Deep sighs…. Exactly a year ago I had this awful experience that I could say landed me at rock bottom; it was the worst of all the things that have ever happened to me….. hol’ up…..

DISCLAIMER: Due to personal reasons; I’m not ready to answer or comment on anything relating to what I’ve posted, no matter how curious or concerned you may be….whispers; I’m really sorry😅😚

…..Anyway; as I was saying…. ROCK FREAKING BOTTOM is the perfectly fitting Cinderella glass slipper word to use. Double Cringes* I should stop creating phrases; not cool.

Yes; I felt dead, although I’m not sure whether I only felt dead inside or my body looked as equally dead too. I don’t remember the events that led to this dark phase of my life in detail but what I know for sure is that I’m never going to forget is how I felt through out the experience; it was an awful consuming feeling so much that I think I might have developed a fear of feeling the way I did then to an extent that recently when I felt a similar feeling, I started panicking… taking caution and trying to guard my heart so as to protect it but most importantly my mental health.

I’ve come to the realisation that I was scarred badly….and I blamed myself for most of it. I asked myself how I got to that point and why I let myself down in that manner. Self-blame is one of the worst self-inflicted punishments there is… it torments you and keeps you up at night; and somehow your own subconscious is never on your side because it always has it’s arms folded while tapping it’s foot like an annoyed parent running out of patience.

Somehow it felt as though I’m standing on the side lines and watching my life unfold and deteriorate into this state of nothingness and somebody has taken my position in my own life and I can’t do anything but watch them ruin it. It was one of those intense phases where I stood in front of the mirror but some how I couldn’t recognise the girl staring back at me whose eyes used to be golden pulls of honey and had a smile that lets her dimple pop while the smile reaches her eyes.

I spend my days trying to communicate how I felt and maybe “talk to somebody” as it’s always advised but I felt more disconnected as I scrolled down my contact list trying to find somebody to atleast cry out to or maybe send an unusual text that’s unlike me and they’ll see that it’s a cry for help… I needed to be saved from myself. Ofcourse the scrolling wasn’t entirely a failure as there were these two particular contacts that I texted and poured out everything to… no concealment no sugar coating and no omissions… I won’t lie it kinda felt assuring… gave me hope that maybe I’ll feel better…

I didn’t…atleast not immediately after sending the texts… although my expectations were that I’ll take a deep breathe out right after and feel a whooolllleee lot better but that wasn’t the case. I was only glad that atleast somebody knows what’s up with me and that if anything happens; they’ll live to tell my story because at that point suicide to me was an easy decision to make like deciding to refill your plate after a really good meal of home cooked food.

But as time went by I adjusted to feeling dead, I smiled and concealed the pain perfectly and I’m pretty sure that my darling mom thought all was well with her loving daughter…. mom’s observant… a little too observant and that’s one of the traits I know for sure that I took from her. She notices everything and I know she saw that something was off with me but she respected me enough not to enquire when she realised that I don’t really wanna talk about it after her gentle trials of trying to know how I am feeling.

Beginning round 3 of 5 was one of the exciting things that kept my spirits uplifted and me looking forward to the next day…. I started to weigh my options and draw up what I’d like to call a survival plan… and realised that I have 2 main reasons why I have to keep going and that for them I’ll hold on a little longer. In the process of holding on, I learned that just like happiness; healing is an inside job; that I’ll have to direct my mind towards healing and think happy thoughts for the process to begin.

Indeed it is a process; somebody on twitter illustrated the process of healing in a simple way… she said; imagine your pain as a ball inside a box and whenever the box moves and it touches the walls of the box signifies the time when the pain one’s feeling is still intense. However…with each passing day the ball becomes smaller and doesn’t touch the walls of the box as often as it used to…and it gets small to an extent where moving the box almost makes it seem like the walls have broken down and have seized to exist as the little ball won’t be touching them at all; however there’s that particular day when the ball will touch the walls of the box and it feels like the process has been restarted again and the hurt feels raw and new as it did at first.

Basically on some high days I thought I’ve healed but on other low days it felt like it’s all new and I’ve went back to point 0. I realised that healing doesn’t happen just cause I’m tired of feeling low… it’s a process that takes time and requires you to be patient with yourself and let it happen at it’s own pace. Maybe with time the ball will disappear completely and it’ll be alright; after all… time heals all wounds right? Also when you’re at rock bottom you don’t have anywhere else to go but up right?… guess we could say I’m on my way to the top.