I've had many doubts about myself. Whether I'm okay or if I'm just overwhelmed by everything that's been going on around me, things that are happening too fast, things that are happening all at once that my mental state sometimes can't handle.
Lost in my thoughts.
I'd lose myself in my thoughts, trying to figure out why I was feeling this way. They are enraged at me because of feeling this way. The sensation of longing for something, such as a more positive mindset. I sometimes feel like I just want to vanish for a while and return when my mind is calm and clear. Sometimes I'd just burst into tears and rush to the restroom, trying to figure out "why was I feeling this again?"
The bathroom floor
I would sit on the floor of my bathroom for several minutes, trying to process everything that was going on and the feelings I couldn't immediately identify. I'd find myself looking in the mirror, telling myself, "It'll be okay." My vision blurs, and I try to hold on to the sink, releasing all the emotions I've been holding inside. I screamed silently and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Then I'd ask myself the same question, "why?"
I'd stay there as long as I'm terrified of having to face my parents again. I'm afraid of what they'll ask. Fear of being asked, "What's wrong?" "What's the problem?" "What happened?" And frustration rushes through my veins, making me angry at myself. "why?" I beat myself up and become disoriented for minutes, hours, or even days.
I feel like I've lost my way once more and have tortured myself for feeling too much. My heart would beat so fast that I thought it would burst and break into tiny little pieces. I'd forget how to breathe and relax at times.
I often get the statement "Why do you cry over things that are so insignificant?" "It was nothing, why are you so affected?" "Don't complicate things too much," "it's simple, why are you making it a problem?"
I hide it but it hurts. It hurts more than the wounds I see with my naked eye. the pain lies beneath my soft gentle heart. But here's the thing: I'm not angry at the people who make these statements. Maybe I get frustrated and sad from time to time, but it never lasts long. I believe I have matured in this area of my life; I no longer resent people who have hurt me. Instead, the rage erupts in me. At the end of the day, I am solely responsible.
I recall telling myself "You've got this, kc. You can't give up now. You must be strong." on days when I felt a lot of love for myself. When I was frustrated, I'd look in the mirror and tell myself, "suck it up," "feeling too much will only make you weaker," "don't let them see you like this, you're so much better."
Most of the time, I have the feeling that everything I feel is a distraction from what I need to do. I would deny my own feelings in order to keep the people I care about from seeing me like this. I'd beat myself up and tell myself, "I've got to be strong." And I believed the lies I was telling myself. I would not "protect" people I care about by burying my feelings or pretending to be fine. I knew the bottle would soon be full and just—break and all the emotions would flow.
And it did.
I dash to the bathroom, telling everyone that nature was calling. I run straight without looking back or answering any further questions. I then look in the mirror. with tears starting to fall "why?"
I'm always at a loss for words when faced with this question. "why?" I look in the mirror and see how unhappy I appear, and I sit in the bathroom (again) trying to answer a question I've been stuck on for so long. "why?" I keep myself back by allowing my emotions to flow and staying there until I'm ready to face people again.
Every time one of these episodes occurred, I'd always ask God for forgiveness, saying that all I needed was a little bit of time to let it all out. I knew he was with me at all times, and he never left my side.
Some days feel normal, full of joy and excitement, and then I find myself back on the bathroom floor. "why?" This time, I'm not going to hold back. I cry so hard because I don't care what my family thinks. I cried as hard as I could and wondered, "Can I still go on?" "Will I continue?"
I'm at a loss for words. How am I going to respond to the question, "Can I still go on?" I never thought of hurting myself again after I surrendered to God. Even when I'm not in the right frame of mind, I know that this body is no longer mine alone. It is his temple where he resides. Because it is holy, I should keep it that way.
But, as is customary, the enemy finds a way. I've considered overdosing myself to death so that when I detach from my body, I won't feel any pain. There are days when I wish I could just disappear from this world in any possible way.
"Am I just overreacting?" I'd wonder at times. "Am I the bad guy for expressing my true feelings?" "Why don't I just call it quits right now?"
