I had a “spiritual awakening” when I was 7 years old. I became obsessed with astrology. Decoding my hidden nature. Studying peoples’ reactions. Anything shrowded in mystery.
The trees!!! I spent so much time outside with the trees. They were living things to me. Made me feel like I belonged somewhere. Safe. Calm.
Keeping a diary from that age,onward, I set out to record my observations as a weird little earthling in a big strange world.
People freaked me out. I didn’t understand them.
Why is there so much violence among them? Was there ever a time when it wasn’t like this? Why are adults so worried about money? When did they lose their self to all this worrying? I’m NEVER going to be like them! I’m going to be me until I die. An old lady outside hanging out with the trees. Observing all these crazy, worried people.
Something happened, though. Little by little. I lost myself in all the noise and flashy lights.
My mom was an alcoholic with undiagnosed mental illness. She really didn’t want an introverted, socially awkward child. I showed up anyways. This, at least, gave her someone who she could let her anger out on.
Funny, what mother’s day commercials mean to you when you never had a loving, affectionate mother a day in your life.
Well, I was sent to live with my dad and his parents (because The Queen couldn’t be bothered with me any longer). That was fun, at first.
A lot of fun, actually. I overdosed on fun for weeks. Maybe even a few years.
I’m wanted? Really, really wanted? They’re so happy around me. Wow. I make them happy. I love making people happy. It’s comforting. I don’t like when people are mad. They’re scary when they’re mad. Especially at me.
But, it didn’t last once I hit puberty. Something about those raging hormones, and the scent of womanhood emerging just sent them into full on attack mode. I was back to being a problem. Arguements every day. So, I learned to sleep as much as I could in the day when they were awake.
Became addicted to sleeping pills. More like I-can-only-be-myself-when-they’re-dreaming pills. I am not saying this was a good idea. Probably have permanent damage from it. But, it’s what happened.
Who am I? Why am I here?
I asked every day. In my notebooks that sheltered my most private thoughts. Writing. I became obsessed with writing. Splashing the lifeless remains of tree fragments with my agony.
I should have never been born. This must be a vile experiment. God is up there watching me suffer, laughing to himself. Human sacrifice. That’s all I’m meant to be.
15 years old and nearly dead. Right there on the edge of nothingness, dangling by a thread. Counting scars on my wrists.
I’m not worthy of love. That’s why they don’t care if I feel this way or not. My life is meaningless.
Fast forward to the present moment. 29 and still alive. In therapy. I have a husband and two kids. They’re stunningly beautiful souls.
I still have deep, intense depression seething inside me. But, I live because I choose to live. I want you to know, it gets better. So much better.
Stop listening to them. Those hate-filled vessels of humans. They’re broken beyond repair. You’re not like them. You’re healing through the pain. You choose to embrace it. This makes you a peaceful warrior.
You deserve to be filled with love. It doesn’t always feel possible…. But I assure you, there’s nothing you even have to DO. Just BE. Be the candle in a sea of darkness. It gets easier the more you accept yourself as this strangely awesome particle of existence.
Narcissists are the definition of zombies. The spiritually dead. Don’t let their lack of love and warmth spread ice throughout your soul. Crank up the inner bad ass, and walk away in silence.
You Have Nothing To Prove.
I just wanna be. 