honesty

I haven't been honest in awhile. Which doesn't mean I have been lying. I just haven't had the nerve, the desire, to write my true thoughts and my uncensored feelings here on the blog for a long, long time. For months, I've kept things light-hearted, easy, simple. Hiding behind images of sunshine, activities, hope.

After all, no one wants to be trapped in darkness.

This blog started out, five years ago, as a source for my emotions. It wasn't really meant for the public eye. I didn't expect complete strangers to read it, and continue reading it through the years. As I grew older, and life grew harder, it became almost instinctive, certainly a necessity, to keep a certain part of my life guarded, private, so people see only what I want them to see.

Ironically enough, these were the words from the very first post I ever wrote on this blog:

"I'm standing at the peripheral of life. Seemingly breathing, but not quite alive. Everyday is a struggle to breathe, to capture the essence of what it means to be me, to take another step forward, and inevitably fall..only to stand up again. A little more bruised, a little more scarred, a lot more cynical and unsure. This place, will help me figure out the thoughts that swim endlessly in my head. Maybe by writing them down here, I'll be able to sleep at night. And the dark won't seem quite so treacherous, the noises not quite so startling. This will be my haven. For thoughts I'm never really sure of their origins. For words I'm too afraid to say out loud. For the part of me that's not quite so black and white, but a gentle shade of violet, tentatively peeking through, ocassionally bursting in fiery shades of red. For the poet, the thinker, the creator, the loner, the self-acclaimed philosopher.

This is for me more than anything... "

Raw, uncensored words, which takes me right back to the emotion simply upon reading them. Which is maybe why I don't write like this anymore. Because if I do, I will be forced to confront my demons. To admit to the world, and ultimately to myself, that despite or in spite of everything, I am still that girl, five years ago. Still struggling to breathe, and to find my place in the world. Still stuck in shades I can't define. Still frightened of the monster in me, that threatens to eat me from the inside out.

And so I hide behind facades. I write about the sunshine, holidays, wine, friends. Empty, forgettable words. Written for everyone else but myself. Written so people don't worry. Or criticise. Or pretend to understand something they don't. Written because it is so much easier than the truth. And so I don't have to hear platitudes from those who don't understand what it means to live beneath a dark cloud. From people who tell me 'Be positive and things will fall into place', or better yet, 'Get over it'. From people who tell me the darkness is self-inflicted, and can be cured with a walk, a glass of wine, a book. From people who tell me to smile, and it will all look so much better.

Because I already do all that. Because each day I wake up, turn myself on automatic, and get through the day. I walk, I smile, I cook, I clean, I read, I keep busy, I love. And sometimes, they do work. Enough so I can almost tell myself, things are changing. I am changing. The darkness within me is won.

Until it returns from the shadows. And I am overwhelmed with the desire to disappear, to run so fast that I outrun myself. Until I find myself crying into the pillows at night, and I'm not quite sure why, except for this need to release. Until I look all around me, and for some reason, am simply unable to see anything that makes my heart smile. And so it's been harder and harder to write. Because there are days when I just can't pretend that my soul isn't made out of light.

But lately I've been wondering about the truth. And being honest with myself, and who I am. I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression almost nine years ago. At the very same moment they diagnosed me with a Thyroid Disorder. Which one caused the other is a moot point today. The point was, and will always be, that I will spend my life living with both. I will also spend the rest of my life controlling my medication, and subsequently my emotions. So why not be honest, and share my experiences? Maybe someone out there will benefit from my experiences. And if just one person does, isn't that enough?

I suppose if I was truly honest, the thing that scares me the most is having to confront the truth myself.

And the truth is, I just can't run anymore.