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Home or Hell?

You ever wonder if the life we’re living isn’t real, and it’s just some strange purgatory or hell or something that we’re trapped in because of the sins of our past? I mean, this sure as hell isn’t heaven. The fleeting moments of joy are crushed by all the responsibilities of life. We try to make it look like the good outweighs the bad with out social media posts depicting the perfect life, perfect body, or perfect relationship. But that’s just too far of a stretch for me. So purgatory or absolute hell it is.

Take my home for example. This is supposed to be my safe place, the place to crawl to and long for when I’m struggling. Yet I dread being here. After living on my own at college, finally having the space to understand the aid my crippling mental health, a place where I was able to prioritize self care and have a small circle of support, coming home vaulted me back to the demolished child I was before leaving. I live in a house full of people that cannot communicate with one another, instead content to have screaming matches and storm away, only to come back and pretend they never happened. In this house, people fight with their words. My sisters are vicious. They’re best friends one day and brutal to each other the next. Sometimes I envy their closeness, sometimes I fear it. The things they argue about that set my ears ringing... I don’t even understand it most days. And they’re both too stubborn - they always want to have the last word. To put it plainly, no one knows how to shut up. My sisters have always argued, ever since they were young. Rumor has it we have a family photo in Disney with the two of them in a stroller with their hands wrapped each others throats. It’s always bother me and adults in my life always told me it would get better. It never did.

My parents are divorced so my psychological mindset makes me think that the lack of attention during my sisters pivotal early childhood years could be a theoretical cause for their continued misbehavior. I like to give myself this illusion of control, of a diagnosis, because if I know the problem, maybe I can find the solution. But all these years, my sisters still haven’t gotten the attention they desired, the attention I’ve tried to give them, but I knew would never be enough. I tried to fill the gap, but they only resented me for that, for trying to be a mother when I was only a sister. I didn’t know what else to do. I still don’t. I just wanted to help, but it was never my problem to fix. Now I have to deal with the consequences of it all. I have to endure the shouting matchings, the twisters of fury around me, the constant screaming and the ever reckoning anxiety. And know there’s nothing I can do to fix any of this. I can try to keep the peace, but at the end of the day, the problem isn’t mine to fix. And that’s why this is my hell, why another’s arms have always felt like more of a home to me than this house ever has.

I have no uplifting note to leave on. I’ve been hoping for so long that things would get better that I feel like that hope has been leeched from my soul. I hate counting down the days until I get to leave because I know they’ll resent me as soon as I’m gone. But how much of this am I supposed to endure? Until next time.

Best wishes,

Beana

#home #hell #COVID #family #depression #anxiety #sisters #blog #personal blog #writing #clarity #psychology #life

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Abraham Lake, Canada by Evgeny Chertov

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COVID Craziness

My life has gotten really crazy, really fast. My dad was exposed to COVID at a poker game and my family has been in shambles ever since. While I don’t live with my father, I had contact with him when he was asymptomatic but after he was exposed. I found out today, about a week after his initial contact with someone who was confirmed with COVID, that he tested positive. He’s not one to complain, but he’s not doing well; please keep him in your thoughts and prayers. My dads healthy and persevering, but I’ve seen this disease wipe out the best of people. I can’t even entertain the thought. 

What my family and I have been struggling with is the selfishness of our reaction to the situation. I am one of 3 girls, and at the news, all of us were distraught, not out of fear for our dads, but for our social lives. My youngest sister was in hysterics, ugly crying about how she couldn’t see her boyfriend or attended her sport practices. My middle sister, forever the real responsible one, the uptight one determined to keep a straight face, is currently in her room virtually auditioning for her school musical. She’s gotten so much more talented than I ever remember, and I hope auditioning virtually doesn’t put her at a disadvantage. She’s been going through a rough patch and when she doesn’t rely on family, I hope she can rely on her friends. It’s her senior year and while she’s trying to make the most of it, she’s already losing so much.

