experiences

Is Help available for me?

help

A quote by Lou Holtz; it’s not the load that breaks you down; it’s the way you carry it.

Lately, there is too much stress to handle, I feel loaded I can’t carry on any load anymore; it’s starting to break and it will fall soon. I’m losing my temper, I don’t have control anymore being nervous all the time is breaking me into pieces; it’s not the stress that is killing it’s my reaction to it. I don’t know how to handle things anymore; I have no patience left even taking a deep breath is hard. I need to plow my anger and my energy into something positive and how is that? Actually I have no idea!

Maybe the last few years of my life was not too fancy; but even throughout all the past years anyone gets to know me, they know very well how cheerful  I am and how positive person I am.  Quite sure I’m a great company; but this is changing and I can’t help it I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I no longer have patience I’m always worried about what’s going to happen and what’s not going to happen; I was a risk person now I’m afraid of taking any step forward; scared of what could happen, always interpreting things into negative ways! Starting to transfer all the negative energy to others and guess what! That’s way too far from me as a person!

I need help yes I’m calling for help; I’m helpless. And I’m sorry for that.

I want to get back to the old me; to that cheerful person who is full of positive energy who is willing to live his life with no limitation. I need to stop being afraid and worried all the time I need to let go things I need to start living.

Am I might be facing a depression? Please tell me no!

Why the hell I’m crying all the time, why I cry for no reason? Recently, my reaction towards anything is just crying and feels a horrible pain inside; I feel stressed towards everything I can’t eliminate my stress at all. I have zero energy for any interesting favorite activities, no patience; sometimes I gain weight sometimes I lose weight nothing is stable. I have insomnia as well and no appetite plus inability to concentrate. Is help available for me?

I know nowadays I have the things I wished for, but why I’m not happy? I’m happy that I have it and I’m thankful for it by why it’s not enough? Why the hell I’m asking these questions! Even though while I’m writing this as a kind or relief I’m crying! You will ask why you are crying.  And I will reply by; I REALLY DON’T KNOW!

Is there any hope for me? Is help available for me? Am I facing depression?

ANSWER ME!

The Day I refused To Say Goodbye to My Mother

The year of coming apart By Michael Petrilli

 

There’s something about losing a mother that is permanent and inexpressible. It’s a wound that will never quite heal. The death of my mother makes me realize that every single moment we spent together; I wasted an opportunity to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me. Death has separated us very quickly; I didn’t have enough time to tell her how much I love her and how it’s unbearable to live without her. I thought that there are no Goodbyes between us, because it’s too painful and unfair. Although you are too far from here but never far from my heart, have I known one day we will meet and be together again; but until that day comes I want you to know that I will miss you more than any words can be said and I will never stop thinking of you until my time comes. I will always whisper words to God where you might hear me through, but I’m sorry I will never say good bye. I can’t see you anymore, but you are always at my side. I have faith my mother, but it’s my heart that doesn’t because there is no cure for that. God saw you getting so tired and no cure can cure you, he has chosen you for a better mission he has taken you to a better home to rest. With a tearful eyes and broken heart I watched you fading away, and did nothing except crying. It’s a very painful experience and a harsh one yet, I know you are in a better place but it’s me who can’t survive the fact of the non existence of you. I’m not sure exactly how heaven will look like, but I’m sure it’s your best cure my pure mother. The day I refused to say Goodbye to my mother, Outside the grief people may not understand that I didn’t just lose a person at one point in time, I have lost a mother whom I have lost her presence in every aspect of my life my future has changed even my “now”. Goodbyes will never be my type my mother, till we meet again my beloved.

 

Train Station

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Many people entered her life, some stay others leave. Each one enters her life leaves a place, a memory or a scar. Her life turned to be like a train station, where passengers can get in and out at any time. Just when they reach their requested destination, the train stops and they get out. Through their trip, some don’t stay long as they need to go somewhere else; because simply they haven’t reach their right destination. They have chosen her life; as if they have chosen a place where they can play, destroy, ruin or exploit it as a territory. But it is not a place or destination it’s a life of a human being, who has feelings, fears, questions; a doubtful person who knows nothing about their intentions.

