r/deardiary

Nya’s unnamed journal!

Journal # 2!

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🐉⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

10:27pm

08/17/26

── ⋆⋅💐🐉🌸⋅⋆ ──

Wow. I just ruined everything. Primary fronting is gonna be tough.

Um

Well basically HER EX asked [...]. And I basically said I'd prefer that they never discuss that again. Ever. period. Big mistake… he started saying that he’d just decide to try moving on from the relationship instead of holding out for her bc I told him no. And… he very quickly made it known from there that it hurt alot more than he showed at first bc he was trying to come from a place of understanding and not have me feel guilty. But… apparently he was so upset he was crying.. And that was a catalyst for ‘Lilah to start crying :I omg. I felt. So increcbliy bad. Omfg. :I I just,,,

I just don’t think its anywhere near appropriate for her to be dating at the moment. She just has WAY TOO MUCH going on at th moment for it to be a healthy arrangement for the both of them. I tried to explain this to him.. I told him I was terrified that there may come a day where she chooses to run and hide from life (i.e slip into dormancy) and that if that happens,, I’d hate for him to be essentially sitting and waiting just to lose his gf after all that time. On top of her continuously refusing help and very likely going to be experiencing decline after decline up until we can switch roles.

His response was… sickeningly sweet….

In the good way. Something like I’ve been waiting for her for so long already… I have no intentions of giving her up now and The worst day in history would be her giving up weather I was dating her or not so that doesn’t matter. AHH it was REALLY SWEET ACTUALLY. So I had to ramp up the dissociation and distraction spells I was administering to ‘Lilah so she wouldn’t resume crying. Which was difficult at first but I guarantee you it was keeping her calmer than him…

Um. Idk. I immediately wanted to take it back… I feel less confident holding the ‘keep us safe,, please’ keys now where she lets me handle this category of decisions completely on my own… 😬 but I don’t have a damn choice… bc she will throw herself to the wolves and hurt herself and repeat terrifying traumatic patterns if I do NOT.

ugh… I just,,,

Didn’t mean to ruin anybody’s night. I wanted to take it back and give everyone the OK to date again but then I quickly realized how DUMB that was. Unfortunately despite all the guilt I feel,, I have to do whats best for ‘Lilah and not let her date anybody while she continues to refuse any sort of mental health help or support. Its unfair on both sides…

So we came to a compromise– we’ll try to figure out a plan tomorrow to try to support ‘Lilah in getting support. Which is difficult bc we live in the same head and I can feel that she’s maybe max 10% on board with this but I want to feel like I’M DOING SOMETHING FOR HER and not having to shoulder it alone. Yknow? Um. idk… I just felt SO GUILTY. I kinda still do. But… need to keep ‘Lilah safe… :(

I hope we can all figure something out… don’t want to lose my friends. Or see ‘Lilah hurt. Or see her accidentally hurt him…

It’s almost the midnight and u are all I think about i wish you would text me I miss u and I don’t anymore I’m not the same person anymore after all the pain I wish we could have just been cool dude

August 16, 2026 — 12:02 AM

Ten years… a whole ten years since I first tasted the bitterness of depression in my throat, and within seconds felt it spread its poison through my body.

Ten years have passed, and I think that goes a long way toward explaining why sadness and heavy emotions feel more familiar to me than being carefree, joyful and happy.

Ten years are also more than enough to change a person. That’s the entire lifetime of a human being who is about to start fifth grade. Someone who has had five years to build memories, a life, and friendships. Someone who could be my son or daughter…

Ten years is a hell of a long time to get used to things that were never really me to begin with. To get accustomed to coping mechanisms that were right for me back then, but have long since outlived their expiration date.

I want to get better at receiving joy because I deserve it. I want to learn how to savor being light and happy. I want to feel joy and have it show in my eyes and in the way my body moves.. not cringe and hide it just so I don’t “lose my charisma.” Girl, fuck your charisma and fuck what anyone thinks about it.

I want to relax and learn how to taste the moment. I want to stretch my body out and let the water carry me, take me wherever it wants without being disgusted by the stickiness of the water, its saltiness or the sand.

I want to roll around and play like little kids without my brain immediately telling me that I don’t like this texture, or that sound, or that taste.