And then there’s me. I felt like I was finally on an upswing in terms of my depression. I was making plans, no matter how small- a trip to the dollar store on Monday, coffee on Tuesday, fast food on Wednesday, dinner date Thursday, weekend trip on Friday. I felt good finally having plans to put in my planner, no matter how small. And then at the news, I knew all my plans were going out the window. All these little things gave me a reason to get out of bed and get dressed in the morning, and now I had nothing. I had been planning and looking forward to this trip for a long time - really just an excuse to have some well deserved alone time with my long distance boyfriend. I felt crushed and bogged down and overwhelmed by it all. And then there was the guilt- sitting here worried about my own life when my dad was bedridden by a mysterious disease that had taken who knows how many lives at this point. That selfishness only drove me deeper into this bitter cycle. 

I like to think I just needed a day. My sisters and I all tested negative, but we have to quarantine for 14 days since our exposure to our father, just in case we develop COVID in that window. Working from home got a lot harder and while I’m still feeling anxious and overwhelmed, I’m learning how to deal with it. There’s so much more family drama, but I can’t bring myself to go into it. The rest of it having to do with my grandmother, who currently lives with us. Our aid quit rudely and unexpectedly and along with a full time job, 3 girls, and her own personal life and shoddy mental health, my mom has to worry about taking care of her mother. I’m thinking of quitting my job to become an aid for my grandma so we don’t have to deal with this anymore. I would make less that I’m making with my current job, but it would be a big stress off my mothers plate. It would be nice to not have to deal with strangers yelling at me anymore. 

So I guess this is my life update as I try to process my world. I’m stressed and overwhelmed and relying on CBD probably more than I should. COVID is stressful in general, but when it affects you directly, it is all the more so. I hope people are being conscientious and staying safe. It’s either put your life on hold now or later. 

I hope things get better. If you want some insight into my mind, listen to “Karma” by AJR. But until next time.

Best wishes,

Beana

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Herbert Lake, Canada by SIMONZPHOTOGRAPHY

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Mount Rainier National Park

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It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.

Jonathan Safran Foer / Everything is Illuminated (via bnmxfld)

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...And when I told you

my favorite play

how if you read it you would understand

a secret part of me,

you never cracked the spine

#poetry #love #heartbreak #build #broken #depressed #sad #lovesick

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At your absolute best, you still won’t be good enough for the wrong person. At your worst, you’ll still be worth it to the right person.

Karen Salmansohn (via deeplifequotes)

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A Planner with no Plans

Disclaimer: I suffer from depression and found that a bit of my ramblings bleed into what may be viewed as suicidal thoughts. I have no intention or desire to harm myself or others, but pose many questions of why we exist out of stark curiosity. I wanted to include this disclaimer because I would hate for those thoughts to trigger anyone in any way shape or form.

I’m excited to start using this platform. I doubt I’ll ever truly know how to use it to it’s fullest potential, but still just have a place to write is more of a solace to me than I ever could have expected. I was sitting in my bedroom, frustrated at my thoughts, reaching for a journal perhaps itching to write poetry, but before I could set my pen to paper, I knew it wouldn’t suffice. But here, where I can write down my thoughts to this pretend audience... I find some sort of purpose in that. It’s a goal, to take the reader and make them understand every nook and cranny of my mind. And what’s funny really is I was so excited for an excuse to “blog,” I forgot what spurred me to write in the first place.

I’ve become quite a fan of bullet journaling. I love notebooks in general, a little too much if you ask basically anyone who knows me. I developed the hobby in quarantine and it’s helped me rediscover my artistic side. So today I found myself scrolling through Pinterest and selecting a simply weekly layout only to realize- I have nothing to fill in my week with. What’s the point of having a planner if you don’t have any plans?

I try to make plans for myself, but they’re too easy to break. I tell myself I’ll write on this day or take a trip to the dollar store on that day, but a part of me just feels pathetic. My goal for tomorrow is just to call my OBGYN - that’s it - and I’m still note sure I can do it. My lack of motivation is crushing me.

I guess I’ve just never really lived for myself; I’ve always lived for other people. Back when I was in school, I was a support system for many. I had assignments and goals and aspirations and things to do. Life was crazy, but at least I was surrounded by people and found a purpose through being a high achieving academic. Graduating, losing my dream internship due to the pandemic, having to postpone grad school to sit at home with my toxic family... it’s been a struggle.

