It starts with darkness.
You never really understand the dark cloud analogy unless you live it. Feel it. Breathe it. Become it.
It’s a crisis of confidence.
It’s forgetting the next word of your sentence.
And it’s nothing.
It isn’t tangible.
It is lost.
It is hidden.
I never get the words just right
I don’t know what to say
I lost myself or so it felt
I watched me slip away
Like a metamorphosis
I grew a thicker skin
I let go of things that held me back
I wouldn’t let things in
And why should I?
I have so many reasons to love my life right now.
And I do.
At times I feel numb.
I cannot open myself up again because I cannot feel.
It’s not that I don’t want to.
Because I do.
I just can’t.
My focus is elsewhere.
My priorities are on everything and anything else.
My career is kicking off.
And I’m killing it.
I am dreaming bigger.
And still I am numb.
Time freezes yet I hear the ticking of the clock.
Where are you?
You are lost.
You are hidden.
Grown-up dating sucks. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
It isn’t like when we liked someone we used to sit beside in one of our classes when the magic would just happen and then abra cadabra you were dating. This is total “meet a random guy, maybe go on a date or two, and see how it goes.”
However, in the few grown-up dates I have been on, I will say they taught me more about myself than I expected. Here is a list of things I learned from guys I have gone on dates with:
Well hello blog, it’s been a while.
Have you ever had a moment where you are laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, and suddenly it feels as if the walls are caving in on you? You feel a tightness in your chest and your breathing becomes difficult. In other words, they are my precursors to a full blown panic attack (which I have not had in nearly a year).
When I visited my doctor last Wednesday, he was proud of the progress I have made. He says I am cognitively aware of what is making me anxious lately and that is important.
Us anxiety-ridden folk are wired differently than the average human. Here are a few things I have had on my mind:
- I hate myself.
- Well, I’m proud of the person I am, but I hate the way I look.
- Maybe I’ll never find someone who will understand me like I will need them to.
- Grownup dating sucks.
- I hate dating.
- Maybe I’ll give up dating for a while.
- Maybe I’ll be alone forever.
- I need to exercise
- I don’t have time to exercise
- Does running away from my feelings count as exercise?
- Or running away from my thoughts?
- Why can’t I sleep at night
- I need sleep.
- Work is exhausting
- I love my job though
- But I need to go back to school
- School is going to cost money
- I don’t have money
- My car has problems
- I have to pay for bills and insurance
- And my credit card bill makes me want to cry.
- Maybe I’ll be broke forever between bills, school, and student loans.
- Maybe I’ll volunteer to take my mind off school
- Volunteering is taking up all of my spare time
- What is spare time?
- I don’t have enough time to spend with my mom
- What if something happens to my mom just months after my dad passed away?
- I’m not ready to face that.
- I miss my dad and wish he was here for me to talk to
- Especially about things like my check engine light
- Or just here to give me a hug when I feel like my world is breaking down.
- I can’t breathe.
- I have so many things to do and I am behind in all of them
- And it’s the summer. Aren’t I supposed to enjoy my summer?
- I still can’t breathe.
- Okay, maybe I’ll smoke a cigarello to make me feel better.
- My doctor says that’s avoidance so it probably won’t help with anything
- I shouldn’t start smoking.
- I’m crying.
- I feel alone.
- I don’t know what to do with my life
- Or with myself
- Maybe laying on the floor will help
- My heart is racing
- Breathe in… breathe out.
- I have emails to check.
- I should make a to-do list.
- And check my agenda.
- I forgot to breathe.
- Breathe in…breathe out.
And this is only to name a few. Writing out my thoughts often help and I hate that I have stopped to take the time to do so either here or in my journal. Life isn’t easy. Growing up isn’t easy. And I am in one of the biggest transitional periods of my life. It is okay to stop and take a day or a moment just for me. It’s okay to say no to certain situations. It’s okay to feel anxious. This feeling won’t last forever.
The funny thing about depression is that it consumes you.
I lied. It’s really not that funny.
Just a moment of weakness – if you’d call it that. When the thought crosses your mind, it won’t escape you.
You’re paralyzed by the thought. You sit there, frozen in time in space, or so it seems. You don’t want to say the words, but they’re resting there on the tip of your tongue, “he’s gone.”
It’s not that you don’t think about it (because really, when aren’t you thinking about it), but rather you’re thinking about it more. Suddenly.
I can hear him saying, “why do you bother coming home if you’re just going to sit here and do homework?”
My goodness, that used to bother me. I used to resent him for even asking that. I mean, I came all the way home to be in the same room as him. Why was that not enough? Now I’d do anything to hear him say those words because the anger I felt would not be nearly as great as the emptiness I feel in my heart right now.
My thesis professor asked me today how I was doing in terms of losing my father.
You know, today has been the long time in a long time that someone has asked me that. Not that I want to be asked this all the time (because I really don’t), but it made me feel as though it was still valid to be going through the grieving process three months later. I told my professor I used to call my dad every day. He said that must be a difficult adjustment. I nodded. I didn’t have him to call when I got off the plane from NYC. I didn’t get to tell him about my trip. Or tell him I won a bursary. Or tell him that I’m stressed about school.
I miss how he would buy me wonton soup when I was sick or make my mom get it for me. I talk to him as if he’s still around, sometimes. I miss his snarky comments. His stupid jokes. And his big hugs.
So before I either go back to studying or to sleep, I’m gonna lay here on the couch, just for a moment, with one of his favourite blankets and just breathe. Showing weakness (if you’d even call it that) is not a bad thing, for it is from weakness one can build remarkable strength.
Three months doesn’t seem like a long time, in theory. In reality, once you wait for it to pass, it can feel like an infinity.
Really, it’s a quarter of a year. 25% or however you want to look at it.
Tonight, I found so many parallels to this day three months ago. A relatively typical school day, followed by a drive home to my hometown. I drove down the same road. This time, I was alone, and this time, I did not cry. I don’t remember who I was three months ago. That thought scares me. That thought empowers me. I looked at this day not in the sense of “where do we go from here?” but more so as “you can breathe now.” In my head, that sounds so awful; as if I’m waiting for something to be over, or like it was three months of pulling off a bandaid.
I waited for change. Change in myself. Change in him. Change in us. I saw change in all three aspects. Perhaps not as planned, but when does anything go according to plan?
I have learned to stand on my own two feet and stay grounded in them. I learned to walk before I run and look before I leap (as cliché as that sounds). I learned which friends would always have my back and which friends could press the “unfollow” or “delete” button and never look back. I learned a lot about myself: some good, some not so good. One of the biggest things I think I learned was to take chances because life doesn’t wait for us. I won’t be rushing into anything anytime soon, despite my satirical (yet mostly true) tweets about the single life (aka Tinder).
So cheers to the past three months and the person I was, and cheers to the person I am proud to be and who isn’t looking back.
Call it an identity crisis.
Call it feeling lost.
Call it a break.
Call it a breakup.
Call it a time of reinvention.
Call it what you want.
Don’t call me.
Don’t ask me how I am.
Don’t be there.
Who am I without you?
Who was I with you?
Where did we come from?
Where are we going?
Today’s blog title is inspired by “Be With You” – Enrique Iglesias