Reason to wake up

I feel like this world is moving, evolving, and I am stuck. Everyone is graduating, leaving this place, yet I am stuck. I am not appreciated here, I am not "prospering" either. Many question my capabilities. I question my capabilities. Have I bitten off more than I can chew? Have I tried to leap too far, and somehow ended up hitting my head on the wall? Should I just give up and go home? 

 Every morning I wake up and struggle to get out of bed. It is mostly because I don't think I have a reason to live for, to move and be something. Most of it is just a vacuum that I float in, untethered. I question all my ideas, thoughts, and now even my memories. Are they all wrong? Fake? Meaningless?  Am I just a fraud fooling people? I don't like this life anymore. I don't like myself, I guess I never have. Just a blob of tissues lying static in space and time. 

All the people I used to know are gone now. They are happy in their new places, new jobs, and new lives. The ones left will leave in a few months too. These are smart people who found partners, good jobs, and a purpose. I am dumb fuck who is still floating, trying to grasp on anything that will even remotely be mine, making concessions and falling further. An island with no shore. Every interaction feels like a personal insult, a rejection of my ideals, a sharp commentary on my shortcomings, and I am not sure that I can fix anything anymore. 

I have ultimately lost this fight. I can't fix things again. 

The Vastness

 "For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love" - Carl Sagan

One early dawn, I found myself standing in front of Lake Louise in Banff National Park. Bluest of the blue waters I had ever seen stood dark, with moonlight dancing on its surface. The peaks shook me. Words fail me when I try to describe what I really feel standing in places like this, especially in darkness. A pull that causes the me to be afraid of myself. I might just walk in. 

Dr Sagan in talking about the cosmic vastness, I wonder, felt it too, maybe? Or it might just be a bug of my own faulty brain. Kundera defined vertigo as our own desire of jumping from the height causing the fear and not the height itself. My fear is also alike. I have felt it driving through the mountains of South India, that morning on Lake Louise, and even in the Smokes. It is awe, respect, and also amazement at what all they have seen over centuries and millennia. A true reflection of my own insignificance in the grand scheme of things. An hour spent marveling at its beauty is not even a blip in its lifetime. As tourists, we visit these places, and maybe pickup a souvenir. But some places, such as Lake Louise, take a piece of you and there is no replacing it.

While Dr Sagan recommends love to face this fear and awe of the vastness, I am rather inexperienced on that front. I don't think I felt true love yet, at least not the kind that could stand with me on such lakeshores and hold my hand in anticipation of my feelings. I am not sure anymore if such love even exists. 

If you know of such love, dear reader, I suggest you hold onto it. Don't let it go for it must the rarest of feelings in the whole cosmos.

Overwhelmed

I have to leave this Friday to attend a thing in Canada, and I am dreading it. Taking a friend with me. She has planned a whole thing of going to 3 national parks and stuff. I don't know why I am dreading it. Suddenly, I feel like I don't want to go. Nothing brings joy anymore.

I have been thinking about how this friend is kinda two-faced. I don't trust such people. I feel like everything is sucky and I am the suckiest. I have been cursing myself for not mastering driving yet. I could've gone alone. Should have gone alone. I want to leave for a week and just disappear in some mountain cabin. I want to throw away my phone and live with no internet access. I dont know what can fix this.

Will I ever be happy?

Living in a Void

 I think there is something wrong with me, in how I conduct myself, that people betray me without consideration. People I gave so much to are now completely over it as they took all they needed. 

 A friend I basically spent a whole year, meeting almost everyday, not only forgot me for a better part of 5 years but also had the audacity to call me at 3AM to ask a question about geostationary orbits! Someone make it make sense. 

A woman for whom I destroyed my knees carrying her shit up and down 3 flights of stairs for 40+ rounds now does not even have to time to get a coffee with me. Her office is 5 mins walk from mine. 

The line is endless...

Now I fear connection. Life seems like a glass bubble. Everyone on the outside thrives, yet I only hear muffled noises of joy.

