Almost an absence of four months, but it feels more like four-ever. Haha. (Please laugh.)

The last couple of months have become increasingly difficult for me for reasons that I don’t quite want to explain. I’m really only writing for the sake of posting, and to remind myself that today I’m alive and that’s something worth celebrating.

As I read back on previous posts from five, ten, fifteen months earlier, I look back and reflect on all those moments of struggle and self-realisation that I had. Reading back on something that you wrote during times of high emotion is of course, very awkward – I’ve always felt a slight embarrassment when I read back on old journal posts, but that is the nature of it I guess, especially when it’s on the internet!

One thing that sticks out to me when I go back and read old entries is how hopeful I am by the end of the piece. I wouldn’t describe myself as optimistic or resilient, but perhaps hopeful. Reading my old posts is a different experience from reading other people’s, because I can remember how I felt when I wrote something. I can remember the emotion I put into my words and paragraphs.

I started this blog as a way to document my life, and that meant I often started writing when I was in a high emotional state. A lot of the time, my posts stemmed from a negative emotion, but as I kept writing, I would reach some sort of positive conclusion or point that gave me hope in those moments.

It’s been a little while since I’ve felt like that.

It’s extremely cliche to say that I’ve felt like a dark cloud has been slowly growing and fogging up my brain for some time. When I envision the inside of my mind, all I can see are piles and piles and piles of things that need to be done. High piles of work and expectations that I’ve put upon myself that will never be completed or reached. I’m just drowning in stuff.

Here’s another cliche: do you remember watching old cartoons and TV shows, where a character would be arguing with themselves and there would be an angel and a devil on each of their shoulders? That’s what I envision my thoughts to be like. Perhaps not so explicitly supernatural beings, but two voices that are trying to dictate how I live – one that tells me I can overcome what I’m feeling and come out okay, and one that tells me I’m not good enough.

I used to almost always let that “good voice” in my head win. When I was feeling upset by something, or had felt like I had failed, I would let that voice dictate my reaction and give me hope. Motivation to get up. Room to grow.

It’s become harder and harder for that voice to win nowadays. I can feel how tiny that voice has become – like a small, flickering candle in a dark room. Sometimes it flares up really bright, but only for a split second before darkness engulfs it and it shrinks back down again.

Let me tell you that I absolutely hate feeling like this. Every fibre of my being wants me to get better and let that light dominate the darkness, but there’s just something anchoring me down that isn’t letting me do it, and I haven’t yet figured out what it is.

I want to enjoy being alive again.

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