Diary Entry 31 January 2021
My goodness… I can’t believe I am writing an entry like this again. Every time I think it can’t get worse, it gets worse.
I wrote a whole wall in my room full of marker. Yesterday I wrote a diary entry – almost the entire day. So I locked myself into my room, but not just because of that, also because I was just not doing well and every time someone tries to help me or understand me, it doesn’t work.
Mom came up to me at some point and knocked at my door because she wanted to know what was going on with me. I didn’t have an exceptional answer for it, only that I wasn’t doing well and it’s all getting more and more. She then claimed I needed help, but I tried to explain how I need someone in the exact moment in which I feel bad and not at some arranged time. Apart from that, I want someone to understand me spiritually, where I don’t have to talk much. She had an answer for me straight away and knew someone from her past who could help me… It was nice, but somehow it wasn’t exactly the right thing for me… But I didn’t say that, because I am still thinking about it. She sounded as though she was convinced it would be the best thing in the world for me and I (like always in serious conversation) looked at the ground the whole time. I was still sad because she didn’t show any signs of her even noticing how I am feeling. And I just feel shit.
When she left, I started crying. I locked the door because I didn’t want her to come in again. On the other hand, I wanted her to come in and tell me something that would help me. But that didn’t happen. I cried for a long time while I was sitting on my desk-chair and at some point I didn’t exactly know why I was crying anymore. It was just all too much. I was overwhelmed.
After a while mom knocked at the door again because she was scared I might never come downstairs again. I think she meant that in various ways. But I wasn’t ready at all to go down. I was just sad. It was all too much. And I didn’t have the energy for that anymore. I answered with: “Maybe that’s how it is.” She demanded me to open the door. I looked away the entire time she gave out to me. She shouted things like: “What is going on with you? I give my best but you won’t open up, you shut yourself away! Tell me what’s wrong with you! I try to understand you but you are not making it easy for me! Since you are not talking to me anymore, it is getting worse and worse!”
“Stop trying to understand me because you just can’t, no-one can. When I talk to you it gets worse because you don’t understand me.” To that she said it really hurt in her heart because she is trying everything to help me but I am barely talking to her anymore. “You see, that’s why I don’t talk to you, you just give out to me!” If she would understand me, to the bare minimum, then she wouldn’t talk to me like this, knowing how bad I feel already.
“What would you do if your daughter would lock herself into her room?” she asked. “I know exactly what I would do”, was my answer. “Then tell me!” she demanded. “No!” “Why not, you just said you knew exactly what you would do!” In my head all I thought about was that it would never come this far with my daughter, but I didn’t say it aloud. “Do you see, you are giving out to me the whole time”, as if that would help me “get out!!” And with that she disappeared and I was alone in my room once again. What kind of shit. What kind of fucking shit.
My hands formed fists and my small, delicate, weak body couldn’t keep in the sadness, anger, emotions and whatever it was, for much longer. I saw myself throwing the porcelain cup at the wall. I imagined how my phone cracked through the middle as I banged it at the wall with all my power. My tears didn’t stay in. I walked over and back, over and back in circles in my room. I stopped more than once at the lamp and tried to crush its neck. That didn’t work, but my empty plastic cookie-container found itself crumpled up on the floor within seconds. As I continued walking through my room with tear-filled-eyes and tried to keep my physical actions under control, I pulled as hard as I could at the neck of my T-Shirt and balled my fists tightly around the clothing.
Before I broke something, I stood – with my forehead pressed strongly at my wardrobe – in the corner of my room. My crying was so loud now and I was sure they could hear it downstairs, but I didn’t care. I stuck my head between the gap of my wardrobe and the wall, and my entire body was pressed strongly against the wardrobe as it was shaken through with sobs again and again. My head was racing but was totally still at the same time. So I wouldn’t do any nonsense, I pressed myself harder against the wardrobe and let out every scream of pain. It was very loud, but it didn’t stop. I just had to cry. And because crying wasn’t enough with everything that I felt, I had to bawl loudly.
Mom knocked at the door once again and wanted me to open up. She wasn’t so demanding this time, but had a soft voice, probably because she didn’t want me to do any nonsense. But she could forget it. “Should I take you into my arms?” “Noooo”, I screamed through sobs. “Really? Think about it again.” “Go away!” There was no way I would let her in now. “Should I really go away now?” “Go away!!!”