I want to write while being 100% present inside my own mind… to be fully there, with my whole soul, aware that I’m tapping my fingers against my phone screen right now, putting a few letters next to each other so they become words and words become sentences, and sentences become meaning.. meaning that we can feel and experience.

Or… so I can come back and read it again whenever I want, and see the sheer abundance of my memories and how rich they are.

Thank you, letters.

Thank you, meanings and synonyms.

Thank you, my brain, my hands, and my psyche for choosing to write and empty out what was filling my mind.

I'm grateful.And happy. Just not the kind of happiness I see everyone experiencing whether in real life or in the media. Mine is different. A peculiar kind of happiness, but it's mine.

And I'm happy that I can express it.

I miss my son so fucking much.
I don’t think there will ever be a day where I don’t wonder about him.
I only had him for 11 weeks, but those 11 weeks meant everything to me. He was my baby. My son. A little life growing inside of me that I already loved more than I could ever put into words.
And then suddenly, he was gone.
I never got to hold him.
I never got to see his face.
I never got to hear his cry or feel his tiny fingers wrap around mine.
I never got to bring him home.
I never got to watch him grow.
I never got to find out who he would have been.
I wonder what he would have looked like. I wonder if he would have had my eyes or my smile. I wonder what his laugh would have sounded like. I wonder what his favorite things would have been. I wonder if he would have been shy or loud, goofy or serious, stubborn like me.
There are so many things I will never know.
And that’s what hurts so fucking much.
I didn’t just lose a pregnancy.
I lost my son.
I lost every future I had imagined with him.
I lost the first time I would have held him, the first time I would have heard him cry, the first time I would have watched him smile.
I lost birthdays.
Christmases.
First steps.
First words.
School pictures.
Late-night cuddles.
All of it.
Sometimes I think people expect you to eventually “move on” from something like this. But how do you move on from someone you never got the chance to meet?
How do you stop missing someone when you spent 11 weeks imagining an entire life with them?
I wish I could have had more time.
Just a little more time.
I wish I could have held him just once.
I wish I could have told him how loved he already was.
I wish he could have known how badly his mommy wanted him.
I will always wonder who he would have become.
And I will always miss him.
I don’t care that I only had 11 weeks with him. He was real. My love for him was real. My grief is real.
He was my son.
He always will be.
And if I could have one thing in this world, I would give anything to go back and have just one more moment with him.
Just one.
To feel him.
To hold him.
To tell him, “Mommy loves you.”
Because I fucking miss my baby.

​

I'm not someone who spends much time congratulating myself. I am not prideful - braggadocio and ego truly have no place here, but every once in a while I think it's perfectly ok, important even, to at least acknowledge the things that make me feel proud, accomplished or successful. Especially when they're the types of things that are evidence of growth and healing, and even more so when that healing and growth was full of purpose and intent.

So, here are a few things I want to acknowledge, even if only to remind myself that they're true.

The first thing I'm proud of is how I showed up for my father recently … Only a few months ago, the words he spoke to me destroyed parts of me I never knew existed. Words that cut deeper than I think he'll ever fully understand. They shattered something in me, and I don't know that those pieces will ever be put back exactly as they were. I also don't know that an apology will ever come. Some hurts simply become background noise that only you can hear.

And yet, when he needed help moving, I went. Not reluctantly, or with a scorecard in my hand. I returned, almost instinctively, to being his loving, servile daughter. It was by pure chance that I had that week off, it was supposed to be my summer “vacation” - instead I packed the last 40 plus years of his and my mother's life together into boxes, and loaded my family history onto a U haul.

I was going to head to the coast for a week of much needed relaxation - but what my father needed was more important. I cared for him simply because he needed it.

That doesn't erase what happened between us, nor does it excuse it. That wound still very much exists. But I'm proud that I didn't allow it to turn me into someone I didn't want to be. My actions were guided by my values rather than my pain, not even an ill word was spoken between us. All I showed him, all that I cared to show him, was love. I wanted him to know, no - I needed him to know that no matter what the love will always be there, and that I will always be there.

There was a time when I might not have showed up at all. There was a time when I would have shown up only out of spite, with my pistol mouth fully loaded, and at least one extra clip. I love and honor those versions of me, they did the best they could with what they had, but I am not them anymore and I'm writing a different story.

