‘To my beautiful pain,’ #WhyIWrite

At first, I felt the urge to describe you to my blog readers. Not sure if I wanted to give  them some insights on my current depression, to gain some empathy, or just to document as usual my thoughts and wishes at the moment. All I know is, I believe in documenting life so much, that I would risk baring it all here just to get the chance to read it later and compare my different perspectives through my own  personal growth.

But then I decided to speak to you, woman to her own mind and feelings, in an attempt to define you, and know why you are here.

Most of the time I regard you an unwelcome guest. I mean, you show up in the middle of nowhere, you get super intense on matters I think won’t hurt me that much, and you stay much longer than I want you to. Most of the time I’m fighting you much more than I fight everything else. Do you understand how unbearable it gets when you’re fighting your own mind and body? I’m sure you do realize that though it’s the mind that sends the signals to my body to feel you, but it’s also the body that keeps reminding me of my own vulnerability and sometimes powerlessness to stand up and face the world.

You don’t just hurt me. You dominate my whole body. In our battles sometimes you win and you get to control me. You dictate my responses and you suck the joy out of the things I love. Not only that, but you get even to paralyze me. Much often recently, I feel my soul inside struggling to scream and you choking her in order not to. Sometimes I feel that expressing you would threaten your existence. So I understand your survival instinct and how it functions here.

To my pain, I realize how cliche I sound talking to you right now. And that no matter how I try to describe you, words seem to fail me this time. Just know that I get it. Fighting your existence all the time won’t make you go away. Denying your existence would breed much worse results. I’m starting to accept your demands in a way. You demand to be recognized, to be respected and to be accepted. I guess I want to tell you that I recognize that you’re here. I am trying to respect you and to stop trying to kick you out of my body. I’m trying to learn to live with you knowing that sometimes your very existence is what gets me going. Sometimes you hurting me is what I need to do something. Sometimes you remind me of who I am, what I am passionate about, and what I want to do in life. I did not learn to accept you yet, but I’m trying. If I can make one sincere request, is that you try and give me a break from  time to time, would ya? You know I still love life, and I still belong here. I am not ready to stop fighting you and give it up yet. So may be we can reach a truce? Or rather better, may be one day we can coexist. Think about it.

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Reminding me…

I need you to remind me..

What is happiness?

How you define love?

What makes you satisfied?

How to overcome losing?

How to fight fearing failure? being alone?

How not to lose joy amid depression?

How to stop caring about whatever the fuck people think about you?

Why does depression keeps visiting back?

Is it true you’re a magnet to sadness?

When will your insecurities keep hitting hard?

 

I need you to remind me, that it’s all temporarily, and that I need to keep fighting.

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Oh.. how come I haven’t watched Bridget Jones till now? It’s about the perfect time of the season.

76

Hey there,

I came here now because I got an impulse to go back to writing and I pour myself out there. Yes, it’s scary. But I usually find myself more expressive when blogging than when sharing some status on Facebook or Twitter. You ask me why? I don’t know. May be I feel more comfortable in talking to strangers than people I know who will certainly judge me.

I usually ask myself, have I stopped/decreased being judgmental because I became in a minority position where the likelihood of being suppressed/discriminated against is higher or is it because I started to mature and become more aware?

I like to think it’s the second one. I mean, I’ve always argued with my family when they said racist comments about people who practice other religions. I’ve always hated discrimination and the idea of asking for rights for only those who share the same opinions and beliefs as you. May be I was more judgmental when I did not have much empathy for those who were way beyond my comfort zone to get to talk to them and know them.

When I hear someone saying something as absurd as “I don’t mind the lesbians but I can’t stand the idea of gays.. Yuck!”, I try not to judge them much for it. I mean, I did not make up my mind that I totally support LGBT until I have met one. And they were very nice and decent, that I said to myself: “Wow, I never thought about it before and what do I stand for there.. why would I feel that someone like this should be killed just because of who he is? Who is he hurting by being himself?” Suddenly then it struck me how hard it is to be gay, especially in a region like ours, consumed by hating whoever is different.

Whenever I experience something that is totally out of my comfort zone, it gives me a chance to make up my mind about it. Do I accept it? Shall I go for it? Yes, sometimes I make the wrong choice, but then this is part of growing up. Learning from it.

So yes.. finally arrived at my main point here. I wanted to talk about growing up. I admit, the past couple of years (roughly I mean the past 3 ones) were full of self-doubt, self-loathing at times, uncertainty, and countless attempts to forget the pain and to kill my empathy. By the end of last year, I suddenly realized this isn’t gonna work. But then I was too in-depth and too consumed to do anything about it.

Now, I thought 2016 will be my year. The year when I start fulfilling my dreams, break free a little bit, and have hope in myself again. But by April, I totally broke down. Throughout the past few months,  I was stumbling. Rising and falling, enduring, in short: I was in pain. Pain can do two things to you: it can either shatter you in pieces, or motivate you into swimming faster to the shore.. where you can survive and start again. I guess it did both things to me.

There are 76 days left in 2016. This only means one thing: I need to get over my survival mode in this period. Three years are quite enough for it. I tried to play it safe but instead I got myself in much deeper shit and pain. I need to forgive myself for whatever mistakes I have made. I need to forgive whoever caused me so much pain as this is the only means to truly moving on. I need to trust myself more, and to keep believing. I need to enjoy life again. As bad as it seems now, life is a gift that is worth living. And during the 76 days left this year, I am going to try my best and make every single day count.

Here’s to the new beginnings.. here’s to love and life. Here’s to hope. Here’s to me.

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15 June – Light

So in recent interviews, people ask me about my blog (since I used to be a blogger and my current career revolves around content). And surprisingly I find myself awkwardly shying away from sharing it.

Ironically, I used to excessively share my blog posts in my old blog everywhere. I took pride to be documenting my reflections throughout every part of the revolution and what I believed in. But now I only write to try & get out these loud voices in my head. Whether I’m proud or not of these thoughts, I just want them to shut up.

And now I’m wondering, when did I start to care about how ppl perceive me so much? And why does growing up let you be ashamed of your own vulnerability? Trying to hide it away?

 

There is indeed no hiding from facing your own voices. There should be no shame to admit that you’re vulnerable, and to be honest.

Do you think I should make this blog private? I kinda still am fascinated by the idea that someone out there is reading my thoughts. May be someone will relate. May be another one needs to feel that they are not alone. I still have a tiny ray of hope that small words can make a big difference.

But what about my blog? Do you think I should make another one for professional use?

Waiting to hear your thoughts.. 🙂