Monday

My dad asks me

Why are you so sad?

I don't know

I reply

Why do you allow yourself to be so sad?

He wants to know

I don't know

I reply again.


How do I even start to explain my anxiety to him. Where does one begin. Should I tell him that it all  goes back to my childhood. For me feeling the way I do. For me thinking the way I do. Does he know the difference between being sad and being depressed? Would he even understand the difference if I explained? If I went into detail about how anxiety waits for me the moment I open my eyes. How I overthink everything, things other people barely give a second thought to. Like my friend says, "If there is a way, B has thought about it". Wonder if he remembers telling me all throughout my childhood that I was too emotional child, that I should ease up and be a kid? Well surprise dad! My emotions have been a mess the past year, they have been too powerful, too intense for me to control. Times where anxiety has kicked in and my feelings have suffocated not only me but those around me too. How I over-feel all sorts of emotions intensely all at once, how not being in control of my emotions major freaks me out which leads me to over-react and too often makes me say hurtful things to the people I love, how regret hits me the moment the words leave my mouth. But its always too late. How do I explain to him that my anxiety is my own personal art of making unnecessary drama. It might seem silly. But it's real dad. It feels like end of the world. My world, at any rate. My anxiety uses me as a punching bag dad. Some days it sucker punches me so bad that I can't breathe. It leaves a bruise on my body, on my mind, on my loved ones even. It hurts all around.


Do you remember dad, how as a child I would hate fairy tales because I never understood why princesses would give up their voice for love. Do you remember? Well I went and got my heart broken for the first time last year. I allowed a guy to destroy me - emotionally, mentally and physically. I became a pawn to his sick mindgames. Should I tell him the things I did for him, the ways I allowed him to hurt me, the ways I allowed him to use me. Would he be mad? Disappointed? Sad? Well dad, its a sad sad world when one breaks a soul only because they can. Wish I could explain how ever since he broke my heart and left, I have been basing my self-worth on guys. Guy after guy.  I make them feel like a man, stroke their ego, whilst they make me feel like I'm so insignificant, so small, so powerless. Do you recognise your little girl dad? Well, your little girl ain't so little anymore. I done things, bad things. I seen things that can't be unseen. I touched monsters and let them touch me.  Why do I allow them to destroy me? Who have I become? Why do I allow them to dirty me with their filthy mind games? How do they sleep at night? And why oh why do I still wonder about the ones who have long forgotten me? When did your little girl become this weak person who allowed guy's mistakes to reflect on how I view myself as a woman  - how dare they dim my light! How dare they trip me over my own words! How dare I allow them! How dare I allow them to stutter my words?

Tell me dad, why am I so washed out by life? They tell me we are human and that it's okay not to be okay. That we have layers of ourselves that we don't and can't ever understand and that it's okay but I don't understand nothing. Where is my instruction on how to master adulthood? I want to ask him about people, I want to hear why he thinks people are so defensive to my highly passionate ways? Explain it to me dad, explain why they tell me it takes courage and bravery to be vulnerable and open hearted in this world yet they scatter my words? Why is my over-loving considered suffocation? Why do I feel too much for people that feel too less for me? Why am I such a failure at love? Why is my heart too damn big for its own good? Tell me dad, when can I burn fire again? Be so bright and feisty again? Where's that girl with the loud crazy hyena laugh to match her big crazy curly hair?

I want to reassure him that I am indeed learning. Slowly but surely. I want to tell him how my self defense mechanism has messed me up so much the past year but that I am actually working on it. I am working on myself. I want to tell him about the moments where I wanted to crush people with my words. Thinking me hurting them back we would be even. Thinking by hurting them, my own pain would disappear. It doesn't disappear dad. I was wrong, their pain bounced back and cut my wound deeper. It bleed dad. It bleed a lot. I have their scars all over my heart. I want to quote him something someone once told me  - to stop letting the past dramatically affect my future. I am learning dad. I am learning to let go. Let go of my childhood blues. Let go of the demons that torment me day in, day out. I am learning that pain is not healed with anger. Pain is only healed in time with forgiveness. I need to forgive. Starting with myself - I need to forgive myself. I want to to tell him that I have finally stepped out of my comfort zone. I want to explain that my stubbornness doesn't come from the fact I think I-Know-It-All but from my fear. I want to go over each and every fear of mine with him. Explain the roots of them to him. Explain my fucked up ways.

But I didn't.

I didn't say any of this.

I didn't say a word.

I let silence speak for me.

Than he said what he could say best

"You be okay. Go home and get some rest and try not to worry too much".