Note to Self (133) Coming Back From The Dead

It has been quite a while since I posted on this site. I went through a harsh time, mostly I felt depressed and unable to get rid of the funk I was stuck in.

I still am in a funk, but I try to stay positive. It’s hard. I’m very unhappy with a lot of things right now, but I don’t feel justified to complain about what’s wrong because my life doesn’t suck as much as other people’s life out there. I can’t throw everything away on a whim. I can’t give up. But my heart is not in it anymore. Everyday I wake up and go to work, because I need to make a living with something so I can pay bills. I sit on my chair for twelve hours and I’m miserable. More than once a day I simply want to cry.

I write my upcoming novella, and this is the only thing that keeps me sane. I go for long walks/runs in the park so I can feel whole again. There’s a hole eating me alive, and I want to make it disappear. I’m also lonely. I miss being in love. I miss knowing what I want to do with my life. I have a million projects in mind but I can’t decide on anything. Writing is my only rock.

I’ve become a different person since everything that has happened with my marriage and my divorce. I fear I’m losing sense of who I was. I fear I’m losing sense of who I want to be. I’m afraid people I love won’t accept the new me. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, and yet, I have to make a choice.

I’m going through a drastic change in my physical appearance. One year ago, I had three small tattoos on my back and that was it. Today, I’m sixty percent inked. I find myself beautiful, and I embraced the change with all my heart and soul. My art represents who I am. When you look at my tattoos you understand my story. Nobody feels repulsed or disgusted. Quite on the opposite, I’ve gotten many compliments.

But I’m not doing this for others. I’m doing this for me. The only people in the world who don’t know about them are my parents, and I don’t want to scare them. I’m not homosexual, but I can’t imagine how hard it must be for someone to come out. The sense of freedom that one must feel after enduring so much torment by hiding their true self is so empowering. I don’t compare my tattoos to homosexuality, but I think the ultimate result is the same. Telling the truth. Not lying anymore.

I’m afraid of the moment where I’ll have to break the news to my parents that their little girl is inked like a champion, and I’m no crazy freak. It feels so hard to do. Yet so necessary.

Deep breath. I can’t conform to a mold anymore. I’ve tried too hard to be what I’m not. I was never meant to be a lawyer. I was never meant to be the exemplary daughter on the honor roll. But to come and live here, I had to stick to this image so I could make my dreams come true.

I’ve changed so much. I’ve become a better person in so many ways. God guided me to where I am today, and the journey isn’t even over yet. My ex told me once I had to change and become the person he wanted me to be. But I didn’t. I stayed true to myself.

I pray to have the strength to continue strong with my writing. These words are my life. Nothing else makes me happier than writing.

I love you. I hope to look back on this one day and smile at the foolishness of my thoughts, because then I’ll know I’d have truly succeeded in everything I undertook.