Note: this is a bit of an old post/journal entry, re-worked to explain how I’ve been feeling lately. I know I’ve been absent and as the title suggests; it’s because I’m struggling. With pain, with sleep, with figuring out my purpose in life.
That being said, I do miss you all dearly and hope to be back regularly soon. Don’t give up on me yet.
Much love to you all. ♥
Resilience is an intriguing thing. It can be exceedingly difficult to come by while simultaneously appearing in places – or people – you’d least expend to find it. The way I see it, there are two basic avenues to take when handling tragedy and hardship (though, many facets here and there and in between); you shut down, break down and never truly recover; or, you grieve, accept and move on. I’d like to say that I have always chosen the latter, but in all honesty, I often find myself stuck between the two; fighting to find a balance without falling into nothingness. This often leaves me suspended, neither shutting down or moving on. Sort of just drudging my way through life.
I find myself oddly nostalgic now-a-days, and I say oddly because I always pictured nostalgia and reminiscence to be had many years later in life, when so many things have happened and so much life has been lived. Yet, when so many of my peers are living the brightest days of their lives and finding their places in the world, I instead remain vastly lost and stunted, wrestling with myself daily for the will to keep fighting for a life that has taken me places I never, ever wanted to go. I have no plans in regards to my future, no idea which roads to turn down or even how to get to them. One thing I don’t plan on is feeling this way forever. I hope – in fact it may be the very thing keeping me sane – that eventually the bitterness I feel, the sadness and the hopelessness, will depart and leave me more able to live this life. The physical pain is debilitating in many ways and that’s not going to ever truly go away, but my emotional pain is just as, if not more so, crippling in nature.
It’s odd to be writing about myself in this way. Through my words I could come to recognize myself as some angry, bitter, miserable thing to be around but in truth that’s not what I’m like on the outside and not hardly entirely how I feel on the inside. I love, I laugh, I feel the joy when it’s there to feel – at least most of the time. And my internalization of my feelings – if you can even call it that once it’s been written and made public – is what allows me to do so. I can keep the bad to myself for the most part, while still being me to the best extent that I can manage.
You’d think that keeping so much to yourself would cause you to burst, and there may yet come a time that I can no longer keep these things in my head. And every once in a while the flood gates do begin to part and I’m no longer able to carry on as if nothing’s wrong. These are the rare occasions that I lose it. It being my reserve, and have a bit of a nervous breakdown. It always seems to happen the same way; a negative event will trigger it and once the tears begin flowing there’s no going back. I turn into this shattered, weak, shell of myself. Broken beyond what I feel is even remotely repairable. There’s no going back are the whispers of the thoughts that manage their way in through the grief, I can’t do this anymore. But, such is the intrigue of coping; once I’m able to pull myself at least adequately back together, things seem to hour-by-hour or day-by-day transform back to the way they have been, and I carry on.
“The strongest oak of the forest is not the one that is protected from the storm and hidden from the sun. It’s the one that stands in the open where it is compelled to struggle for its existence against the winds and rains and the scorching sun.”
– Napoleon Hill