The second thing I'm proud of is every living thing I brought home from my parents house … All the houseplants like the Christmas cactus that had been neglected for who knows how long sprang back to life after a long drink and some good sun. The African violet that was hanging on by the smallest thread … she had no viable root, but had a healthy crown still … after an extreme makeover, a traumatic move into a brand new tiny home, and 3 weeks in the ICU, she has started forming a new root ball and she's healthy! Can't forget the old dwarf umbrella tree, so woody and overgrown it resembled a scraggly Ent more than it did a house plant. He dropped all of his yellow leaves and has new green growth popping up everywhere.

Plus all of the outside plants I managed to snag … the day lilies, the calla lilies, the cannas, the jasmine, and every other rescue from my dad's garden … They were all successfully rehomed with love and care in gorgeous pots that now surround my deck. I giggle with the glee of a small child each time I'm out tending to them and I see new growth. New babies, everywhere! I legitimately sing “pretty little baby” out loud every time I see new growth. It's ridiculous, but it brings me joy. I even managed to revive some random rhizomes I found in an old pot of my mom's and now I have several Oxalis Trangularis that have started growing!

Then there are all of the cuttings … Every hydrangea clipping, every azalea clipping, every rose clipping … Every single one has rooted. The roses are in soil already, they rooted well there, but the hydrangeas and azaleas are rooting in water, pretty much all ready for transition to soil. I am about to have 15 hydrangeas, 6 azaleas and 4 different rose bushes! Thank goodness I have friends who also love plants because I already know what everyone is getting for Christmas, haha.

Not only has everything survived, it's begun to thrive. Everywhere I look, there is new growth, fresh leaves, tiny roots, new shoots pushing into the light. Tbh, it's been a bit of a “spiritual” experience … watching all of these living things go through some significant trauma, whether they were clipped from a bush or dug from the ground, that alone could have killed them … but I got to bear witness as they healed, and I got to help care for them through every phase.

Especially with the clippings, that doesn't always work out well, and it felt even more intimate watching them because they've been indoors, in glass bottles and jars. Luckily I had enough usable glassware, because it's been the easiest way to monitor all of them. I have surveyed them daily, inspecting each stem for signs of rot, and each leaf for signs of distress. I have changed their water every 3 days, given them all the best light this place has to offer, and turned each container by one quarter of a turn, clockwise, once a week. Four weeks later, with everything rooting and thriving, I feel confident to announce I am no longer a novice, ha.

All of the plants I've purchased from garden centers this year are thriving too. The little indoor jungle that started with only a couple of struggling cuttings has become lush and vibrant. My home is full of life now. Calathea, Begonia, Nanouk, Pothos x2, Silver Tree, Money Tree, three Philodendrons (one pink, one neon, one velvet leaf), String of Hearts, two Caperatas (one Luna red and one schumi red), the Raven ZZ plant, the Ponytail Palm, the Pink Fittonia, Ficus, Teddy Bear Plant, the Croton, and my newest addition, that came as a stowaway with one of the Philodendrons - a Hoya plant! I even have an air plant … and they're all THRIVING.

Plants don't care about good intentions. They respond to patience, observation, consistency, and care. They are resilient, just like humans, and they can often survive poor conditions (not you, Calathea), but man alive if it's not something else to help them thrive. Seeing them flourish the way they have reminds me that I am capable, and that my capacity for care has not diminished - if anything, it has expanded.

The third thing I'm proud of is something that I'm keeping to myself. It's not a “secret” or anything like that, and all it currently represents is possibility and curiosity. And tbh, that means more to me at this moment than I can adequately express. I don't have it in me yet to have faith in certainty, but possibility is something I can absolutely work with.

As I write this, as I step back and look at all of it together, I'm noticing something I hadn't seen before … This season of my life has been all about tending to things. I tended to my father despite my hurt. I tended to neglected plants until they remembered how to grow. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, without really noticing, I had also been tending to myself. I am a lover, through and through and I need something to pour it all into … my jungle grows because I love it so!