I continued bawling. Loudly. But the feeling in me didn’t go away. I had to do something physical. It didn’t decrease. It didn’t get soothed through my bawling. I had to do something physical to let go of it. And sadly, I didn’t have a boxing bag. So I did, what came into my mind a few days ago… to write on the wall. And that’s exactly what I did. The first five markers broke because I pressed so hard.
I wrote down everything – criss-cross, in various colours, big and small, everywhere on the wall- what was currently in my head. Things like: “Fuck everything”, even though I am someone who doesn’t use bad curse words, but in that moment, it was fitting. “Why?” “What have I done to deserve this?” “Why me?” “I am a bad person.” “Did I ruin everything now?” “How will my family react when they see this?” “I will get in trouble” “I thought I was good” “Who am I?” What have I done?” “I am alone” “No-one understands me” “I need help, because I think a member of One Direction can see me, even though he can’t” “Why can’t I see Angels? Oh, because I am exaggerating and don’t deserve to.” “This is not who I am.” “What happened with my younger, happy and innocent self? Where is she?” And much more.
When it was finished, I felt a little better. I was proud of it and I thought about what mom and dad’s reactions would be. Then I sat on my desk-chair for a longer while, then on my bedroom floor. I heard how mom came upstairs, so I shoved the note which read: “I am… I don’t know what I am. I wrote on the whole wall with marker. I had to. I am sorry” under the door. I heard when she picked it up. “Leona, open the door.” She said in a neutral voice. I did it right away but turned my whole head the other direction. She stayed standing in the door, said nothing and just stared at the wall. I didn’t see her, but I felt what she was doing. With her hand, she pointed in the direction of my wall, as dad came. He went right into the middle of my room. He was the last person I wanted here.
For a while, no-one said anything and my head was still turned away completely, I didn’t dare to look up. That which came next was totally unexpected. I don’t even know what I expected, but not this. Dad said: “It is ok what you did. If you have to let it out like this, it’s ok.” I didn’t move. The silence became very uncomfortable now as they continued staring at the wall. After a while dad said that it is ok again and then he went downstairs. Mom was already gone for longer. “Shit, shit, shit!” I whispered to myself. But only because I felt a little embarrassed, otherwise I also found it ok what I had done. And I love to paint, so it was no problem for me to cover up the wall again.
When I thought no-one could see me anymore and it was safe for me to go to the bathroom to throw away the markers and to use the toilet, I saw mom as she brushed her teeth. Shit. I didn’t want to be seen. I quickly closed the door again and walked straight to my room. Mom came in after a while, this time I hadn’t locked it. It astonished me when she said she will always believe in me, even if I have to do things like this. She said dad and her will always love me, but I don’t have to love them back. She said I don’t have to help any other people, but instead just need to go through my own life, and she will never give up on me. I didn’t expect to hear that… She hugged me more than once and asked if she should stay with me for another while or if she can go downstairs. Before she went down, she asked what I would like to eat (at 10pm) and if I would like to paint tomorrow or a different day. I decided to paint tomorrow and to eat a Nutella toast. She brought it up to me. One toast was spread with the love of dad and the other from mom, she explained.
I made it comfortable in my bed with the Nutella toasts and cookies. The door stayed open a peak to circulate the energy in the room. I watched a movie on my computer on Netflix called: ‘Notting Hill’ and because it distracted me from my reality, I could even smile a few times. I love the movie.
At midnight I got ready for bed and fell asleep. It was an uneasy night and I woke up because my sweat was tickling me. During this night I woke up a few times and got shocked by my reality. I couldn’t believe the wall was written full of words. At 11:20am my eyes stayed open and I got ready for Sunday.
I realized, when you live in the present moment, you don’t actually have these problems. So I actually don’t have any problems. I will try to live more in the present, but sadly it is very hard for a human, because they are addicted to time and the external things in the world don’t let them live in the present moment.
Mom hugged me and I ate breakfast like normal. I felt a little embarrassed towards dad about what had happened, but we are not talking much at the moment anyway and don’t greet each other, and so on…
Mom and I pulled out the furniture from the wall inside my room so I could paint it. We took down a few pictures and we covered the others. I was excited to paint. Well, I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t find it horrible to paint, like I said, I like painting. Meanwhile, I listened to music and tried to distract my thoughts.
The paint sadly didn’t fully cover the writing, so I have to go over it – once I have time – again. But I didn’t find it so bad. After I was done with the first coat, mom and I cleaned up my room again and after that I sat down at my computer straight away, to write this.
Now I will do my exercises, go for a shower and then hopefully have a nice evening. And tomorrow the fourth week of school- at home – starts.
Thank you for reading! Lots of love, Leona.
