Sunday, 12 February 2012

Breaking Point

I honestly hope no-one's reading this blog right now.

Whitney Houston passed yesterday. Or was it very early today? God, I don't know. I got the text from my brother today and simply couldn't believe it. It's simply tragic. My brother sent me another text after saying;
'You never know when you're gonna go that's why it's so important to enjoy life, live and be happy. RIP Whitney.' I really do wish I could be happy right now. Just like with Michael Jackson, it's weird to hear about the death of a person who had made such a mark on my childhood; my mother is a singer, and Whitney was one of her most beloved female artists, along with Mariah Carey, The Supremes, Etta James, the very back-in-the-day Rhythm&Blues and Soul singers. Countless, countless times, I've heard Whitney Houston's album blaring so loudly that this isn't a place in the house you can go to escape it, and there's Mama, singing right along with it.

Ironically, after receiving that sombre text this morning my day proceeded to get worse. Even as I'm sitting here, it's dawning on me that all the times I felt pointless, meaningless, unfulfilled and empty these past couple of weeks might not simply be the Mood Of The Day - and I no longer think it's teenage angst either. 
I don't think I've ever been so unhappy. I'm due to start University to study English and Dance next year and the thought of going turns my stomach. I don't even feel a passion for dance any more. It's something I 'do', not exactly something I 'live for' - and I only do it because it's the only thing that I've stuck with over the years and thus my only talent. I feel like its the only thing I can do - and even then, I don't invest in it at all these days.

I'm supposed to be writing a book. I can only ever get through it in short leaps - every time I see a book or advertisement of The Hunger Games, I feel discouraged. I feel like a fake - and I had my idea before I even knew what T.H.G. was. I've been at my new job for a week, and I'm starting to hate it. I can't take control of my eating habits and the days where I used to motivate myself to actively keep fit are a vague dream. All this shit I'm eating has made my skin terrible and I've gone back to a recurring compulsive habit I have, some fucking ridiculous nervous disorder where I can't stop absent-mindedly clawing at my skin until it bleeds. It's such an old stress habit that I don't even think about it any more, but it must sound awful. And disgusting. I don't know why I haven't got blood poisoning. There's this gnawing pain in my gum that flares up randomly and makes it difficult to concentrate - I'm hoping it's not my wisdom tooth again. I'm biting down on it now - it hurts in the way your nerves throb when you bang the funny bone in your elbow. It's feels weird - and it just hurts. Even my sister says that me being miserable isn't a temporary phase for me any more... it's my character.

This both upset and frustrated me. I can't be happy for everyone - at work, I'm known as cheerful and upbeat, and I manage to keep myself in this frame of mind until I can finally come home and cry. So either my colleagues get the shit end or my family do. I know who is more important. Now that I've changed locations, I find it difficult to maintain that boundless positivity I had before. At first I simply thought that I was just uncomfortable in a new location, but after today, I realised that it wasn't discomfort. It was dislike. For someone like me, who always tries to see the bright side of things, I couldn't help but entertain thoughts of resigning, or maybe being fatally injured so I won't have to.

God. I sound suicidal now. I hope no-one's reading this. I'd better post loads of shit tomorrow to push this post to the bottom.

I feel I needed to address this somewhere... here seemed the best place; I don't really like to offload on other people. Usually I talk to Mama, but she has a few troubles of her own at the moment. Still, I know it's not good to sit with all this on my chest and let it brew. I feel as if I've already reached my limit of how much I can take and I want to do something to change my situation, turn this mess around and shake off this depression that follows me everywhere. I'm sick of trying to please people and I'm sick of 'sorry' being the only word out my mouth these days. It makes me sad to think that my enthusiastic little brother is growing up to think that I'm always like this - he doesn't remember the time when I was just like him, happy and laughing all the time.

From what I've learned, I can't expect answers to fall into my lap, I have to assertively make the adjustments myself, and I know this. When I change my mindset and get rid of these negative thoughts, the energies around me will also change - that's why I've been making an effort to do creative things like paint, draw, even something as mindless as colouring in, to calm my nerves. Although it is effective for a while, eventually I end up feeling like how I do today, and those activities hold no appeal to me. But of course I will continue to try, even though it will be difficult. I don't believe that it's impossible for me to be happy, but I'm starting to feel at a loss as to how I can help myself. I guess I'll keep praying as I do every night, until something comes to me. 


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