I've never been much good at keeping a diary. I've tried a couple times, the first few in half hearted attempts to be what I, at the time, considered 'normal', and the others because I actually had something to say that I thought my future self could use.
My current attempt at a diary hasn't been written in since a day or two after Valentines this year. Only lasted a week and is mostly filled with the dreams I was having at the time. Two of which being consequtive nightmares that didn't just scare me.
They shook me to my core.
The first ended in me spinning as though I was in a hamster wheel, the last sentence in that entry being 'but the wheel wasn't spinning, I was'.
The second I had ordered the death of my brother. The effect of which only hit me when my dream father told me my brother was never coming home.
That entry had me worrying over the difference in implications between 'dead' and 'never coming home'.
Without reading the full entry or knowing my background, they sound like nothing. They sound like Im crying over nothing and really, I probably am.
But both dreams hit me where it hurts. They forced me to question things about myself and the way I have interpreted all the events that ultimately put me in the position Im in now.
Everything is a cycle.
Thats what the first dream taught me.
Everything will happen again.
That horrible day will come back. But so will the day I laughed so hard, coke came pouring out of my nose.
Sometimes its my own fault these things happen.
The lesson of my second dream.
I can't always push the blame onto somebody else. I can't hide from what happened. I can't pretend I didn't do it.
I did do it. I did say it.
That was my decision and nobody told me to make it. I made it alone.
Its my fault that my expectations of mum were crushed.
Its my fault that I dont get to see as much of my siblings as Id like.
But its also my fault that Im on my way to a career doing the thing I love.
And its my fault I have such great friends.
And its my fault that I can smile more now than I ever have before.
I've gone through the rats arse and am now having the most glorious shower because of it.
I still have days where I feel like an emotionless blob.
I still have days where I simply give up on caring and have to battle with my emotions to not burst into tears at the drop of a hat.
I still have days where every little thing pisses me off to the point of absurdity.
But Im getting more and more days where I feel happy to be alive.
Where I realise what I've got.
Where I find that Im smiling at strange moments.
More and more days where that smile is no longer fake.
And even though I've got a long way to go yet, Im finding that Im looking forward to it, more and more, every day.