I am honestly terrified for this semester. In so many ways, this is my last chance to turn things around. But I am so, so very worn– physically, mentally & emotionally. Simply getting out of bed or responding to text messages seems too hard some days, nevermind successfully functioning as a student. I know that worrying fixes nothing, and I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself: it’s only been three days. But before the semester even began, I felt like I was drowning. I’m working my very hardest and trying to keep my head up, but I really don’t think I can do this…
As the morning light peeks through the window and you stir into consciousness, sometimes for a fleeting second, you forget.
But you are jerked back into reality as your heart begins to pound– head spinning, choking back acid, muscles aching, nerves burning.
Most days, you lie there for a while, trying to breathe through the pain and gather enough strength to go on about your morning routine.
But a big part of you wonders why you bother to get up at all.
You drag yourself from bed to fight the same battles each day. No end in sight, simply running on a treadmill uphill, hoping to maintain an unfortunate baseline.
It all just becomes so, so very tiresome.
Your physical health continues to deteriorate as your spirit is crushed under the weight of a crumbling sense of self.
You know there are people you would let down if you were to leave. There are those who would suffer if you were to suddenly cease to exist.
So you press on, trying to ignore the fact that you’re trapped– fake smile, one foot in front of the other.
As time passes, your increasing inability to keep up with the world pulls you deeper and deeper into the pit of isolation.
People grow up, get married, move away, retire, or simply forget your existence completely.
You watch as everyone you love fades away.
As night falls and you are left alone with your thoughts, your chest aches with the thought of how alone you have become.
You feel the sting of being unwanted, unneeded, outgrown, forgotten, abandoned.
But as the night turns to dawn, you realize there is no one left to let down. Or at least, there is no one who would have life ripped out from under them if you were to no longer be.
Your body is broken– your very being exhausted and worn– but you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
Tears gilde down your cheeks and a smile slowly creeps across your face as you realize you may finally rest in peace.
[Just some musings from a brain and body currently consumed by painsomnia. No worries– I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Keep fighting, guys.. ❤ ]
If I’m the one on narcotics…why is it that she’s the one who looks stoned? Lol. Appointments with my mom are always entertaining, to say the least 🙂
I understand why you lied
Your story sent angry mobs after me
Death threats, mental institutions, hatred, and doubt
But I do not regret defending you
A missing patch hair is easier to grasp
than a broken soul and a crushed sense of self
Years of abuse and chaos had taken everything
And I get it, I truly do
I know right now you feel no guilt for your actions
Nor their repercussions
But if one day you do, just know:
While it still hurts and haunts me at night
Brelyn, I understand
It’s been exactly 5 years since I wrote this piece & posted it on my old blog. It’s crazy how this feels like ages ago & just yesterday all at the same time. I’m not quite where I want to be yet…but I have truly come so far.. 🙂
“A few weeks ago, I went to the movies with my friends to see Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Everyone around me was bawling her eyes out, yet sitting there watching this heartbreaking movie, I could not shed a single tear. I, too, felt sad…I wanted to cry…but regardless of how my heart ached and my thoughts raced for the little boy, my face remained dry and stoic.
Too many times when things were crazy at my house and the tears would fall down my cheeks, my mom would scoff and say, “I’ll give you something to cry about,” or push me aside with a, “Why are YOU crying, you little bitch? I’M the victim!” I grew up afraid to cry. And not only was I fearful, but resentful. I was angry at the woman screaming in my face- I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I didn’t wanna let her win. I didn’t wanna show weakness. I would do everything I could to act like her actions didn’t bother me. But too many “it doesn’t hurt”s, and “it’s all good”s can really affect a person…
This may sound a little crazy, but one of my most treasured memories is the night I ran away, one of God’s angels (let’s call her R) and I were having a heart-to-heart on the bench in her meditation circle. I had just hung up with my dad…who was yelling and crying and who basically told me life as I know it was about to be over. And of all of the beautiful, wonderful, comforting, inspirational things R said to me that weekend, one that sticks out most in my mind was when she put her hand on my knee that cold night on the bench and said, “Please let yourself cry.”
Please let yourself cry? Please let yourself cry! It finally hit me. I am only human! I am allowed to have emotions…I am allowed to cry. And so I did. I sobbed and sobbed into her shoulder until it was so dark outside we couldn’t see a foot in front of us. And you know what? As broken as my heart was and as embarrassing as it was to have trails of mascara running down my splotchy face, it felt good. It felt really good.
Do you, too, have trouble allowing yourself to cry? Has “crying is weakness” been drilled into your head one time too many? Well, guess what…whoever told you that was wrong. Crying is a sign of humanity, and regardless of what you are told or how you are treated, you have a right to express your feelings just as any other human would. Honest tears cleanse your heart and soul and relieve tension. And crying is certainly not a sign of weakness. Someone really special to me once explained it like this: Nature gave us two ways of showing our emotions, laughter and crying. Crying is not a sign of weakness just as laughter is not a sign of strength.
So, grab the tissue box and let yourself break down once and while…you’re allowed… ❤
Things have been really, really hard lately. Life has thrown me & my family a lot of curveballs, physically, mentally, emotionally & financially. I feel like each day is a battle & I’m constantly struggling to simply keep my head above water. But even through the storm, God’s grace & mercy is unyielding. He sees & loves me where I am, & no matter what, He is still good.. ❤
There are many instances of my life that haunt me. Rhetoric that plays over and over in my head like some sick tape I cannot escape. Actions that color my dreams, jolting me from nightly slumber. However nothing makes me quite as sick as the innocent words of my then 13-year-old sister, remarking on my self-harm:
“…I tried [to cut myself] but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to but it hurt too much. You’re so brave!”
Hearing those words took my breath away. I was 14 when I started- not much older than she. It was my heavy, shameful, long sleeves in July secret for 3 miserable years.
Cutting was not brave, and that self-destructive path was certainly not what I wished to model for my little sisters. It’s been more than 4 years since she uttered those words, and while they still shake me to my core, they also push me to keep fighting, to not give in to temptation, and to show her what bravery truly is.