It’s a good thing I placed my goal for 3 years instead of of the end of the year. My goal is to finally stop picking my face, lose weight, and to be the person I know I can be.
Let me explain what I mean. You see I have always dreamed of who I am, taking away all the problems and issues that are currently surrounding me. I think very highly of myself, plus some of my habits that I gain from living in my household I recognize isn’t really healthy for me. That fact I know what is wrong with me makes it easier for me to change. But here’s where the problem lays whenever I try to change two things are likely to happen where I then become discourage. For one: fear of new and something different. I pretty much am too afraid of this change. I know it is for the better, but I fear that I wouldn’t make my family proud or happy for me. I’m so use to trying to pleas my family that I lose sight of what I want to make me happy. Now the second reason is that whenever I do try my family in some form of way would discourage me. Like they would keep reminding me that I could never be better than what I am. The keep reminding me that I could never live on my own. It’s not my fault that every time I try to pleas them they don’t see it as such. Most of the time they point out what’s wrong with me. When I try they point out that I’m doing it all wrong. They forget that a person must fail so they could understand how to do it right. I’ve grown so use to people telling me what to do that it’s are to make choices that benefit me. I’ve grown so used to the idea that who I am is not important enough to care about. Also how the hell can I do something that I believe is right when everyone around me looks down upon me, and disrespects me. I know I can be better than this. I know that most of the time it’s because I’m scared to change, but also the very people I call family also brings me down.
Then I think about everything that makes me “me.” my passion for writing and art. I love how whenever I focus when I write or draw, and even plan out my next project the emotional high I get is beyond perfect. When I get down to putting my thoughts on paper nothing else matters. So I need to put that kind of energy and mindset to making my goals a reality. But it’s a bit of a challenge, good thing I like a challenge. When I get down to working on a writing or art project the environment around me disappears, I become the person I know I am. When I do something I love there’s no stopping me, but it’s a passion that I picked up right away. I got into writing when in 2nd grade my class had to do a poetry assignment, which made me love poetry. I got into story telling when my sister used to read a big chapter book on English fairytale, from there I wrote short stories. Writing is a great passion of mine, and when I think I think in words. Then when I got more into drawing was when I was 9 years old. And when I put them together I let my creative grow and just had fun. I love learning new things and putting them to use, but when it comes to health and doing something that is healthy is hard. Even though I know I can do it if I was to just push myself instead of talking about it I can do it. So I guess when I finally leave this house I can try to put some focus into my health. Also once I do start working the best way to escape from work I can use bettering my health to relieve stress that I know will start to build up. I’m already stressed out my mind, and so I pick my skin and have bad eating habits. I would usually not eat for a long time and then eat a lot at once, or I would eat sum through out the day which also isn’t good. I’m pretty much killing myself. – At this point I wrote about 768 words –
When I think about what I gone through in life I am in a way to blame for where I am, but at the same time not so much. I struggle through emotional break down, but as my childhood therapist states it that I am bipolar, and suffer with depress as a child. In my mind, of what I remember, is that I’m was always laughed at, bullied at school and at home. I am emotionally disturbed, and yet what I what makes me happy is a blessing. As a child I felt trapped in my own home, I felt no one wanted me. My own sister, who raised me, said to my face that she never wanted to take care of me and that she was force into raising me. She is also the first one to say anything to me. Whenever I used to cry she would be the first one who always tried to make me stop, and not in a nice way. She would be the first one to mention how my emotions could never compare to what she was and is going through. She was to first to remind me that whatever I feel and who I am is nothing. She reminds me how I have a better life than most people. Yeah I feel blessed to be able to eat, and have a roof over my head. But then again I’m going through an emotional hell. No one wanted to be with me, no one really wanted me. I grew up feeling like an outsider in my own home. I must admit that there where times I felt wanted and love, but it doesn’t make up a life time of being put down. Also at the fact that my own nieces, who are younger than me, don’t even respect me. I’m basically nothing in this house, and because I am so emotionally put down whenever I try something I’m always looking for approval from my family. Like why can’t I ever do anything right, why can’t they see me as I see myself. I have written a lot of poems of how much I would love to end my very life, but fear is what keeps me alive. I have burned my own skin once when the emotional pain was too much and I didn’t have a pen or paper at my reach. I lied to a number of people of me not wanting to end it all, even though I really want to. Then whenever I do get those thought I think about how I’m just quitting after so long of feeling this way. If I finally do kill myself then the voices in my head who win. And when I do think about death I keep reminding myself how no one will really miss me, because I am nothing. And then I remember how I have brothers in the Dominican Republic, and that my real birth mother died in August 2009, and I haven’t seen them since I left DR to start 5th grade and get through school. I wasn’t even there for my own mother’s funeral! Which hurts ever so much. It hurts knowing that no one ever told me she was even sick until she had passed away. For goodness sake, why couldn’t anyone even try to tell me. And at that my siblings, well my sisters here, they look down on my mother. It hurts knowing how someone who gave me up, because I was dying and wanted a better life for me, is being looked down upon by people who doesn’t even know her. When I was with her for a year after 4th grade, and the reason I went there in the first place was because the woman I call mother know didn’t want me. When I spent time with my own mother I finally felt happy and wanted. I finally felt like I was alive and I didn’t want to ever leave such a wonderful place. But of course I caught parasite and my stepfather wanted his way with me. The fact that a woman, I’ve known only by stories and pictures, could have so much love and wanting for me gave me up for a better life, but what if she knew I would suffer emotionally to gain such a wonderful life, would she have given me away? I love the people I grew up to know as my family, but at the same time I really dislike them. I would say I hate them, but they did take care of me and loved me – even though most of my emotional pain came from them. As much I would love to continue talking about how I feel about them it would just make me another one of them. My family keeps compare me with the sister who raised me, but I’m not her. As much as I want to continue talking I won’t.
Like I was saying I need to do things that are healthy for me, like working out more and being outside instead of always being home. Also I should speak to someone instead of writing my problems on a blog, but I’m not the speaking type. Either way I should really work on my health more, and my career is fine the way I’m going. It’s hard being surrounded by things that reminds a person that they’re pretty much nothing. Oh well, I have to focus myself to look at the bright side.