Coping With Loss – Chapter 19 : Internalize

Even when we express ourselves, there always seem to be parts we omit from others. It could be something simple as thinking the way someone laughs is annoying or they have a chipped tooth. There are also the darker ones, like wishing someone didn’t exist. Plenty of people internalize a lot of feelings, but not many externalize them in fear of subjugation.

At this point, most of my personal feelings have been tossed onto display in this series. Not all of them have ever been shared before, and others are broken records. Though above all else, they have been tame, and thoughtfully written with the intent to be read by all sorts of people. There are clearly some ways of expression that might not work for those who aren’t as close as others, and for the most part, this series was written to avoid that problem.

This post however will be raw, with no filter and no clever wording. It does come with a highly recommended warning, that the content inside might cause some to be triggered. This topic is not to be discussed at a later time, or ever. I will not acknowledge anything written below, and will not apologize if the content bothers some. You have been warned.


I am so tired. So tired of the constant drudgery of life. I hate being constantly in a financial situation over my head. Feeling helpless when trying to manage bills that pile up and never making enough money to feel comfortable. Always biting my tongue when in a conversation I want to contribute to but awkwardly insecure about what others will think of me. Trying to make new friends and instinctively being an asshole to them in some twisted ideal to protect some fucking worthless personality that has long since faded into a fond memory. Every time I look into the mirror I see nothing but this disgusting body that reminds me of a burden I have been carrying long past my limits. Always wearing sweaters outside to try and hide my overly lanky body so I can avoid awkward conversations or off-hand remarks towards it. I hate sitting in a shallow pool of self-esteem. I feel like worthless trash that always fucks up and will never amount to anything more than some no-name forgettable human who contributed nothing and wasted everything.

I constantly deal with crippling loneliness, depression and anger. I always complain that these things bother me, yet I am too passive and self-doubting to change it. I always strive for attention; in any way I can get it. I don’t need it because I lacked it growing up, I just look for it because I worry that otherwise I will be forgotten. I want to be a positive influence on those I care about, yet I always feel like I am that person you don’t admit you know. I carry myself with arrogance that is fueled by hot air and weightless facts. I can’t even bring myself to honestly open up emotionally to another human being because I can’t fathom the notion it is worth their time.

I know people who care about me surround me, but I always question that fact regardless of what they say or do. I anxiously believe that all those I’ve come to trust will without fail stab me in the back or abandon me. I want to erase my memories of half my life, and would do anything to achieve that goal. I hate fondly looking back into the past because all I can think about is my anxiety. I want to travel the world, but I don’t want to do it alone, but I will never ask someone to join me. I hate being shy and awkward. I hate looking down on myself more than others can ever hope to accomplish. I am the only person you will meet who prefers to hear others insult me because it is always less painful than hearing the insults I tell myself daily. I contemplate suicide almost every night before I go to bed, lying awake thinking about the methods and the outcome it would have. I find comfort in the notion that I might die from my anxiety before I ever have to experience losing someone I care about again.

I want to get over my anxiety any way I can, but I stubbornly refuse help any chance I get for fear it will all amount to nothing and I will be left disappointed yet again that I am forced to live my life the way I do. Why the fuck was I ever born? I can’t say no to people because I always feel like I am being an asshole and I fear that if I lose any of my friends, I will never make new ones, resulting in an even lonelier life than I already lead. A lot of the things I do in my life are passive-aggressive means to kill myself. I never wear a seatbelt in cars hoping to die in a crash, I never go to the doctors in hopes an unknown disease will eventually kill me in my sleep and I smoke cigarettes in a disgusting attempt to starve myself and incite the growth of cancer. I want to die so badly, but I also want to live just as much. I want to experience true happiness, but I also can’t let go of this fucking suffocating darkness that hangs over me. I push everyone away little by little to punish myself for feeling comfortable with my anxiety.

I want to make everyone in the world happy, but I am unwilling to trust anyone. Infants eat more food than I do, and are somehow un-phased by the act of vomiting, which as an adult with a phobia I can’t control infuriates me. I cannot stand the sound of children crying or dogs barking. Loud noises make me agitated and bring me to the point of tears. I can’t stand confrontation, though I will act like I am an instigator regardless of how terrifying it makes me feel. I try to seem like everything is always okay, when in actuality I can barely find the energy to get up in the morning or even keep a congruent thought. My dog is my best friend, but I feel guilty when I look at him because he reminds me I am not mentally well enough to accommodate all his needs. I also hate how affectionate my dog is because I selfishly don’t want to take the time to give him attention when I myself am trying to distract from my constant misery through video games or television shows. I have no confidence in my ability to do anything. I will always back away when asked to apply for jobs in fields I can excel in out of fear I will be unable to perform well in them.

I am jealous of everyone who doesn’t go through the same things I do on a daily basis, and feel that anyone’s life is most likely better emotionally than mine. I hate having to live without a mother, and wish that the vacant feeling I have would go away. I am bitter of the fact that I was born into a world where I am constantly punishing myself. I am also bitter that amid all this self-punishment my mother was taken away from me, leaving me alone on this god-forsaken planet without the love and guidance of a parent. It is infuriating that every attempt I make at love has always failed. As much as I want to forgive my father and step-father for their bad choices in parenting due to being raised poorly themselves, I can’t overcome the amount of anger I have towards the situations they put me in. I’ve always just wanted to have a father who I could learn from; instead I am bitter that they only thing they taught me were disappointment.

I shudder to think of what life would be like without my grandparents, and their continuing age worries me that time will go by too fast. I am not sure how many more times I can watch someone I care about die. I am aware, but agitated, that being born comes with the burden of experiencing the death of loved ones. I sometimes can’t tell the difference between the things I say to protect myself and the things I say in honesty. I worry that my life is a muddy lie wrapped around only a kernel of truth. More times than not I always remember things that are said or done to me, but I pretend that I am bad at remembering when in reality I just don’t care about the topic or situation. I need hope, but no matter how much I am given, it simply slides off me, never sticking around long enough to make any impact. I can’t remember the last time I felt like a normal person, and it scares me that I may never feel that way again. I don’t even know if this whole blog is helping in any way, but I continue to write it more for others than myself. I want to stop internalizing everything that goes on in my life to upkeep a false appearance of complacency and sanity. I just want to be fucking happy, why is it so difficult when being miserable seems to come so easy? Why do anti-depressants do nothing to me when sleep always makes me feel comfortable? Why can’t I just fucking function like everyone else does but on a higher capacity? I just want to lay down and cry until I run out of tears, but I always hold myself back because I am ashamed to express myself in a healthy manner. I just want to move on from my past, instead of letting go of the future.


It is alright to internalize things; it is just as alright to externalize them as well. I don’t think it is healthy to keep more things in than you express though. There should be a fine balance between the two, and for me, I do not live that way. I am always holding back, always keeping things to myself and always regretting those choices in the end. A lot of it comes from self-doubt, but a lot of it also comes from fear. Don’t let that stop you from letting go of the things you need to let go. I think in the end it will make you feel better, but also more aware of the things needing work on. Little by little I am working on my internalized feelings, but as they get worked through, more is also added on. One day I might clear it all out, and start fresh. One day.