Here i am now (6 months later)

Lili 11:48 AM , , , No comments

It’s been over 6 months since I’ve wrote this blogpost and since I’ve left the clinic.
It didn’t feel like that much time at all.
I still feel the same as before, but different at the same time. It’s so hard to explain.
So much happened in those months, but I still feel like I was sitting in the emergency room just yesterday.

I know what everyone expects me to say:
I feel so much better.
I’ve got people who love me and I’m studying again, I take my medication and my blood results are fine.
I’m gonna do things now. I’m gonna do all the things I’ve always wanted to do.

 But not yesterday, I didn’t feel like it. 
And not tomorrow, I spent the night crying again and in the morning I felt too numb to eat. 
Maybe someday.
It's still painful and stressful and much more effort than I want it to be; and I’m not doing everything I always wanted to do, because I feel like I don’t deserve it and the fucking darkness inside of me won’t stop growing.
It makes me slow down and oh god it makes me suffer.
I’ll try to get through it and not lose my dreams out of sight.

I’m still not healed. I never will be. 
I didnt rip off all my old, blooddrained band-aids, I didn’t dare to open up enough to let every nightmare out of my system, I took new, clean ones and I have hidden the ugly old wounds under them. 
The poisen is still in me, I can taste it on my tongue every time I agree with someone who says ‘ you’re not good enough’. I remember the smell of blood and I swear I can feel it running down my arms again everytime someone says ‘this is exactly what you deserve’

That’s what you don’t want to read. That’s what I don’t want to write.
It sounds prettier when you put it in those words, dark but mysterious,like an independent indie movie about a girl who survives hardship and gets saved. Like tumblr pictures: razos blades with Bukowski quotes engraved in them and flower crowns on skulls.
 I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m so fucking scared...
Of being with people, of being on my own, of getting left behind , I’m afraid of walking into the kitchen at 2am and opening the fridge and then closing it and sliding down to the floor and just suffering from existing with this ungraspable fear and loneliness inside of me.
I don’t think I can do any of the things other people do, i don't want to feel the way i feel anymore.

I’m smiling, I’m dancing, I’m loving, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs at nothing,
I’m going out, I’m watching a sitcom, I'm getting ask out on a date, I’m crying hysterically at nothing.
- The monster is still invisible.
 I just want to point at the big angry dragon beside me and say: 
'Sorry I seem to be a bit messed up, I’ve got this big mighty dragon I have to fight any minute now, excuse my shaky hands and my teary eyes.'
And they would understand and nod and maybe smile or in the best case scenario say: 'Oh I had to do that myself, I’ve got a bit of time on my hands, let me help you.'

Today is one of those days, when everything seems so far away and the past is creeping up on me.
I remember my 14-year-old-self sitting on the bathroom floor in school and crying, 
my 15-year-old-self laying in an empty class room and almost dying, 
my 16-year-old-self drowning in self-hatred and rejection. 
My 17-year-old-self accepting things and just getting numb and more quiet. 
My 18-year-old-self talking to strangers and looking for love in dark alleys, 
my 19-year-old-self becoming angry and arrogant, my 20-year-old-self shutting down again, worse than ever.
Nothing made sense to her.
Why would I want to move out and go to university and force myself to find the courage somewhere in me, scrape it from my insides, to get a job and do the groceries and got to bed early and to leave the bed again and eat? 
It’s all so pointless. It’s so exhausting and I just can't do it. 

‘Oh, that’s just depression talking out of you right now, life’s not that bad.’
Thanks. I know. Everybody knows. No matter what happens, if someone broke my heart or I can’t understand humanity and why we all have to fight each other, everybody always answers ‘It’s just the depression, it’s not you talking, your mind is not in the right place’. 

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe all of you are blind, because you can’t see what a shitty place this earth is and how absurd our behavior is.
Nobody seems to get that. Everyone is so busy thinking about their sex life or their job or what to do tomorrow and i‘m sitting here like a stranger. I can’t relate to any of those thoughts.

I’ve always put everything off. I’d find friends next month, I’ll start studying next year,i'll shower tomorrow, I’ll leave my bed later- I hoped that inbetween now and then something great would happen. 
I’m still waiting for the magical moment. 
Here I am now. 

I know this blog post leaves such a bad taste in your mouth, at least it does in mine, but I don’t want to pretend. It sounds harsh and like something a frustrated teenager would write, but i'm not frustrated nor a teenager anymore. 
That’s the way it is,at least from my perspective. You can sugarcoat it, but that’s just lying to yourself.
Sometimes all the help you get just isn’t enough.
You have to be strong enough and motivated enough to fight against it every day,you have to find the will to not give in and find happiness in in the small things of life, find every day something that makes you keep going - or you just give up.

I do know what to do now.
What’s expected of me, what I want and what I need, I’m working on everything.
I don’t feel better and I’m so fucking afraid to keep on living, I have no clue how to stop hurting, how to get over things that happened years ago or how to handle the incoming questions and raised eyebrows ‘are you okay?’ – no, I’m not, but I guess I’ll just carry on with life, 
and I’ll talk to you in another six months.


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