How it started

I started noticing that I wasn't well when all I wanted to do was stay at home, in my room, just laying in bed. I stopped listening to music, I stopped reading, I stopped watching all tv shows that I loved (and they are a lot!). I just wanted to be in my bedroom and cry. I lost all the appetite I had, I still don't have it. I just ate because I knew I had to, I still do that. It was August, my favorite time of the year and all I wanted to do was stay inside. I didn't go to the beach, I would go to the swimming pool just because my mom and brother made me go. I decided I needed help. I got it, but the feeling inside, the feeling of only feeling safe, of only feeling "okay", when I'm in my bedroom in Afife, is still here.

In September I had to come to Porto to continue my studies and all I wanted was to give everything up and stay at home, in my bedroom. All I want is that. It's a continuous effort to live in Porto. It wasn't. I really loved my house here, and I really loved this city. Now, everytime I'm here I don't feel safe, I don't feel happy. And to outside people this might feel like no effort but to me it's a gigantic effort. At the end of the week I feel overwhelmed and tired. Not physically, but emotionally. I just want to go to my safe place. I want to go to my cats (crazy cat lady here!!) and stay in my room. Being alone scares the hell out of me, but there I can be alone. I'm safe. I think I'm better than in August. I think I'm in the right path to overcome this. I just can't give up and I need to live my life and not just exist, because that's what I'm doing. I'm existing and not living.