onmysideofheaven

[onmysideofheaven]

I guess I always thought that the world I grew up in, would be the world I lived in as an adult. Now that I'm here, I realize it's not the same. It's like when you buy something online because you think it looks cool, and then it arrives and it's nothing like the picture. That's exactly how I feel about life.

[onmysideofheaven]

more scared of getting old than dying young

[onmysideofheaven]

TW: SI

When I was little, there was one thing my mom did that always made me feel like maybe she really did love me even though she was awful to me. It’s be late at night, and we’d be in the car going or coming from somewhere. I’d get tired, so I’d lay my head against the side of my car seat. I was always scared that she would mad if she looked back and saw, but instead she’d say “you can close your eyes if you want.” It was the most loving thing she ever said. Having depression is like being a little kid who’s tired, and laying your head against the car seat. Suicide would be falling asleep. All I want is for someone to tell me it’s okay to close my eyes. When someone is sick, and they’re fighting it, their family will come to a point where they say “it’s okay to go, we know you tried your best and you’re tired.” I wish the same rule applied to depression, because I’m losing this battle. I’m tired. I don’t have any more fight left in me. Why can’t they see how tired I am? Why can’t my efforts be good enough? 

[onmysideofheaven]

Love

Lately I've been struggling with being single. I feel alone, and I crave a relationship with someone who loves me, supports me, and understands me. It's hard though for a few reasons. I do college online, not in person. I work in fast food with mostly high school kids, I live alone in an apartment. Outside of that, I have anxiety, I don't know how to make friends, I can be a little awkward, I'm emotional, I over think, I'm not very pretty, I'm not anybody special. So what do I do? I download dating apps. Here's what I've learned: nobody wants what I want. I don't want to be fwb, or a one night stand. I've tried both of those, and that's not fulfilling to me. I want to be in love with someone, and I want them to be in love with me. It's terrifying that love like that doesn't really exist anymore. All these guys are too afraid of commitment, and I guess girls must be too because if they weren't this wouldn't be the norm. I don't even know if I believe in love anymore. I guess I always expected to just fall in love with someone and I didn't think it would be this hard. It's lonely, and I'm sad about it, but it's also making me want to be a femme fatale and say fuck it you know? So I'm in between my lover era and my femme fatale era. And of course there's the fear that it's me. That I am unlovable, that God doesn't want me to find love, or I'm not destined for it. I don't know. I hate how much I want it. I hate how lonely I feel.

[onmysideofheaven]

What do you do?

What do you do when home doesn’t feel like home anymore

And you don’t feel like yourself

But you’re not sure who yourself even is.

You don’t want to die

But you definitely don’t want to be alive

You’re lonely

But you can’t stand being around people

You’re tired

But all you do is sleep

Until you can’t sleep anymore

And then you just lay there

With your thoughts on max volume

And nothing drowns them out

So you smoke weed

But when you’re high 

You think about your life

And that makes you angry at God

But you’re not really angry

You’re hurt

And then you’re crying

Begging God to kill you

Because you’re a failure

You’re failing Him

You’re failing your family

You mean absolutely nothing to anyone

Not even yourself

You want to be loved

But you don’t know if you’re lovable

When the high wears off

You feel hopeful

That something will change

Maybe God finally heard you

But the next day it’s all the same

Day after day after day

What do you do?

When taking your life

Seems like a really good idea

Because let’s face it,

you’re running out of options

And you’re running out of energy 

You ran out of hope five years ago

And now you’re just surviving off 

Your fear of death.

Where do you go?

When home feels like a prison

The walls are screaming at you

The water is too cold

But your bed is too hot

You toss and turn 

Seeking relief

But all there is is this crushing weight

Of pain and heartbreak

You don’t know if you’re like this because you’re human

Or because

You’re you.

Does nobody else feel like this?

Or do we just not talk about it?

Do we all just pretend everything is fine

And we’re not secretly dying inside?

Or is everyone happy

And I’m just…

Insane?

-A.R.W. (onmysideofheaven)

[onmysideofheaven]

Here We Go Again

I have come to the conclusion that there are a few explanations for what I feel. The first being, I am certifiably insane. Which again, would make sense. Two, everybody feels like this, but everyone else either is really good at hiding it, or they forgot what it felt like as the brain's subconscious method of self preservation. Or, anyone who ever felt like this before is dead. Which wouldn't surprise me because how else do you make this stop? If that's the case, well at least in like 100 years someone might accidentally find this blog and they'll know what it was like.