My only close relationship is my boyfriend. Talk about dependency, right? I hate it, but he’s really the only person I have when life hits the fan, whether in reality or just in my mind. I came to this horrible realization recently, when I wasn’t doing too hot and my boyfriend was busy and I had to sit with the fact that there was no one else I could call.

I always tried to be a good friend. But sometimes when people weren’t kind to me, perhaps weren’t serving my needs (and believe me I know how selfish it sounds), I was quick to take a step back. I didn’t want to get hurt. I forget to hold myself accountable for that. Because I hold myself to insanely high expectations within my friendships and then get upset when people don’t do the same, forcing myself down the rabbit hole and into this vicious cycle. I struggle to connect with people who have lost touch and I find they also struggle to connect with me. It’s hard to even get a text back from my best friend from college. It’s even harder thinking about how we’ve grown so distant.

So call it spiraling, call it not doing well, today is just not my day. I don’t know how to find a sense of purpose or a sense of meaning. I’m trying to be positive, to count my blessings, to find comfort in the little things, to drown the world out by falling into writing, reading, drawing, anything... but it doesn’t really make a difference. I still have to come up for air. And reality is still reality. The world is still falling apart in every sense of the word and there’s nothing I can do about it. So how do we do it? How do we keep going, day in and day out even when it looks like it can only get worse? How do so many people make it to adulthood when all of it seems so awful? If you know the answer, I’m all ears.

I try not to apologize for my writing, but I do apologize if this got dark. As I tried to allude to in my brief disclaimer, I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live all that much either. It’s a very confusing place to be, not just in this point in time, but also in this weird purgatory of thought, hoping to find some tangible meaning for existence in a world that may just exist by accident. I’d make a pretty shoddy main character. But that’s that. Until next time.

best wishes,

beana

#depression #anxiety #relationships #struggle #life #LOL #omg #boyfriend #dark #dealing with the covid-19 pandemic #dealing with emotions #dealing with depression #help #blog #personal blog

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A Beginnger’s Blog

I don’t really know who I am. I may say I’m a sister, a hard worker, a chronic student, a people pleaser, a performer. But there is a pompous part of me that is certain of one thing; I am a writer. 

I found a paper I wrote in late high school that simultaneously emphasized all types of literary devices in turn while never exactly writing the paper. Looking back on it almost five years later, I found myself pleasantly surprised. I remembered that I am the verbose and comprehensive writer I am because of the english teachers that pushed me all through high school. And what do I have to show of it? Depression and anxiety. 

Of course, I guess that was always there, buried in my genetics, waiting to emerge. The only way I could express myself became writing. Not shoddy short text messages - actually writing, on paper or on computer, in lengthy paragraphs, aching in taking the time to simply spell out my feelings. Hoping I might be able to get another soul to hear me and maybe maybe understand. 

So that’s why I’m here. I’ve debated starting a “blog” for a while now and after a lazy Google search, I found myself here. I don’t hope to amount any sort of following or make any money. I hope to find comfort for myself in these words as I try to be more open and understanding to the world around me. Disclaimer to myself and to you, my dear reader: I will not try to be perfect. It’s such a relief to even write. I needed to say it, as if to give myself permission to be human. I will not beautifully craft every word, unable to post until I’m sure the writing is pristine. I will be genuine and authentic. If one person resonates within these words, if one person reads this and thinks ‘wow, someone finally understands,’ that would be enough. And even if not, I am enough anyway. 

So here’s to me, as I begin this journey of self discovery and meaning and reflection. I’m trying to distract myself from the raging migraine and the mess of a room I’m living in. Sometimes, all of life just feels like a distraction. I wonder what all of this is a distraction from. When I think of the universe, I feel so small and so pointless. Yet in some ways my life still carries so much weight. I don’t understand the discrepancies.  I am excited for, yet I also dread the future. How do I manage living in such an in between?

I’ll take the time to more formally introduce myself another day, but for now, please hydrate your mind and body. Take care of yourself even when you don’t want to and when it’s hard. You are loved. You are enough. I say to others what I wish I could hear for myself. Until the next time I decide to mask my world through writhing-

best wishes,

beana

#blog #depression #anxiety #writing #journey #discovery #lol #creative writing #imperfection #mental illness #tired #stressed #omg #n00b