My apologies for not posting anything in a long time. Truth is, I found a job and for the past three months it’s consumed all my time, energy and thought-capacity. Only now am I able to sit down and pay attention to not just my blog, but my healing as well.
I feel like bursting. So much has happened in the last quarter of a year that my mind finds it hard to keep up with it all, and there are days when everything is so confusing that all I want to do is assume no responsibility for anything, pull the covers over my head and pretend the world doesn’t exist.
Yet that is something I can’t do. I’m an adult, living in a foreign country, solely responsible for my bills, for my rent, for my food and for absolutely everything in my life. I can’t go back to being five, living a life of fun and play, and have someone else take care of me.
The thought of being able to be a child again fills my thoughts. Yet in reality I never got to be one; I always say I miss something I never had, and most of the time I refer to being able to live the life of a child. Now as an adult I have a hard time assuming responsibility because it was forced on me from an early age.
My escape has always been studying or moving to another country. When I start getting anxious about where I am or how life is starting to make me settle down, I pack up my stuff and go. I used to convince people I needed to experience the world, I needed to study and that I loved going to situations where I had to start from scratch, but in reality I have only done it because I can’t stand settling down, it gives me anxiety to realize that I might have to assume responsibility for something.
So I have moved and packed up and flown and settled down for short periods of time. I have lived in found different countries, and in the last ten years I have lived in over 15 different addresses. I abhor the thought of a mundane scheduled existence. For me to feel alive, I need to constantly experience an adrenaline rush.
To be able to sit down, close my eyes and feel a connection to my emotions is a luxury. These days I have no time to stop to think, and as I said earlier, to heal. I abruptly had to stop going to therapy and it’s starting to show. My levels of anxiety are hitting the roof, it’s hard to concentrate, and my head feels like an ocean with different thoughts floating around with no sense of direction and no sense of connection, and nothing makes sense to me anymore.
Yet here I am. I am yet to quit my high-stress job which entails a lot of the aspects of business that I despise. I am yet to break both mentally and physically. Okay fine I drink like a sailor, smoke like a chimney and my addiction to people is making me possessive and paranoid, but I’m still here.
It dawns on me that this blog entry really has nothing to do with healing from abuse, but it has been really important for me to write down my thoughts and ease the anxiety. It has allowed me to explore my current feelings and let them go. I am not sure how this would help anyone, but it has helped me.
And I think this is something all survivors – and other people alike – should do on the regular: do whatever it takes to ensure their own emotional and physical well-being because chances are, if you don’t do, no one else will.