As the decades seem to fly by, I wonder if I will ever get what I truly wanted -- A person who was just mine. I have waited my whole life to be the priority of someone. Since my childhood, I felt the weight of every passing second, hoping that the one I was waiting for would be the one person I needed. It has now been 31 years, and I am still waiting. Maybe I am asking too much, and maybe that connection only exists in the faded pages of the books I inhaled. Sometimes, I also wonder if I am just unworthy of such a gift. I have no prized beauty or grace, I am a stubby girl who fits nowhere and with no one. All I do is try, and try, and fail. The void inside me grows as I question the very essence of this existence. How did is all go so wrong? Maybe I asked for too much, and lost it all. Or maybe it is just inherited. The women in my family just suffered all their lives. It could simply be an ancestral baggage I carry till I die.

 I want to give up hope completely. I cannot bring myself to read literature anymore. I cannot paint anymore, I cannot draw anymore. Fear is all I feel these days. One step forward, ten steps back. Yet, something inside me still fights. I laugh sometimes at meaningless things. All of this to say, all of me is tired and destroyed, and I don't know how long I have left.

 

 

Basic Vanilla

People have been calling me vanilla now! 

I don't drink alcohol as alcoholism runs in my family. It's just inviting the devil on a red carpet. I have never tried drugs or even any of the gentle stuff such as weed, because I am too scared of my own personality. I have no idea what I will say or do and to whom. It may irreparably destroy my life (maybe hyperbole here, but you get the point. It will invite unnecessary drama). My hobbies these days are walking, growing plants, and painting. While I am learning swimming and weight training, I am currently sucking at both. I have no man I am interested in, past or present, alive or fictional. So now I am labeled vanilla. Maybe they are right, but it hurts. It is insulting. Do I have to partake in vices just to be exciting?

What hurts me more is the fact that just because I am a woman, everyone thinks they can tell me that I "need" a boyfriend. The implication here being I need to be laid to fix myself (??????!!!!!!!!!!!!). I am sick of hearing this. I have been especially betrayed when this "friend" of mine said this to me last night. Fuck this! How can you call me a friend and use these adjectives? If you think so low of me, why you are here! I am not going down this route again. I have had it with men telling me this shit and I am done.   

I can do it by myself. I can buy my own car, my own house, my own plants, and support my own life. I can control numbers and manage my failing career somehow. But what I cannot do is control people. Fuck people. You trust someone and this is how they judge. What is this questions of "this is your problem, you don't think anyone is right if you can't see it yourself!" It hurts but I guess I found this out early enough. 

The fundamental flaw of our existence is the very fact that you cannot know what another is truly thinking. No actions, no words, nothing is reliable. A person can be with you for decades and still might think absolutely low of you. I don't want to show you my scars. I just want to be left the fuck alone. I never thought life would turn out to be this way. 

Do You Think of Me?

I wonder, often, if they think of me? Or am I just somebody that's forgotten in the faces they once knew. Do they even remember my name?

I find it disturbing that we know people for years and suddenly they are gone. Not dead, but just gone from your life. Like a summer that ended too soon, before you could even say goodbye, it was over. The last words were the last words, and you can't change any of it. Someone who seemed so significant was reduced to just an afterthought. 

Call me sentimental, I think this is a great tragedy of life.

I remember everything, but I never said anything. All those who meant everything momentarily, I still remember vividly all the good times and bad. For some, I know I left, but I hope they know that I tried to hold on as long as I could. When they threw jabs, used me, berated me, and shattered my heart into a million pieces, I still hung onto the thought of them. All these ghosts are still mine, and maybe it is time to let them go, yet I don't know how. Each of them took a piece that I'll never get back. And I wonder if they know. Do I ever cross your mind? What do you even remember? What was the point of it all?

