Officially Old!

I opened up this draft from my 30th birthday. I wanted to write something but I couldn’t on that day so here I am. Writing after a very long time. If anyone out there is reading, why? I know I use my blog like a diary. But I wonder what makes someone read through these old blog posts of a 30 year old woman they don’t even know. Is any part of me relatable to you? If so, I am sorry. My life is the last thing that should be relatable to anyone out there.

I know I have had a hard life compared to a lot of people I know of. I wish I had a family that loved me as much as they loved my sibling. I wish I had friends who stuck around through thick and thin. I wish I had the strength to stand up for myself sooner. I wished my younger self wasn’t that naive and believed that everyone was good and had nothing but good intentions with her. And most of all I wished I wasn’t depressed.

This is going to be a hard hitting post and I suggest if you are reading to find warm memories you will not find them here.

I recently found the rough notebook I used when I was 15. In it I had a small diary entry/letter to someone written. That 15 year old girl wished she died and was born again in a family where they loved her. And I felt sad for her. Sad that she had to understand and realize this at that age. And accept that they will never love her unless she was born into a different family under different circumstances. On one side I am glad that girl grew up to be someone who sought out professional help and understood her feelings better. On the other side I feel sad that nothing has changed in the last 15 years. That is one and a half decade and my thoughts haven’t changed one bit. My family is lesser by one person and they still don’t know how to love me. They did acknowledge that they weren’t fair to me. But that didn’t make much of a difference for me.

I am still lonely and suicidal. I am taking therapy twice a week wondering when this pain will stop. I am still heart broken from putting myself out there and believing that people usually have their best intentions for me. It is stupid. Feels like I haven’t learned a single lesson from all these years or torment and trauma.

All I want to do is hug that 15 year old girl and tell her that it gets better. But I know I will be lying if I did that. I feel tired and the excess physical pain is exhausting me. I am trying and yet it feels like I am just running on a very long treadmill that is never going to end and always has thorns and tacks on it. Here is to pouring my heart out more often on this platform in the hopes that it will reduce some of the weight in my heart!