26yearsofstories

Self Journal

[26yearsofstories]

Love is Lonely

I lay awake at 12:43am on a Sunday night as my partner sleeps beside me. There’s so many feelings I’ve laid out before him and so many more I haven’t gotten the chance to say. These thoughts left swimming in my head leave me with a sense of loneliness because he’s a sleep and I’m left with no one to listen. Most nights go this way. I feel the itch to release all those thoughts but there’s never enough time. Or maybe it’s just not time yet. There’s a fear associated with opening up. I’ve been hurt badly you see, and I can’t bear the though of having it happen again. Because although I put on a cool exterior, the first time broke me. I want to say you are different and that you’ll never hurt me like he did , but I can’t block out the frightened voice inside my head saying “he’ll never stay”. Because they all love you in the beginning, but by the end they are bitter and wanting of something you can not provide. Because there is simply nothing else to provide. You have given them everything in the hopes that it would be enough. I lay awake wanting to tell you this, wanting you promise me you will never do the same. But how much reassurance is needed before you realize YOU must learn to trust again. You must trust the fact that he holds you tight and says he loves you. That he says he will always cherish you. And what if he’s right? But I am not there yet. This process will take time. So for now I lay here with a silent wish that this time around I won’t always have that lonely feeling.

[ritikajyala]

There'll be a moment when you realise you're 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn't be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don't talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom's burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won't be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.

Edit- I added the visualizer for this piece on my YT, check it out here

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[26yearsofstories]

Great reminder

[26yearsofstories]

My First Panic Attack

I guess you can say I’ve always been a nervous nelly since I was a kid. Always self diagnosing myself with different ailments, rerunning conversations I had with people that day on repeat, not being able to sleep in on the weekends because thoughts polluted my mind at the first signs of daylight. Despite this constant lingering feeling I never thought of labeling it as anxiety…. It just was a normal part of my existence. Now let’s flash forward to junior year of college when things sort of took a turn. I was I guess 20 at the time? Something like that. And everything was going according to plan. I was a straight A student studying psychology and working in a lab. I had these big plans of doing a PHD program after graduating. Meanwhile I lived in an off campus house with 8 other girls and my boyfriend of 2 years lived down the street from me. Anyways I was sitting in my living room one evening and my housemate offered me a beer (one of those gross pumpkin ales). So I’m sipping away on that just hoping maybe it’ll get my a little buzzed, when two more of my housemates walk in. Now they have a bong with them and they start taking rips off of that. At this point about 6 of my roommates and me are all hanging out in the living room just chilling. Cue the part where I decided to take a hit from the bong and instantly it goes down the wrong way. So now I’m coughing up a fucking storm which only pushes the smoke deeper into my lungs. Next thing I know I’m slowly excusing myself to go to the bathroom to splash my face with some water. As I’m doing this I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and notice I’m pale as a ghost. I feel a sense of dread wash over my body and suddenly my heart is racing and I can’t breath. I find myself running back into the living room yelling “I don’t feel right. I think I’m having a heart attack. I can’t breath!” My roommates all stare at me wide eyed and attempt to comfort me. “Put your head between your legs and breath” they say. I respond with “it’s not working! I need to go to the hospital! Someone drive me there NOW!” After much hesitation they call my boyfriend and tell him to come to the house as soon as possible. Meanwhile my one housemate gets the car ready. Once my boyfriend arrives they drive me down the street to the hospital . Once in the hospital ER a lady at the front desk asks me to fill out some paper work. By this time I’m still not able to catch my breath and I feel this sense of being detached from reality. I’m shaking as I attempt to fill out the paper work. Meanwhile my boyfriend is calling my mother telling her to come to the hospital. After what feels like forever I’m brought into a room and they start me on a IV fluid drip and tell me to pee in a cup… “to rule out the weed being laced with some other type of drug” they say. Fast forward some time and my mother has arrived looking less then pleased to be called to the hospital at 9pm for a daughter who was reported to have been smoking weed. A doctor comes in and informs me that everything came back negative and that I am completely fine. From what she could tell it seems like I had a panic attack. She offered me some Xanax and claimed it would take the edge off. Now with me being in this heightened state I didn’t want to put anything else in my body. My mother tried to coax me into it by staying “it’s like drinking a warm cup of tea.” Before I knew it I was taking the pills and they were all set for me to discharge. As the Xanax dissolved into my blood stream a sense of relief came over me. Little did I know this was only the beginning of a life long battle dealing with my friend anxiety.

Let me know what you think and if you can relate at all. Happy to discuss this topic with anyone who’s interested.

[26yearsofstories]

How Did I Get Here?

Why howdy everyone! My names Cassy and I’m a 26 y/o female who often reflects on past experiences and just thinks to myself…”how did I get here?” Thought I could maybe share some funny, sad, and everything in between stories with you and maybe some of you can relate or get something out of them! If stories on weird coincidences, lost love and relationships, sexual exploration, mental health, work stories, and all together randomness peaks your interest then by all means stick around.