How crazy does this sound to you? I want to paint the chairs that I have been working on for more than a month now but I can't because there are some things in my mind that I need to let you know. As I was driving home this morning, I was having a dilemma. Should I write (or maybe type is the right word) or should I paint? But my thoughts didn't end just at those questions. I was worried that if I wrote them down, I definitely will be entertaining some feelings that would paralyze my day with grief. If I didn't write these feelings down, I will never understand why I am feeling this way because as it turns out, writing does help me understand myself more. And it isn't because of the delay but because of my obsession on reading my writing the next day and asking myself if I feel the same way as I did the previous day. I bet you are already lost. So if I did write them down now, I know my day will turn out to be a hell. If I didn't, I will be painting so distractedly because every feelings I have will be so bottled up inside me that I'll be making mistakes after another.
I don't even want to write this down now. I sound so crazy. I sound sad and pathetic. Yet this is me. Why do I feel crazy? And what does crazy really mean?

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As I dropped you off this morning, I thought of our friend's birthday. I told her I was going to make her a cake for her birthday which is in two weeks. I don't know if I can do it. I am worried that she is gong to take a photo of the cake and post it on Facebook. And when that happens, all of the 6 clients for cakes that we had to cancel because of my depression will soon find out and wonder how could have I made others a cake but not them. I was thinking maybe I should just be honest to our friend and tell her not to post anything on Facebook so my clients wont know. I owe her a cake isn't it because of the photos she took for your birthday? Yet, I really don't want to tell anybody anymore how I had a nervous breakdown 4 weeks ago and that I was stuck at a parking lot for about 4 hours paralyzed by my own emotions that affected my physical ability to even move or drive. I don't really want to tell anybody anymore how I broke down or how crazy I am or how fucked my past life was before I met you or how sad I really am as a person. I don't want to stress more people out. I don't want people pitying  me. I don't want to embarrass myself more or you or Claire. I somehow want to pretend again how strong I am and that there is nothing wrong with me. I want my old self to come back, the one who fought hard whenever I felt low. I want my old self back, the one who is strong and isn't weak. I want my wise mind back, the one who does not blow up about our dog peeing on our strawberry plant bed and other ridiculous things that a normal person would for sure not be paying attention to-and I currently do. I want my old self back, the one who can enjoy the precious time I should be having with my child. Where is she and how do I get her back? Do I even want her back? Should I want her back? Is the normal me before the breakdown, was that a normal normal? or was that I thought was normal but not medically normal person?

I just also don't want to be judged. I don't want myself being the topic of our friend's discussion. I don't want them worrying about me. I don't want them feeling strong for me because I may never get better and I don't want them feeling frustrated that I could never snap out of this because I actually may never snap out of this. I am worried enough about you and Claire and myself and now I have to worry about their worries too?

Also, I don't know if I could see anybody right now because I don't feel like myself. Our friend must already think how weird I am when I am not like any other girl she's met. I don't wear jewelries except my wedding ring and once out of a blue moon-I'd put on some earrings, maybe what, twice a year? I don't know how to paint my nails. I don't spend time taking care of myself. I never go out no matter how many times she's invited me. I get haircuts like once a year. I can't talk about anything else except about Claire. I am awkward. I can't even smile whenever she takes a photo of me that it pains me whenever she pays attention to me, how much more when she wants to document myself on a photo? I am not girly like her. I don't spend more than an hour to pamper myself and I know she must think I am a lesbian because of that. And if I feel ugly because I purposely make myself ugly so no one pays attention to me, I don't want to see the pity in her eyes when she sees me because it hurts. I am even wondering now how did I have friends? I feel bad for them. I feel bad for all of them. And I feel so sad for myself that I am this sad.

All of this came through my mind from a piece of cake. All of this.


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So I did write it down. Do I feel better after I did? I think a little bit I do. However reading what I wrote about what goes through my head of what people think of me makes me really sad. This entire writing activity makes me really look at myself, doesn't it? And when I am reading it to myself again, why do I not see myself? It seems like someone else wrote this down. Maybe because I really have not been confronting every demon in my mind. And I thought I did. This demon is what paralyzes me. This demon is what holds me back. This demon is the one who refuses to get up in the morning. This demon is the source of my guilt, my fear, and my anxiety.