I woke up in the morning, with the same dreaded feeling of doom. Pulled myself to feed my little boy and feed myself too. Pushing myself to eat healthily, I told myself to not give up to the urge of having that decadent piece of leftover chocolate cake that I had been having, ruining all the benefits of my work outs. Thoughts of I would better be dead, lingered around my mind. I fought them fiercely. I cringed at the thought of letting my son grow motherless. I told myself to be ashamed. I have a lot in life that many don’t have, and instead of being thankful, I have been sulking for something that shouldn’t really matter. But then, what do you do when your mind keeps feeding you with constant thoughts of pessimism. Nope, I hate to stay with those thoughts and feelings that they bring to me. I suffer physically. I can hear my heart thumping harder, as if I had a hungry lion in front of me, waiting to pounce on me. I feel like throwing up. I feel like sitting at one place and never get up. I feel like getting invisible to the world and myself.
But I always get up. I always tell myself that those feelings are wrong. I always push myself to feel thankful. I force myself to cook some days (cooking is one of my hobbies, by the way.) I tell myself to eat or else I could get too sick to care for my son (no, I am not skinny.) I try to read something positive. I write if I could. But most of all, I try to keep the hope for the better days keep flowing.
I stared at my puffy face in the mirror. It screamed at my ugly face. I told myself to change my PJs and get some fresh vibes in my life.
I reluctantly took my shower, washed my hair with a lot of lather. Dressed up a little (I had nowhere to go,) blow dried my hair for a change. They didn’t look bad. I was surprised to see in the mirror. My hair looked good enough. I dabbed a little pink gloss on my lips and forced a smile. I didn’t look bad for my age, in that mirror. For once, I wondered if my new house had those fake mirrors that show you like a few pounds thinner, your skin brighter, etc. Then I decided to believe that may be what I saw was the truth. I was hoping to feel better by making myself look pretty. I didn’t feel elated. But I did feel that at least something wasn’t as bad as I felt. I felt that I had some potential. I pushed on with the day. Trying to make my days better, trying to eliminate all obvious causes of feeling miserable… Like no food, no money, I look ugly, I hate this body, I am so lonely, there is no one to talk to, feeling sorry for my boy to have a mom like me, being useless, not contributing financially, not able to follow my passion, not being able to be myself, feeling suffocated… And the list goes on. I must slowly and steadily, try to eliminate all these reasons, and then see how I feel. It is a journey that I have to finish, contemplating about my thoughts at every milestone reached, and in the end, if I survive, I must find if I feel any better, useful and content. I don’t seek happiness per se… But I need to feel that all the hardships haven’t gone futile. If I could say one day that it was all worth it…Might save me.