Dreaming of A New Life

About a decade ago as a young teen, I watched a documentary called “Dreams of a Life”.

A woman, Joyce Carol Vincent spent her entire life faking a personality, her happiness and had a strong yearning to fit into society or even stand out. She loved, but was never truly loved back in return. In the end she lost herself and in consequence lost everything. She secluded herself from everyone, dying alone in her apartment, going unnoticed for two years. At the time I was horrified, my nightmare was that I would end up like her, but I was so drawn to her story and I had no idea why. Only now I realise why I researched and watched this documentary over and over. She reminded me of myself. My biggest fear was inside of me this whole time.

I carry around a deep sadness and it doesnt matter how much I fake my happiness, it’s always lingering next to me. Its hands on my shoulders, whispering. My mind and heart always feel so heavy, and the older I get, the harder it is becoming to pretend I am ok.

There are billions of humans in this world. What if some of us are not meant for life. Maybe that’s why some of us feel so heavy and so full of burden and sadness. I just don’t think I’m meant for this life. Some days I feel so much joy and I remember that nothing gold can stay, that’s why we should wait for the good times. Other times everything is too much and I feel like I am drowning and I would pray for nothing more than for the ground to swallow me whole, to completely vanish and turn into nothingness. Everything is too much and I have been feeling this way since I can remember.

I don’t feel like I have ever truly been loved, and that’s not anyones fault. I am very hard to understand and a difficult person. I truly believe people just put up with me and I feel so guilty about that. I cant say that my family dont because if anything was to happen to me I know it would break their hearts if they thought I believed this as the truth. I wouldnt wish depression or suicidal thoughts on anyone, not even those who have hurt me in such a deep way. I have everything and nothing at all.

Listening to the Silence; Moving Out

It’s been about three months since I’ve moved out of my family home, mainly to be closer to work but also to grow more independently as a person.

It’s been a great experience so far. I grew up being the family princess. I have barely ever washed the dishes or my own clothes and rarely cleaned the house. This all has changed and I am so grateful for my mother and have a truer understanding of her hardships.

It’s difficult coming home to an empty house every night though. My housemate works nights so to drown out the quiet I turn on “Friends” and don’t sleep until I’m really tired. I’m so used to coming home from a long bus journey to the arms of my beloved mother but to come home to the sound of my own footsteps feels odd but I am getting familiar and comfortable, slowly.

In the 80’s my dad brought my mum to London from Bangladesh. Her first time living without family, just my aloof dad by her side.

She must have felt this loneliness. She must have cried for her mother like I do now. I wish my mother had a friend back then, she must have felt so stranded.

I feel so lucky to have the roomate I have now. I appreciate his kindness and caring nature. I notice every small thing he does, I notice everything but I don’t say anything. I am too awkward as a person. I don’t deserve any of it. I am so greatful for his company because the days I’m alone the only company are the demons in my head.

A few years ago I watched a documentary about a woman called Joyce Vincent who died alone in a small flat in London. Her body was found nearly three years after her death. It’s been years since I’ve watched this documentary but I think about her every now and then. I’m terrified because one day I might end up like her, alone in an empty house, unloved and unnoticed. I was only Nine in 2003 but I wish I knew her, I would have shown her love and tried to make her feel like she wasn’t alone in this world. I guess because all my life I’ve wanted someone to do the same for me, I’ve just wanted to be held and feel less alone. I wish someone told Joyce that she mattered. Because she did.

Children of Domestic Abuse

I’ve never spoken about my childhood. Mainly out of respect for my family and our very secretive private past and because I did not want any sympathy. I am telling a story, not asking for help. I only write about my life because I am not the type of person to open up to anyone. I find it very therapeutic to write anyway.

Witnessing domestic abuse has had a profound impact in my life and is the main reason why I act, behave and think the way I do as an adult.

This will be the only time I talk about my dad. There has been countless times I have witnessed my dad being physically and verbally abusive but two stand out very clearly.

My earliest memory was when I was six years old. My dad came home from work and told my sister and I to go upstairs to bed. We could see he was mad, he was always mad so it was very normal for us to be wary around him.

My sister being four was none the wiser and I remember her sleeping soundly but my heart was racing. I could hear his thunderous roar and smashing of glass.

