As a person, I have been quite independent during my last years of life, I used to be a person very attached to my parents, but after several tragedies I began to look for my own path where I knew that if I did not advance I would be stuck forever , during this period many things had happened situations that would put me on the verge of anxiety attacks and quite complicated stress.
However, recently this stress has increased, specifically this last year where it has led me to neglect myself and feel bad about myself, I have lost that sense of self-love because of all this and I still do not accept the infinite changes that I have had to go through both emotionally and physically.
I dedicate myself to drawing and every day I have taken this more seriously to the point that I no longer sleep my full 8 hours, I normally sleep 3 or 4 hours, I live under constant pressure to want to give the best of myself, to want to move forward, but this is filling me with stress and anxiety, which is causing different moods during the day, depression, tiredness, sadness and constant emptiness that I can't fill with anything.
I have gained weight, I have dark circles, my face has changed a lot, my hair is falling out in clumps and with all that I have to take care of my housework.
All this in the end affects the main problem: art, I spend hours drawing and still I don't feel good about what I do, sometimes I feel that I don't give enough, I criticize myself and think that I am not what I expected to be, sometimes I hate myself, sometimes I just want to leave everything.
They are problems that surely someone else here shares and that may help me not to feel so strange and alone, but I am still discovering how to deal with all this, my only way to drain all this is by making black jokes about myself haha, but there comes a point where not even that can heal the constant stress and tense moods that I carry with me almost always.
A veces no puedo controlarlo, a veces respiro profundo y sigo adelante a pesar de sentirme aplastada por la vida, ya no me gusta mirarme tanto al espejo, solo me siento bonita cuando veo mi rostro maquillado, ya no salgo como solía hacerlo antes, vivo encerrada en mi propia burbuja y se que debería de buscar algún tipo de ayuda, pero realmente no me siento lista ni cómoda en pensar en esa idea, suelo desahogarme mucho mejor escribiendo que hablando y temo mucho en pensar cuanto tiempo mas puedo resistir, amo lo que hago aunque nunca estoy satisfecha, estoy pensando en cada momento hacer algo porque sino me siento inútil.
Although art serves as an outlet, it also consumes me and I demand too much of myself.
Stress manifests itself both physically and emotionally, it is devastating, it is something that we usually say lightly but that is really more complicated and profound, anxiety is even worse, you feel as if you are suffocating, sweat, despair.
Sometimes I can't control it, sometimes I take a deep breath and move on despite feeling crushed by life, I don't like looking in the mirror so much anymore, I only feel pretty when I see my face made up, I don't go out like I used to before, I live locked in my own bubble and I know I should seek some kind of help, but I really don't feel ready or comfortable thinking about that idea, I usually get off my chest much better writing than talking and I am very afraid to think how much longer I can resist, I love it that I do although I am never satisfied, I am thinking every moment of doing something because otherwise I feel useless.