There is wisdom in forgetting: no burdens to carry, and I cannot blame them for it. It wouldn't matter

A Week Left

 In about a week, I turn 31 *barf*

Imagine pulling a sweater apart. At first, the strands will fight you, but soon they disintegrate. Each hank, that once kept you warm, now falling apart into a cloud of particles. 

That is exactly how I feel. Disintegrated. 

I am sick of hearing myself talk about it. I am sick of complaining and nothing changing. I hate my own reflection so much that I covered up the mirror on my wall. I hate it all, and I hate being here. Everything is a huge pile of disappointment. In this fragmented existence, what is the meaning of ambition? Or even connection? I have nothing to offer anyone, much less a partner. I keep trying to put it altogether but I keep failing. 

With days, weeks, and decades passing me by, what is the point of continuing. I bought a car over the weekend. I just felt like crying and I don't even know why. I might have to buy a home and I am dreading it. 

-------------Side note---------------------------

FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER! FUCK THIS PAPER!

I hate this paper so much now. More than the paper, I hate myself that I cannot complete it. I hate it and I hate breathing! fuck this!

-----------End Side note--------------------------

Dear Reader,

If I get more unhinged in the future posts, please know that I wasn't so from the start. I was a kind, happy, bright kid. But the world fucked me over multiple times. Fuck all those people who destroyed me. Fuck the decisions I made. Fuck the responsibilities I must dredge to survive. And overall, fuck having to survive the most!

From the desk of an exhausted 30-year old going on 31,

Forgive me,

Yours Truly

The Life I Wanted to Live

 As I teen who grew up watching Hollywood rom-coms, I dreamed to be like the girls in the big city. I grew up in a big city, but my space in it was tiny. A 6'x6' room was my world for the most part. With caged wings, I just boded time till it was my turn to be free. It took 24 years, but I was finally free. The flight wasn't long then but a massive weight was lifted off me. For the very first time, I felt like I was something. But soon that proved to be a temporary stay, and I flew much farther to my current state in life. 

As a teen, I thought that I will live with a passion for life. Much like the dreams of the 90s, I will travel all over the world, my whole life in a suitcase, chasing all that this world has to offer. I dreamed of fancy dresses and even fancier parties, all to make up for the lack of them in life thus far. A tiny studio in New York City, a classic apartment in Paris or London, will be my abodes. Never one to crave material things, I wanted the experience of somehow feeling like I belonged. 

Dear Reader, I am disappointed to report that none of my dreams have materialized thus far. I will turn 31 this year, and I live in a college town of the US. It's all farm and fields here, no brownstones of NYC in sight anywhere. I have a what most people want, a sort of stable (piecewise stable to be accurate) job in a low crime area. I do not feel like wearing shirts here, let alone fancy dresses. imbibing the Gen Z spirit, I roam around in cargo-pants and cartoon t-shirts. I was fortunate enough to travel to NYC and Paris in 2022, but that was just a blip. I wanted joy, adventure, and purpose. I have nothing. 

All this to say, that life had its own plans, and I just floated along. I question myself almost everyday if this is what I want to be doing? Is this making me happy? Maybe I am so used to surviving that that is all I know. I purposely choose challenges over joy, in the hope that overcoming them will bring me greater joy. They never have. All I feel is numb, isolated, and alone. 

When I close my eyes, I think of myself as an island under the endless sky, slowly drifting away from the known shores. No bridges left, no sailor in sight. What is the point of all of this?

Love of Your Life?

 I have spent my whole life dreaming of finding "the one". My person. But recent events have made me question the very premise of this need. What does it even mean to be the love of a life? In my culture, they force people to get married as early as possible, and they just get through life. Some find happiness, but most just fall into codependency or everyday abuse. Billions are living like this. Then how are these statements true? What evidence do we have to substantiate this nonsense that first literature and now the expansive media throws our way? I call bullshit!

