Another month has come to an end. So here are my October Thoughts where I talk about the stressful expectations I often place on myself.

Every month, I find myself creating a list of goals I want to try accomplishing and each month I am faced with my own mental and emotional restrictions. I am sure that this will be a constant considering the ongoing struggle with depression. Reminding myself to be more lenient and understanding of myself can become tough when things on that list don’t get crossed-out like I wish them to be.

October was no exception.

I felt a lot of stress coming from the Inktober (art) side of my life and from my life outside of art. The emotions from last month rolled in and I felt like I couldn’t function as I used to after realizing a few things about myself which you can read about here: Poem 101 Enough

In a couple of months, I’ll be 27. I have no dreams of being at this age. It is merely a bridge from 25 to 28. Considering the ages in between, the years, I really had no idea what would happen to me. I was expecting to lose it all before 25- to quit life. I could never see a future past 24 and so, when I turned 25, I was impressed with myself. But 26 rolled in quickly and I had to come to terms that I was alive.

It’s quite interesting.

At 27, what will become of me?

I wonder about the state of me… and I wonder about the state of my heart. I feel more lonely than I’d ever felt before and that’s probably because despite not having any expectations, deep inside, I wished someone would love me by this time.

People complain about break-ups and they worry about ever finding a new love yet here I am wondering if I’ll ever get the luxury of feeling either of those feelings. It’s interesting to find out that I’m the kind of person who’s seeking to be loved. I need to be loved. And when I realized this, I hated it. I hated needing to be loved. Why couldn’t I love myself and that would be it?

Once you realize you deserve to be loved, you start wanting more.

I want more.

And these thoughts and feelings (before I realized what it was bothering me) took so much from me and I found it difficult to work. When I did realize it, I was left even more confused. I still couldn’t work. And I took a week and half long break from my art because I just couldn’t function. I couldn’t live my life knowing I wasn’t enough for myself. It was heartbreaking, finding out that I couldn’t fill up the hole in my heart by simply loving myself.

It would’ve been better if I never found this out.

But I’m also glad I did.

The more I dwell on it, think about it, the more I’ve come to terms with this situation. I guess I’m getting better at being okay about needing to be loved. My greediness to be loved means I understand my self-importance. It means I’m no longer red… and I can finally write the second book of Listening to Georgiana.

I’m ready to move on to a new part of my life.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *