Employed By Depression

I keep running away from almost every opportunity I get, especially with jobs.

But in reality, depression has become like a job to me over the past 10 or 11 years.

It’s consumed almost every ounce of me. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or not doing, it doesn’t matter if I’m with people or alone.

Every other day if not everyday is a constant struggle with having too much sleep or not sleeping enough, eating or not eating at all, feeling alone yet needing to isolate myself so that I don’t annoy people.

People tell me to find a hobby, to get up and do something, but even when I find a hobby.. or do something I feel I’m decent at, I either lose interest by finding another interest or I get bored or give up because it’s too difficult.

What seems to be my rock bottom, usually doesn’t feel like it’s enough to help me soar to the surface.

Yet despite all of these things, I’m still fighting even when I’m on my last straw.

I’m still fighting even when I feel as though I’m at my lowest point.

Someone once told me that it’s sometimes harder to let go than it is to hold on.

That may not be true for some people, but I feel as though it’s true for me personally because no natter how much I want to give into letting my body give up, no natter how many times I run away and create a new identity, no matter how many times I try to give up, for some reason, I snap out of it. I find something that motivates me without even searching for it and it’s enough until it isn’t enough again.

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Body Ghost

I know this area, sort of and something about it, everything reminds me of those I’ve never foot step here with before

It’s as though they’re haunting me like a spirit with unfinished business, only these are still alive as far as I’m aware

Taunted by the very taunt itself of memories I’ve never shared with certain ghosts of my past inwhich I created myself

Version of my past self live here, born here to someone as a stranger to myself and yet my heart feels something dark sitting in the seat of my legs

Abandonded Highway Eyes

You drove me somewhere, it felt so strange                                                    and I stepped out of the car to look around                                                       not sure why, but eyes

Staring towards me, my direction           in from a car                                           ones gleaming and startling me         stirring this energy inside of me

Backing off, away from destruction        I could feel them from behind me          so there I was, you had already left       and abandonded I was                      calling you but entering the wrong number as I walked along the highway

Tense Bewilderment

Growing up you told me to layer up
Little did I know that you meant more than just in accord of the weather

Boys were told that they were stronger
Girls were made out to be the weaker ones
Atleast when I was younger

There are seperately shot put balls for the girls and for the boys
One set for the weaker sex
One for the stronger
And as sexist as it was, I didn’t know any better

So I struck up my own confidence, ran out of site and picked up the heavier weight
Using most of my strength to hover it into the air, bam, it landed so hard and so fast
But my, did I feel good for doing what I wanted

Not fitting in, segregated
Was told that I couldn’t do the same work as everyone else
Humiliated when I needed reassurance and repetition

Are you a boy? They all chanted knowing who I identified as, it still hurt
It still does

Mom, dad, I’m your son.

Mom, dad, it’s as though you have three sons instead of two and one daughter
Was what I said to my parents before I realized I was who I am today
Although I may have said it in a joking way, I was being serious
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll say it again to them
And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that every time they say ” I love you…. but…” that the ” but ” only encourages me back into the closet I forgot existed besides the one I store my clothes in
So dark, so full of confusion and self hatred
They may be confused, but so am I at times
But they still have a child, just a slightly differently version
They didn’t lose a daughter, they just lost the label
They gained a son

The song that I am listening to while writing this post:

 

When I was a few months old, I was placed in a foster home with a little boy and his parents, shortly afterwards, those parents had adopted me as their own child. My birth mother, not only was she young, was not able to take care of me aswel as my birth father.

I do not remember how old I was when I was told that I was adopted. I also don’t remember how I reacted on the spot, whether I actually understood what being adopted meant or if I just acted like I understood because as I grew older, maybe around 6 or 7 years old I remember being really angry.

I threw tantrums almost all the time over the littlest things and I remember asking people to call me by the name I was given at birth even though my name had been changed. I assume it was one of the many ways I used to cope with knowing that I had been adopted.

These parents, who are still my parents, who are the only people who actually were there for me through everything and are still here for me, still love me to this very day.

I’ve gone through some hard obstacles in my life, maybe not as ‘bad’ or as worse as some people’s struggles, but I’ve been delt with a very mix and matched sort of hand.

The reason as to why I am writing about being adopted is because even though I had a loving family and still do, I had always wondered what it would be like to meet my birth parents. See if I actually looked like someone instead of just having the same hair colour as one of my brothers, although I didn’t grow up with blood, I inherited similar traits as my adoptive parents. I knew that I didn’t need to know any of my blood relatives. I had met one blood sister who’m I went through phases of denying her as my sister and not. I always wanted a sister growing up, but I just didn’t like her for some reason.

I didn’t want to have to put my name on an adoptive registry just to find my birth mother so I just decided to stop looking. Until one day, I found a picture with my birth sister’s last name from when she was born. We looked our birht mother up on facebook and to both of our surprises, we found her.

I mean anyone can have a dopple ganger, I think that’s what they’re referred to as. So that woman could have been anyone, even now how can one be so sure that the family they get close to and believe are related to them, aren’t you know? The birth sister I knew for the majority of my life not only looked like our birth mother, but her other children looked like the both of us. One of my sisblings I had met actually could pass as my twin sometimes. It’s actually pretty neat.

Now that I’ve grown to know part of my birth family, the mystery of what happened to my birth father still lingers.

Another reason as to why I’m writing this, is because my Niece is getting adopted and as much as it’s going to hurt her mother, (the sister who looks like myself and I look like her), it’s going to hurt me as well. I remember the time I received a phone call about her being brought into this world. The first time I held her, I will never forget.

I haven’t been able to see her often due to many different obstacles, but I get to see her next week hopefully for the last time for the next while because she’s actually getting adopted and although it hurts to see her go, she really won’t be gone, just physically, but taken in by a loving family. She’s grown so much since the time she was brought into this mess of a world, that it amazes me and comforts me at the same time knowing that she’s being placed in th arms of people who will be able to give her everything she needs, on top of that extending the love she has been given by her blood relatives.

I hope to be able to hold a place in her heart and have her be reminded of a part I’ve played in her little life.

I love her so much.