[onmysideofheaven]

Insanity...

I was a goody-two shoes growing up. I got the crap beaten out of me even when I did everything right, so I didn’t risk rebelling. Once I ended up in foster care, I realized misbehavior meant losing your place to live, or that families wouldn’t want you. So I followed all the rules. I chose having a stable home over being a kid. As a result, I missed out of a lot of teenage milestones. I never skipped class, snuck out, did drugs, drank. I’d never kissed a boy, been on date, had a boyfriend, or even had friends really. When I was 19, I met a guy. Here's the thing, I'd kissed one boy when I was 14, but it was one of those two second smooches that doesn’t really count. I realized that I was kind of pathetic. So I started doing stuff. I kissed the guy, I lost my virginity, I smoked weed for the first time, I drank. I didn’t go crazy, but I tried all of these things I had never been allowed to do for fear of losing a roof over my head. I figured, I'd followed the rules to a T for my entire life, and I still didn’t get adopted again, I didn’t get picked. I wasn’t loved. I was doing everything to please everyone around me when I was miserable. In the words of Olivia Rodrigo, “where’s my fucking teenage dream?!” So I had my rebel phase at 19-20. I guess I thought it would kind of make me feel better. I don’t know why. But then the guy broke my heart, I lost my job, and my whole life fell apart pretty hard. I was forced to admit that I have no idea who I am. I’m spiraling. I’m doing everything I swore I would never do. Which is funny and terrifying at the same time. I mean this is life. It’s messy. We do bad things, we chase highs, we fall. I guess I never pictured myself living life like everyone else. I thought I would never live long enough to feel all these feelings. Little me would be screaming right now. At heart, I’m screaming right now. All the things I never thought I would get to experience I’m starting to experience and it’s really exciting but also terrifying. I’m intellectually and developmentally ahead of people my age, but socially and emotionally, I’m so far behind. It’s like I’m playing catch up. I just really hope I make it out, you know? I know there’s more to life than what I've seen, and I want it. I want to be happy and at peace. I know life is never easy, but I want to be confident enough in myself, my relationship with God, my identity, to be able to take the hits without completely losing my breath. I want to be mostly happy. That’s all I really want. I don’t know if happiness like that actually exists though. I’ve never felt it, so all I have is an idea of what I hope it feels like. I pray that one day I can feel it, and I’m also scared that this is all I’ll ever be. That this pain, this darkness, is all I’ll ever feel. I can’t tell you how my story will end, all I know is that I would go through a lifetime of this feeling if at the end I got to feel that kind of happiness for one minute. I don’t know what heaven looks like, or if I’ll make it there. I hope in heaven we get to be happy. I have to believe in heaven and God, because if neither are real, then what was the point of everything I went through? All the heartbreak, what was it for, if at the end of this life, I just stop existing and there’s nothing? I refuse to believe my pain is meaningless, because I felt every ounce of it as it ripped my heart to shreds. How can something that hurts like that mean nothing? And if it did, then why would I want to stick around for the next sixty years feeling like this? No sane person would do that. Unless of course, I am in fact insane. Which is a very real possibility at this point.

[onmysideofheaven]

What if?

I grew up in an abusive home. I don’t know how else to say that in a way that would make you fully grasp the pain I feel saying that. I could tell you all the gory details and sob stories. I’ve rehearsed it so many times in therapy and to caseworkers that I can do it without feeling anything. I can separate the person I was during the abuse from the person I am now. But lately, I’ve realized I don’t know who the hell I am. I’m starting to forget my childhood. Which is bittersweet right? I don’t want those memories, but without them, I don’t know why I’m here. Because there’s nothing special about me. I’m not pretty or smart. I don’t smile a lot, and I don't interact with people I don’t know because I don’t trust people. If you walked past me on the street you wouldn’t even notice me. I don’t light up a room when I walk in, I blend in, and cease to exist, Because that’s how I survived for so long. That’s all I’ve done my entire life, almost 21 years straight, I have survived. But who am I when I don’t have to be in survival mode? I don’t have any hobbies, I wasn’t allowed to participate in extracurriculars either before or after entering foster care. I wasn’t allowed to have friends,or to leave the house. I lived in absolute hell for twelve and half years of my life, and to be honest I didn’t think there was life outside of that. I thought I would die in that house, in that life. I was counting on it. I prayed for it. I started asking God to kill me when I was nine. Obviously that didn't happen. I’m still here. But I feel like emotionally I am dead. I’ve been going through the motions of surviving for so long that I didn’t notice I had been bleeding out the whole time. Now I’m looking back at the bloody mess I left behind, wondering what the hell the point in any of it was. Like, okay great, that was the worst experience of my life. Where do I go from here? Do I go from here? Maybe that was it. Maybe I was just meant to come for a little while, fight like hell, and lose. Not everybody wins you know? Not everybody makes it. Maybe I’m one of those people. I’m not mad about it, I’m just tired. It’s just life you know?

