Today, I felt more inspired to write. Sitting by my porch with the door open, listening to the autumn rain, undoubtedly turns ones hectic mind into a relaxed state. My mind has not been relaxed in a very long time. Yesterday, was a very bad day for me in terms of my depression, and I woke up with a drizzle of that still on my mind. However, when my husband told me to relax while he washed the dishes and made me breakfast, like the saint that he is, I decided to lay on the porch and let the cool breeze touch my face. The smell of the air before it rains, especially during the fall season, is sometimes the best form of therapy.
Since our dog claims every blanket that we purchase, we have one on the porch, so that the wood doesn’t become too uncomfortable for him. He isn’t spoiled or anything. I washed it yesterday, so it was fresh and soft to lay on. It’s strange that this same blanket I laid on last night, as I curled up and cried on the porch, is now providing me a different type of comfort.
It’s hitting me hard to know that I’ll be 30 years old in two days and I’ve yet to overcome vaginismus. Not only that, but my state of mind is even worse than it used to be. I never thought I’d end up like this. Had you asked a 12-year-old me what my life would look like when I grew up, she would say something like, “I’ll be married to a wonderful husband with kids, a few pets and live in a beautiful home.” She would also say that she would be a vet or a teacher.
I wish I had kept the letter they made us write to our future self in grade-school. I remember writing it and feeling elated. My thoughts were swimming with hopes and dreams. If I could write down my thoughts today, they wouldn’t even be close to what they were back then. I can’t even write in my blog my true thoughts and feelings. If I did, people would call me selfish and ungrateful. I war with myself all the time and tell myself I don’t deserve the things I have because I don’t appreciate them like I should.
Whenever these thoughts start swimming in my head and I think of how different things are to what I had hoped for, I feel guilty. I think about those around me and put my hands to my ears, like I’m trying to shut out the world or those spinning and ungrateful words. I think of how better everyone’s lives would be without me because I’m trying to be someone that I’m not. I pretend and try to play along with the life that I have. I tell myself over and over again, as I rock back and forth, “Just pretend. Just pretend. Just pretend.”
People reading this have no idea what I’m talking about and I’d like to keep it that way. I opened up a bit to my sister and I think that made her a little uncomfortable. Now, I really regret it. Only my therapist truly knows how I feel about my life. Even then, it took me a long time to tell her all of those thoughts that I war with daily. She wonders how I can keep all of this internalized and how difficult it must be. It is difficult and it drives me crazy, but I just pretend.
I often wonder how long I’ll be able to continue pretending or if my thoughts and feelings will change overtime, so that I won’t have to pretend anymore. However, everything is linked together, so that is quite the conundrum. For now, it’ll just be the little things that give me comfort. Like my dog kissing away my tears or laying on a blanket looking up at the moon, as I cry and dream about being far away from here. I can’t help but smile and also be envious of the kids playing outside in the rain, completely innocent and full of life. I hope that they live fulfilled lives.
I find it ironic that I began this post feeling relaxed and soothed by the rain, hoping to write something sweet and encouraging. Yet, my mind unconsciously fell back into it’s natural state. The rain that was supposed to be inspiring has just turned me melancholy, and the writing that was supposed to be fun became depressing and all too real.
Will I even post this? Probably, because I thought about how one day, maybe, I’ll look back on all my posts and see the change. The beginning of my blog was insightful and optimistic, then it became sad and discouraging. Eventually, I took a hiatus and decided to return to writing, so that I could stimulate my brain in a more productive and creative way. It started out fine because I told myself that I would be happy because that’s what I want. I want to be happy. Now, I’m back to this. This is not something I want to put out on my blog because I’ve always wanted it to be a source of comfort and inspiration to those women who have vaginismus. I wanted to leave behind something that could help change the way the world viewed vaginismus. I wanted people to become aware of it and tell society that sexual dysfunctions shouldn’t be taboo. I wanted to help women find their voice and not feel discouraged to talk about the condition, their struggles and, ultimately, their triumphs.
Unfortunately, I can’t remember who that person is anymore. It even took me a second to remember why I started this blog in the first place. I don’t want to leave these posts behind for people to remember me by. I don’t want them to look at me and remember the shell of the person I once was. It truly just seems like a downward spiral of someone who is trying to be happy. Hopefully, I’ll be remembered for doing good things and being happy, even if my smiles have been forced for many years.