Deceptive Memory Is A Private Literature

‘They say Emma you’re still way too young just be quiet bite your tongue.’

🔝not too sure why that was playing in the background tbh.

There’s just something oddly calming about being on Xanax. I mean duh that’s what it’s suppose to do. Right? RIGHT?!  I’ve never really been that great with medications. I tend to skip them. And whenever I’m genuinely sick,  I’d stop taking medications as soon as I feel they were starting to work. The idea of my body being consumed by all these medications, chemicals and toxic never really dwelled with me.

I’m a mess really. A fucking huge mess. This huge big ball of unfixable mess. Nah not the kind of mess like Meredith Grey would deem. The kind where you’d be so sick to your stomach to even be friends with. I’ve lost myself a long time ago. Heck I can’t even remember the last time I was even myself. I stopped pursuing everything that I was passionate about. Well I wouldn’t really say stopped. More like procrastinate? Not having any motivation to do anything anymore. Alright who am I really kidding, I stopped. Let’s not sugarcoat it. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem right? Well…. It usually is the case. But I’ve mastered the skill of not having to discuss or even utter a word on what’s truly going on or even bothering me. I learn to accept things as they were because I truly felt I don’t deserve anything more. I learnt to shut myself out. From what? Everything. And everyone. Like I said I quit doing everything. Quit pursuing my hobbies, my passion, my dreams, the challenges, I even quit writing. The only thing that kept me sane. I thought to myself 'why would I continue pouring my heart and soul only to be left in despair after I’m done’. I quit pursuing 'life’. I was trying this whole let 'life pursue me’ thing. Well let me tell you something about that, it doesn’t bloody work hey.

I’m at the verge of completely not knowing who the person is staring back at me in the mirror. I’ve succumb to the idea that I’ve lived enough. And those… Those hurt the most. The  moment you do not recognize the person that is staring back at you in the mirror, that’s when you know you’re absolutely f*ucked. Well, I know I am. I hate being a mess. I wish I had a reset button to do life all over again. But that isn’t life.

I’m drowning in all these overpowering responsibilities. One thing about adulthood. You don’t ask for responsibilities. Its thrown at you. Whether you like it or not. Whether you ask for it or not. It’s going to keep coming. It doesn’t stop. Not even on the days where you’re battling a mental illness. Not on the days that you are grieving. And it definitely doesn’t go away for the days when you feel like absolute shit. It doesn’t take breaks and responsibilities isn’t about to give you a break either.

So much has been happening over the course of few months. I’ve dealt with more deaths this year than I ever had to my entire life. Ive battled a life changing disease, living with another life changing diagnosis, found out that I was meant to have a twin sibling (which broke me), started raising a 15 year old teen, constantly battling my severe anxiety on a daily basis. Some days are good. But on some days… It gets really bad. So bad that I wouldn’t leave my bed. I wouldn’t eat. It’s not because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.

A 'friend’ convinced me to start this treatment. Where you come in every session, you talk about things. Whatever you want to talk about. And the idea is to tap into whatever that’s bothering you and to deal with it to avoid triggers in the future. My problem here isn’t the treatment. It’s more the emotions, the memories and the triggers. Yes yes I know, they need to happen in order to be dealt with. My anxiety isn’t so severe but it isn’t something to overlook with either as it is starting to affect me with my daily routine. I do feel I will benefit a great deal from this but how do you sit through sessions knowing that you can crack at any given point? How do you sit there, trying to keep a straight face talking about everything that has affected you, turned you into the person that you are right now? The person that you as an individual couldn’t even recognise? How do you sit there and talk about, not just all the good but all the bad that has happened.

How do you sit through sessions, reliving painful memories? Memories of where you’ve buried deep into your subconscious that you were convinced it doesn’t exist anymore until….. You tap into it. June and September is typically the toughest months of the year on me. Not so much of the month. It’s more towards what has happened in the past that made me such a wuss everytime I comes around.

June 2010. 6 years ago, I lost the love of my life. I’d still say that now, as I’ve not really been anyone else exclusively after that. Once you have the person you truly loved and cared about, rip apart from you, you break. That night, T didn’t just lose his life, I lost mine. How cliche right? But after being together for almost 4 years, that person isn’t just someone you occasionally text or catch up with, T became the better half of me. The better version of myself. He made me excited about life and it’s adventures. And we had many. There was never closure with T. I never got to say goodbye. It’s hard moving on from something this painful. Sure I’ve seen other people, but never really in a way where T and I was. I came to terms that I’m horrible with relationships from thereon. I would fine reasons or excuses when something is going really well with someone else. I will find a way to fuck it up. Not because I want to. I’m just terrified. So might as well fuck it up earlier than latter right?

Every year in June, it reminds me of that night. That night where I lost T. I didn’t just lose the love of my life, I lost my best friend. My confidant. The person where I shared all my ups and downs with. One of the only people who would have fought for me and with me for things that matters. Despite everything that went down in my past, he accepted me for who I am and never once looked at me differently. Unless of course I had done something so severely horrible then obviously he would have looked at me differently. But that never happened. Never happened when I told him about battling my personal demons,  not even when I told him how one of my 'cousin ’ had molested me when I was 8 and how it went on till I was 13. Not even when I went into one of my horrible mood swings. Cause anxiety and depression is a fucking a bitch. He was there through thick and thin.

It doesn’t bloody help that both our birthdays are in September. So I go into one of those moods where I’d like to not be sociable or interact with anyone. Most people would think I’m ignoring them. I’m not. It’s me. You guys are not the problem. I am. I don’t mean to shut people put when I have one of those moments. It happens. It’s fucking hard. It’s hard to stay fucking sane when all these baggage are still there for you to deal with. What’s even harder is actually to deal with them.

I’m rambling. But I can’t bear the thought of losing myself even further. So this is me. I’m making an effort or trying to. Some days are easy and some days are hard. Then there’s days that are just unbearable. I’m all rusty. I don’t write anymore. But maybe this could be the change I need. And could possibly spark up the motivation to finally put that book that I wrote for publishing. A book that I had completely forgotten about until another friend of mine brought it up recently. Soon Dany. Soon. I don’t know. Fuck. Life is hard. But I’m going to win at life. Someday, my friend. Someday.