I put my hands together and prayed to god that I wanted to disappear and asked god if he could make sure my dad doesn’t come upstairs. I kept repeating it over and over until my mum eventually came upstairs “You’re not asleep yet?” she said with her eyes still red.

I hated the walk home from school. I hated school too because of the constant bullying but it was nothing compared to what was happening at home.

As soon as I came home one day my siblings were all cowering in a corner. My dad sat on the opposite side and my mum was on the floor sobbing.

“Sit” My dad gestured me to go next to my siblings, they all looked petrified.

“This is what will happen if you lie” He says sternly and begins kicking my mum into a corner. My five year old baby brother who is autistic starts crying and I’m just in shock, not able to process what is going on. My brother tells him to stop and my dad turns his anger onto him. I don’t want to continue with the details because its making me feel light headed thinking back. I haven’t thought about these memories in years. It feels so vivid and raw thinking back now.

The third and final story happened two and a half years before I was born and was told to me by my aunt.

A few days after my older brother was born, my dad decided to bring a woman home. My mum was fast asleep at home and my dad pulled her out of bed and threw her on the floor, my days old brother still in her arms. “This is your bed” my dad says proudly to the woman who would in the future become my step mum.

My mum in shock runs away to my aunt’s house who lived in the same village at the time and didn’t come home for an entire year until my dad eventually managed to convince her. Please mind that divorce was a huge no in Bangladesh in the early 90’s, my mum’s dad had just died too so going home was not an option as my gran could not afford my mum to live back home.

My mum has suffered too much. This post will have a lot of grammatical errors but I can not bring myself to read what I’ve wrote again. I want to leave this here. These memories will haunt me forever. But I want everyone to know the impact they have on another person. Please be kind, please be understanding and please please be empathetic, always.

I Lost Myself

I am far too invested in this life. We are told that it is good to feel too much as some do not feel at all. Although I cannot tell you the amount of nights including tonight that I have felt so alone to the point where I feel my own body caving in on me.

I am terrified of losing people. Last year I would have done anything, travelled thousands of miles to make sure my loved ones were ok.

For the past few days I’ve realised that I’ve pushed everyone away, including the mother I love so dearly. I am so scared to the point my heart is beating so fast. I’ve made the decision to not let anyone in. I’ve stopped asking my friends for advice and instead I let the darkness of the late hours consume me.

I knew time would change me but i didn’t think it would be so empty. I’ve completely lost myself. I don’t feel suicidal anymore but I do feel very numb and very out of touch with reality.

I was told from a young age to fake happiness until it becomes real but lately I’ve faked it so much that I’ve become a whole new shell of a person.

I am so tired of this life.

Bird of a Feather

I feel very much that its my time to go. I feel it should have been my time to go a very long time ago.

I’d envision that someone would be there for me. Not asking me if I’m ok but showing me. I’ve always imagined someone who never existed. I make my own bed. I make sure that I’m ok. I’ve always struggled on. But I couldn’t help imagine that one day, maybe soon, that someone will finally show me so much love that I would doubt why I’ve ever wanted to cut my life short.

I needed someone to listen to my heavy heart. Mental illness surpasses any physical pain that I’ve ever endured in my life. I’ve always told myself to be stronger than my late night thoughts, but what do you do when the demons in your dreams follow you into the sunrise?

I still can not comprehend how many people I’ve lost in my life. It’s strange how you can think about someone everyday and they have no idea. This abandonment has stricken me hard but I am finding companionship within myself.

I have so much life to live, and I completely understand that I must heal myself first to start over. I’m striving for that. When you’re happy, you feel immortal.

Loving Him and Watching Him Die

I remember seeing him for the first time. He didnt say much, which was fine because I talked enough for the both of us. He had the most beautiful hair and when he smiled I forgot what I was talking about. He smiled and I couldn’t think straight. He was younger than me and a rookie and I just assumed he was another arrogant feeble minded individual. But he would later prove me wrong.

Weeks go past, and we start getting closer, I wouldn’t call him a friend, but we were somewhat comfortable talking about more personal things. It didn’t click at the time but I should’ve saw the signs. He was telling me about a tinder date and I remember getting jealous. I barely knew him and I belonged to another so how could I get green eyed?