Over the course of this life, I have sometimes believed I know love and most other times its been beyond me. I kept his note, his toys, and I refused to touch his gifts. What did those bitches keep except my best! I falsely believed it meant anything. They all moved on, only wounds remain on me. I fucking gave my best to them all. The damn lewy bodies that must have been generated in my brain from all the stress and the anxiety I went through, fuck these bitches. My body suffered, my brain suffered, my soul is tormented. Where is their karma! Someone make it make sense.

Makes me want to give up on life. What is the point anyways? This whole drama of finding a dude, making said dude happy, and then keeping the dude happy sounds exhausting to me. And when he cheats, you gotta pull yourself up again. Give him kids destroying your body. Raise said kids destroying it further, and then he will find someone else. Also, I don't want to jail anyone. Bitch better leave than drown me with him. What if he becomes an addict? What if he makes stupid financial decisions and ruins us both? What if he dies? Who will deal with this much emotional trauma! 

I look at my mom and wonder what did she ever get, except maybe Stockholm syndrome? She has convinced herself that she did the right thing for the kids by staying with the walking abuse of a man. She cared for his bedridden mother for 12 years, raised his 2 kids, cared for his brother, and built a house for him. And said dude was enjoying his life, getting drunk on weekends, partying and vacationing with his friends. What did he lose? Nothing. What did she gain? A sore and broken body and spirit. Fuck that!

 I used to think pretty women have it better. They can find the good ones. But upon closer inspection, I realize one must be pretty but also naive or manipulative enough. Those are the ones getting it, rest all are settling and adjusting their expectations. My fat ass and ugly face don't stand a chance here. 

Not going to lie, I feel lonely everyday. I have felt this loneliness everyday since I was a child. But I guess after 3 decades, one must wise-up and face the music. No one is coming. All friends are gone. The moments of lighthearted joys are gone. I never got to be the silly, fun, and happy girl out on the town. The youth was fucking wasted. All I got was an year. Maybe that's all it was. i fixed my body and my soul was happy, even if it was a fleeting moment in time. Yesterday, I looked at my body. My butt has dimples deeper than the craters on mars. It looked like the butt of a middle-aged woman. My cheeks can only camouflage my age only so long, the slap is coming. Better to get this head straight before shit hits the fan, and get a visor.

Bury the remains of these dreams, and accept the weight of these old bones.

Ultimately, I question the point of this life. Why! What the actual fuck! 100% regret. Why am I even alive? What is going to change even if I fix my career? There is no happiness in my life. There is no soul alive today whom I want to call and share anything. I am just drudging on, only lord knows why. If this is all indeed a simulation, I'd like to change the damn seed. Why was I given this?  I know, given what I have now, I am probably in the 90th percentile of all women in the world, in absolute quality of life. But this only further proves my point of what is this world and what is the point of all this anyways! So much suffering all around, no ground is untouched by a tormented soul. Yet we keep going, Why?

How to Live for Joy?

I took a day off and traveled to see the eclipse yesterday. A spry young group of 20-something grad students and my old bones. While feeling immense guilt on the account of missing work, I partly forced myself to go. As a scientist, I know enough to know the causality behind this spectacle, but the subjective experience is something science will never be able to explain. 

Nauseous, red-faced, and partly dehydrated, I sat on a rock cowering under my umbrella to stand witness to this cosmic dance. Awe-inspiring! As the moon moved closer to the sun, the sky became darker as the  wind cooled. The fire of sun's surface, a calming white glow, seemed so surreal that I could not believe what my own eyes. And to think, I would have missed this just because of stupid work that will always be there. 

All my life, I have dreamed of freedom and my own money to make decisions for myself. I wanted to run away from that house and my circumstances to find joy. In this running, I didn't realize that I never learned to find and live with joy. Those twenty-somethings around me -- of all shapes and sizes -- weren't bound by such barriers. Each with their individuality were striving for and living with joy. I don't mean to idealize their lives or discount their challenges; after all, what do I really know about them as they do about me? Yet, I cannot shake this feeling of being bound my own insecurities and hiding in my room. 

