Dear Diary,
I am trying to come up with a way to break the ice. Trying to let myself slither into a better place to share what I will. It is been days I know but healing for me is not smooth. I can go for days without feeling the need to share (read either talking or writing) and oftentimes that is when darkness reigns here.
The only way out is to leave my self-imposed prison and go out for some human interaction. More like I would for some much needed groceries. My bedroom doubles as my workstation and comfort zone aside from the usual benefits of having one. This has helped the returning anxiety and paranoia cultivate a safe space for fear to inhabit. For it to rehouse past demons.
The season ain't mine. It hasn't been for the last six months. I keep losing. Falling. Failing. Reengaging pain even though she has this habit of leaving me naked at the altar. And because of the same pain... I have done some pretty stupid things. Things I regret and at times hate myself for. Things that have left my vulnerable edge bare for constant emotional attacks and triggers.
This in return has grinded my spirit. It has seen my cagey self working round the clock to erect some much needed walls and reset the boundaries. But not without hastily making a few more bad decisions. Unnecessary emotional entanglements. This transpired while my bruised soul was trying to settle for toxicity. I long lost my trust compass and my insecurities are the only reason I now feel safe. Imagine that, sigh.
Financially, the season has been brutal. Losing sixty percent of one's income is not a joke while a few mouths are one's responsibility but being unable to keep up with the remaining forty percent is even worse. I have seen myself turn 'lazy' over my inability to focus on a task. This should be the downside of being a creative. Since mid 2020, I have been sinking into debts slowly and I can now feel my bones breaking in shame. The plan was there and it didn't indicate any of this. Nothing has been going according to the plan in a while.
So. I no longer have or make plans.
After a relationship I termed as quite serious ended a week before my birthday in October, unprecedented floods swept away an investment I had put so much soul in. Soon after issues traumatising my youngest sprouted out of nowhere and his mental health started being a huge concern. And mine being already a concern, everything went to hell.
November came and I was in purgatory. My favourite girl's twenty second anniversary reawakened my grief-stricken inner child and boom. Everything went dark. December was too chaotic to describe with words. I have zero ideas how I made it through those thirty one days. By January, suicidal thoughts rejoined the gang.
I remember waking up on new years and standing barefeet on my door and wishing I could just die. Somebody on the second floor had shouted happy new year and I had to chase my bitter reply back down my throat. That was my first cue of reaching out to T. Nothing made sense for weeks. Not living (read existing). Not the why or the more whys. Not the mood swings. Not the numbness or the rage.
The rage was being redirected at the already desecrated self that is. And the hate. The self hate. A feeling that righteously asks you if you are worthy of taking care of you. One that won't understand how you didn't figure shit out before it left you damaged.
How could I not wish to die then? How could I not indulge in the darkness of my own death and practically the unforeseen life after? A grave felt more accommodating than the amount of pain my mental fortitude was expected to cope with.
The sessions have been great. T is great. She has this way of undoing my complicating way of thinking. Of undoing this crazy expectations I have helped this rotten society of ours place on me. And on top of that, she is extremely patient with me. And that takes a patient person so I have mad respect for her. How else would I be here pretending that this is a conversation while it is more me talking to myself about myself. She says its healthy though. I now just hope we (me, myself and I) can carve a habit out of it then.
Speaking of which, see you soon. Yes? Thank you for your adherence.
wambuku w.