The following semi-confrontation of ideas happened in between the last two weeks. Back and forth, trying to compose something purely from my feelings that only made sense. As I digested the text, I understood that my inspiration comes from the society surrounding me and our modern conflict.
“What a time to be alive.” Something I tell myself every morning as a wake-up, with sadness, bitterness, and anger, because it has always been easier to reward negative emotions versus positive ones. However, it always feels worthwhile when there is a change of scenery for the cause. It has not been an easy task to keep my energy up due to my mental illness. There is always this loser complex that lingers even times I am enjoying myself the most; it does not matter how much I push it to the back of my head.
Not to raise your eyebrows, but I have acknowledged my reality, something I am working on with the help of professional health. I love to be vocal about both my problem and my solution. Like me, numerous people swing through these emotions daily; this could be you or someone else you know. It is something that at least one of your family members or friends suffer from but feels isolated because of a lack of being understood, being slapped with words like: “you should not be sad; there are others that are having it worst”. Frankly, those are the words that make me feel like a loser. It is not okay for having it worst than me, and I wish I could help them, but it is okay for me to validate my feelings and confront them with love.
Let me explain myself; I see the positives of life and know the best practices I have to follow through to pull up with this summary of the day-to-day life of being society’s role model. I see the sunshine, smell the roses, look at the positive outcome of things, treat myself when is financially possible, make time to hang out with my friends, and sometimes drink enough water to have me going part-time to the loo. The bullshit of it all is submerging to the monotony of picking up myself to make others less uncomfortable working, talking, or sharing time with someone as depressive as I am. May whoever -or whatever- you believe in grant you blessings for even sustain your interest in someone like me.
There is nothing compensating about always trying to position others before yourself!
Yet, here is where I am tired of self-sabotage, for always throwing dirt at myself for thinking about the ones around me way more than thinking of me. I am a loser for shying my consciousness and having it on an autopilot of do not do this or that because I could -easily- embarrassed or disenchant me. Either for not achieving that gratification that comes when others support my work or because I am a non-believer to my potential. You would think that I am this high achiever that walks around with humongous balls doing what my emotions dictate to me; in reality, I am just confused, doing the most I can to get myself through.
The biggest curse I have written down on my cursed book is people-pleasing. The amount of wasted time and energy becomes unmeasurable, and of course, it is time that we cannot recover; it makes you want to obtain vengeance and reclaim what is yours.
Honestly, I want to know the person who thought themselves that gratifying anyone to get likes in return was something that made sense? It not only feels wrong, but one can lose oneself by dancing to another’s person tune for x or y reason.
Rerouting myself to the point, I have always executed something to make someone else feel proud of my achievements as if that added or decreased the value of anyone. I did it at one of my workplaces, and the more I achieved, the more demand of me for someone else to take the credit for it. I entertained -some of- my friendships and romantic relationships, and these were toxic and added little value to my growth. As a hard-to-swallow pill, I am still learning that I should only please myself before even thinking of giving that privilege to anyone else.
Another notorious intricacy with my environment is getting stuck in memories.
The other day I was reminiscing of how much of a baddass I was during my early twenties. I had no intentions of letting anyone walk over me, even though those times were highly confusing and a list of dumb mistakes that I am paying for them in the present moment, but I consider them a dark rainbow with life tools.
I owned every aspect of my social and personal activities because of anger mixed with drinking and -totally- dancing through it with a great rock playlist. You know, like that type of rock that movies use when there is a rad scene happening of a great fighter or a woman wearing a latex cat-suit.
When looking for inspiration, I try to incline my head to those reckless moments where life was too short to even think of living forever, not afraid of death, but always thinking that it was always a safe call to take care of myself. I praised my past, but I am still unsure as to why the fuck I do not live in the current present and future of my essence. Do you get my sound wave? It is like rollerskating, godspeed, into an age where I should have been more productive because laying on the bed all day long during my days off is only messing with my back more than taking me steps forward to who I am waiting to be.
Is anger the main event and betrayal of my entire existence? Maybe that is the driving force, a loser that gets by with anger in her heart?
It feels like that is about right. Anger is just a detonator for not feeling comfortable in my -own- skin, for allowing an impostor to cruise by with this body while I am constantly feeling numb.
Gosh, sometimes I even smile like a questionable creature while driving, followed by a scream that comes from the depths of my lungs to feel alive. Screaming is what liberates my anxiety, constantly thinking of how life slides by, and I am still thinking of being that reckless twenty-something version of myself. Coping mechanisms are the most complex form of self-expression when in solitude or when no one can relate to you more than what you relate to yourself.
It is not even that I am -mostly- angry for spending more time in my head than sitting down and accomplishing the steps I know I need to take to get me closer to my personal goals. Picture a glance at the back-and-forth of anger and pitty united by the ribs, full-force, and scarier than a roller derby. Sounds tiresome, right?
Am I the only one who constantly feel this way? I think NOT!
I guess I got fed up with feeling like a loser, especially knowing is the damage I did to myself; because people around me are feeling and drowning themselves as total losers defined by their current direction in life.
It is a harsh society, and the standards that some devoted their entires life’s to are not technically supporting our modern frame. The future seems worrying when the goal we want to work so hard for is far from accepted by our desire and fear that it is not the best decision. Nothing says more than you are a loser than holding yourself back, not risking anything just because you are afraid of living. It is about overcoming and maybe help you overcome what is holding you back from achieving your bigger picture. Perhaps you do not call yourself a loser because your levels of self-love are way out of my metrics, but whatever you call yourself, do it from a place of growth.
Our minds lose focus very quickly, and the social pressure for being successful is of utmost unrealistic. Find your measures of success, which is not only defined by money but whatever that means to you.
After all, I am only a big loser as I can only think about it myself. I am the one who constantly put names to myself, knowing damn great I am not. A label only has the power we grant to it, so when you are labelling yourself, make damn sure to praise yourself as high as you can.