So, basically, about one month ago, my life as I knew it, completely im-fucking-ploded.
I am talking crashed and burned while ripping a gaping wound into my already fragile soul. I feel abandoned and desperately sad, but there is a good chance nobody I know will ever know the extent of my agonizing and even physically manifesting pain.
A shock to my entire being. A hurt so deep, the manifestation of my worst fears, perceived as an agonizing tightness in my chest, with occasional muscle spasms way too close to where I think my heart may be situated within my rib cage, gasping for breath while internally yelling at myself to just calm the fuck down and breathe.
I am sorry for the drama, but that is unfiltered me. A 31-year-old female, reasonably healthy physically, happy in my job, and I have been married for close to 10 years. Plenty of baggage. No kids.
Not that I have a thing against kids, they are the best thing you can simply make at home – for free. Normally at least. The thing is, I am still desperately looking for some stability in my life. Some security. Some love.
Now, you need to understand that on the surface, I appear to be in perfect working order, smile on my face, a husband I am deeply in love with in my arm, cracking jokes as a feeble attempt at distracting from the pain that cripples me within the darkest depths of my pretty darn dysfunctional mind. The sad truth is that I have been practicing this all my life.
I have, for as long as I remember, never experienced the quiet AFTER the storm. From the malicious arguments between my parents, to the beef my mum had with my sibling’s weed consumption, to my stable-looking relationship with my dear husband, whom I love more than I do myself (we both agreed upon that). Please don’t panic, I am not here to point any fingers. I really do love everyone with all my heart, and I know that they are all doing their best. That is not what I am here to talk about.
I want to talk about how I decided to recognize my own worth and had a threesome that very same day.
But that was just a line I thought I should add to lure people in, but I really just want to write down the shit I am going through in the hopes that it not only helps me, but maybe someone else out there who can relate. I know I wish I could talk to someone who understands or who could relate to the shit pile of a life I find myself in right now. I have tried to reach out to some of my friends, who have been absolutely amazing, but nobody so far can quite relate. You know, let’s talk about it, get it out in the open, and try to create stability and safety through new connections. A tree with a plethora of roots.
Basically, I recently hit an all new level of low after suffering from depression and anxiety from childhood (as I’ve recently worked out), and the only thing helping me not to lose my shit was to sit down and write. Try and sit down and face what the fuck is freaking me out and putting it down on paper. So, bear with me, I am still actively freaking out about this (hence the writing) and I will post, bit by bit, to share my roller coaster of a life right now with you. I have been spending my life looking for answers, or as one of my favourite rappers Slug of Atmosphere says,”I want to be buried with a pocket full of clarity.”, and I certainly don’t have any. But I will tell you all I know, or think I know, about my train-wreck of a life. Holding on to the only thing I can, the only thing I ever dreamed about, the only thing I believe in – that life can be beautiful.
There has to be a quiet after the storm.