A Semblance of Balance
Hi, guys. It's been a while.
No worries, I have my reason, which entails two words.
Mom, and the black sheep.
Mom was pissed he wouldn't go to school 'cause he stayed up late surfin' the net, so she confiscated the wi-fi. It's connected now for the weekend 'cause my baby bro is home for the moment and he pleaded the case with Dad. Way to go, baby bro! x3
That said, I'll only post a few stuff here and there for these two days.
Now, regarding my last post, it was the first night after many many months of self-recovery a relapse of that degree. As I stated, it used to happen frequently during my high school days, usually when I am alone because of course I would never have them when I am with my sis or my baby bro since those voices have no place in my head when I am happy and content. I locked the door, and spent the night retching in the toilet bowl.
I had records, but they were all gone with the flood. So that's that.
Funnily, the urge had grown stronger.
Like, they'd stopped telling me to cut, instead telling me to end it once and for all.
"Just one stab." right?
But I ain't that weak.
I survived till this day, I sure as hell can survive more.
Though one thing bugs me. Until recently, I find myself quite uninterested with the notion of reading (GASP!!!!) and drawing had come up blank with no inspiration and writing had become slightly an effort. This greatly scares me.
My passion is what drives me moving.
Knowing I can relate to whatever it is I read,
draw whatever scenes in my mind,
and write whatever it is I feel,
are my tightrope to self-reassurement.
Amelia, has become my groundstone.
My anchor, if you will.
It's not that I am fully dependent on her, God no. Neither of us needs that running around. It is simply that her presence is able to calm me most, and what a relief it is after being on my own all this time.
Meanwhile, I had become Kei's.
It's purely ironic that on the night of 10th May 2015, when I was going through one of the worst moments of my life, I was also playing psychiatry and pretending to be perfectly calm and composed and totally okay to him as he poured out his troubles to my struggling-to-be-attentive ears. It's so ironic I could laugh.
I don't blame him for not noticing. I'm a good liar when I want to be.
Besides, he was also drowning in his own demons.
Who am I to judge that?
Afterwards, I realized I can't keep up like this forever. I have to do something. So I thought, I'd try small things first. I will go to bed early (don't laugh!) and wake up early (stop laughing!). Have some heavenly nectar that is coffee and finish my chores. If I have extra time, maybe I can take a morning walk around the neighbourhood. Amelia greatly encourages this.
And I took an extra step.
I joined a support club.
It is by no means revealing or paid.
It is a group of people who gather together by their common situation to find support and strength from each other. It is on FB and I can still keep my anonymity. It's a win-win.
It has been 4 days since I am accepted into the group and I find great relief to be able to relate with the members of the group. I feel....normal. It doesn't bother me that they are strangers. In fact, they are no more a stranger than any of my blank-looking peers when I mention PTSD. I have to restrain from rolling my eyes at this, btw, because that would imply an insult to their intelligence, which....ditto.
And you wonder why I'm not fond of these people? *scoff*
I'm in the process of gathering tidbits of a semblance of balance.
I hope this works.
No worries, I have my reason, which entails two words.
Mom, and the black sheep.
Mom was pissed he wouldn't go to school 'cause he stayed up late surfin' the net, so she confiscated the wi-fi. It's connected now for the weekend 'cause my baby bro is home for the moment and he pleaded the case with Dad. Way to go, baby bro! x3
That said, I'll only post a few stuff here and there for these two days.
Now, regarding my last post, it was the first night after many many months of self-recovery a relapse of that degree. As I stated, it used to happen frequently during my high school days, usually when I am alone because of course I would never have them when I am with my sis or my baby bro since those voices have no place in my head when I am happy and content. I locked the door, and spent the night retching in the toilet bowl.
I had records, but they were all gone with the flood. So that's that.
Funnily, the urge had grown stronger.
Like, they'd stopped telling me to cut, instead telling me to end it once and for all.
"Just one stab." right?
But I ain't that weak.
I survived till this day, I sure as hell can survive more.
 |
| so do I, Benedict. So do I. |
My passion is what drives me moving.
Knowing I can relate to whatever it is I read,
draw whatever scenes in my mind,
and write whatever it is I feel,
are my tightrope to self-reassurement.
Amelia, has become my groundstone.
My anchor, if you will.
It's not that I am fully dependent on her, God no. Neither of us needs that running around. It is simply that her presence is able to calm me most, and what a relief it is after being on my own all this time.
Meanwhile, I had become Kei's.
It's purely ironic that on the night of 10th May 2015, when I was going through one of the worst moments of my life, I was also playing psychiatry and pretending to be perfectly calm and composed and totally okay to him as he poured out his troubles to my struggling-to-be-attentive ears. It's so ironic I could laugh.
I don't blame him for not noticing. I'm a good liar when I want to be.
Besides, he was also drowning in his own demons.
Who am I to judge that?
Afterwards, I realized I can't keep up like this forever. I have to do something. So I thought, I'd try small things first. I will go to bed early (don't laugh!) and wake up early (stop laughing!). Have some heavenly nectar that is coffee and finish my chores. If I have extra time, maybe I can take a morning walk around the neighbourhood. Amelia greatly encourages this.
And I took an extra step.
I joined a support club.
It is by no means revealing or paid.
It is a group of people who gather together by their common situation to find support and strength from each other. It is on FB and I can still keep my anonymity. It's a win-win.
It has been 4 days since I am accepted into the group and I find great relief to be able to relate with the members of the group. I feel....normal. It doesn't bother me that they are strangers. In fact, they are no more a stranger than any of my blank-looking peers when I mention PTSD. I have to restrain from rolling my eyes at this, btw, because that would imply an insult to their intelligence, which....ditto.
And you wonder why I'm not fond of these people? *scoff*
I'm in the process of gathering tidbits of a semblance of balance.
I hope this works.
Did you lost your muse to draw or write anything? Because I think I've lost mine. And that makes me worried. To not write poems anymore. I need to have them back. -_-"
ReplyDeletei guess. *shrug* if you put it that way. To draw, yes, I normally need a muse. Though to write, I normally need nothing more than an inspirational word to blow up the word-vomit. Try reading old books. It helped me. *shrug*
Delete