My mental health journal

 Family is supposed to be the place one feels safe. But what if it isn't? 

She was born to two not-so-young couples. The last child. Isn't she a lucky one? Can you imagine the love that'll be loved out to her? From her nine siblings. Yes… You heard the right. Nine! She's the tenth child. 

Her parents were blessed with eight boys and one girl. If I didn't know better, I would say they were trying to get another girl. She would not know if it was pain or joy on the day the world became her home. 

There was no one to tell her. It would be a place she would never hear anything. No tales about 'when you were born..' Or when you were a child..' There was silence, but so was she. 

She later came to know what the dictionary defines her as—an introvert. 

At five, a big party took place at their house. It wasn't significant. Both the house and the party. But she had never been to one before. Thirty-three years later, it's still the only one she's attended. 

It was her father's farewell party. Nobody told her what it was. While growing up, there were talks. A few dropped in her ears. This has been the way most of the information in her life has gotten to her.

Her vivid memory is that one day she woke up and left for the city early in the morning with her sister-in-law. Little did she know it was the beginning of her woes. 

People assume things based on perception. 

It's hard to get help when 'you have it all.' You are always the problem. She battled with this for a very long time. I am trying to figure out what she did wrong. 

Why wasn't she loved on her own? 

Every time a discussion was happening about her life, she had no say in it. It was like they lived her life for her. She was breathing, yet suffocation was what it felt like. 

What do you do when your family hurts you? 

She'd like to know. Who's she? Let's call her Hera. That shy girl. Irritable and hard to soothe. This is what she's grown up to be like. A tear escapes her eyes every time she speaks. But she quickly wipes it before it lays its trail on her cheeks. 

"I promised myself never to cry about it." She utters. 

Her words are firm, just like the grip I see she's giving her chair. 

There's anger, hurt, but the determination to overcome is evident. 

Love

Self-love is essential. 

It took time for Hera to accept herself. With everyone pointing out her flaws, she spent the better part of her childhood, teenage and adult life looking for what was wrong with her. 

Teenage and early adult were her worst years, away from home. She was abandoned and rejected. Every day her mind kept reminding her why she didn't deserve to live. 

It was a struggle to stay alive. It still is. But she's a big girl now. She's learned self-love. That's why she's writing this journal. To let you know you are not alone. You can live to see another day. Love yourself.