I’ve been wicked depressed lately. I can’t seem to pull myself out of it, instead sinking deeper and deeper. I’m not even sure why I’m depressed. I mean it’s partly got to do with my kids, or the lack of my kids more realistically. But I deal with that every single day so I feel like there’s something else that’s pushing me deeper. I wish I could get a mulligan on this one because it’s all fucked up. I don’t know how to love myself, in fact I almost kinda hate myself. I’m overly critical of myself and of the mistakes I make, beating myself up relentlessly over making the wrong choice, of thinking the wrong thing. I suck at communication and boundaries, allowing people to walk all over me, inviting them to do so. I can’t say no to people, regardless of how I feel about things, and so I am constantly feeling trapped or stuck in a situation because of this. I have no idea how to express my needs to people. I struggle explaining how I feel and so I bottle everything up and toss it under the rug, or in the closet, hiding from it, avoiding it. I’m clueless when it comes to self-care. How am I supposed to care for myself when I don’t even like myself? I’m a hot mess, a straight up contradiction. I’m confident to the point of cockiness yet super insecure. Highly intelligent, yet appearing to be quite dumb at times due to my overwhelming emotions and my lacking an idea on how to deal with said emotions. But you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t start somewhere so it really is about baby steps. I’m gonna look at every step I take forward in my pursuit of happiness a graduation of sorts. Definitely it is entitled a celebration. And so it’s party’s from here on out. My homeboy said I need to kill the negatives and fix my energy and I couldn’t agree more. My vibration is negative as fuck. My energy is corrupt. I’m humming from a low ass vibration which brings low ass things into my life. Like attracts like. I just need to find something to care about. A candle in a windowsill. A light at the end of the darkness. Just one thing and I’ll be ok. But I struggle to find that thing. Fuck, I struggle to even look for that thing.
Published by devilmonkey666
I'm a hot mess. A 41 year old child who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. Or even if he wants to grow up for that matter. People say I'm a writer. I'm not so sure. But it is therapeutic and helps me from going all the way left sometimes. View more posts