Love is the most important thing for me. It has always been. Absolutely in a destructive way. Nothing else matters unless there’s love. I have no difficulties being alone, it’s not about that, I just always have to believe that love is out there. And if I’ve ever doubted it, it’s then my life has fallen down in this pitch black hole of nothingness. But also, love is the one thing that has never turned out like I thought it would.

I’ve had a few lovers. And some of them really started out like they do in movies. All the romance, the butterflies and what I felt was never ending love. But as time went on, things got more difficult, and eventually we lost what I thought could never be lost. People I’ve met, and loved more than anything in the world I barely think of today. It’s almost like they’ve never existed. And it’s such a strange feeling when I start to think about it. I gave them my whole heart and now I don’t even know if they’re alive.

It’s the same in my current relationship, when we met years ago, we were so in love, and nothing else mattered. We did everything together and could barely spend a single night apart. He was on my lips constantly, and I never wanted anything more than I wanted him. Today we still live under the same roof, but I can’t even remember the last time he kissed me. Not like he meant it anyway. We don’t touch, and we barely even speak. We only exist next to each other. There is no love left. Nothing to work with. And I’m getting so desperate. I miss love. I miss the kissing, the touching and just being close to someone. Barely being able to contain yourself, because you’re the luckiest girl in the world. I need that feeling again so badly.

How come love, that we so desperately seek, always seem to end? Is there such a thing as true love? And if so, in who do we find it?

I really envy people with passions. I think passion and ambition is one of the most attractive things in a person. It doesn’t really matter what it is about, as long as it’s there.

I guess I have my little passions too, or more like several things I love, would be a better way to describe it really. And it’s scattered out through many different things, not just one. I love to write, but I also love to make music and to sing. I love playing and dancing but I also love doing nothing at all sometimes. I could never just choose one of all the million things I love, to focus on. So I know that I will never be great at any of them, but honestly I’m completely fine with being decent, because I don’t think I could ever give any of them up.

But still I envy those people at times. You know when you meet them and you see that fiery look in their eyes while telling you all about the thing they love. How their entire soul just fires up and they’re literally sparkling like diamonds. There is something so purely inspiring about that.

I don’t know if passion is something you’re born with or if you can find it later in life too. But the ones that I’ve known with that special spark has been like that all their lives. I wish I could see inside their minds, to have just a taste of what it’s like to be in love like that. Just once.

So I’ve never wanted kids. No reason, I just never wished for kids of my own. Which is also the main reason why my previous relationships never worked out, they wanted children, I don’t, we split up. And sure, that always sucked but I’m still very happy with my decision and that I never folded.

I’ve never even thought about the reason I don’t want kids before, it has always just been that way and nothing I really reflected over, until recently. I saw a video with a girl talking about a book she read, it was about how many women (maybe men too? I don’t remember) doesn’t want kids because of their own mothers. How they were treated badly, had a rough childhood, got neglected and so on. And for that reason grew up and was so scared to become like their own terrible mothers themselves that they never got any children because of it. I am sure there is a lot more to that theory but I only saw a short video, I have to read more into it.

But it just got me thinking, is that maybe why I never wanted children of my own? I don’t think so, but maybe? It might be a mix of both, my shitty mom and that I was just never interested in having kids at all, but who knows. I mean, we’re more affected by our childhood then we can imagine, at least that’s what I believe and have experienced myself when I’ve been working on & looking over my own life and who I am as a person today.

Time has flown by so fast that I’m having trouble keeping up. I’m already 27 years old, and I haven’t done anything I wanted to do in life yet.

I had so much anxiety and stress as a little kid and all the way through my teenage years that I was never able to finish school, which is something I’m really sad about today. I think I really hit my mental health rock bottom when I was in my early 20’s, maybe I was around 22, I don’t really remember. All I remember is how I wished for everything to be over. I just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Those thoughts had been going on for years, but it was then I really decided to do something about it. I remember that I took a whole bunch of prescription pain pills that I bought on the streets, went to bed and hoped to never wake up again, and how desperately hopeless I felt when I woke up in that same bed almost two days later, still alive. It felt like I’d gotten hit by a truck and dragged around the entire country, but still, alive.

That next day I went to work as if nothing ever happened. I never spoke about it to a single soul. Until now I guess. I just moved on with my life, depressed and miserable like never before. After that I desperately decided to get some help, and they put me on two different antidepressants, which did absolutely nothing. I was on them for about 1.5 years if I remember correctly. And of course I never told the doctors or my therapist the whole truth about my life, I was always to ashamed. By that time I still felt that it was my fault that my mother never loved or wanted me and that my dad was drinking his way through life. I can’t even describe the absolute shame in those feelings.

