I never wanted to believe there is something wrong with me. Convincing myself that I may have anxiety is like convincing an atheist of God's existence.
I fear failure, my life has to be like a shooting star, everything should be improving, not crashing downhill. I am addicted to success, I need to be at people's expectations. Does that make me sick?
I have tied myself to pressure, I breath pressure, constantly, and I thought I was fine, I thought it was beneficial, I thought it pushed me forward. But nobody told me, that in this forward I have been pushed into, I would be feeling this way: I am a made of stress.
At first I thought I had it under control, just another issue that I can handle, just another obstacle that I can overcome. But it got out of control, this stress became scary, I could no longer conceal it, it had made its place, in my core, somewhere between my organs, eating every inch of calm in me.
It should be normal, right? everyone is stressed nowadays, why should I make a fuss about it?
Apparently no, it is not normal. It is called anxiety, it is a disease, a medical condition that needs to be treated.
I can't be mentally ill, why would I? My life is decent, I may not be happy but I am satisfied most of the time, or am I not? I tend to take life seriously, but I always thought that what made me efficient, productive, successful in what I do.
For a person who had everything under control, feeling this slip of the grip is devastating and nerve-wracking.
Now that everything is out of control, I can only watch in sobs my life passing me by...
I know I need help, but I just can't take that first step yet.
Friday, April 12, 2019
Thursday, April 11, 2019
till death or divorse do us part !
Wearing white to darken up the rest of your life?
Is it really that dreadful? Such a noble and virtuous link in this earth, the whole wold celebrate it, from modest family gatherings to extravagant weddings, written in every holy book, sacred by every single religion, marriage.
A logic continuity of life for some, a choice for others, an obligation for the less fortunate,a complete nonsense for the rebellious, a dream for young girls.
I am expected to get married, if not right away, some time in my life, before a certain age that can vary from a region to another, it is a sequence of my existence, a woman's circle of life, a no-brainer almost.
But the more I meet married women, the more I get confused.
From all the complaint, the desolation, the despair, the hatred I hear on these women's lips while talking about their marriage, I get carried away in a maze of thoughts, so intense, rotating around one core simple question: Why on earth should I get married?
If marriage only brings out the worst in people, why is it celebrated? why is it even wanted if it puts the individuals in a constant war? Who wants to live like that?
All these women certainly had heard other complaints, other failed marriage stories, or even witnessed or experienced being the consequence of a wrecked house hold, yet they decided with their own will to get married and follow their ancestors pathway. Only to find themselves trapped in the same mistakes their grandmothers and mothers made.
So what is the secret of a successful marriage? It can't be that cynical for everyone, there must be a formula, an equation for pre-married to solve, the key to the marital heavens.
"Marry a rich guy" is a sentence I've heard in many "female only" family gatherings, "A man is only flawed by his wallet, get you a man who will provide anything that can come on the tip of your tongue, you don't need a man who will only drag you down into his poverty, and restricted means"
But I don't need that exactly, there's a plenty of ways to gain money without committing myself in such a strong sacred bond, or does my family want to reduce me to a beggar living under my husband's mercy...
I dream of love, my soul craves affection, and there is nothing wrong with it. In my imagination, I go to bed happy, smiling from ear to ear, thanking my lucky star for making me fulfilled. In my imagination, I am satisfied with everything God have put on my table. In my imagination, I am loved with passion, with gratitude, with respect. In my imagination, I am madly unapologetically in love with a person I call my half, my all, my companion in this journey, whom I will be so proud to call husband.
Why is it so complicated to understand? Who should I blame here? Myself, for being out of the ordinary, a black sheep?
Well, I am that black sheep.
Is it really that dreadful? Such a noble and virtuous link in this earth, the whole wold celebrate it, from modest family gatherings to extravagant weddings, written in every holy book, sacred by every single religion, marriage.
A logic continuity of life for some, a choice for others, an obligation for the less fortunate,a complete nonsense for the rebellious, a dream for young girls.
I am expected to get married, if not right away, some time in my life, before a certain age that can vary from a region to another, it is a sequence of my existence, a woman's circle of life, a no-brainer almost.
But the more I meet married women, the more I get confused.
From all the complaint, the desolation, the despair, the hatred I hear on these women's lips while talking about their marriage, I get carried away in a maze of thoughts, so intense, rotating around one core simple question: Why on earth should I get married?
If marriage only brings out the worst in people, why is it celebrated? why is it even wanted if it puts the individuals in a constant war? Who wants to live like that?
All these women certainly had heard other complaints, other failed marriage stories, or even witnessed or experienced being the consequence of a wrecked house hold, yet they decided with their own will to get married and follow their ancestors pathway. Only to find themselves trapped in the same mistakes their grandmothers and mothers made.
So what is the secret of a successful marriage? It can't be that cynical for everyone, there must be a formula, an equation for pre-married to solve, the key to the marital heavens.
"Marry a rich guy" is a sentence I've heard in many "female only" family gatherings, "A man is only flawed by his wallet, get you a man who will provide anything that can come on the tip of your tongue, you don't need a man who will only drag you down into his poverty, and restricted means"
But I don't need that exactly, there's a plenty of ways to gain money without committing myself in such a strong sacred bond, or does my family want to reduce me to a beggar living under my husband's mercy...
I dream of love, my soul craves affection, and there is nothing wrong with it. In my imagination, I go to bed happy, smiling from ear to ear, thanking my lucky star for making me fulfilled. In my imagination, I am satisfied with everything God have put on my table. In my imagination, I am loved with passion, with gratitude, with respect. In my imagination, I am madly unapologetically in love with a person I call my half, my all, my companion in this journey, whom I will be so proud to call husband.
Why is it so complicated to understand? Who should I blame here? Myself, for being out of the ordinary, a black sheep?
Well, I am that black sheep.
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