Hi there, whoever is reading.
It’s been seven months since I have delved into this bloody pandemic that has driven me nuts. Probably this is happening to you too. Let’s raise our glass and cheers to our collective depression, people.
This pandemic has hit me hard mentally. In 2019 I thought I was finally all set to become a full time freelancer. It was a good year in almost all aspects. I thought, finally, after all the hardships and shitty stuff I had to deal with my entire life, although 2019 was not perfect, at least my life was progressing really well. I thought I finally got a grip on my life.
But oh well, what is life without challenges?
(A fucking good life I would say)
This year I’ve been losing motivation to write (except if it makes money – girl needs to eat and take care of the fam #sandwichgeneration). There are countless unfinished posts in my draft box waiting to be followed up. I have been trying to muster enough fuel in me to reignite everything, but still I failed.
So I thought I’d say hi and write you a note. At least as a start. Who knows tomorrow I’ll finally sit my ass down and finish my drafts one by one. Little by little, day by day.
Oh, I finally had my first session of psychotherapy yesterday. My anxiety has taken its toll on me and so does my past trauma. It gets a thousand times harder during this fucking pandemic not to lose my shit, but I realize if I leave this whole thing idle, I’d probably be drown into depression. I tried to keep everything light during my first (online) session because I still feel crying your eyes out in front of a stranger is super awkward and uncomfortable. My therapist said she could notice that I’ve been building a “body armor” way too thick all my life, that’s why doing this session was so hard for me.
Anyway, I am looking forward to my next sessions that will hopefully be done face to face, with social distancing of course, because I’m paranoid like that. And look what it has gotten me into.
Okay sweets, take care of yourself in the meantime. Seek help if you need to, and I hope you won’t be too late. I have been avoiding help from anyone throughout my life because the idea of getting help from people makes me sick. It makes me feel weak and inadequate, and to be frank, some of the closest people in my life thought it’s okay to throw shit at me and be an asshole because “Hey, she can always clean it up for us. You don’t even have to ask her how she feels. She’s gonna get it done. She’ll pick it up and move forward even if she’s so angry at us. She’ll be okay like she always is, lah.”
And they’re right. I got used to it.
But in the end, I know, human has its limit.
It took me a global pandemic to realize, all this time I’ve been crying for help inside and covering my tragedies with comedy (but again, who doesn’t?)
Picture source: healthyplace.com