It gets to a point where there is no use in talking about something anymore or seeking advice from others because there is nothing anyone can tell you to help you address a situation you’re simply not ready for. You can spill your guts again and again to the same people and eventually they won’t even notice you’re bleeding anymore because you’re constantly picking at a wound and reopening it rather than pulling the poison out and letting it heal. Eventually the infection will spread further, deeper through you and any physical symptoms you show are no longer the worst. Sadness can become like a parasite, slowly eating away at you piece by piece. Sometimes you don’t even notice it happening to yourself until you’re triggered and have a physical response and you’re instantly out of control because the flare up showed no warning signs because you’ve been living in a constant state of it and you grew used to it. You don’t know any different.
I feel like I let the same people and things hurt me time and time again but still expect a change and different results from the same behaviour. Somewhere along the line I lost my self respect and any value I once held, or maybe I never had any to begin with. The difficult thing about self esteem is that you need others to help build it up but it needs to be a part of your own foundation, something you maintain yourself and build on. Something you support yourself, and something to support yourself with. When you get to your mid twenties and still battle the same self loathing you struggled with since your late childhood and early teenage years, it becomes a hard bone to crack. My foundation is built up entirely of my low self esteem and mental illness and they go hand in hand, to an extent. While some days I am blinded by my depression and suffering within myself, light still seeps in through the cracks and it’s just enough to get me through each wave of darkness. But when it’s not, I’ve found that just sitting mindlessly on my lounge room floor, staring at a blank TV screen and allowing myself to be numb, no matter how uncomfortable it is and how much it hurts to feel like I’m splitting apart at the seams, the solitude can be eye opening.
There comes a point where you have to learn to fight for yourself and although survival is probably realistically all I can hope for and I may never feel actual contentment, I still hope that one day I’ll be strong enough to overcome this and not feel like I need a prescription I barely believe in to just survive and scrape by each day. I guess I’m posting this as a reminder to myself that although I am struggling today and while I am not ready to face all my demons, eventually I won’t be plagued by the same mistakes and lessons that just seem to cut deeper every time. In time I will be able to graciously accept the lessons I am being served and grow from them. Progress is often slow but in order to bear fruit, trees must form roots and seek nourishment from the dirt.