Today Is A Bit Of A Bad Day

Today is a bit of a bad day. So what better time to write?

I know my past 2 posts have had a positive bounce to them and a link to a form of helpline, but today I just feel like writing because I’m sad.

Have you ever felt like things are different? Like they just feel different. You almost feel like more of a spare part. You stand in the background and just watch everything happen around you and just get slightly annoyed at the littlest thing, but also upset because you just exist in this scenario and don’t quite understand your place. You feel the love is lesser, the happiness is drained, and everything just feels exhausted. I’m exhausted.

I wanted to write while at a low point to show you guys that writing itself can be therapeutic. It can feel like a release to express things in a safe space and be heard by people that may understand. The whole reason I’m building this community. For you, for me, for many others. Because I can speak my truths publicly does not mean I am healed. I’m simplifying ranting in the hope of making a change. We see the effects of mental health and the impact it can have on people, and for most, mental health can be triggered quicker than flipping a switch. Yet their way of handling this is to put us on a waiting list with no form of support in between, apart from some numbers we can contact if we need them.

I’m not being funny, but it took a lot for me to refer myself to you. What makes you think at my lowest I want to talk to a different stranger every time and express my story over and over again and relive the trauma I’m trying to forget? Don’t get me wrong, if I was in need of just talking to anyone, yeah, they’re great, but unfortunately we live in a generation where keyboard warriors exist. I could probably express myself more freely on paper than I could through actual speech because, let’s face it, when we say it out loud, it can’t be taken back. If I write it, I could lose it in a notebook, burn it, it could be lost in cyberspace, I do not have to reread it. If I say it, someone could always recall it back.

Today I feel pointless, I feel hopeless, I feel as though there is no point trying to make things better for my future. But in all honesty, I’ve always found ranting on paper has helped me. You should see the notes in my phone. I don’t know if it’s the meds, if I’m just tired, or what, but the atmosphere around me is just something I don’t want to be in. I want to sit in the dark, read, watch movies, and nap, in silence, alone. How I love to be alone sometimes, until the thoughts come and ruin it. I feel like the moods of the people around me are affecting my mood. I feel like I’m making things worse. I feel like I’m trying to help but just annoying them, and then I overthink more.

‘He doesn’t love me like he used to.’

My brain sucks ass.