[onmysideofheaven]

It's Just Life

TW: SI

“It’s just life.” One of my favorite movies, Five Feet Apart, has this line in it. Will tells Stella, “it’s just life. It’ll be over before we know it.” When I think of that phrase, “it’s just life” I think about the book A Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren, where he says life is temporary. It’s not our end game. So life is temporary, why should I care? Why should I care that he broke my heart? Why should I care that nothing makes sense? Why should I care that everything hurts and I’m scared when I’m just fading away anyway. I’m terrified of death, but I long for it. What if death hurts worse than life did? What if I was wrong about everything? It’s funny because I’m no stranger to suicide. I have scars on my wrists from past attempts, and I’ve taken pills before. I know the gist. I knew as a teenager that I would have to fight everyday for the rest of my life to not give in to it, but I guess I thought it would get easier. I didn’t realize it was going to hurt like hell every single time those thoughts came creeping back in. I didn’t know I was going to have to look myself in the mirror and talk myself out of taking my life. It’s a hell of a lot easier to talk someone else out of it than it is yourself. And I can say that because I’ve done it. It’s part of the territory that comes with growing up in foster care. You learn how to talk your friends out of taking their lives. Sometimes you succeed, and sometimes you fail in ways you weren’t prepared for. I don’t know if there was a moment, or a choice I made, that lead me to where I am right now. Sitting on the floor of my apartment alone writing this, praying that someone will read it. I don’t know if this is a battle I will win. But I hope that if I lose, maybe my pain will save someone else. Maybe knowing my thoughts and feelings can give them what I lacked. Or maybe, it all really does mean nothing. 

[onmysideofheaven]

Just A Heads Up...

I would like to make a formal trigger warning about the content and nature of this blog. I am so incredibly broken that I don’t have the emotional ability to word things gently sometimes. My mind is an overwhelmingly dark place that while has its moments of beauty, is responsible for completely destroying me. So please be cautious when reading my posts, and know that while our thoughts and feelings can be intense, they are exactly that. Thoughts and feelings. Nothing more, and nothing less. I ask that you take everything I say with a grain of salt, but handle everything gently. I am a human being, one who is actively trying to survive and find meaning in what has been a chaotic and messy life. My hope, and my fear, is that someone will relate to what I feel and think. If you do, I’m sorry. Know that you are not alone. I pray that by talking about the things that are killing me, you can figure out how to survive them. Thank you for being here.

[onmysideofheaven]

Intro

Well hello there. Welcome to my page. I am a little bit of a disaster. I was abused for twelve years before ending up in the foster cafe system, where I spent the next six years bouncing around different facilities, foster homes, and kinship homes. As a result, I have a lot of trauma. I also turn 21 in May, and recently I've been experiencing what I believe is an identity crisis. However, it could very well be a psychotic episode. Either way, I am an over thinker with diagnosed mental health issues including but certainly not limited to- depression, anxiety, chronic post traumatic stress disorder, ADHD, and insomnia. I can't tell you if I'm crazy or not. My hope is that by reading my blog you can help me answer that. I am a lot of things, but not very good at any of them. I believe in God and am actively seeking a relationship with Him while feeling pretty lost by the whole thing. I am a black woman, I am a Gemini, I am Gen Z. I don't know what any of that has to do with the way I feel and think, if the way my brain works is because I'm me, or because I'm human. So this blog is a shot in the dark. A scream into the void. If there's even one person out there who feels a sliver of what I feel, and they can't help but wonder if they're crazy or not, I hope they find this. I hope if after I die one day, whether it be my own doing or not, someone will find these and read them and finally understand what was going through my head. Maybe I belong in a padded room, maybe none of this is real. I don't know. Let's find out together.