I don’t say it out loud and there are only one or two people who know this about me. What I complain about the most is knowing the things I want but not capable enough to achieve them.
Every day, all I do is survive. I keep myself alive and healthy. I keep going despite the war inside my head and the pain that’s always there. Someone told me it may not feel like I’m progressing, but I am. Maybe it’s true—baby steps. I’ll get there. Maybe I’m more capable than I believe myself to be and I just have to keep learning and work on how to be kinder to myself.
I’ve hated myself for needing support from other people. Whether it’s emotional or moral. I’ve always invalidated my needs, but it’s absolutely important to accept that I’m not normal. My brain doesn’t function normally without the support of antidepressants and melatonin supplements. My brain may function differently from other people’s, but it doesn’t make me a burden. I hope I can remind myself that every day. And maybe, there is someone who can remind me of that when I can’t do it myself.
I complain to myself that I’m not mentally adequate enough to have a regular job like the others. The best I can do is freelance, and it’s not always going well. I still live with my family because I’m not financially stable. Yet. Hopefully. I’m working on it. I complain that I’m such a scaredy cat, that I’m too traumatized to face the real world again and start anew.
It’s hard for me to put this up here because it’s so personal and I’m ashamed of it. But whatever. It’s good to express my thoughts and feelings through writing.
Elusive Explanation 