I am in a strange type of mode as of late. Loneliness seems overwhelming, but at the same time, a necessary evil. I am struggling being back home with my parents. It makes one feel like a failure at life when nearing 29 years old, you are living in the room you grew up in from age 3. I find myself sleepless and exhausted multiple nights a week. I’m home, but it’s not home anymore. I don’t belong here.
Future plans are coming to the front of my mind. Thanks to some words from a Resident at the hospital, I am considering studying abroad next year. I would want to look into pursuing my Speech Pathology path at Flinders University in Australia. It will be expensive, but worth it for the experience that would come with it. Who knows, maybe I’ll find my place there. Anyone that knows me also knows I have an affinity for a good accent. Maybe I can have babies that will have some hybrid accent. Hah, I’m probably being ridiculous, but I just want to find my place in the world. I’ve never felt like that place was here. I tried to think that my place was here, and it’s just not working. I want to start a life. I’ve realized over the past few years that I know what I want out of life. I want to help people. I want to be a Speech Pathologist specializing in children. I want to be a wife and mother. I want to nurture and raise a family with someone that wants the same. I want to be happy. I want to make others happy.
I am struggling right now, more than people know. I have to distract myself with activity to keep from slipping into my abyss. I am at a loss as to how to handle it. I have had a few fantastic friends through all of this, but I still don’t know how to react to my own negativity towards myself. I know people generally don’t care about other people’s issues, I think that’s why I am writing all of this here. I have to get it out so it doesn’t fester. I have to get it out so I don’t scream. I have to get it out so I don’t break.
Anxiety is a bitch. That gripping feeling in your chest when you feel like your heart is going pop. The shaking and numbness and sweating that doesn’t make any sense. You can’t talk about it when it’s happening. If you talk about it, you exacerbate it! When you aren’t talking or able to talk, it makes working in a call center difficult.
Breathe, Mia… Breathe…
Okay, moving along, a couple of things has been awesome about being home. First, I wake up to the sound of kids giggling and bickering thanks to my mother’s daycare. One morning I was pounced on as I slept. I loved it! Those kids are always happy to see me. It’s adorable. Second, I have had the opportunity to go through HUGE amounts of stuff from my childhood and adolescence. Thanks to my mother’s inability to throw things away and my father’s obsessive need to organize, that took over the entire weekend with the move. I found treasures! Hooker boots, stripper shoes, collars, clothing, fishnets, stuffed animals, get well gifts and COPIOUS amounts of photos. So many people are in trouble when I decide to start sharing some throwbacks on Facebook. Going through the entire basement and garage from my parents and my own belongings, we filled a 20 yard dumpster. It was like a purge of sorts. It was a relief of sorts.
I will come back more often to my blog. It will be my safe place. If no one reads, no one reads. Worse things could happen.