I know survival and delayed gratification. I can possibly write a book about sacrifice and fighting to escape toxic situations. I know self-restraint and perseverance. But I don't know joy. I don't know how to look in the mirror and not hate the person. I don't know how to shake to this feeling and dialogue of being unworthy of everything. How can I make this life meaningful for me? The fear of everything, from heights to fire and injury, all have me in a death grip. None of this is helpful and all of this feels suffocating. I don't want to rely on anyone, except myself. 

Somehow, must get myself out of this and into light.

The Pain That Persists

Like blood that flows beneath the skin, unseen

the pain of losing us always persists within

fought, bargained, suppressed-- all I tried

but a fleeting reminder of the memories reincarnate it all, burning alive

no slave seems to heal this wound

pressure, bandaging and medicines failed too

They say, let it go, forward is the way

But look, it's all still here, glowing red in my veins

 

 

The Dream of You

 I saw you checked my profile today, and the otherwise angry and frustrating day became lighter for a few moments. Even after 13 years, I remember you and I am sure you have no idea how much you meant to me. 

My world was on fire, an implosion that made no sound. The vacuum was sucking me in and I couldn't tell anyone. In those moments, as I was pretending and ignoring everything around me as a numb rock, it was you -- mostly the though of you -- that was always a respite. I saw in you everything I didn't have. The seductive calmness, the honest sparkle of those coffee-colored eyes, and our silly talks were like a tether keeping me sane. The picture of you looking over the ground, radiating peace, is imprinted on my brain. I know you had your own troubles. I wanted more, for things to be deeper than they were, but I just assumed you had enough people and I wasn't even an afterthought in your world. Some may call it a school girl crush, a limerance, or a distraction, but I felt it. Whatever it was, it was pure.

Over the years, from time to time, I look back and see how you are doing. The journey you have been on must have been pretty challenging; I was always happy to see you succeed. I hope your life is joyful and fresh, full of opportunities and purpose. I have always wished you nothing but the best. We might never meet again, but even after all this time, I still hold a piece of you in my heart. I guess it's best that it never came to be more as I probably would have screwed it up.

Precisely what I want

I often dream of the What Ifs

What if he said this and I said that 

What if he too felt the same and told me so

What if I had the courage to take the first steps

What if I had chosen differently

What if he was the one..........

But deep down I know these are fantasies, a coping mechanism of my ever-present state of loneliness. As you know, dear reader (if you exist), that I have always felt incredibly alone. All throughout childhood, youth, and now supposedly mid life. And, I always used to dream of scenarios that were wishful of a happier existence. When I was bullied as a child, called ugly by pretty much everyone, and basically treated poorly by peers and adults alike, I dreamed of an adventure far away from all those folks.

Not much has changed today. I dream of making different decisions that I did. I dream of a past where I was not lonely. I wish I didn't choose him. I wish that he rose up to the challenges and fought for me. I wish I was better so that I didn't hate looking into the mirror. I wish I was not this ball of anxiety and issues that drives everyone away no matter how much I care. 

While not much is in my hands, I do know that none of the boys I liked before were right for me. I might not have chosen wisely at first, but I did get around to doing the right thing. I often question if what I felt at the time was love, but it doesn't matter now. None of them could handle the full me and that is OK. 

 I want a partner who gets me, like core compiler level understanding of my internal code. A person who is brilliant, kind, and loves my humor. I need someone who will enjoy silence with me, the boring side, the workaholic side, but also loves and supports my spontaneity. He understands that I overthink to the degree of ridiculousness and I say things I don't mean, and has the heart to forgive me. Looks have never been a factor in my choice thus far; if only I could post images here, you'd be surprised at my range. Yet, this time, for the lifetime, I want someone who complements me. Looks like he belongs to me. He is my best friend and I am his. I do not want another project to fix, I don't have it in me anymore. I do not want someone I am lukewarm to who grows on me due to my own insecurities and fear of being alone.

I want a companion to share my life with. From the goofy, thrill-seeking side, to the utterly destroyed, wounded and hurt, take my all and carry it with me. I will accept all of you and carry it with you. 

