Sometimes I find it difficult to reach out to you. Do you hear me like I hear myself talking to you? Do my prayers reach you? Can you hear me?
I’m having a really hard time trying to ground myself. I feel like part of the reason why you can’t hear me is because of my thoughts. How could one of your creations feel so negative about herself.. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for all the negative thoughts in my brain, I can’t help but to feel. Suicidal. A feeling that nobody takes serious. A feeling that once it is said out loud people seek help and you get about one hundred medications thrown inside of you and you get locked into a room. I’m claustrophobic and already about so many medications running through my veins.
I feel like nobody wants me here. I’m trying to find someone that loves me as much as you do, but I can’t. Does my boyfriend really love me or is he with me because he feels sorry for me? I’m sure you have been watching me from up there, I am not like everyone else. I’m different. I talk so much and I feel more than most people can.
You see, I sometimes feel like my boyfriend doesn’t want to be with me. Is it just my thoughts interfering with my life? Is it my anxiety? I have nobody to talk to about my relationship… because he’s my rock. He’s the one I go to for everything, so when I need to talk about him… do I tell him? Do I ask him if he still loves me? Do I pretend to be okay?
Life has been good, but it’s still rough. I don’t have to tell you that though, you have my whole future laid out. So is this all happening for a reasoning? Did I work so hard in high school just so that my future at San Francisco State would be a waste? Did I work so hard to cry over not being able to take my lab course? I can’t sit in a drive thru line for longer than 20 minutes without having a panic attack. How am I suppose to sit in a 5 hour lab course? How?
I feel this hatred towards writing now… but you know that. I keep stopping after every word that I type and tell myself to close my macbook. I keep getting F’s on my papers in my english course and all of the negative feedback that my english professor at SFSU comes crawling back. I have been running through obstacles when it comes to writing. Nobody likes it but I love it. My blogs are always all over the place because it’s just me writing as my brain poops out a thought but my essays.. they’re good. I mean I think they are. I work so hard on them and it’s like my professors grab a microscope and look for any mistakes possible.
Photography. I hate it now. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I hate photography. My brother used to make jokes and say that my instagram and facebook page name “IHxPhotography” stood for “I hate photography”. It’s weird how life has a way of doing shit, right? It sounds dumb, but it has just become more of a job that I hate going to rather than a hobby that I speed through yellow lights just to get home and edit. I have 7 photoshoots sitting in my SD card waiting to be edited. Seven. I have prom photos this Saturday as well as 4 senior photo session this coming week. I am so behind. I love that people appreciate and like my work and that my clients are recommending me but I need a break. I feel like if I don’t get a minute of having empty SD cards and being able to sleep before 12 am I am going to end up in the hospital again. I am doing to much. Minutes before opening up my laptop and writing this really bad blog post I told myself that I was going to cancel on the quinceañera sessions that I have booked for June, the 2 in July, and August. I physically and mentally cannot take on such a big project. I can’t. For all those people reading this that have the mindset of “everyones becoming a photographer” or “being a photographer is easy”- I want to see you try. My feet hurt 24/7. I spent up to 18 hours for a photoshoot where I was on my feet all day. I got drunk before the day ended of course, but I still had to go home and spend the next two weeks editing those photos while still booking more clients during those times. And God, I am not complaining for this amazing job that allows me to work while trying to handle my anxiety- BUT I AM MAKING MY ANXIETY WORSE.
This is what I missed about writing. Before writing this blog post I was very suicidal, i will even say that I was going to cause some real damage to my body. Everytime I get towards the ending I remember to not take life so serious. We all die in the end and nobody will remember us, because they will die too.
Diosito mio, gracias por escuchar mis problemas.
When you wish to talk to someone, talk to Jesus, He loves to hear you speak.”