If you read my previous post titled Childhood, you’d roughly know what happened. As a kid, I had a lot of friends. I lived in a small town and everyone knows me or my family, so I had to be nice. When I finally moved out of town, I had a chance to build a ‘new life’ and without realizing much, I end up having less friends. I actually like that. Less bullshit to deal with, right?
The friends I relate most are those I met in university and some ex colleagues, we’re pretty tight. High school friends, not so much, only a few that stick around.
When I had my first panic attack in 2017/2018, I literally pushed everyone away. Some of them didn’t care, obviously, but now I realized that I hurt some of my closest friends and up to this day, I still try my best to make it up to them. I never actually tell anyone what happened. They knew fragments. I couldn’t bring myself together and explain things. Only Kenny knows how bad things were.
Now I try to be present, to catch up with my friends, to let them know that I think about them and that I care. Being home most of the time during pandemic, I decided to work from home. It ain’t much but it’s honest work. And I know some of my friends who lost their jobs are trying to build something off themselves, and I’m proud of them.
I noticed that I would go all the way for others, while not giving damn about myself. Just like I did with previous relationships. I would always, with no hesitations, try to support my friends’ businesses — liking or sharing their posts, or even purchase whatever they’re selling.
But did they do the same for me? Not quite.. Sometimes I feel if it’s karma. I hurt my friends in the past, and now my friends don’t support me. They barely like my posts, let alone share it. That makes me feel bad, and sad sometimes. Uh, most of the time actually.
Those thoughts of me not being good enough — thanks to my mom who replaced my drawings with hers — kept coming back.
What if I’m not good enough?
What if my products are shitty?
What if people are buying because they feel bad?
Those kept on playing on my mind. I feel bad about myself, I feel like whatever I thought about myself and how bad I am, is right. And that’s the thing with anxiety. I feel like I’ll never be good enough. That I’m some mediocre piece of shit. All because I kept on comparing what I’d do to my friends and what they would do to me.
Sometimes I thought to myself if I’m friends with the wrong kind of people. But apart from them not supporting my micro business, we’re doing good. I guess. At least I feel like we’re doing good. But I never know for sure.
When I first saw the cake meme, I laughed. Ironically enough, that’s what I feel. Always. I feel like nobody checked up on me much as I do for them. I know if I’m not supposed to ask people to return my kindness or whatever, but shit man, that’s just rough. I mean, I’ve spent a lot of money on supporting my friends’ businesses and only a few actually supported mine. And when they did, nobody actually actually said anything about it. And I know it’s not about the money but, you feel me? I feel as a human being, it’s normal if you expect some kind of validation or feedback. Some small gesture, at least, to reassures you that someone else appreciates you and what you’re doing.
It’s almost like they just say “NEXT!” or “ugh, don’t care” when they saw me post something about my small business. I know I’m not the best at whatever I’m doing, but I’m trying real hard… and it just saddens me to know that my friends don’t support me. That makes me dread waking up. I feel like nobody will ever like me enough, or actually care about me, and that such a terrible piece of shit.
My birthday was a less than 20 days ago. A lot of my friends miss it. I’m not a fan of my birthday as well but it feels nice when someone remembers it. To know that someone is thinking of you. Oftentimes I would send a cake for my friends birthday, but nowadays I just stop trying.
I feel that way almost all the time, thought I have my ups and downs.
Now you might wanna ask how I deal with things.
Mostly I suppress my emotions and try to bury myself with work, or mindlessly binge tv series, nap, look at memes and those self help instagram pages with teary eyes, even make another spotify playlist. Whatever that takes my mind off things. I either distract myself long enough or go down the rabbit hole. I live with my parents now so I can’t just sneak a cigarette and sometimes that’s what I really need.
It’s hard. It’s hard to constantly feel this way about things. Feeling like you’re not appreciated enough, or cared about enough. Or simply, enough.
I’m so used to burying my feelings and emotions that I just went numb sometimes. I laugh at things that hurt or saddened me. It makes me sad to having to do all those, but thats the only way I know. It’s an endless loop.
I wonder if it’s because of the circumstances I was raised, and how I was programmed to feel. Inferior. I’m not sure, I gotta bring it up on my next therapy session.
One thing I know for sure, is that I’m tired. Of feeling not enough. Of doing too much. Of caring too much. Of not doing enough. Of not trying enough.
I’m tired of being not enough.