A few months ago, it felt as though everything in my life was collapsing. So many certainties disappeared, futures ended and my heart was broken, in some ways it still is, and may always be, but there were so many parts inside me that felt broken beyond repair … Now I look around and see growth everywhere. Life didn't suddenly become any easier, and my wounds aren't all magically healed, but growth doesn't only occur when skies are blue and conditions are perfect - just ask the lotus.

That's what healing looks like sometimes. It's rarely dramatic, nor does it announce itself all at once. Sometimes it looks like a new leaf where there wasn't one the day before, sometimes it's tiny white roots reaching through water. Sometimes it's a daughter choosing kindness without dismissing or weaponizing her pain. And sometimes it's simply the possibility of something beautiful.

For the first time in a long while, I don't feel surrounded by endings.

I feel surrounded by beginnings.

And I think that's something worth being proud of.

PAYDAY?????
Okay.
I genuinely don’t know what just happened.
Today was supposed to be payday, and I was expecting around 800 or 900. I thought maybe I’d get a little more if things worked out, but I wasn’t expecting anything crazy.

Then I checked my account.
1,326
I stared at it.
Then my phone dinged again.
+100 bonus
BRO.

AND THEN I REMEMBERED I WAS GETTING PAID FOR THE ACTING GIG TOO.
So somehow my first proper paycheck ended up being around 1,500
I CANNOT PROCESS THIS 😭😭😭
I was literally dancing around because WHAT DO YOU MEAN I JUST GOT PAID THAT MUCH???

And the funniest part is that I didn’t even feel like I was doing some horrible, exhausting job.
I was literally just… yapping.

That’s what gets me.
I got paid for speaking, communicating, being on camera, acting, and doing things I actually enjoy. I wasn’t sitting somewhere getting yelled at by a manager. I wasn’t dealing with weird customers for eight hours. I wasn’t doing something I absolutely dreaded and waiting for the day to end.

I was just doing what I normally do.
And apparently, what I normally do has monetary value.
That realization is honestly crazier to me than the money itself.

For years, I genuinely thought I was kind of hopeless when it came to work and careers.

Academics were never really my thing. I could never stick to things for very long, and I used to wonder whether I’d actually be capable of building a stable future for myself.

And now I’m sitting here like…
Wait. I can actually make money
😭
My mom was SO happy. She was basically cheering and telling me, “Never say you’re broke anymore. You’re going to make more.”

My little brother, meanwhile, apparently had been waiting his entire life for this exact moment because the second he knew I got paid, he grabbed the phone and started looking at the things he wanted.

Bro had a shopping list ready.
A SHOPPING LIST.
💀

My mom started deciding what she wanted too, and then we called my dad to tell him.

It became this whole tiny family celebration over my first paycheck.
And honestly, it felt really good.
Not because I’m suddenly rich. I’m absolutely not. 😭

1,500 isn’t going to change my entire life.
But it’s my firstpaycheck.
It’s proof.

Proof that I can take things I’m naturally good at and actually turn them into something.
And now my brain is doing that thing again where instead of thinking, I hope I can make money,I’m thinking:

“Okay… what else can I do?”

I’ve already been looking into websites, voice acting, acting, speaking work, writing, and other little opportunities.

A few months ago I would’ve laughed if someone told me I’d be this obsessed with finding ways to make money.

Now if I don’t have some little project going on, I genuinely feel weird.

Something definitely switched in me this year.

Maybe university changed me.

Maybe growing up changed me.

Maybe getting rejected enough times eventually made me stop caring.

Or maybe I finally realized that I don’t have to be amazing at the things I was never interested in. I can build around the things I actually enjoy.

And that’s probably the part I’m happiest about.
I made money doing something I \\\*\\\*liked\\\*\\\*.

That’s the part I want to remember.
So I have no idea what I’m spending this paycheck on yet.
Probably something for myself, something for my brother, maybe a little something for my mom.
But for now?
I’m just going to sit here and enjoy the fact that I got paid.
\\\*\\\*My first paycheck.\\\*\\\*
And somehow…
I want more. 😭💸

