Better Versions

Hey, hello, um, hi!
... Damn. I really am rusty with this thing.
It's been a good month or so since my last post, and that wasn't exactly a happy one either.
If I am being honest here, or at least as honest as I usually try to be on this blog, I fell into a bit of funk by the time I got back from the June holidays.
I was, for lack of a better term, depressed.
Now, I've had inklings of this feeling creep on me before and they were never this bad. They were fleeting, at best, only temporary.
But this time... this time was different.
It was the kind of depression that was stifling, crippling. It really inhibited my ability to fully function and emote. It was scary. Really scary. And in the midst of my lacking emotions, I found that in my struggles to actually feel something I was lashing out, holding on to the pettiest feeling of irritation and anger, simply because they were there, they were accessible, they were the easiest thing to hold on to.
Long story short, I was a bitch for quite a while. There was damage done, some of which is still apparent, but hopefully can be patched over. Sometimes, it seems like it's irreparable. I guess that's my own fault.
Good news, though, I'm getting better. One main reason I think lead to the depression getting so bad was my initial refusal to acknowledge it. Although I said it was crippling and limited my ability to function, I could still push on. Keep Calm and Carry On as the Brits say. It made me incredibly guilty to even think about calling what I felt 'depression' because I know that other people have it a lot worse, other people can barely get out bed, other people have better reasons to be depressed. What was I doing? All I was being was ungrateful.
This change however, when I came across an article on the Internet. It was entitled Walking Depression and it described exactly what I was feeling, and perhaps what I knew all along but found no justification to properly acknowledge.
Walking depression is the type of depression that most people might face at some point in there live. It's the kind of dissatisfaction that makes it just a little bit harder to get out of bed. But you get up anyway. It's the kind of sadness that makes your days a little less brighter. But you go on and study and work and be productive anyway. Being functional is all fine and dandy but what's the point if you feel so unhappy?
Disillusioned. That was a word I attributed a lot to this, um, phase. It was like I was pushed, head first, into an empty swimming pool called reality, one that called that I be practical and let myself die a bit inside to 'succeed'. I wasn't really functioning. I wasn't really living. I was... trudging. That was another word that seemed so apt. I was being a soldier, keeping my head down, shoulders hunched, carrying on with no complaints.
Thank God that's over with.
You might be asking, what changed then? Well, acknowledging that I was unhappy was a nice first step. It gave me this sense of clarity and determination to find some way to fix it. So I set aside my pride, put down my armor. I apologized to people who needed to know how sorry I was. I tried looking out for more silver linings. I stopped being so hard on myself and occasionally let myself feel. I realized that I've been blowing a lot of responsibilities off -- and though it was too late to fix that, it was never to late for redemption. I reminded myself of the things that I love and why I do things that people may not approve of just because they think that having different priorities somehow makes me less of a person than them. The end goal wasn't necessarily to feel happy -- just okay enough to see the point in everything again.
I've been a bit interested in matters of the mind, and if you take the more scientific approach, how the brain works. Psychology and psychiatry are apparently two entirely separate fields. A recent article my tuition teacher gave me was even on anxiety. I've just finished a book entitled Hector and the Search for Happiness which talked about well, happiness, the way we perceive and process it in our brains.
I tend to say that I'm just a messed-up, giant ball of neuroses and perhaps that's true. Though from what I read, I don't fit neatly into one category. I have the faults of both ends of the spectrum apparently. I even came across a Tumblr post which nicely describes it.

So yeah. I think I just really needed to get this off my chest.
But, please tune in very soon as I'll definitely be posting some more positive posts :)
Look out for my OBS post and my latest initiative, something like a Learning Journal (sounds lame, but give me some time to think of something catchy). I'm trying my hardest not to lose interest in studies, but studying never really appealed to me. Learning, however, does. And I find that most of the time, I'm digesting things but not really processing them and spitting out some thoughts. Hopefully this Learning Journal will help me not only to express myself but to keep my interest burning strong. It of course won't be limited to what I learn in school. It could be about anything really, from what I thought about a TV show, a movie to classical music, the arts like Vincent van Gogh. The works. Mind you, this Journal will basically be a puke space of creativity, so don't expect any coherence of thought that I don't really have time to do anyway.
I really think I'm in a good place now. OBS, which was this outdoor camping course, was uplifting (but more about that later) and strengthened my resolve to be someone people can look up to. I once said that every time I looked into the mirror, I didn't really like who I saw -- this Paper Girl who was flimsy, thin and fake.
That Girl's gone. Maybe not completely, but I'm getting there.
And now, when I look in the mirror, I see a sincere smile, a slight glint in my eyes. I see a better version of me.
Let's hope there's only more good things to come.
Thanks for reading!
--Karin Novelia, Feeling So Better After a Long Time


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