Sleeping too much is a sign of depression. I know this. What about not sleeping at all? Or alternating between the two extremes? Then what?
I don’t feel depressed.
But I can say I don’t feel like “myself” whatever that means.
I also feel like…in this moment…that I have been dishonest. Not that I’ve been lying or speaking falsehoods. But…I haven’t been facing my feelings. At least I realized this all today. I’ve been trying so hard to believe I made a mistake. Hoping I created emotions where they didn’t exist. Praying, even I, with my insight for bullshit, accidentally let this adolescent crush I had turn into infatuation…which I innocently mistook for love.
“You weren’t in love Taschka. There’s no way. You barely………………….”
What does it mean to “know” someone?
Being around someone a few times, versus years? There are family members who have known me my entire life…who barely know me. There are friends I’ve made and within 24hrs felt like kindred spirits. So I don’t really understand what defines “knowing.” I guess it’s for the individual to decide. But I will say this, the lack of knowing at times…is what can keep you from discovering the things that can shatter your ideals. And no one is or should be idealized as such. Even I know that. But sometimes you ignore certain signs and just trust your feelings. I trusted mine and they told me I was in love.
When I discovered for the first time in my life that what I wanted wasn’t what I could have…I reacted as any raging narcissist would. I freaked out emotionally. Then I put on armor and said fuck it. And since, I’ve pushed it to the back of my head and have not revisited it.
Someone extremely important to me said something along the lines of, “I don’t mind being second choice as long as I am one of your choices.”
When I asked them wtf they meant by that absurd remark they then told me, “Your feelings for her haven’t gone away. You’re just pretending they did.”
I had nothing to say about that. In fact I felt the most real I had in ages. Everyone has been so quick to denounce my emotions…by telling me I made them up, or that I was lying to myself. So I started to believe it. I started to doubt everything I felt for the past year…just because of a few technicalities and adult assumptions.
But isn’t being an adult also being able to acknowledge when you’re hurting? And being Woman enough to admit the truth? Despite facts, despite possibility, despite want…
Today I discovered I still “feel” and it’s ok. I’m not a weak person because of this. I’m also not crazy or weird, or whatever. People fall…it just happens. I’m tired of apologizing to myself for it. I’m tired of being afraid of judgement. I’m just tired of giving a shit…all because of four little letters that smacked me in the face.
So what. So the world can see this. Anyone can read this and know I too, along with the rest of you, am capable of being vulnerable. Only I’m laying it all out on the table. I don’t care anymore. It feels amazing to admit…to put a name to this numbness that’s been dwelling inside. It’s ok to hurt. At some point I’ll get passed it. I don’t know when, or how…but I will.