Hiya everyone! Just before I get into this post, I thought I’d mention that I recently started a Youtube channel! I upload every Sunday (and maybe have some surprise videos as and when) so chances are, you’ve missed a cheeky upload! Please go and subscribe and show me love because it’s scary business!
This isn’t what the title is about. I’m not reopening wounds, physical wounds per-say, I mean mental wounds.
I’m not going to go into specifics because that’s not something I want to speak about just yet, or potentially ever. It started on Valentines Day. I was at college and I was completely fine until one lesson I had. That one lesson, I basically sat alone because the people around me would just talk and talk and sometimes, I don’t feel in the mood to talk back. (and they are my friends by the way, so I could happily talk!)
I just left the lesson feeling empty and shitty. I had time to think about all the things that have gone wrong in my life – I lost my mother when I was barely a teenager, I lost the absolute love of my life and there’s no way in hell that I was going to get them back, to name a fucking few. It just all piled on top of me and I wanted to go home and do something destructive but instead, I stayed at college (not for my own protection, I had a lesson last so I couldn’t really go home lmfao) and I spent the walk going to the common room, in tears.
Not like a single tear rolling down my face, I’m talking balling my eyes out, snot running out my nose and a scrunched up face. It wasn’t pretty hahahha. I went into the common room and some of my close friends were in there and they noticed straight away so I just cried and spoke to them.
Again, not going to go into the details of why I was crying and give a whole narrative speech of what I said and what they said, because I don’t particularly want to open that wound. They listened and gave me practical advice and I’m glad of that. They made me feel less alone.
Anyway, the post isn’t about that. It’s about how I opened the wounds that were not close to healing, but were trying to do so. If you have borderline personality disorder or any obsessive personality trait, you’d know how hard it is to get over or move on from your favourite person. I lost two of those in the space of 5 years, I’d say.
Although, I think crying and speaking about my problems on Valentines Day was a good thing. It helped me realise I was not alone and I had friends who wanted to make sure I was okay. But it just reopened the wounds I was trying so desperately to heal.
I’m aware that the attempt of healing them wasn’t working. I’m still as upset over my mother’s death as I was when it happened and I’m still as heartbroken over losing my favourite person as I was when it happened. But I’m trying to heal and to some degree, I guess it’s working.
I no longer think about why I’m sad on the daily basis. I spend days upon days being happy and that’s amazing. Obviously on the days I think about the sadness, I am still just that, sad but I also feel happiness. I wouldn’t say it was perfect happiness because who truly is 1000000000% happy?! I doubt it’s anyone. The most important thing is that we are trying.