How Many Times Should We Start Over?

How Many Times Should We Start Over?

I cannot remember the last time I posted on my blog. I could check, but I cannot be bothered. After all, who reads this anyway?  People will stop reading not even a third of the post. We have a short attention span after all. 

Time has passed. But what does that mean? Time is always passing. You’re never really keeping up with it.  

Time.

I remember a time when all I could think of was ending it. Ending my life. Was it last year? Two years ago? I thought I remembered, instead, I’m just trying to bury those memories. I have always been a sad girl. But back then sad didn’t mean depressed. I was just… sad. Now it’s this crippling, dark, nothingness at the pit of my stomach trying to squirm its way out and swallow me inside out.

I got out.

I did. Sort of. I’ve stopped taking my meds for quite some time now.  I don’t quite see the difference. I know that I’ve stopped regularly thinking of dying but aside from that, I can’t tell the difference.

A lot has happened since my Bell’s Palsy episode.  Wherein, my depression mostly started. I got to plan a wedding and execute it with my husband. I got to see Melbourne, I had lots to do, I went out and tried to discover this city on my own.

I grew up.

I learned to stop caring about what people think MOST OF THE TIME.  I didn’t really care what they’d say. They do not know me, I do not know who they are so why should their opinion matter to me? 

I learned to speak up, I learned to question things, question those above me. People may think I’m complaining but no, I am just looking for answers. I realized it is better to seek for the answers instead of being confused all the time and blindly follow rules set before you without guidance and no background.

I realized people are still interesting, whether or not they have the same opinion as you.  You just have to talk to them more.

I am slowly trying to talk to people or strangers. Try to learn from them. Try to see what piques their interests.

I don’t know what else could change in the next couple of weeks or months. But I hope I’m improving for the better. I guess you could say I’m starting over again. Or maybe continuing a chapter of my life. It is a whole different chapter anyway.  And why should we set a limit to how many times we start over? Start over if you can, as many times as you’d like. For the better.

The thirties really do something to you, doesn’t it?