Musical Sundays

"Better stay out of the shadows when you wander far from home."

This guy is super talented and amazing in general and everyone should go check out his album.

I lead a passive life, and I need to change it.

I feel like I'm back where I was last March. Well, I know I'm back there.
For a few months (from around September to about February), I actually felt better even if I had stopped (yet again) going to therapy.
It feels kinda different than last year. I don't know what is it that makes it feel different. Have I given up? Have I gotten used to being this down under the bar?

I remember when I told a couple of my closest friends that I had depression, they reacted by saying something along the lines of "oh, so this isn't really you" and they would add something else that I can't come up with the words right now.

I feel that if depression and mental illnesses in general weren't such big stigmas in our society, if they were generally recognized as real illnesses, if I could just let people know more openly, everything would be so much easier. I'm not looking for pity on people, I'm looking for comprehension. I'm looking for not having to explain myself with lies that don't really explain my behavior, avoiding people because I can't tell them "hey, I have pretty bad depression so everything is a thousand times harder, but just give me some trust, I can do it, it might just take me more time, I will get there".

I lead a passive life. Not in a not leaving the house (even if my agoraphobia has been hitting me pretty hard lately) and being bored all the time kind of way. I lead a passive life in the sense of not moving forward, not challenging myself in whatever way I can, in not pursuing anything I want.
I wonder if it is because of all that past rejection in every aspect of my life (which should be in the past and I should have moved on, but here I am), or if it is because of how scared I'm of everything even I don't consciously realize it.
I can safely say that now is fear, I feel paralyzed once again.

You can't imagine how much sending emails terrifies me. Even if I know, I know!, that if I sent them, if I had sent them already when I had to, those problems that give me constant anxiety and panic attacks almost every single fucking night and any time of the day to be honest, would most likely be solved by now and they would be a couple of problems less on the list.
Yet here I am, fully capable (in a physical way) of sending them, having time, having the resources, having thought of what I want to say in them a thousand times - and still haven't sent them.
It's even happening with people I care a lot about. I want to write to them, know how they're doing, even going to visit them. And then months upon months go by and they might think I don't care about them, that I don't care about seeing them again. If only they knew.

University was such a bad decision for me.
I don't want to be doing what I'm doing. Right now I feel like I don't know anymore what I want to be doing exactly. The pull towards throwing myself into writing is always there. But is it more of a hobby or is it actually-? Ugh. But there's nothing else that I like doing.
Always with the fucking doubts.

I know I have to go back to therapy. For real. This summer, that I will have time and I will be in an environment that lately has been making me feel safe and (however much I can) relaxed. Even if I have to go to a new one and pay for it (one of the reasons I started going last year was because I didn't have to pay, but I actually didn't feel 100% comfortable with him). I need to be better, I need to stop constantly feel like this, like I'm not worth shit, like I can't do anything. I need to be normal, whatever normal can be for me.
If I continue living like this I honestly don't know how long I'm gonna last.

Last year I think I said something like this already. Maybe if I say it a lot of times I actually do it for fucking real.
Who knows.

Oh, no.

24th of March, 2016. 4 am.

So.
I've self-harmed again.
I've been doing it for over a month or more, actually.
I never really stopped.  I just didn't do it every day.
Maybe I spent a couple of months without doing it.
And then something would set me off and all those months of not hurting myself never existed.
But I hadn't felt the push and pull towards it so strongly for a while.
And that's probably the part that hurts the most.
Needing to do it.
Knowing that you're not gonna be able to shush your brain for a few minutes and then get some sleep unless you do it, unless you feel that burn.
"It's such a stupid thing to do," I tell myself every time.
And yet 95% of the times I fall into it.
Scars are so easy to hide.
They don't matter.
Especially when you have a big body that you never show.
Because why would you.
After so many years the lies come easy.
And no one gives it a second thought.
No one.
Then you feel those tiny read lines screaming "please, see me", "please, help me", "please, be actually interested", "please, care".
And the only way you can shut them up with is hurting yourself again.
And if after hurting yourself you can't shush your brain, you can't sleep - you do it again. Knowing that this is stupid. Knowing that this is not helping you.