like I had no voice and that anything I had to say was insignificant.

I was never good at anything, except fucking up of course. I was an expert in that area. I hated school, skipped every chance I got and quit when I was 16. I started smoking pot when I was 15; cigarettes when I was 12. An extended family member gave me my first beer when I was like 8. Drinking didn’t become a regular thing until my early teen years though.I was in trouble with the law from 15 until nearly 18. Just petty small stuff. Turns out if you do enough petty small stuff, it will land you in juvenile detention (which I completed successfully, with the exception of a few fuck ups).

It feels like no one in my life has ever taken me seriously. Do you know what that’s like? To have goals, hopes, dreams and to feel like no one cares? Like no one supports the life you’re working towards? To speak words and have a complete understanding that the words coming out of your mouth are falling on deaf ears? To know that sound is coming from your mouth but you have no voice. Do you know what it is to feel like you don’t matter?

It’s like a bar has been set and I’ve been set-up to fail.

I have to start facing how broken I am. I can’t keep hiding behind pretend rainbow and butterfly emotions. You’ve heard the expression “fake it til you make it”? Well, I call bullshit on that. Who came up with that? In what world is it healthy to pretend like everything is great and bury all the hurt and pain? It’s like a band-aid waiting to fall off the second it gets wet. Shit needs to be processed not buried deep down festering quietly like the calm before the storm. No one is truly happy shoving their emotions down, and if you claim to be, then your band-aid just hasn’t gotten wet yet.

Come hell or high water I’m gonna beat this shit. I’m going to heal these open wounds. I know there will always be scars that remain but, like any wound, the hurt will subside as it heals.

I have a voice. I am intelligent. What I have to say matters. I matter. I will not be stepped on, walked on, or walked over. I’m done feeling like a nobody.

Dani