She walks through life nearly emotionless, because that’s the way she’s been taught since before grade-school. She puts on a smile and goes through the motions but nearly nothing truly touches her heart, because she was taught to never allow it. She looks around her life, her days, as if they aren’t hers but still acts like everything is okay, because she doesn’t know any better.

She says everything is okay, because she doesn’t know what’s right from wrong. She says everything is manageable, because she thinks that’s what’s expected of her. She says this and that and the words do flow, but her mind and her heart aren’t in the sentences that go:

I’m fine.
I’m okay.
I can do this.
It’s alright.
I’m used to it, so it’s all good.
Whatever happens, whatever goes.
It doesn’t really mean much.
It’s okay.
It’s fine.

But as things get harder, it’s harder to fake. As things come in big crashing waves, it’s hard to avoid feeling the pain. As things come faster than the speed of light, it’s impossible to know what’s coming your way.

She never wanted to admit she was depressed. She never wanted to admit she was struggling. She never wanted to admit that eating was sometimes impossibly hard for her. She never wanted to admit that she was wrong in saying everything was all right. She never wanted to say those words that would disappoint and make her seem like a failure. She never wanted to…but, in the end, maybe she has to.

She can’t hide from her nightmares through denial. She can’t erase the scars on her body through denial. She can’t relapse on her memories and make everything okay again by pretending the hurtful images never scarred. She can’t.

But she still tries.
She still wants to say that she will get better, one day at a time, without doing anything differently. She still wants to say that she is strong enough to get by without anyone’s acknowledgment or help and guidance. She still wants to walk through life as if she controls the world even though she feels as overlooked and invisible as an ant.

But, maybe one day she’ll get there.
She’ll get to the point that she can reach out for help without feeling weak. She’ll get to the point that she can break down without feeling pathetic. She’ll get to the point that she can tell the truth instead of hiding behind lies without having the urge to run and hide.

Maybe.

Denial

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About MysteriesOfLife

"The 'Earth' without 'art' is just 'eh'."
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2 Responses to

  1. mumsthewordblog1 says:

    Really well written post – I really hope she gets there one day and she reaches out for help sooner rather than later 😘

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