That's all.

Change of Me

What maketh a man, and a woman!

I have some sort of undiagnosed OCD or something; I have always been worried about my health. There is an inferiority in me about my body that goes beyond the surface -- from just looks to deep beneath the skin-- and makes me question everything. As you know, dear reader, that last year I was pushed to the edge. I started healing this year. It a start, not there yet!

Supplements, something most will scoff over, have changed my life. Even when I go through depressive cycles now, I have this awareness that I am not as bad as I was just a couple of months ago. There is something, my body is being a buoy, and saving me from the depths of despair that I know my mind is capable of taking me. Just indescribably unfathomable to me that a few pills -- mostly iron and vitamin D -- can change a person so profoundly.I got my blood work back and I am no longer in the danger zone of anything. The one thing I have nightmares about, diabetes, was thankfully, praise all gods, not there. My A1c was good. Iron and vitamin D on the rise.

There is just one last thing left to do: fix cholesterol. My LDLs are high and so is total cholesterol (read 263!). Yikes! I have realized the error of my ways. A pizza a day is a not a good meal, who would have thought! That is my comfort food these day and its killing me.

 I have decided to eat cabbage and beans everyday. I like both, in fact, I love beans and I can cook them well. Also, I want to start my physical training too. Strength training of body and mind. While physical training is for my knees and stuff (everything hurts!), I am going to start meditating everyday. This wandering, tortured mind mind needs healing too, the body can only do so much. Going to start with 5 mins and go from there. Let's see how well it goes.

If Only You Knew

 An introvert's curse is that even though solitude is necessary and comforting, it is also an impermeable moat that keeps people out. My moat is my inability to form friendships, especially with other introverts. Always some extrovert or chatty person will pick me, for reasons unbeknownst,  and we will be friends. Yet, I do grieve the loss of those whom I wanted in my life, but due to this fatal flaw, I couldn't. 

If only you knew how much I liked you and disliked your fan following. I never understood where we stood, maybe it was all in my head. I wish I could tell you what I really wanted, how much I struggled internally, and how much sadness I felt when you chose the other one. She is an amazing person, an extrovert of extroverts and I know why it worked for you two. I still regret the day you asked me for that silly game, and I, in my shyness and awkwardness, declined. I should have said yes, but I can't change the past. I am happy you had your group, and take solace in the fact that you will never know I wrote poems for you (can't say much to their merit, but at least I did). I can't image the magnitude of shock you will feel if you ever do.

We will, possibly, in classic me fashion, never meet again. It is close to being an year since I last saw you, and all we will be is people who shared a workspace together for a brief slice of time. In another life though, who knows, you and me try harder.

The evening that brought the shitstorm

 AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

I blame my cycle. 

 I finally told my uncle the barbed words my dad threw at me about almost 13 years ago. I am a delayed responder. My brain didn't react the very time he said it, and next day he just shrugged it off. It is unfathomable to me how conveniently everyone has forgotten the hell I was put through. In the words of TS, "the scars from when they pulled me apart." 

It hit him like a bolt, suddenly everything made sense. My running away, my lack of desire to go back, and my distance from everyone. But I know nothing good is going to come out of this. I know exactly how this is going to go down. Dad will make a lot of drama, he will cry, he will drink, he will curse my mom, he will call me and weep etc, but nothing actually will change. It's been done and gone so long that I don't know if things can be fixed. 

I am, dear reader, incapable of forgiveness. I admit it.

I begged my uncle to let it go, made him swear; it just fell on dead ears. He is adamant to "fix" it. There is nothing to fix. That part of my heart died a long time ago, too bad they saw the obituary now. 

I guess I will let you know how this shitstorm went in a few days. 

While we are on the topic, I have never craved hugs before. In my 30 years on this planet, if we remove initial 5, I haven't been hugged much. I think since I was in my teens no one hugged me. Not even my mom. When I was in a relationship, didn't get hugged enough. I don't know what lies ahead but looking too good thus far.

