This blog has so far been a reflection of my life for the past few years. Unfortunately, or fortunately for me I guess, there is no sign of what that has been like thanks to the delete button. I started this up in July 2011. And after lots of writing, publishing and deleting my posts, I have absolutely nothing to show for the years this blog has been in existence. Well that's my life at the moment; absolutely nothing to show for all the effort I have put into things I've been doing. I'm generally not a negative person. I smile a lot, a whole lot, I laugh a lot and I find joy in the little things. But after dealing with a self diagnosed bout of depression* early last year after realising how bad a loved one's illness really was and soon after, losing them, and having the one person I thought would stand by me during that difficult time turn their back on me, only to come back telling me how unsupportive I was, and then having to deal with the heart break that came after he pulled the cord on our relationship, things haven't been so rosy. Then having something I fought so hard for just not work out and having to struggle to pull through it and seeing all my hard work just go up in smoke and finding myself still struggling to see it to the end was just the icing this cake of misery needed. I sound like this huge black mood, I can imagine, and I can understand that it would be hard to imagine me in any other way than an emo teenager with black rimmed eyes covered with a curtain of raven black hair and cuts both long and recently healed, and some fresh ones all up and down my arm**, but that really isn't me. I'm the stranger you'll see on the bus that will smile back at you, I'm the girl seated on the bar stool with her friends laughing at some stupid Lord of The Rings joke that she doesn't understand because she hasn't watched any of the films. I'm that lady at the shop who will sell you fabric and heartily smile as I wish you a nice day. But what you don't know, is that behind the mask of happiness and care free bliss, I'm the girl who struggled to get up that morning. That I'm the stranger on the bus that had to gather all the strength she could muster and force herself to take a shower and comb her hair. That I'm that lady in the fabric shop that couldn't find the energy to wash her dishes yet again because in the middle of the supper she tried to force herself to eat she was overcome by a bout of pain and she sat in her chair just wanting the tears to stop flowing out in bursts so strong they made her entire body quiver.
As much as I'm going to sound very cliché, in writing I always found my release (emotional ;)) and somewhere down the road I stopped writing. I tried to write about stuff, I don't know, just stuff. But nothing felt quite right. And in my attempts to write about stuff, I ran away from dealing with my pain. I have decided to quit looking for that stuff that always eluded me anyway and write about my experiences, my emotions if you please, and see where it goes from there. I'm not worried about that getting boring, not everything I wrote was oh so clearly about my emotions and I'm sure it'll be the same this time around. So now I shall write again. I'll write so I can finally heal, I'll write so I can remember and I'll write so I can one day look back at this and laugh in disbelief, in shame and in joy. So here goes nothing.
*I do not use the terms depression and the description of an emo teen in a light and/or mocking manner.