How do I get my thoughts back?
How do I get anything back?
Can I become the person I was before, when I was not the one who wanted ‘that me’ to go away? When I didn’t even realize that things had changed?
Facebook has decided that it wants us to remember what we wrote about, took pictures of, etc. on each day for the last how many ever years we were on its site. I honestly love looking back, even to the painful memories. But lately, it has me feeling a certain way.
Blog world, you don’t know it, but I’m currently going through some things. I’ve been going through some things for quite some time. I always tried to hide it well. Portray a better life than I was living. But now all those things turned into actions. I’m getting a divorce. I honestly thought that this would never happen, yet all the things, and the things, kept piling up.
Now, what does that have to do with the memories?? Well, in a few short years, there won’t be memories to look back at from certain years. I realized not to long ago, that the outgoing, spontaneous, crazy, “I could give a shit,” girl had disappeared. I realized that I was no longer the one to start conversations or just start laughing about something going on in my own head. I’m not even really sure I laugh at all anymore.
I started to read back on old journal entries, coded blog posts, etc. I started to see that I was being put down. I thought I was loved. But loved doesn’t make you feel ashamed of who you are. Love is supposed to build you up.
Those memories from the past, used to be so fun! Such random, tiny little thoughts that would pop into my head, and then I would post it because I thought it might make someone else happy or laugh. Now, when I go and read them, I try to come up with something to post, and its forced, and even when trying to force something, I have nothing to say.
A memory not from the internet, but from my own head, a realization that things started to not be okay. I used to love trying to talk in different accents. Friends and I would do it together all the time. It was funny, quirky and whatever else imaginative we wanted it to be. Especially since we mostly SUCKED at them. But we had fun. Then I started doing it around “him”, and apparently it wasn’t funny. It was not cute. It was not anything. Apparently to “him” it was annoying. The memory I remember, was of a British accented person speaking…. “He” made a comment about how SEXY it sounded… I commented back, “I thought you didn’t like those accents..” To which the reply I got was, “No, I don’t like when YOU do it.” My only able reply was “Why?”…. “Because its not yours, you’re faking it.. ”
I was crushed. And not because I wasn’t SEXY…. But because he really didn’t even understand why I did it. That it wasn’t about being sexy. I was just trying to have some fun the way I always did. And as I looked back, there were more and more and more of these moments. Of the little random things I used to do or say, that would be put down. So slowly but surely, almost without even knowing, I stopped doing them. I stopped doing anything. I didn’t feel the need to try and be or have fun anymore, because I didn’t want to be put down.
And now, when I go and hang out or talk with old friends… They notice. And they let me know they know. And it sucks because, when I try to bring those little things back, I feel embarrassed. And I never did before.
The most soul crushing part is that I don’t even laugh. I don’t know how to laugh. Because I’m scared.
Love shouldn’t do that.