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Insomia - Blog Posts
Me, standing in my siblings doorway at 12:30 am with a trinket:
"I've brought you a gift"
Insomnia duo! Pt. 3(?)
the 2 are just so silly and u love the dinamic
please ignore if wanted, this is only venting out my thoughts ðŸ’ðŸ’
Is anyone else sometimes forgetting who they are?
There are days where I forget I'm 22 years old, who used to draw her favorite characters, immerses herself in books such as Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, who stayed up as a child and to sneak into the kitchen and make herself strawberry milk, wanting to be a singer when so young and absolutely adored in going to playgrounds.
Whenever I see myself now, I forget that I was someone of my choice. Now, I only wonder what I'll make for dinner for my siblings, which of them are going off with friends and the time they'll be back, if there were days marked for parent-teacher conferences or upcoming performances and their schools, appointments for check-up or needing medicine for fevers, using any money I was gifted whether from birthdays or to buy myself something to get what my siblings need.
I can remember as a child, asides from attending school or visiting families, how normal it is to know how to make a bottle for a baby, to change diapers, to burp them, knowing what they can have and taking care of them whenever the adults were busy.
How normal is it that I learned to know so much for my siblings ever since I was a child, growing up knowing how to raise them, that I don't know what I like for myself anymore?
Do I still draw my favorite characters or whatever comes to mind?
Do I still read those thick books I used to carry everywhere?
Do I still just lay on my back with music playing in the background?
Do I still drink strawberry milk?
Ride bikes?
Karaoke with my cousin?
Why is it that the coffee I first took a sip of as a child now became a refuge to the hereditary migraines and headaches?
Why is it that I can take so much care for others but deny any sickness I'm undergoing to continue chores?
Is it because I'm scared of failing my siblings? Is it because I've grown so use to doing so much that it's unsettling for myself to be able to have time for myself?
Why am I only gaining help now, after my other relatives watched my breakdowns, my sickness from stress to heaving up whatever I had in my stomach, my grandmother whispering poisonous words about my mother to me whenever alone?
Why didn't I have help sooner? Why didn't they help when I had to switch to homeschooling because of my mental health declining and bullying I endured? Why didn't they help when I panicked for my siblings whenever sick, especially one with hydrocephalus? Why didn't they help when they saw me starve myself to give plenty to my siblings?
Why are they acting as if it's all in my head when I mentioned how my siblings and I keep to ourselves, staying out of their way because our mother wasn't allowed back in the house because of their own fault and hers?
I remember sitting in the darkness of the bathroom, hands clenching over the lower half of my face to muffle my crying, eyes burning and ears ringing because of all that I've been through. I remember tears in my eyes the second one of my cousins started yelling at me for something out of my control, nearly attacking me while an uncle watched and did nothing to stop her— only for another cousin to stop her and comfort me after while my siblings watched me.
I felt so pathetic and ashamed, having my siblings' eyes on me as I curled myself on my bed, fingers digging into my face and palms clamped over my lips as I felt my chest buzzing endlessly at the thought of my cousin, the one I considered another sibling, nearly punched me— my uncle watching, arms crossed and body relaxed, didn't move a muscle to intervene, the same man my relatives claim doesn't hate me or my siblings.
How I practically became a mother, unable to finish schooling during COVID-19 lockdown because all of my siblings had their classes, the younger ones needing someone to watch over them. I was 16, maybe 17 when I became their mother, called one by the last born child and sought for by my sibling with hydrocephalus for comfort at night to sleep in my bed and curl to my side.
At the first parent-teacher conference, I broke down because one of my siblings' elementary teacher saw how tired I was and helped with getting on my feet for GED.
I can't talk to the friends I had in highschool before transferring to homeschool because I'm no longer knowing who they are or become. Having no chances at dating with being so focused on my siblings and the social anxiety I have, not even knowing myself as I used to.
"You're over exaggerating."
"Learn to trust people."
"You're so independent."
"Your siblings are so dependent on you."
Words upon words, statement after statement, criticism after criticism.
I get so overwhelmed, overstimulated by stress and trying to do everything but then get told off as exaggerating what I do for my siblings.
I can't trust my relatives for my mom's side because so many have hurt me verbally, emotionally, mentally and nearly physically— I take so much from them to avoid it ever reaching my brothers and sisters, to where only tidbits of their nastiness reached the older ones.
I didn't want independence in the way it came. I needed others to see me drowning, see me reaching out to them when it became too much, shouldering and balancing too much on my plate, only to be dubbed as independent and thought as not needing assistance in any shape or form.
My siblings are dependent on me because they kicked out their father, they kicked out their mother, they never attended their conferences, they didn't see their first steps, they weren't the someone who cooked their food, did their laundry, showered them, cared for them when sick.
Hell, they only started helping now, only one of them is attempting to gain guardianship approved by our mother, only they have helped with getting what my kids need, their appointments, checking their grades.
I try to get back to writing, by gods I try, my mind spiraling with ideas of characters I break myself into pieces to create.
I try drawing again, each sketch lighthearted and faint in the light.
I try sewing to repair my clothes.
I try so much that it strains my aching body to relax and understand only now I'm getting the help I needed so long ago. I wonder if that small child from so long ago, who'd run for ladybugs and sing to the songs their mother grew up with, would ever come out to the light where there's no screaming aimed our way,
no argument so loud they'd cover their ears and clench their eyes shut,
no dizziness when having to get up and missing chances to eat for others to have,
no buzzing in their chests from the anxiety of the outside world.
Would we ever have a chance to build ourselves? Would we ever meet someone who'll stay by our side, grow to understand the meaning behind the eye bags and trembling hands, scratched knees and overstimulated thoughts? Would we ever get back to reading those books again, finding ourselves daydreaming of what'd it be like to be in those pages?
Sorry again for the long rambling and spouting, but I just needed to have it all typed out for now before anymore is thrown my way.
ass kicking insomnia + mothers constant snoring = fucking help
it’s nearly 3 in the morning and im sat on the floor of the bathroom in this shitty hotel room I have to share with my mum and my aunt
im going to fucking kms istf I can’t do this
having insomnia when having a chronic illness sucks!
my chronic illness flares up cause i don't get enough sleep, but i don't get enough sleep cause of my chronic illness
Reposting this as it's 5:25am and we haven't slept /silly
This is us constantly so made a userbox for it
Chat its 1:30 AM and I need to cry but allso shriek at the moon like a possum allso take multiple more melatonin
TW: Referenced/Implied self harm
So, these little guys may as well be a parasite, but I have made so many drawings of these guys over the last two days. I'm probably not going to stop any time soon, considering I want to make reference sheets for them to look like if they were actually in the game, so watch out for those soon, I will probably go in order of Coco, Azazel than Drina. But for now, just enjoy the two pages of drawing/doodles I have made of these guys. (Also don't mind the weird creature that looks this hatred from Block Tales next to Azazel)
The best part about Tumblr is that you can say nonsensical stuff like 'My cat identifies as a bologna sandwich' and nearly everyone who sees it will just agree or comment what their pet identifies as.
Really, it is wild here; and I was here when anime based rp blogs were EVERYWHERE.
how we feelin bout my Stay awake all night snacks?
help
i should have been in bed at least 3 hours ago ahahahhahahahh
I love sleep deprivation can’t you tell.
jokes on you, i'm all of the above!
"people who stay up at night are either insomniac or In love" people who stay up at night read gay fanfiction on AO3 what are you on about?