I’ve been debating for sometime now, whether I should start writing about the weirdness that is my life or not. I did start this blog last year, but then it was put aside for several reasons, but now I think I oughta do it.
I would like to start off by saying two things. First, this is like an arena for me where I can write about all my feelings, what I’m encountering with living with OCD and how it affects my life. I will write from myself, to myself with a free option to answer questions if it may become so one day. Two, since I’m new to this whole thing, my words and sentences might be a little jumbled in the beginning. So bear with me. This should be interesting as soon as I get settled into the zone that is writing.
So, people of the world. My name is Amelie. It’s not my real name, but for the sake of this blog, let’s just say that’s my name – and that’s that. I am in my twenties and doing pretty good looking at the circumstances. I have a lovely job, I live with a great buddy and I have a stable economy. Even took a vacation just now. How could anybody complain about that? What’s wrong with me that I’m complaining?
Well. I think it started the day I was born into a world where I wasn’t welcomed or not able to being taken care of. A reason bigger than my little self. I don’t truly know how shit hit the fan. The only thing i know is that I’ve never been truly happy (if that’s even a thing) or had a day without the smallest of worry or that whenever I feel that I’ve put myself back together again, something new breaks it apart. Either I’m very fragile, or I’m invincible. Maybe a little of them both. Who’s to say you can’t be amazingly strong while still being amazingly fragile? Because that’s how I’d describe myself if someone were to someday see me, and just ask me.
I usually describe myself as a person people see as a free arena to break apart, leave, and leave me left behind to pick up all the pieces. I think I’ve said this to a handful people that were brave enough to ask and actually stay to hear me answer. Because no one really wants to hear the answer. They just expect to hear you say “I’m fine, it’s all good” and then some big lie about what’s fine and what’s good. They don’t want to be your dumping ground for your own personal shit. They really don’t care as long as it’s a negative response they’re getting. At least that’s my experience. So I’ve stopped engaging, I’ve stopped answering, and very soon after – people stopped asking. And now I think it’s time to get it all out in the open. It is allowed to say that you are unhappy, that you’re sad. I am allowed to say that I feel like shit and that I don’t like how things are. It doesn’t mean I’m negative or that I need cheering up, or that I need a reality check for the better. It just means that I am realistic and self reflected of my problems. And why would someone try to take that away from me just because that makes them uncomfortable? It’s not your problems, and I’m not asking you to take part in them. I actually just expect them to recognize the reality someone is facing without suppressing it just because it makes them uncomfortable.
And truly. I’m exhausted of explaining myself. Of making sure that everybody around me comfortable with my reality. To nurture their comfort by saying that it’s all good. So I’ve stepped back into my own little bubble where I can feel and think and say whatever I want without being labeled negative, unrealistic, catastrophe thinking and god knows how many more of these I’ve heard.
Don’t you agree that it’s best to be honest about what you’re feeling, rather to just suppress everything until you drown in yourself?
I for one, think so.