This one best friend of mine who’s like a sister to me… Me and her used to say something… That it’s been “a day”.
Well, let me tell you, it has been a week!
Got my heart broken for the millionth time, felt guilty that I didn’t feel home sick, forgot to call my fam every day after promising to, got another (my fourth?) COVID scare, upset all three of my supervisors (not on purpose and it’s resolved, but I ain’t ever gonna forget about it), then pulled an all-nighter to make them proud and was actually on time to (what I personally consider) the most important event of the week, thought I was hallucinating for a second because I ran too fast and got a little dizzy and disoriented, reported that to one of my supervisors completely embarrassing myself because one of the other ones told me what I think I saw I actually did see and I was fine, got some new found energy out of no where, danced around everywhere on sleep deprivation for three days, kept my spirits high, nearly ruined yet another friendship by accident (hey, what can I said, “misunderstandings and miscommunications” are my middle name), found out this random guy from back home may have a thing for me or at least I think so but I don’t know what the frick to do with that, found history repeating itself in an uncanny way when I met someone from my old high school…….. I swear I’m not even five percent into my week.
As I said, it’s been a week.
I am mentally exhausted.
Physically, surprisingly still able to walk straight and not pass out from physical exhaustion. Like I legit don’t feel tired and I’m not sure that’s normal. Not that I care.
Emotionally though… I don’t know how I’m feeling.
And I told myself it doesn’t matter. I have my first theraphy appointment tomorrow – finally met a therapist who I feel is nice enough to talk to and will treat me like a human being instead of just another random client/student/etc. I told myself I’d stop being my own therapist.
But who am I kidding?
I can’t just not overanalyze my feelings.
Which is why I think it’s a good thing I don’t know how I’m feeling.
Can’t obssess about something I don’t know about right?
Wrong.
Because I’m obsessing about why I can’t seem to feel a certain way.
I’m upset for others more than for anything for me, I think. I’m wondering how the person who has COVID is coping or how much my family must be missing me or what a stupidly awful position I must’ve put the guy I like in my sobbing for him… Because not only do I know what it feels like to be broken-hearted, I know what it feels like to break someone’s heart. And let me tell you, sometimes, that’s worse.
But earlier today I told a friend of mine for unrelated reasons that she doesn’t deserve to be blamed or feel guilty for something that was completely out of her hands.
And I suppose I should tell myself the same thing. I should tell him the same thing. I should tell anyone the same thing. And everyone. And I am.
In my almost-nineteen years, I’ve learned that it’s not about what you do; it’s about how you make people feel.
Except, I’ve also learned it’s not about what but about why.
One of my supervisors likes to tell us to do everything “on purpose and with purpose”… But there are times in life that we mess up completely unintentionally.
When miscommunications occur. When misunderstandings seem to be inevitable. When feelings are hurt or people feel confused. When a little bit of everything gets lost in translation. When we feel lost and helpless. When we feel lonely even if we’re not alone.
And we it’s no one’s fault.
It’s life.
It has been a week.
So, on purpose and with purpose, I say this: I don’t know how I feel about this whole week. But right now, in this single moment, I know exactly how I feel: I refuse to let this week or any other week ever again drag me down.
Those days are long gone.
And for all the crap that life puts us through, it only makes us stronger when we come out on the other side alive. So, there we go. Me: 1. Life: 0. You’ve failed at burning me at out, at tearing me down, at breaking me. You have been failing for the past almost-nineteen years. And you will continue to fail. Because I don’t just live to survive. I live to thrive and truly live. Live every day like my last and my best.
So at the end of the night, while you’re cooking up new ways to mess with me and all the people I cherish and love, I’ll take a deep breath and realize I’m still breathing. I’m still winning. I’m still living.
