Thursday, July 11, 2019

Opening the Floodgates


I’ve been MIA for a while now and I know this story is getting old. Yes, I’ve been busy, I have my parents here with me visiting from the Philippines, we’ve been traveling and enjoying our summer vacation, been working on DIY projects around the house, yada yada yada….But the hard truth and the only one that truly matters in this space is that I have not felt any real motivation to write. 

I’m struggling. How much?...Well, enough, that I’m seated here outside the indoor tennis court where my son is taking his class and feel that I would rather apply lotion to my hands mid-sentence and take the time to stare at middle schoolers fumble with their strokes, than focus on finishing this paragraph and actually make sense. 

I never feel like anything is important enough to write about.

I never could find enough fire in me to share what's swirling in my mind.

I never feel like anyone would be interested to read, let alone find any value in what I have to say. 

I never feel like I have the energy to develop an idea so it can have some semblance of coherence worthy of being allowed to seep out of my inner world. 

I never feel like there is enough quiet space in my mind to accommodate sentences and creativity.

Could I be suffering from depression? I wonder. A lot. 

I’m functional, sure, but there is something in me that doesn’t feel right. It's a struggle to even talk about this now because I know a lot of people won't believe me and think I'm simply overanalyzing myself. I'm organized, do everything I need to accomplish for my family, feel grateful for the life I have, look happy and warm in social situations and overall, seem...fine.

But I am struggling with a lot of my demons. 

Could I just be feeling lost, trying to find more meaning, and drowning in my perpetual existential crisis? I don’t know.

I’ve been trying to 'fake it ‘til I make it' in this space, been doing my best to write what I feel might be of some value to someone out there, but it’s obviously not working. It hasn’t changed anything much in me as far as jumpstarting my writing, my motivation, my happiness. 

It’s a vicious cycle. I’ve always felt that writing and publishing on this space gave me bursts of happiness, a sense of accomplishment and affirmation. Being able to craft something with my words always gave me some sense of purpose. But I haven’t been able to do so because of my mental and emotional state, which makes me feel miserable because not only do I know I’m not able to create, I also feel like I’m failing in some way, which makes me feel even more of a disappointment, a useless waste of air. 

I’m full of self-doubt to the point that it can incapacitate me on some days. 

I feel like I have nothing valuable to give.

I feel like I have no real value in this world. And this thought is further compounded by the fact that what I enjoy doing and feel I'm capable of at the moment don't translate to any monetary contribution.

I have an overwhelming need to always feel safe, in my cocoon, in my comfort zone, where everything is predictable and there is no real risk to fear.

I have become more secluded through the years, save for the occasional time spent with a very select few who I am comfortable with. 

Please don’t tell me going out more will make me feel better. I’m an introvert and forcing me to go out and mingle will not solve anything for me and may only make things feel worse and draining. I can’t feel any more drained than I already do. 

Don’t tell me to apply for jobs and that earning money will make me feel better. Maybe it will. But if it were that simple, don't you think I'd have already done it?

Don’t tell me to go find myself a good therapist and medicate. It’s not something that’s within our family budget at the moment and something I’m not ready to commit to. I know my husband won't mind but the thought of making him spend that money on me will only make me feel even worse. 

Don't think I'm fragile and act like you might shatter me next time you see me and talk to me. Don't think I'm a  fake when you see me smiling and being like everyone else. Just know that people are more complex than what your eyes perceive and try to see with your heart instead. 

I know I'm annoying a lot of you right now, especially those who identify as proactive. I don't need to be analyzed, I don't need you to solve anything or figure things out for me. I don't expect to be understood by everyone, nor is this meant to be an excuse. 

I'm simply coming out. 

Everything has consequences, I know that. And my raw honesty now won't be exempted from that truth. But if I keep fearing what could happen next and shred every scenario to pieces before I speak my truth, then I might never have the strength to open the dam. 

My only intention is authenticity. I'm just hoping that maybe my coming out as raw as I've never written before may help my energy flow better as I step out of hiding. I know there is much more to write, but for today, this is all I can offer.