Devastation

Dear Blogger:

I received some heartbreaking news late last night.

The house I grew up in. The same one that was inhabited by my family for over four decades and sheltered us for three generations. The place I called my home away from home, the one I had built so many memories in. That exact house will be up for sale in coming days.

I am still trying to process and come to terms with it, but I can't at the moment. Maybe it's just my inability to let things go. Maybe it's just overly attached self. I don't know for certain, but I do know that the news is not sitting right with me.

I knew something was going to be done with the house. The reality of the matter is that something was going to be done with it. It was almost inevitable. Maybe I had really hoped it would have been fixed up a bit and put up for rent. Surely there were plenty of families inquiring about it.

However, I didn't expect to fully lose the house so soon--just as I was working through some other challenges. That, in itself, is not settling nicely. Something does not agree with this decision. I do not agree with this hasty decision I was ill informed about. I am not happy, and I am beyond upset with what's to come.

I can't place my finger on it, but a force is whispering to me that this is not what is meant to happen right now. There are still too many issues that have not been addressed and resolved.

I can't have that. My grandma would not have that.

-Kat

Candid Thoughts

Dear Blogger:

I think the thing I like most about you is that you aren't as popular as other blogging sites. At least, on my page, you don't bring in too much traffic--if any at all--and I enjoy that aspect. I can be as candid and raw as I want without having too much criticism or anything.

And I want to just say...

I still love him. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by where I have not thought of him. Every day I see little reminders of him. I still do not know what to do with such sentimental items, but that's okay. I am taking it one day at a time.

Part of me wants to still be with him. Part of me wonders what he's been up to. Part of me still worries about his well-being. Part of me is too deeply hurt to wholeheartedly wish him well. But the silver lining in all this, I still love him. I still care too much, and that's just how it'll be. My feelings have run deep for him since the first day I met him, and that still rings true today.

He'll never know it though. I'm slowly coming to terms with that. He'll never understand my love for him. He'll never know the suffering or the darkness. He'll never feel the agonizing death of his heart being broken.

*sigh* But that's where I'm at now. Still shrouded in suffocating blackness. Still inching my way through muddy waters. Still coping with the process.

-Kat

Waste of a Quarter Century

Dear Blogger:

The time is 3:54 PM.

I find myself sitting in the local Emergency Room (yet again), waiting to be given those god-awful drugs that help calm the raging storm inside my head.

How did I end up here? Why am I here?

I wish I could say this is a rare occasion for me. It's not. At least, it's starting to become a recurring incident. I worry about that. I fear becoming a regular. I'm scared of being admitted, or worse, committed.

But here I am again. This is the second time I've come in, in the past couple months. Still the same reasoning, but the intensity has gotten worse. At least I wasn't alone this time. Group members helped ease the process of checking in and waiting.

I wish I didn't have to go through this. I wish I was "normal," or at least, "better" than I am. I wish I could confidently say that I am okay.

But I can't; I'm not.

I have some thoughts resonating in my head. They aren't pleasant, not even in the least bit. I wish I could shut those thoughts off. Sadly, I can't. I tried engaging in some intensive CBT work and other techniques to help "change my thoughts, change my behaviors, change my outlook." None of it worked out for me.

It's a big waste. I feel like the opportunities to grow from these experiences is slipping by. I feel like I am wasting valuable time and efforts, but I can't do much about that... I'm a waste. A waste of time, space, energy, effort. You name it, I'm wasting it all away.

I guess that's how it's been all my life. In the 25 years of life I've had, I've just been a waste. I hear it time and time again. There has to be some truth to that when it's been repeated multiple times from various people, right?

I am 25, a recent graduate with daunting student debt. I have no job, no car, no career, no future. I have nothing to my name. I have no motivation, inspiration, strength or will to continue on. I'm exhausted; I'm tired of the pain. I'm done with everything I've sabotaged and let slip away.

If I'm such a nuisance, I should just not be so anymore... What good am I to society if all I am is just a big waste? I should just go...

That's where I'm at now. I may cease existing soon. It may be for the best. I don't know anymore...


Current time is 7:56 PM.

I hope I can pull through tonight. I hope there's some hope waiting for me in the form of tiny tablets.

-Kat