It’s time.

It has been a long, long time since I last put up a post. Work has actually been rather busy the last couple of months. The last months and the first couple of months of the year are usually busy at my work place. Plus, I came down with a serious case of writer’s block. Though in all honesty, calling me a writer is kinda an insult to writers. I’m not dedicated enough or qualified enough to term myself as writer. This is more of a stress-release mechanism. Anyway, so I came down with an intense case of ‘I am feeling so much but I’m unable to put it down properly in a coherent fashion that anyone would understand’ and I started at least four posts but they’re just lying about collecting dust  somewhere in my drafts folder. This was until one of my best friends told me to just write about everything and anything and nothing in particular. The trick, according to this wonderful lady, is to not set out to write with a particular topic. Just start writing and along the way you’ll find what you wanted to talk about. This is one very wise girl.

Anyway, the year has started out busy but alright. We were well into January before I realized I didn’t have any New Year resolutions. This is a routine I have perfected over the years… make several New Year’s resolutions then set out to ignore them as much as possible while telling myself that I would start working on the resolutions the very next day and before I know it, hey! It’s Christmas. Another year is gone and buried and not a single resolution accomplished. So I guess this time I made a resolution not to make any new year resolution. I’m gonna improvise a lot this year, see if there’ll be any difference in the how the year turns out. Who knows/ Maybe I’ll actually be able to achieve at least one of my previous resolutions.

Anyway, I’ve been feeling strangely weary of late. I cannot muster enough energy to feel any emotions or any feelings. If anyone asked me right now if I;m happy, I honestly cannot answer that truthfully. I am okay. I am not sad, but that’s just because I cannot seem to bother feeling sad or upset or angry about anything. Somewhere deep inside me, I made a decision to function and, more importantly, to survive day-to-day while expending the minimal energy required. I feel like I have been beaten and beaten and beaten down until I think I have lost the will to fight for a lot of things. A lot of it is family stuff. Family is supposed the one place you can go when you have beaten by the world. I am not sure this is true for me. Is it possible to love your family yet resent the hell out of them? I’m talking resentment that is just bordering on hate. I feel like my family has turned me into a loner. I used to be a happy-go-lucky, carefree kinda girl, sometimes even termed as ‘crazy’ by a some people. I loved passionately, I played hard, enjoyed life as much as possible. Now, I am just fully of indifference and resentment and I wouldn’t care one bit if I didn’t speak to anyone for a whole week. In fact, I’m not going to lie, I would actually prefer it that way. I do not come from a regular family. My family is the epitome of dysfunctional. I feel like I raised myself and for the most part, that is actually true. I raised myself and then I went on to raise my siblings. In fact, I am still raising some of them. Everything I have in my life I have worked hard for. I put myself through university for the most part and hustled afterwards to get the job I have currently. So you see, I have been a loner for a large part of my life. My family has become somewhat less dysfunctional in the recent past and my siblings have been pushing the ‘We’re family therefore we should stand by each other at all times’ agenda for a while. And intellectually, this makes sense to me. It does. Of course we are family; we hold hands and sing kumbaya and drink until we drop. Emotionally, though, it means squat. Literally. Because I have learnt the ‘We-are-family’ story is bullshit in my family. Disrespect, disregard, resentment, abuse is a lot of what I have gotten from my family. How can you tell me that we are family and we ought to love each other and be there for each other when every time I have ever asked for help from you all I was met with was stone-cold silence or casual disregard and worse still, a whole lot of insults? That does not make sense to me. So if there is one lesson I have learnt this year, it’s that no one is coming to save me. No one is going to come and pick me up. It’s only the second month of the year but I already feel like I have been to rock bottom. I’ve been so depressed that for a second there I almost gave in to the urge to end my life. It would be oh so easy for me to do it. I have almost unfettered access to the things that would make it quick and painless… And then I realized, what is so different now about my life? I have always been alone. I have always had to work for anything I ever wanted. I have never felt loved for a large part of my life. I have never felt appreciated. The abuse and the insults? Nothing new. I am not even sure I would recognize love if it sat squarely on my face. I am broken…or something inside me never quite worked right.I feel empty. But one thing I have learnt in this last week, no one is going to come and save me. No one is going to come and fix whatever is broken in me. No one is ever going to come along and fill up whatever is empty inside me. Not even family. So I put the pills and the blades away and I toughened my upper lip and straightened my spine. I am done waiting. I got up and started doing something about it and you know what, and this is so cliché, I am going to be alright. Because it is about time I became alright.