mynamesearn

Lately, I’ve been caught in a storm of my own negative thoughts. It’s heavy, like carrying a bag you didn’t even pack yourself. Sometimes, it feels like I can’t take it anymore. I keep asking myself: Where is the old, positive version of me? Who the fuck am I right now? Why are all these bad thoughts here, and why can’t I just make them leave?

When people ask me how I’m doing, I always say, “I’m fine.” Not because I don’t want to tell them the truth but because I’ve learned to hold it in. As a kid, I used to pour all my thoughts onto my friends, no matter how small or silly they seemed. Growing up, I realized everyone has their own shit to deal with, so I stopped. I told myself, “No more dumping my problems on others.” Now, it’s hard to tell anyone how I’m feeling. Instead, I’m here, trying to write it out.

I’ve been reflecting on why I’m like this. Maybe it’s because I grew up with parents who were more focused on themselves. Talking about feelings wasn’t a thing in my family. So, I learned to deal with everything on my own. Over time, it made me feel like my emotions didn’t matter, like I’d eventually figure it out on my own, anyway.

Maybe that’s why I sometimes feel unlovable, even though I know, deep down, that’s not true. I know I’m lovable. But the thought still creeps in: What if someone really gets to know me and ends up resenting me? What if I’m not good enough?

Then there are the other thoughts. Why don’t I have 100k in my bank account yet? I’m almost 26. What the fuck am I doing with my life? Why am I still living with my parents? Why am I dating someone when I’m still trying to figure myself out? Am I a good partner? Or am I going to fuck this up, just like someone fucked me up?

Sometimes, I’m so hard on myself, it’s exhausting. I look back and wonder why I keep holding myself to impossible standards. Why do I feel like I need to have everything figured out already? Life isn’t a race. Everyone’s path is different, but that doesn’t stop me from comparing mine to others. It’s like a constant tug-of-war in my head. Part of me knows I’m doing okay, but another part is shouting, “You should be doing better.”

But even in the middle of all this, I know deep down that I don’t deserve the bad things I tell myself. I’m better than that. It’s just hard to escape these thoughts right now. Maybe I will soon. Maybe not. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s normal.

Life isn’t easy. It never has been. But when I stop to think about it, I realize I’ve come pretty far. Sure, some days are harder than others, especially when hormones or memories from the past decide to fuck with me. Maybe it’s just my PMDD, making everything feel bigger than it is.

Like the days when I feel completely out of control when my own mind feels like it’s working against me. On those days, I’m so quick to judge myself. Why can’t I get it together? Why can’t I just be happy? But then I remind myself: it’s not about having it all together. It’s about trying, even when it feels impossible. And honestly? That’s not so bad.

I try to remind myself that these thoughts, they’re just thoughts. They might be true, or they might not. I get to decide how much power they have over me. Whether I choose to tell someone how I feel or keep it to myself, that’s up to me. And maybe that’s just how trauma shows up. It doesn’t care how positive you normally are; it’ll sneak in anyway. But maybe that’s normal, too. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with me.

Sometimes, I think back to the little moments of joy I’ve had recently. Even on my worst days, there’s usually something, a kind message from a friend, a random laugh I didn’t expect, or even just the way the sunlight hits my room in the morning. Those moments remind me that life isn’t all bad. It’s messy, but it’s not bad. And maybe I need to give myself more credit for noticing those little things. They matter.

Then there are the nights when everything feels still, and I’m alone with my thoughts. Sometimes, I cry, not because I’m sad, but because I’m overwhelmed. It’s like my body’s way of letting go of the weight I’ve been carrying all day. And that’s okay, too. Crying doesn’t make me weak; it just makes me a fucking human.

I don’t know why I’m writing this, but if you’re reading it and you’re going through something, just know: It’s normal. You’re human. You’re figuring it out, just like the rest of us. Cry if you need to. Be silent if that’s what feels right. Disappear for a bit if you have to. Do whatever it takes. Just know that one day, this won’t feel so heavy. One day, we’ll laugh about it. Or maybe we won’t, and that’s okay, too.

And if it ever feels like too much, reach out. There’s no shame in asking for help. We’re all just trying to make sense of this wild, unpredictable thing called life. So be kind to yourself, even when it’s hard. You’re doing better than you think.

At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to figure out what it means to live. And that’s messy and unpredictable and hard. But it’s also full of moments that make it all worth it. So, let’s keep going, even on the hard days. Let’s remind ourselves that being human means feeling everything, the good, the bad, and everything in between. And that’s okay.