I am always worried about how much stuff I have. Currently, I think I have too much. I get curious looks from people when I say that. Apparently, others don’t see what I see. This should not be a surprise to anyone—least of all me.
There has always been that oppositional defiance within me that wants to keep poking at the things no one wants to discuss. Because I know that when terrible things are going on, and no one speaks about them, it gives leeway to abusers to continue.
I still think that it would be “easier” if I had the scars to show the years of abuse I endured. If I had some external marks, it would help me to know that it wasn’t all in my head, even though I know it wasn’t.
My art is in a virtual art show! This exhibit is all about mental health awareness through art. Art is a powerful bridge between the world within and the world outside.
There comes a moment when truthfulness is the key to whatever is next. My truth is at my very core; I am depressed with a hefty side dose of anxiety. But that is me all of the time.
Tis the season to be…depressed and anxious? Wait, that is not how any of those songs go. But it happens and is happening this year too. The depression spirals out of control and into the darkness I go.
The holidays are just around the corner. Survival mode initiated. But wait, do I have to keep surviving this? Can’t I do something different? Maybe I can.
I never wanted to write about my childhood abuse. I wanted to write cool novels that people would love. Who would read about childhood abuse? And what would I have to offer? It turns out more than I thought.
I didn’t know I would write about this, my spiraling into darkness. I had plans to write something else. But that is what depression and anxiety do – it takes over and changes your plans.
There has been a great weight upon me lately. I am sure it has to do with the upcoming holidays. Memories are coming back to me. I have been wondering what made me different: I was defiant in the face of such abuse.