Hello.
Never mind me. I just need somewhere to vent. I might post this in a few places because I honestly don’t know where else to put these feelings.
My heart is killing me.
I’m a 33-year-old man. Today, August 10, is my ex’s birthday. Tomorrow is mine.
I left her.
I was foolish.
At the time, I thought I had to choose between focusing completely on my career and not being there for her the way she deserved, or giving up on my dream job and staying with her.
And I thought giving up on my dream would kill something inside me.
So I chose the job.
I left her because I didn’t want her to spend years in a relationship where she felt ignored or alone. In my head, I was protecting her. I thought I was doing the right thing.
I was young. I was stupid. And I thought I had everything figured out.
The worst part is that we still cared about each other.
It’s been six years.
I haven’t loved anyone since her. I haven’t trusted anyone the same way. I haven’t even really allowed myself to like someone, kiss someone, or get close to anyone.
She was the only person I felt completely safe with.
Today is her birthday.
And next month, she’s getting married.
It’s destroying me.
I’ve been crying so much today. I haven’t cried like this in six years.
I think everything I’ve been holding inside for all these years just came crashing down.
I remember telling her that I was too pathetic and too broke to marry her. I didn’t want her to end up in a marriage where she wasn’t happy because of me. I wanted to be able to give her something stable.
And then I realized how foolish that was.
If I could go back, I would take almost any job. I would have fought harder. I would have figured something out.
She used to ask me, “Why didn’t you fight for me?”
“Why didn’t you do this?”
“Why didn’t you do that?”
And honestly, those questions destroyed me because I didn’t have a good answer.
I thought I was doing what was best for both of us.
Maybe I wasn’t.
And now I saw a picture of her fiancé giving her flowers.
That was it.
Something inside me just broke.
I want to make something very clear: I don’t want to ruin her wedding. I don’t want to interfere. I don’t want her back.
I lost her.
And I genuinely hope she has a beautiful life and that she’s happy.
I just feel like I’m grieving someone who has been gone from my life for six years, and somehow today it finally hit me that she’s really moving on.
I know I have no right to feel like this. I made my choice. She moved forward.
But man…
It hurts.
I just needed to say it somewhere.
I’m not really used to Reddit and I might not be able to reply to everyone, but if anyone just wants to talk or DM, I honestly wouldn’t mind.
Sorry for the long post.
I just needed somewhere to put this.

I feel like I failed at this world

I was deep in sin, away from Jesus, then my Ex came!

We texted a few times because he was my father's coworker years ago, but then suddenly, I fell in love with him! What's amazing is that at the same time he said Jesus made him see me, and he fell in love with me, deeply in love.

I never thought I deserved to be loved, I have absolutely nothing special about me, but still, he loved me!

He tried his best to show me what's beautiful about me. He was just..perfect!

I loved him so much!

His kindness, his touch, the feeling of the palm of his hand on my face, the way he treated me like his little princess, his support.

He was family, my world.

From 2021 to 2024, he was the greatest thing I ever had.

I thought he was the redemption that God sent me, the chance to finally be happy!

But then, I screwed up, again and again and again

He was patient with me, but then one night on April 24th 2024, I made a horrible mistake, and all my life fell apart.

He was so upset, like I never saw him before.

I watched his tremendous love for me turn into absolute hatred, in just..hours!

I watched as I, with my own hands destroyed my own happiness!

I was so evil because of what I did to him.

I had good intentions, but what I did to him was so hurtful.💔

He left, and my heart left with him.

My own soul left me and followed him all the way back to Greenwich, leaving me alone in St Petersburg.

We talked a few days later, he said he forgave me but I know he didn't.

Being the gentleman that he is, and in order to leave me burning even more in my guilt that will never go away, he just prayed to Jesus for me!

I will never find someone like him.

Nobody will love me as he did.

He blocked me from everything.

I really need his calming voice, I really need his night texts telling me everything is going to be ok.

I really need the feeling of his body near mine.

When our bodies were together, I felt whole.

Now, I will never feel whole.

I miss our adventures together, our camping, our jogging together, our car racing, our sex, our party dances together.

I miss the funny face you used to make every time you drank tequila.

He put such a high standard, I can't and will not find someone like him.

My heart belongs to him.

I wish there was one last chance just to tell him how much he means to me, to ask for his forgiveness, to ask him for another chance!

I keep feeling scared at the thought that I will never see or hear from him ever again!

I'm attached to him, physically and emotionally.

I don't want to be attached to anyone else.

I was proud to be his girlfriend, and now after 2 years, I'm still broken that I'm not anymore.