Still not realising I was falling for him, I got excited waking up every morning. Knowing I’d see him that day. I spent longer on my hair and makeup. It felt good being around him. He was funny and charming and for the first time in my life I felt so happy to be alive.

That one night we went out for drinks with my friend and I think we both knew there was electricity between us. Very subtle. But I wanted nothing more than to be around him. Just being in his presence.

Everyday I was filled with guilt but I didn’t want to let him go. I had finally found happiness and someone who cared about me as much I cared about them.

Everyday I get flashbacks of how he used to drive me home (even though he lived in the opposite direction) whilst I fed him MacDonalds. I remember the text he sent me saying how he was in a party filled with people but I was the only person on his mind. I remember when he used to lie on me as I stroked his hair.

I remember hurting him so badly in the end and not realising the consequences of my actions. I remember seeing the pain in his eyes and I remember what I did to myself to try to release some of my own pain.

Even a year later I get all choked up about it. Every single time I think about it. God, I loved him. I think I’ll love him for the rest of my life without even trying. I’ve only ever cared about one man and I hope one day I can learn to love another as strongly as I did for him.

I had to write all this down, because I’m not strong anymore. I would never have the courage to tell him in person but if anything happened to me then I’d hope he’d find this one day and realise that my heart and head was so heavy and that I haven’t forgotten a god damn thing. 

Out of Place

I didn’t know whether to go for classic spinich or an assortment of leaves. Everyone in the supermarket looked fine. Normal. I probably did too. Then why did I feel so out of place?

I shared a kind smile to my local tradesman, as I made my way to the paint aisle. Picking up colour swatches to surprise my mother with a newly done up living room before her birthday in December. It was also to create an atmosphere, a homely dream. But inside I did not feel dreamy. I felt lonely and knew no amount of home furnishings was going to make me feel at home.

At home, after a shower I style my hair and try to do a new makeup look. Maybe looking like a different person will make me feel like a different person. I don’t like what I see. Maybe if I dyed my hair again or lost a little more weight then I would be liked. Maybe then everything would change.

I read a book, the fantasy world takes over my mind and for those moments I forget I am a human being. I am no longer suffering as my mind can not occupy itself with selfish thoughts.

Back to reality, I don’t feel like I belong anywhere but that doesn’t mean everything has ended. I am still going, I am still trying to live a full life. I am willing to play along too.

Suicidal Thoughts: Staying Calm during the Storm

The best way I could describe suicidal thoughts is feeling like you’ve fallen into a deep, dark, cold well and you’ve been there for too long and it’s a fight or flight situation. You either fight longer and eventually manage to get yourself out to safety, (although you’ve been down this well before, and the thought of putting all that energy is daunting.) The other “choice” is much easier, yet with the ultimate consequence. You’ve had enough, you’re tired and your head is aching, it’s had enough. You stop fighting and let the black water devour you until you are no more. And as horrendous as it sounds, the thought of it comforts you; To stop hurting, to just to feel absolutely nothing, to dissolve.

This isn’t your fault and I know you feel alone and scared, but you’re not alone, and you have comfort from someone, someone who’s been pulling you out from the deep for the longest time. Yourself. I can’t help you. No one can. They can only guide you, and you can’t fix them. You can only guide them. And hope they find the light. Support them as they will do to you. People need love and kindness. Even if someone seems okay, they might not be, in society we’re expected to put on a front, Because we don’t like being a pest. For example if you met me in real life you’d think I didn’t have a worry in the world. I laugh and smile and make jokes left, right and centre. But I can guarantee you I’m no where near content. It’s crazy how many times I’ve thought or come close to taking my own life. All I can say is surround yourself with people and things you love that make you feel like home, people that make you feel good to be alive. 

If you’re dead, that’s you gone. You can’t come back from that. Living is so much harder than death but that’s the only choice we’ve been given so we’re just gonna have to make use with it.

You’ve got a long road, sometimes you’re gonna get tired from walking, but sometimes you’ll feel like running, the breeze passing you, and the Suns Ray’s keeping you warm. Live for those moments because it really is worth it. 

Also if you guys are experiencing any dark unwanted thoughts at the moment then here’s a link of phone numbers for most countries: http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

Alternatively you can chat to someone online at: https://www.imalive.org

The Neck Cutters Of Bangladesh

You’d think the story I’m about to tell is pure fiction, perhaps something out of a horror movie. Unfortunately this is not the case, the “gola katas” (translated in English as neck cutters) of Bangladesh are a small group of men who spend their time travelling around the north-east of Bangladesh, with only one thing in mind, to kill.

