What if all you are is never enough? There is all you could have, if you could just be someone different. Someone smarter. Someone tougher. Someone braver. Someone with more discipline. Someone smaller. Someone thinner. Someone who matters. Because all I feel doesn’t matter, not to anyone but me.
Life is all about growing, about learning. But only if you follow the rules someone else laid out for you. If you can’t follow you are bound to end up on the side of the road watching everyone speed past and ahead. I know people who never question everything, who are just like everybody else around them – same haircut, same hobbies, same goals, it’s like they are all living the exact same life. Go to school, graduate, go to university, graduate, get a job, climb up the ladder. Find a girl / boy along the way, fall in love, marry, buy a house, have kids, teach them to be just like you – and then someday, die. Surrounded by your family who are all just like you.
I guess it is a bit of an exaggeration but than again, I really don’t think it is. Almost everyone I knew when I was younger is living exactly like this – in various stages but with the exact same goal. They are already finished with their plans for life. All that’s left is climbing up the ladder and taking the next step. And I…well I am just as lost as I was then years ago, 20 years ago…maybe even 30 years ago when everyone told me I can’t just make up stories and tell them like they are true. Except for me, they were. Because ordinary life was boring with every girl wanting to be a princess instead of trying to go out and tame that damn dragon and fly away on it’s back.
I have a therapist who tells me that all my problems are a result of my childhood. Of coming into this world almost choking on the umbilical cord and then growing up in a less than normal family. Because all the other kids had a mum and a dad, and I didn’t. He says I came into this world afraid and that hasn’t changed. And it’s true. I am afraid of many things – so many, that it’s easier to just say the things I am not afraid of. Which is sleeping, playing video-games and being alone with my cats. The rest is all a struggle. So far, I am more afraid of dying than I am of living – and I am terrified that this will change one day.
That’s the irony of who I am. I just want to find some corner in this world where I fit in but at the same time I don’t think I would ever stop doubting it, even I could find it. I really wish I could be normal, but I really despise what most people call normal. So what I do is trying to survive it all. The pain, the doubts, the anxiety, the loneliness and everything else. Because no one wants to know how you truly feel. My therapist only wanted to find a box in which he could put me, my mum just wants to believe that I am okay, my colleagues don’t know me enough to care and my friends…I never see my friends anymore but when I do, it’s all about achievements and growth. Nobody really wants the truth. They all just want me to get on with the program and just be like everybody else.
They tell you that depression is a chemical imbalance in your brain. It’s a battle you need to fight. It’s all in your head. And the only cure is to learn to love yourself. I would be really glad if I could just manage to hate myself a little less, and it hurts to write it. It hurts to admit it. But it’s the truth of who I am. A misfit without discipline, not all that smart and with a lot of extra weight – and I’m not only talking about my body, that’s just added bonus for the stuff I carry around inside.