Something I have been struggling with the past few years is trying to figure out where I belong. Who loves me & who claims to love me when things are going positively for them. There’s been moments when I’ve seperated myself from the group of friends that I’ve called my family for quite some time now because I felt no one in that group really understood me or even cared to. It’s one of those times again. I can’t really seperate myself with the position that I am in this time. Feeling like no one is on your team or really cares is one of the worst feelings ever.
My hearts broken right now because I lost someone that I considered a best friend. It stung like hell. Not really going to elaborate on what when why who or where because that’s not my point here. My point is maybe everyone feels like this sometimes. That they’re not valued or even recognized for who they are as a person. It’s not just me, I’ve always been aware of that. That doesn’t make it hurt less though.
No one feels my pain, sadness, or anger exactly how I do. That’s when you realize you only got yourself. And it’s shit. Because you want them to know exactly what you feel. Even the people that really really love you and are by your side don’t quite get it. You have to feel it. You have to wake up with a variety of emotions.
Just know that no matter what, put yourself first. Your mental health, your physical health, and your overall well-being first. I don’t care if you have a husband or a best friend that will always be by your side. You must take care of yourself and make your decisions based on you. But, still always keep in mind that EVERYONE feels that way sometimes. They feel they don’t belong. They’re not the same as everyone else.
Stop comparing yourself and know that you’re loved. Even if it’s only your mama that tells you that you’re beautiful. You’re loved. Things will fade and you’ll be okay again. You always are. I always am.
So today I felt like going to take some runs with my boyfriend who works at a pizza place as a delivery driver. I’m off work and well I just didn’t like him getting out of bed and the thought of sleeping in, alone. So I get up and go to work with him.
We are your average early 20’s struggling financially couple. I mean we make our bills but we have low-paying jobs that are very mediocre. Shit, I’m working three jobs and still just have a little spending money. We are for sure not what you would call trust fund babies although I wish we were sometimes. We see richness as the love we have for each other, the kindness we have in our hearts, and our ambition.
So anyways, the first run of the day I go on with him my boyfriend walks into lifetime fitness for some dude that ordered pizza with lots of meat on it. Maybe it’s his protein day who knows?? The first thing my boyfriend sees is this man that walks down the stairs in his fancy suit with his Apple Watch on his wrist. This guy proceeds to take his 35 dollar order and not tip my boyfriend a single cent. Maybe all of his money went to his Apple Watch so he could have his health app. All I know is my boyfriend got back in the car very upset because we’re trying to make a living so we can be successful people one day and actually chase our dreams that we have.
I proceed to tell him that this loser will probably never have love because he can’t tip low paid delivery drivers and my boyfriend makes the comment that at least he is rich in that aspect. I sit and think on that a moment. My love for this delivery driver that’s not just some average punk is beyond words. Our ambition to be successful people and move up in this shitty economy is radiating around us that it is so strong. We work our asses off at our barely paying jobs so that we can eventually own our own business and go back to college.
All I really have to say is that when I’m sitting in my nice house with all my dreams coming true I’m going to tip that low wage driver well because I’ll never lose my morality and I’ll keep myself humble and I wish this post reminds people to show love even in the smallest ways, because it can make a big difference in someone’s life.
Disclosure Statement: I have never and will never use a needle or heroin.
That’s what I thought I was signing up for the first time I saw you stick a needle in your vein. I remember in my ignorance that I googled a vein map for your arm because well, you’re a bigger dude and I really didn’t want you to miss and die right in front of me. I was naive that I didn’t realize what I was being. I was enabling you. I was enabling the downfall of your life right in front of my eyes and I didn’t know it. The millisecond that you told me you were using heroin, I should have told or done something, ANYTHING, to help. I didn’t though. My thought process was you were going to use anyways. I might as well make sure you don’t kill yourself while doing it. Be there so if something happens I can get you help right when it happened.
I’m sorry Paul for what I did. I wasn’t a friend.
You are my heart though. Somewhere along the way I learned. I learned that I had to cut you off and stay away from you. Then you told me one day “Silly, Kayla If I do die wouldn’t you have rather spent as much time with me as you could have then just remove me completely?” He was right. SO right. So I spent more time with him after he overdosed. He told us all he was going to stop, he did not. We expected that. Then it got worse. Worse than we had all expected. Everyday, multiple times a day because he wasn’t getting high anymore he just didn’t want to withdrawal.