This blog is actually the only place I’ve ever spoken about these things, and it feels OK to talk about it for the first time ever. Maybe it’ll do some good for me.

When I was 25 I decided that enough was enough. I wasn’t going to feel this way anymore, and I didn’t care what I had to do to get past it. That’s when my drinking really escalated, even if it was already bad as it was even before that point. But I got up, and I decided to work towards my future. It may sound terrible, but in some ways the drinking actually helped as much as it hurt. It helped me get through a lot of rough times and grief. And now I’m here, completely sober, from everything, fairly happy and are getting closer to my goals everyday. I might not reach them yet for a few years, but at least I’m on my way. And I will get there, I don’t care if it’s when I’m 30 or 55. I’ll reach them when I reach them, and it’s going to feel so damn good.

Do you ever feel like you’re not just one person? That you’re a different person everyday or in different situations?

I feel like I always turn in to the person I need to be for the moment. It’s kind of like playing a character I think. It’s not that I am this person, it’s more of a role I take on to be able to handle situations better.

There’s Katherine, the strong, independent, bossy and honestly a bit bitchy girl.

There’s May, the sweet & giggling, happy go lucky kind of girl.

And there’s Betty, the careful, responsible good girl. And the list goes on and on.

And I feel like I can switch between them in a heartbeat, and my mind & mood instantly changes. I’d say it’s very convenient, but also a bit confusing at times, especially when I’m trying to figure out which one of all these different personalities is actually me.

Maybe one of all these characters are the real me, I just don’t have any idea which one anymore. Or maybe I am all of them in some way.

This year has been a true test of strength for me. For many years my life has really been a downward spiral, and I’d been under water for so long I didn’t realize I was drowning until I reached the bottom of the ocean.

I went through hell and despair when everything around me seemed to crumble. I was drinking morning and night just to hide from my own self destructive mind. I spent most of my time barely exiting. A naturally following step was isolating myself from the outside world – and being completely fine with it. I decided to choose my own reality, and being ok on my own is a positive thing for me. By living in a small town, being a female not really fitting in with the rest, and also being fairly happy doing so can be quite provoking to some people. But that’s ok, it doesn’t make any difference to me.

Now when we’re getting closer to the end of the year I can say that things have improved greatly. I’m finally sober, after all these years (it’s only been a week so far but you gotta start somewhere right). I’m thankful for the few close friends that I have, I’m learning new things every day, I’ve picked up writing and hopefully I’ll get a lot better at it soon. Documenting my journey seems like a good step to take to get better and to look back on in the future to actually see how far I’ve come.

And I definitely look forward to getting older and wiser 🖤

I feel like people are so fast to judge these days. Or maybe I just haven’t noticed before. Punches are thrown left & right. And the cancel culture. It’s all so crazy to me. There’s not one single person who won’t make mistakes or screw up sometimes. We all do. It doesn’t make us bad people.

Even the sweetest person in the world is the villain in someone’s story. And it’s just so sad that, that one time someone did or said something bad is what everyone decides to focus on instead of the million good things.

We need to start giving people more chances to make things right, and actually give them credit when they do. People are usually nicer then you think.

The absolute best lesson I learned in life is that you can’t control how people are going to treat you, you can only control how you react to it. And not everyone who hurt you cares. So why should you care? You have to just let it go and move on. It’s hard, but when you finally learn, life will get so much easier.

Obsessing over what someone said or did to you will bring you nothing but harm, especially if that said person doesn’t even care that they hurt you to begin with. You don’t have to forgive, but you have to forget & let go. And the easiest way to letting go is to forgive. Not for anyone else, just for yourself. And you don’t even have to tell them about it. Just do it for you.

Growing up wasn’t the easiest for me. My mother is psychotic and was in and out of mental hospitals most of the time. The short periods she spent at home she fucked things up as much as she possibly could before she would be forced back. All I really remember about my mom is how scared I was of her. The rest is getting kind of vague.

My dad was a part time deadbeat alcoholic who would come and go as he pleased, and offer nothing. No help, no support. I’ve never had much of a family and have as long as I can remember taken care of my self for the most part. I’ve been my own parent. Therefore my only goal growing up was to become the person I needed when I was younger. Someone you can rely on, someone trustworthy, stable & loving. And I am still working on it.

The problem is, that I was always so worried about turning in to my mom, that I didn’t realize I was turning in to my dad.