How can people choose a place randomly, out of no where; just crossed their minds to give it a try and stop the train, and let the fun begins. Seriously?  Is it that easy, to enter a life and leave it whenever you want, just because you are done? A human being’s life is not a destination, it is not a place or a rail way where you can regularly stop.

She won’t let anyone else use her or exploit her just to reach their destination, she will no longer hospital who will ever choose her stop, she will start filtering people. Choosing her destination  is not a choice anymore, it’s a request whether you will wait for acceptance or simply you will get an ignorance to your request.

Sometimes, women reach their peak of being “fed up”, and when that time comes; no one can stop them. That’s actually what happened to her, its her time to be fed up, of all the shit that she has gone through, various number of  shitty people who have entered her life lately. She has turned into an unstoppable and uncontrollable train where nothing can stop it, because the brakes are already broken. This train can be named  as an angry train, it will crash anything in front of it because, it has lost control and it has reached its peak.She might pretend that she has it all together, and everything is under control; but it is not. She has already lost control, and the train just started its tour.

Congratulations!

Her life has already turned into a train wreck.

The Green Book Part two

This-Little-Green-Book

Part Two

April 19th. 2015

10:55 PM

My name is Melike. I’m 23 years old. Green is my favorite color and purple comes second. I studied English literature because of my love for the English language and novels. I guess that’s enough for now.

I don’t know why I’m writing this but, it might be the only way I can visualize my life through some lines. Maybe, someday my story will make a difference in someone’s life and maybe not. I love writing at midnight. something calls me to write the echoed voices inside my head, words, feelings, anger, happiness, mixed feelings; the more they increase the more they keep me awake.

I don’t write daily but, I write when I feel like I want to capture a word or a sentence i don’t want to miss or forget it. I want to type it and look at it and keep re-reading it and falling for the words, trying to write with all my senses using all the skills i have. I believe that words are like diamonds, the more you take care of them and shape them the way you want, the more they will be beautiful and valuable. But each diamond has a sharp angle that you need to be careful and precise when you touch. You might get yourself hurt if you aren’t cautious.

Words are the same they can either touch your heart or break your heart. If words came put, there is no way to take them back. What comes out never comes back.

Well at least I believe in that………

Its spring time is my favorite season. After winter, the weather is still unstable; hence you can call it a beautiful weather. As I mentioned previously, I’m in my twenties a young lady, my parents still sees me as a baby girl with a diaper. Those twenty three years aren’t counted as twenty three. They tally up differently for me. I have lived a life that is similar to that of fifty years old lady, a life full of many memories good and painful ones, many experiences, and salvation.

A twenty three year old lady from the outside, a fifty year old lady from the inside, they say your age doesn’t matter. You can be seventy and feel like you are still in your thirties and that’s what keeps you alive; to feel young forever. What if you feel old? Very old.

At the age of sixteen I fell in love for the first time and it wasn’t a quite good relationship. We were so young but, it was good to feel loved by someone. That feeling you get for the first time as a teenager, you don’t know what it is. There is no accurate decription of what you feel but you feel happy and you are constantly smiling. I love to spend time with that person; experiencing new feelings that make you feel flying for the first time. However, that relationship didn’t count, as I said we were so young we just wanted to experience new things.

When someone enters your life, not willing to stay for long and leaves, his absence doesn’t hurt you. What hurts you most is the time he stole from you. The time he stole from your life.

She stopped reading her heart was pumping so fast, her breathe is getting weak. She bookmarked the page and left the book a side shivered about how Melike and she are just the same. She can feel every word written down there in that mysterious book as if it’s her own storytelling not Melike’s. She went to sleep; that night thoughts never left her she felt for the first time that she is naked. As if she had opened up to someone, words found its way out like a running water no power can stop it from coming out. She was afraid to continue reading Melike’s green book or diary or whatever it’s called. She was afraid from exploring her own self.

To be continued………….