a dear diary moment | breaking point

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This is my breaking point that I meet every day, and now I’m just too tired to say hello- this is the state of my mental health.

Growing is not always upward and onwards; we’ll always have some regression moments, our breaking point.

I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. When I say lately- I mean back in April.

As someone who has become used to being disconnected, I feel like I’m being forced into responsibilities and commitments that I would never say yes to. I also feel as though I am often more compromised these days than I was before.

To be candid, I hate it.

I hate the responsibilities in my life that don’t give meaning to life… for me at least. To sound as little as possible like a whiny child, I just don’t want these attachments. They mean nothing to me. On the contrary, it makes me less invested in my life than I already was uninterested. The more I realize this the worse my perception of these attachments becomes. What I hate more is that other people feel the need to give meaning to these attachments for me as if that will suddenly fix this unfeeling I have.

Hate is such a strong word, but it described my breaking point well.

I’ve said before I don’t like to use ‘hate’ as a feeling I get. It’s too strong to say that I hate something because I often my mind changes. I feel strongly against these attachments I’ve been forced to have. The more I consider this particular feeling, the stronger it becomes. I really really really don’t like it just doesn’t cut it. I abhor the idea that someone’s reason to live can be my reason too. (Yes, I know it’s possible to share a reason to live, but I don’t believe the reason can be forced upon another.)

Maya, my puppy, has not become a reason I stick around in this life- contrary to what my psychiatrist and therapist had told me. I knew I wasn’t ready for the responsibility, but I let the guilt (of not wanting to live) affect my day-to-day. My lack of attachment scared the people around me, and I let their fear consume my thoughts.

I love Maya as I love my family and friends. I remain unattached to anything.

Nothing has changed.

Instead, my anxiety and stress reset with the sun.

I’ve yet to find a reason to be here. My interest wanes as it waxes, but my cup is never full.

Rather, my patience is always low, and worse, I’m always getting angry with a snap of my fingers. This patience I’ve been working on for years has shattered within the span of a year and a half because of ideologies I thought I had to live up to, compromising what I didn’t want to compromise 3 or 4 years ago.

Therapy broke my definition of normal and told me I was wrong to set these boundaries. Yet, when I broke it, she told me I was wrong yet again. Or maybe, I perceived each of our encounters as a correction I had to make and now blame her for things she never said. Something inside of me snapped. I was crying almost every day last late spring. And now I’m here again renewing some sick cycle.

Growing as a person has never been upward and onwards for me. I wish it was.

Worse is, no matter how much I release this anger and hatred, it still remains as so. I still hate these stupid bunch of attachments that I’m now responsible for yet, the attachments I keep trying to seek, I have no time for.