I would much rather just say things to keep the peace than cause complete chaos. Things from "yes, of course I'm eating", "I'm completely happy with this situation, it doesn't even bother me" and perhaps the worst of all - "I love you too." The lies were never malicious, and the only person I really ended up hurting was myself. Because for reasons unknown I've always put my deeper emotions away, and would rather please the person asking so they had no worries or doubts. Even being a serial "I love you-er" first became something I was, because I believed it would be what the other person wanted to hear. It killed me inside because despite the emotion not ever growing once, I began to feel like if I clung onto that person, I wouldn't ever be alone. Growing up on the cusp of the Twitter and Instagram generation, it truly helped me to write and post things that would prove to the outside world that I was happy, because for some unknown reason, that was more important than me actually being happy.
It took me a long long time to understand that a big part of my life is depression. For me, not getting up out of bed til 5PM was normal, laying in bed for days not wanting to really interact with another person was normal. Not wanting to open the curtains and crying until my face hurt was normal. A lot of deeper, darker things that I did, were normal. I honestly thought that coming to university would save me, and for a while I was happy, until I realised depression comes in waves. Imagine standing on a rock in the middle of the ocean, you have no escape but the sea is calm. Then a cloud over casts the sky, and you know its coming. Lightening strikes in the distance and the obvious sound of thunder fills your ears. The sea begins to become choppy. And from all angles, all of a sudden are giant tidal waves. You're stuck on a rock, you can't move, you can't do anything about it. You must face that these waves are about to crash over you, and you must endure it until the waves stop coming. You're alone, scared and you don't see a way that you can save yourself. You could, in theory let the waves take you, give up and let them do what they will until you are no longer a living, breathing person. Or, you could hold on. Hold on until the waves stop, then either continue to stand on the rock and wait for the waves to come again, or swim until you find the shore. It doesn't matter if perhaps while swimming you get half way and you can't see a shore, it's too scary to do that journey right now, standing on the rock is what you know, so you go back. It means you tried, and it means that next time, you can swim a little further. That, is what it's been like to live inside my head for a very, very long time.
The feeling of abandonment is never, ever something I want another person to go through. And if they already have, then to go through it alone. Your parents are meant to provide you with unconditional love. Unconditional - not subject to any conditions. So why growing up was I a subject of condition to one parent? The bursting love of my main parent and all those who surrounded them engulfed me, but for some reason, in my head, or perhaps heart, it was never enough. I spent the most part of my childhood scared by men, and then the most part of my young adult life trying to control them. I found it very hard to respect men; which equalised to me not having a lot of respect for myself. I began to put myself in head spaces that I couldn't comprehend, by doing things that made me question whether they made me the person I would always be, or the person I desperately did not want to be. Being a slutty serial monogamist became part of me; and perhaps always will be part of my past. But then I met someone.
The timing wasn't right. The situation was perfect. So I did something that I haven't ever done before. I hurt people to discover what would make me happy. Almost instantly I was infatuated, and very soon after I realised I was in love. Six months ago, I would've cringed at writing that. My body would've tensed and I would've probably deleted this whole post and wrote "lol sex is good init, fuckin love dicks" - or something to that effect, maybe a little more eloquently. But life is different now, the rock that I was stuck on now has a boat in front of it, driven by the most beautiful soul I could ever meet. A lot of people do not believe in loving someone before you love yourself, a statement in which I am guilty of professing to many people. But sometimes, in order to love yourself, you have to let someone in to show you that you are capable of being loved. Sometimes I return to the rock, and the boat isn't always in front of me, but it's around. It'll row next to me while I swim, guiding me to shore. That's called help. And anyone that has ever experienced exactly what I've just described needs it. I hope you find your boat, whatever it may be.
