It’s crazy how time can pass by and perspectives change.  Being back in my parents house only sheds light on those things that I thought “was because of me” or “out of my control” or even “in my control.” Firstly some things never change, no matter how much time passes. Worst is knowing that people might never change. 

Secondly is seeing all the patterns in my life that caused me to be the way I was. I have a perfectionist nature because my mom taught me at a young age that everything I do would be wrong in some way or just wouldn’t compare to the way she would do it. My dad taught me that nothing i did was ever as important as what was going on in his life. He taught me that we would always be on two different pages, and though time i learned that it wasn’t that I was always on the wrong page, it’s just that we don’t know how to communicate to each other. Now when we argue I often see that we are arguing about two different main foundations, but he likes arguing so much that he doesn’t see that. He’d rather argue into a black void then see eye to eye on something with me. I taught myself by observation of being in this house that if that your saying isn’t be heard, you need to yell it. You need to talk over anyone and everyone repeatedly. They might not still see where you’re coming from, but they will get exhausted enough through the screaming match that it can end a conversation earlier than not. I learned that there is no sense on bitting your tongue, say what you want. Because my father will always think he knows more than me and is far more superior, even if it’s about a subject that he knows nothing about.  I wish I had a sibling sometimes, purely because maybe that’s what I needed. Sometime to go through this trauma with me. But maybe even my sibling wouldn’t have helped me fight those demons I had inside me.  A couple weeks ago I found this box with all my old journey and diaries. I think the most intense part of finding them was reading my High School journals. Freshman year of high school i had already wrote a will and had endless entires on how unhappy I was and felt like I wanted to die. Although I do not feel like harming myself ever again. I remember how deeply that feeling engulfed me when I was alone. How badly I wanted to die. I wanted to die for so many years, that I don’t know how i made it through that. I literally have no idea how I made it through my teen years, how I’m still standing here. Was that kind of depression even normal? I also wonder how that effected me as I am today. I pray that my future child never feels the emotions I did. But I will be a better parent to them then my father ever was to me. I would never let them feel like such a burden. 

I wonder more then anything how far I would be in my life today, if I didn’t spend so much of my life trying to kill/harm myself. 

I know you must think there has to be something going on in my life if I’m blogging because I only come one here now when something is going wrong. It feels like I’m visiting a school I don’t attend anymore, walking down this long hallway that’s completely deserted. It’s 2022, made it through heartbreaks, teen years, so much trauma, suicide’s, a pandemic, people that shouldn’t have ever had time in life, people they stayed, people that now I don’t want to live without, it’s all so crazy. I feel like that same teenage girl right now, confused, somewhat lost and needing to yell into the abyss to feel something. I think that’s why blogging was held so close to my heart the first time. It’s back again as I navigate some new waters of my life. I hope you know blogging will now become a steady practice of my everyday life again because I need to stay sane.

This whole month has been insane to say the least. I experienced two deaths, am in the process of changing my whole thinking and feel in general like I’m a different person creating a whole different life then who I was before.