Growing up I had always heard folk tale about the neck cutters, but my father reassured me that it was all lies told by my relatives in Bangladesh to scare me because apparently they thought they could tell me any made up story under the sun and I’d believe it because I was just a visitor, foolishly soaking in every information given to me.

Surely a murderous cult that’s been lurking around for decades killing hundreds of residents would be caught already right? I love my country, but I do have to admit that the Bangladeshi authorities aren’t the best in the world by any means. The training given is barely amicable, most evidence taken in by the police are just the old fashioned “he said, she said” there’s no cctv cameras, no DNA testing, no modern technology that nowadays would be seen as vital in order to catch a criminal.

It was only until I heard a hair raising story told by a nearby widow in my village in Sylhet that I realised that the myth of the neck cutters wasn’t as made up as my father wanted it to be. The widow told me about the day she lost her husband and newborn baby by inviting a stranger to stay the night. Her husband was working late one night manning his crops, when he noticed a strange, tall, gaunt man watching him. They made small talk, until it started to rain. The stranger asked the husband if he could stay in his house until the rain stopped as he had a long journey ahead of him, being a good Samaritan the husband invited the stranger into their home. The widow then told me the eeriness she could feel from the man. He declined their invitation to eat supper with them which she thought was strange as most travellers would not decline a hot meal for the long road ahead. The rain wouldn’t stop that night so the stranger slept on the floor whilst she, her husband and her three week old baby slept on the bed.

It was just after dawn when she woke up due to the fact that she could feel her hands touching something wet. She awoke to find her husband, barely recognisable due to the blood that had engulfed him. Her child also lay there motionless, it too, saw the same fate as her husband. The stranger was now long gone, and despite efforts from the Sylhet police department, and help from the locals, The man was never apprehended. And sadly similar stories have come forward since.

How To Stop Anxious Thoughts

Last night I felt heavily anxious and depressed. This is usually triggered by an upsetting event or thought. 

I decided to write every thought that went through my mind whilst I had my overbearing anxious thoughts, (even though most of the time I am somewhat content and level headed)

“I feel terrible. Tonight everything is crashing down. I’m finding it very hard to bare. I’m drowning and I feel alone, in this moment in time it doesn’t matter if I’m loved, because right now I’m alone. My mind is flashing back to memories of when my heart was overfilling with pure innocent joy, how is it possible that those same memories are now eating me alive. I think about it all and I can’t breathe. I’m finding tonight very hard to bare. The people that I love are fading but I am not fading, I am still here, I’ve been left behind and I’m bad, and I’m selfish but I can’t do this on my own. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I don’t know what else I can do or say, and I’m terrible and I hate myself, and I wish I was someone else but I’m trying and I’m failing. Everything is going so wrong. Everyone hates me and I hate myself and I’m always going to feel this way and I don’t want to. I find myself alone and it must be because I’m a bad person and I’m awful and I’m so sorry. I can only apologise because I don’t know what else to do. I ruin every good thing in my life and I hate myself for that.”

What you should do to make yourself feel better:

1.) Make a Plan: Grab a pen and paper and write down everything you’re anxious about and make plans about how you’re gonna sort it!

2.) Take a long hot bath: I usually add bath bombs and listen to calming rain music which you can listen to using youtube!

3.) Talk to a friend: Humans can be assholes, but the majority of them have good hearts, so talk to someone who makes you feel comfortable, you are not alone in this.

4.) Try distracting yourself: Watch a movie or read a book. Do you play or want to learn to play the piano? Do it! Whatever you enjoy doing, do it! Distract yourself, because right now your minds being a total cunt to you so you need to give the bully the silent treatment.

5.) Look out the window: How long has it been since you’ve truly looked up at the sky? It’s so calming and beautiful. So beautiful. The clouds, the stars, the moon and the stars, it’s magical.

6.) Lastly, get some sleep: You’ll feel so much better in the morning. It was a bad day, it’s not a bad life. So go on, tuck yourself in, maybe tell yourself a bedtime story and go the fuck to sleep. You got this.