Everyone wants to type #grateful #blessed #thankful under every single caption… and while I think being positive and having a good attitude goes a long way, so does being honest. For a few weeks I’ve sort of cut myself off if you will, from sharing my story even privately because of the fear of being labeled negative, ungrateful, or pessimistic. That’s right, I let myself be so ashamed that my private thoughts were not even safe to be explored or plastered onto paper. I even started thinking about living life a little more privately because I mean at least I could be openly depressed in private.
Then I had a radical thought and i said to myself “fuck that.” I have spent a large part of my life having to be silent, having to exist within spaces and with people who made me feel trapped and unseen. I want to be loud about these struggles because the truth is, I am not the only one who is operating in a fog. I am not the only person who feels so painfully alone…and I know that unfortunately I am not the only one who feels helpless and hopelessly overwhelmed with darkness. So fuck it, fuck the expectations to be #thankful #grateful #blessed when you can’t crawl out of bed in the morning. Fuck not letting yourself feel the grief that needs a release for the sake of being “positive.” Fuck belittling my own trauma to make myself seem more neurotypical. I am not, and my experiences have not been typical. I am struggling right now sis. My bones feel heavier than anything I’ve ever carried. Right now nothing is the same and it feels like the sun may never ever ever shine again.
Your pain deserves as much room as your positivity. You deserve at the very least to be honest with yourself. Right now I’m not positive and I don’t care to be.