You became someone that I couldn’t, still can’t lose. I begged for you in whatever shred of hope I had in a god that you wouldn’t keep doing this to everyone who loves you. To yourself. You always reassured as you weren’t too bad. Every call I got in the middle of the night I thought it was going to be a call telling me you were dead. You danced with the devil and were amused by every moment of it. As I sat here and bared it all on my shoulders. I felt every ounce of the weight of your pain on my shoulders. I was dealing with an addict boyfriend at the time too that I don’t need to go into detail about in this story.
You have done things to hurt me and the people around you that you love intentionally and unintentionally so many times. You were begging for your death; you are the only person I’ve ever met not scared of death at all. The first time I saw you use meth in front of our mutual friend who is a recovering meth addict I hated you. She hated you. I couldn’t let you go though. Even though she did for her better well being.
The point is I never gave up and that didn’t make a difference that I know of except with myself. What I do know is that you are three months sober whether that may be willingly or unwillingly I am proud of you and I love you. I can’t wait for the day I get to wrap my arms around you and never let go.
Luckily I have the person blocked everywhere so they couldn’t read this if I decide not to send (most likely)
You were my best friend. You ARE my best friend. I miss you with every part of my body. I can’t dare face you dealing with what you’re going through. Maybe I’m the weak one, because I can’t be around for it or maybe you’re the weak one for letting yourself go through it. Maybe I left because not only the stigma of your situation, but because through it I realized how unworthy I was to you. You’ve ALWAYS made me feel like less of a person our entire friendship.
But, I’m weak now. I miss you. We always had a special bond that no one could ever get in between but then you started denying our friendship to your boyfriend and that fucking hurt. I know that we are not our family but when your mom said such a horrible things to me it was as if she had been holding it in our whole friendship. My mom has never been the biggest fan of you either but she would NEVER say something like that to someone who is two times younger than her. She valued you because I valued you but she always reminded me to have some precaution.
I guess our friendship was cursed from the beginning because it hasn’t gone according to plan since the 7th grade. You have always made me feel less, since I remember. I just hope that somewhere on this narrow road you are taking you are making yourself feel like more. I finally learned to stand up for myself even though I want to come back to you begging for you back because there are certain things that I feel I need to tell you I can’t let you back in because I finally stood up for myself. Am I being prideful or I am being strong? I don’t fucking know. I wish I did. It would make me messaging you with an “I miss you. Come back” so much easier. BUT I can’t and I won’t. For now, at least.
I’ll end it on this, Thanks for being my best friend while you were. I experienced all my first with you and you held such an important part of making me grow into the adult I am now. Thanks for being someone to go through it with, but I’ve learned those people aren’t meant to stay all the time. They’re just there so you’re not alone while growing up and learning new things. I love you. I always have and I always will.
My first college essay I ever wrote that I just found. Might as well share past writings that still strongly effect me.
Very similar to the song by the famous country singer Miranda Lambert “The House That Built Me”, memories often flood back to me of the house I was raised in. This place wasn’t just a house where an ordinary family lived. It was a house that had seen much variety of memories. Whether they be horrendous, long-lived, and soon forgotten or happy, short lived, and always remembered. The memories this house had seen were none like any other house had witnessed before. The heights of each child on the wall every year to the footprints on the driveway when new concrete was laid made the house remarkable and unordinary. The typical house has a common family who sees much of the same thing every day and lives their life in routine whereas my house was none like anything else anyone could imagine. To my family, this house was alive. This house brought my family to life. On Sunday, Breakfast was served in the midst of Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Sr. being played on the living room stereo. Unlike many children Sunday cleaning day was by far my favorite day of the week.
The place I grew up was not only a safe place to my immediate family. My house cared and catered for any and everyone. Aunts and uncles, cousins and friends moved in for short periods of times when they were facing minimal problems in their lives. There would be a list of at least eight people who were not immediate family that found peace and happiness in that house with us. If my old house did in fact have a memory of its own it would recall crowded Thanksgivings, long nights of math homework, and my parents drunk dancing to old country music. “I bet I can do a back flip from the trampoline into the pool” is something you could hear from my older brother if you unlocked the back gate that had grass growing over it and stepped into the backyard for just a brief period of time. If you fast-forwarded a few more years the house would remember the damage of my sister and brother’s first big bash when my parents left town.
My old house would not dare forget the bad memories that shaped my family either. Starting with my dad and I fighting about whether or not my aunt should stay in our house or the memory of when my first dog, Puggles, was buried alongside my first cat Blue under that old oak tree. recollection of my grandma’s last days spent in that back room are forever burnt into the memory of this house. Her laugh echoes throughout the hallways. Many sadness of death but even more happiness of life had been seen through the eyes of this place I called home. My sister moving on and moving out was the first real time my house had seen something so bittersweet. I cried because I would miss her but also because the memories we shared there could not be created new anywhere else.