Fall and Rise

 Today, I found a white hair. 

If you are not me, you might just balk at me making a mountain out of this seemingly regular thing. But if you are me, you know how big of an earth shattering instance this is. For context, I check my hair regularly and always exclaim -- not mine -- when I see a white hair anywhere on me. It is the one slap of aging that I dread most. I never claimed I am well adjusted.

Yet, what was truly striking about this one hair was that it was white at the end and black after about an inch. The hair follicle didn't lose pigment permanently, it just lost it for a bit and then recovered. I got my hair cut in August 2023. It is February 2024. This means the damage happened in 2023. Well, my whole being was traumatized in 2023 and all that I went through mentally did show signs physically. I gained 20 pounds in 5 months. I have dark circles even on the corner of my eyes. I have 3-4 friends, and no real close ones. My family tests my limits of patience most times. All the despair, inadequacy, fear, and pain I feel every single day has physical manifestations too. 

It turned black too. It recovered. I can recover too. I am taking supplements everyday, drinking water (who could have guessed that would have helped! XD), and slowly trying to get back to exercise even though all my muscles are killing me. My knees curse me every single day. I hope to do them justice. But I believe I can overcome, it just might take time.

Also, tomorrow is the stupid V day. 30 years, 30 lonely V days. I want to say I hate this day, but I don't. It has no significance for me, whatsoever. Even when I wasn't single, it didn't mean anything. And it will be fine if it never does. I always dreamed of becoming independent and living my own life on my own terms. I have achieved that path. I never prayed or asked for love or a partner. I have realized I felt the happiest (my level, which is always lower than the regular level) when I was at my prime. When my body was functioning great, I looked great, I felt energetic, light and fast, when I went to the gym everyday and gave it my all. That's what I want. I want to complete a marathon, and not just complete, I want to be sub-3 hours. I want to run a 5K in 20mins. That's what I dream of now. I want to wear a long skirt with a beautiful top and feel pretty for myself. I want to lift heavy things and drive myself cross-country. I want to buy a house and a car. I want to see the world and experience new things. Men never fit into my life and maybe they never will, but I never needed them anyways. 

I will recover. I am healing, one day at a time.

Where ever you go, there you are

Where ever you go, there you are

Why have I come here? There is not much here.

Imagine spending your whole life running to survive. I ran from people, family, my city; I ran with my grief and with melancholy. I was chased by demons, some came to me as friends and some as foes, but all left me wounded. Piece by piece, I lost my lost my shine. I am stuck in this dissociative state. I long to go back and make better decision. I want to save myself from my own mistakes and poor choices. At the same time, I also want to escape to a happier future where I don't hate myself, where I have love, where I have peace, and something to live for. 

Where ever you go, there you are ----------- in the very preface, the author calls me out. I also felt like I was publicly shamed for being this way. I know this is no way of living, but since I was a child I was my only friend. They never understood. I don't think there has ever been a time I have disassociated to just survive. I am trying very hard not to be bitter. I like my easy going self. But what can I do when this is my reality? A broken brain, a broken heart, and a broken body. Every day I fight this battle with myself to just push and push to be a bit better. Clearly it is not enough as I have fallen deep.

Unlocking Trauma

 Body keeps the score...... at least that's the popular dictum these days. Over the years, I thought pushing it all down and trying to forget everything will work for me. Clearly, I have failed. 

 

I started this year sick and in bed, hating every second, every breath. It propelled me to get up and get working. I workout, even if its just Yoga, every day now. But what's been most life changing is intermittent fasting. Every day I fast for somewhere between 20 to 23 hours. I have felt dizzy and weak some days but almost all these days, I feel re-traumatized. Every single day, near the end, I feel numb and depressed all over again. It is as if all the trauma was stored in my fat cells that leeching out as they break. I don't have any insightful words on how to overcome it right now but I am living one day at a time.