I'd even slap myself to get myself out of it at times. It's as if I have a whole other person inside me who prevents me from doing stupid things.
"fixing it"
Sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy or if I'm suffering from a mental illness. So I did what I do best. research. I watched videos and documentaries of people discussing mental health. Videos of parents wishing they would listen to their children, Parents are remorseful for not communicating with their children, and they are now gone. Parents who realized something was wrong when it was too late. I saw a video of a father who lost his son and decided to travel around his country talking to parents, giving seminars, raising awareness, and letting them know what he had done wrong. This moved me and I thought it would be a wonderful idea to share with my family.
I was overjoyed to have something to share at the dinner table, but before I could finish what I wanted to say, I was interrupted by my father. Ultimately, he disagreed with everything I said. Of course, as a human being, I was irritated. This man, my father, would not even hear me out. He raised his voice, and I felt like a stick being shattered.
There was that feeling all over again. I couldn't take it any longer, so I ate as quickly as I could and then excused myself from the table, this time running to the bathroom, and when I came in and locked the door, I couldn't stop crying. I sobbed as if there was no tomorrow. I then decided to use the shower to drown out my sobs. This bathroom was the source of many memories. It's literally a "comfort room," and it's where I went whenever I needed to "let it all out."
I was sitting on the bathroom floor once more. Millions of thoughts are racing through my mind. "Why couldn't he just listen to me?" "Why can't they appreciate the little efforts I make?" "Why do I always seem to be the bad guy?"
My cheeks were flushed with tears, and I couldn't stop sobbing. I wept like there was no tomorrow as anger and frustration ran through my veins once more. (familiar? This was just the 100th time the same thing had happened that month)
This time, I didn't behave as if everything was fine. Because I was well aware that I wasn't. I was in the restroom for an unknown amount of time. When I was ready, I came out. "You can do this," I tell myself, "you don't have to be afraid to express your feelings anymore" "cry if you want, we'll be OK."
That night, when I was at my most vulnerable, I felt strong. I'm not sure whether it makes any sense, but that's how I felt. They saw my weak and downside as I showed them my vulnerable side. I was proud of myself for no longer feeling obligated to keep up a "good" reputation at home.
I spoke with a friend for what seemed like minutes, which was unusual for me. "This was something between me and myself," I reasoned. "What was the major cause of these breakdowns I was having?" "Why am I always so soft?" "Why is it so tough for me to keep it all together most of the time?"
For the first time since my "bathroom floor days," I finally got an answer to the issue that had plagued me for so long. "why?"
It was how my mental state seemed to immediately respond when I was provoked by prior pains, words that truly wounded me, and overpowering events that were so fresh to me that I believed the best way to express myself was to weep until I felt okay.
Then everything was made clear. I was delighted and overjoyed that I had finally gotten the answer I had been looking for.
Why I'm sharing this with you
I want to take part to share awareness of mental health. I share with you my victories and joyful memories in my life, I'd also want to share with you the downs. I'm sharing this not because of wanting your pity, or hearing how sorry you are that I go through this from time to time. but to show you that it's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. it's okay to feel these emotions that seem unnatural. it's okay to not be okay. it's okay to talk about your feelings. although I have to be honest it's never easy to tell someone how you truly feel. but it's the best way of helping one another. of understanding each other. and communicating.
Mental health is a real thing. The stigma still goes on. People in the U.S. have their bars for suicide cases high and it is alarming. I know people who've lost their loved ones because of it, and I know people who are tempted by it. stop the stigma and join me in spreading awareness.
The finest thing we can do is to be kind to one another. We never know what someone else is going through. The very least we can do is raise awareness, take action, and be kind to one another. If you have the want to vent to someone, I would be delighted to give my ears.
We are all in this together.
It's been a pleasure to share this with you; I hope it helps someone who is trying to express their emotions or is going through a difficult time.
Gosh, how I've missed free writing!
Well, that wraps it out for today
hope you guys have a great day ahead
Peace out✌️
That's all for now, and remember to be kind!
