consistency

consistency (noun)
/kənˈsɪst(ə)nsi/
consistent behaviour or treatment.

I am not really sure what is the worst: not being able to stick to something that you start with so much hope and excitement, or hating yourself for not sticking up to it, not being good enough, not being able to stop comparing yourself to others. I’ve lived my life feeling ashamed of myself even though I had everything I could ever dream of. I was in a family who cared for me, I beat cancer, I had so many amazing friends, and I had my books and every opportunity I needed. I was able to attend a university, I was able to get everything with my own money, my own hard work and yet… yet I kept feeling ashamed of myself. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was never enough good enough, pretty enough, strong enough, or smart enough. I still cannot shake off the feeling even today, even today when I have my health, a loving husband, a beautiful cat, a home to sleep in and food to eat. I have a person who loves me to his best ability and who supports every decision I make. I have a family who is always there for me even though there are times that I cannot see them and I have friends who open the damn phone at the first ring.

You’d think that I would feel happy, over the moon and grateful for everything right? I would think of myself too. I want to be grateful for everything I have and do not get me wrong, I am GRATEFUL. Every night I am putting my head to my pillow knowing that another day has passed without any issues and the people I love are safe and I am safe. But after every nice thing to think goes away and my demons start pulling me down to this hole I’ve dug in my own chest. The hole I dug with my bare hands, collapsing into myself, terrorizing myself with… nothing but myself. It is so hard to understand and try to accept that everything that I feel and live through is because of myself. I am aware that I am my own enemy and it hurts me so much to accept that. It hurts so much to realize that everything I felt is caused by nothing but myself. I sometimes feel like it is impossible to get over the feeling. I sometimes feel like I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nowhere to exist as who I am; this weird woman who likes long walks and rain and snow and smoking and reading and painting until her fingers are painted with all the colours she used. Sometimes I feel like I’ve accomplished nothing when I know that I did. Because I did. I did my best when I was a teacher, I did my best when I was working for an office, I did my best when I was in the university, grinding my days to get my best in the exams, to understand better, to get better.

I did everything to my abilities and somehow I still feel that I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough to finish school in the first place. I wasn’t good enough to make my mom and dad happy all the time, and I wasn’t a good sister for my sister when she needed me at all times. I am hysterical, hard to deal with, aggressive and silent because I am living with my own poison, running in my veins without hitting the brakes for one brief second. I am living with myself, the hardest challenge I’ve ever come across and I accept that I am this way. I am wired differently than everyone I know. Things in my brain work differently and I am in a constant battle with myself, even now, my brain is screaming at me for being this vulnerable over a draft I may never publish to a few people who actually follow my blog. But I know no better.

I know nothing but writing. I wrote my entire life. I wrote many stories, poems and journals to empty my chest and I have nothing else but this. I am getting tired of this constant battle in me. I want to know what it feels like to feel normal. I want to know what it feels like to be at ease. No thoughts on harming yourself, no thoughts of ashaming, no thoughts of embarrassment. I want to feel this calmness even once. I am consistently working on getting better but nothing seems to work. I love my life and I love living. I love the warm summer breeze on my skin and the cold touch of water, I love reading my books and skating, I love our small coffee hours with my friends and I love lazy nights spent cuddling with my husband. I am scared of not being able to live any one of these again, not feeling the snow falling on my palms, not seeing how white it is or not feeling the cold ever again. I am so scared to lose all of that. I love living and breathing in this world. I am just too tired. I will keep working on everything I see as much as I can but I guess I need to learn how to ignore these feelings right? I am the source and I am the cure. Only I can change something. Not the pills they gave me, not my friends who support me, not my husband who holds me, not my family who is watching over me. Only I can end this suffering and this requires hard work.

This requires consistency.
This requires bravery and I want to find my cure. I want to be brave and live happily against all odds.