I sometimes go back there to that ordinary street where a unique house was built and replay the memories through my head. My father once said, “Home is where your family is” and I can’t help but the think home is where the memories are. That house holds on to the remembrance of laughter and tears shed at the expense of my family. The definition of unordinary to my family is the house that built us to be the people we have became in a house that became part of who we are.
Keep the blood in your head and your feet on the ground
I don’t know about you guys but when I was growing up I feared death from such a young age. It was a constant thought in my childhood. It has now extended into my adulthood. I am constantly thinking about death and not in the I want to kill myself sort-of way but in the way that I don’t quite understand it. No one does. I strive to understand it though. My thoughts about death are so in depth that my anxiety and panic attacks have centered around my fear of death. My whole childhood was filled with family members and friends dying. I deal with death in such a weird way compared to my peers because my first witness of a funeral was when I was 4 years old and it’s once of my youngest memories I have. This is my prologue to what I have to say about death.
Death is not only the last burden we have but the greatest. When you exit this world you are saying goodbye to LITERALLY your whole life. We all are aware of this but never really grasp it. When you say bye to your whole life, you’re saying bye to the people you love and the people that love you. You are saying goodbye to the people you met in a subway and touched their heart because they were having a horrible day and you gave them the seat and stood up. You are saying goodbye to the big and the little things you have done.
Imagine for one moment if death wasn’t a hard thing. It wasn’t hurtful for the people around you. Imagine that death is such a normal part of life that who ever created us would have made it a numbing feeling when someone dies. Do you think there would be more or less suicide? My personal thoughts are that there would be less suicide because coming from someone that has lost people through suicide and has studied it very much, I do not think that people kill themselves to hurt others BUT I do think they are missing a part of themselves that believes they are valued and only through death will others realize their value. They may even do this subconsciously. Just to get away from their everyday pains, I am NOT saying this is their main focus by any means.
It really fucks with my head that even when I die I will be letting someone down. Even when I am no longer existing I will still be a burden on the people whom love me. Instead of leaving the world on a good note with happiness. There will always be sadness around death for as long as it exist and unfortunately we can’t change that. So I guess maybe why I’ve always been such a forgiving person is because here’s the inevitable that everyone knows but always avoids. Everyone dies, no one escapes it. If you don’t love them and treat them with kindness their whole life, you will regret it later. It’s shit. So love with your whole heart and forgive even it seems impossible.
This story’s old but it goes on and on until you disappear.
This is the post excerpt.
STOP! Stop comparing yourself to the girls you see on the Internet or on TV. I’m guilty of this. I have my favorite Youtube star that I watch all her videos and adore all her outfit choices. I sit there loving her new CropTop that I know my body wouldn’t look as fabulous in. I sit there and judge myself and wishing I had a body like hers, money like her. It’s just NOT FAIR!! right?
Well of course it isnt, because that’s just how the world is! “Life isn’t fair” Who heard that one from a parent growing up? Well, you know what? No life isn’t fair but one thing I’ve learned is that I have things that Youtube star doesn’t have. I’m not bashing her she has great qualities (obviously; or there wouldn’t be a point for this article) but there are things I can love about myself too. Sit down and list the qualities you love about yourself. It feels corny but trust me I’ve had to do it plenty of times with my psychologist and it helps! I’ll do it so you’ll feel less lame:
- I am firstly hilarious whether you agree or not, I laugh at my own jokes so HA!
- I have chicken legs; still haven’t decided if its a blessing or a curse but I can fit in cute small shorts even if I have a tummy because of this!
- I am an empath: and I never want to see my friends hurting and when I do I come forward to help. I feel for people’s situations and will do the even the simplest of things just to make someone’s day better.
- I love kids! and that’s a hard task. They’re very much rascals sometimes.
- I have big boobs. No one said I had to be PG or non-cocky, right?
These are just a few things I love about myself. No, I don’t like my tummy or how controlling I can be sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I can’t work on those things. Motivation to lose weight or become a better you is one of the hardest things to do. I’ve struggled with lack of motivation my whole life. Once you get it, Grab on to it and don’t ever let it go. My motivation comes in waves but I don’t want to ever let it go. I don’t know when it will be back. Stay positive my girlies, and love yourself. So cliche, but so true. If you don’t love yourself, who will?