Dearest, You

I've realized as I grow up that I sabotage myself a lot.  It started (as far as I know) with my first blog. It was a little diary style blog hosted on WordPress. On it, I wrote about stressful home situations, my outfits, poetry and anything else I found entertaining. I don't know how it happened but I amassed over 200+ followers on it by the time I deleted it. I had a couple of blogger friends and the support from my followers was amazing. It was something to keep myself sane in the midst of all that was happening in life.

At some point, life got too much for me to handle.  I was losing pleasure in all that once made me happy. I was unmotivated, fatigued, sad for no reason, etc...

I couldn't shake myself out of it, so I did the only thing that I thought would give me some form of relief. I deleted my blog permanently. Stopped writing altogether and sort of just ... existed.

That pattern followed me into adulthood. I ruined everything that made me happy.  I will create a blog, just to delete it when I got sad. I would delete all my social media platforms when I start growing just because I got sad. I would purposely be mean to my friends as bait for them to cut me out of their lives, just because I got sad.  I couldn't understand why I was behaving that way for the longest time. I believe now that It's just my sense of worthlessness. I feel worthless a lot of the time. Especially when I get sad. I start thinking I don't deserve happiness or the people in my life.  I'm afraid that I'm not going to amount to anything. And why would I when I sabotage myself at any given chance.

As I write this, I'm sitting on a couch stippled with gray in my friend's home. I've just gone through a series of questions from her parents which I expected as it was my first time meeting them. What made me reflect on my life and where I am right now is her father's comments about me not doing " anything". He was referring to me informing him that I was not in school as of now. I told him that I was working and saving money before I "return" to college in an effort to redeem myself. The truth is that I don't have a job right now nor did I ever attend college. I hate lying. I hate it with all my being but I find that I do it a lot when it comes to adults questioning me about college. When I tell the truth, I am shamed both by myself and them. And it might not come from their lips but I always detect the disappointment in their tones. Especially the African dads.

I'm not certain about a lot in my life but the one thing I am certain about is that I'm never going to be a doctor. And that's the all-star job title for African parents. It's difficult for them to accept anything less.  The reason I came to America was to meet my dad but most importantly to become someone my mom could be proud of.  Someone I could be proud of.  But I'm nowhere near who I want to be.

I wish I was one of those kids that knew exactly what they wanted to be when they were kids.  That would make life so much easier. I could live life according to that.  As much As I hate routine, I wish someone could plan my life to the very last detail so I could follow it. I feel like such a failure because I don't have it all together yet.

I try to convince myself to go at my own pace and not compare where I am in life with others.  But occurrences like these bring back the insecurities, doubt, and loss I suppress.

I'm aware of the fact that I don't have to go to college to make something of myself. A lot of people have become millionaires without ever going to college. They had a drive. They didn't just sit around waiting for something to happen. They went out and went after their dreams.  But what scares me is the fact that I don't really have a definitive dream to go after. I have a lot I want to do but I don't know how to narrow it down. I will be successful someday. I know I will.

I just hope to get my shit together before I become the lonely cat lady. Cliche I know but It's not being alone that I fear. It's the cats.


© raw