Stuck in Constant Oscillation of Highs and Lows
A call for...love? Patience? Guidance?
God, life is funny. I have to laugh at it or else I fall into the pit of despair.
Something about autumn is that it makes me feel extremely reflective. I think perhaps it’s because I associate it with a beginning. School always started in the fall and every school year always felt like a new chance to be the “real” me.
I loved getting all the school supplies ready; I’d stay up organizing and reorganizing my backpack. Thinking that if I had my pencils in just the right spot I would be able to stay organized all year. Then I would be able to stay on top of my homework. Then math will make sense. Then I avoid all my homework to avoid doing my math. Then I won’t struggle on the tests. And finally, then I will be able to be just like everyone else. I will fit in and assimilate and no one will be able to tell that on the inside I am constantly screaming.
Okay that last bit may be…exaggerated. But in reflection that’s how I remember those times. The times when I was failing and behind. The times when I felt like something must be so substantially wrong with me that cannot just get it together. Why can’t I just keep my papers for each class in their designated folder? Why can’t I just write down my homework in my agenda? Why the fuck can’t I stay awake as soon as Mr. Trigonometry opens his mouth?
I cannot believe how much I bullied myself. How cruel I was in my own head. Some of this reflection could be sparked by my therapy…it’s for sure part therapy. Thank god this is my safe space. My body, my mind, my very existence. None of it was safe from my wrath. The narratives I twisted up in my head. Drama created for the sake of feeling important. Hell, I think I only even dated boys because I wanted to fit in. I know for sure that’s the only real reason I had sex. I just wanted to do what my friends were doing. I was such a fucking poser. If no one else knew it, I did. And I never let me forget it.
Well, until now. I am shedding it now.
Call it imposter syndrome or whatever you want. The part of me determined to make me see myself as unworthy. The part of me that refuses to allow me to celebrate my wins without first focusing on all the reasons that I don’t deserve them. The bitch inside of me that makes me have those dreams where the only thing I need to do to keep myself from a horrible and painful death is to simply ask for it, yet she doesn’t give me a mouth.
I got recommended by Spotify to listen to my old podcast. A new episode came out, the application informed me. I hadn’t listened in a while, so it was kind enough to think of me and let me know. It’s always when you think you’ve let something go that the universe says, “No, no, let’s REALLY process this”. Here I am.
I feel weird even posting this. Sharing it. Will my former cohost see and feel attacked? I hope not because this has nothing to do with them and everything to do with my own feelings and experiences.
I created something and that something went on to live a whole life and shut me out of it. And on some levels, some times that breaks my heart. On other levels at other times I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that I cannot hold the emotion within me.
So I am here. I am writing. Because I can do this. I can write my story. All I need to do that is me. I promised myself a long time ago that I will never give up on me.
Maybe not my best piece…maybe it is a faux pas to even write that…it’s where I am today. It is what I am consumed with.
Thoughts of my worth.
Thoughts of my past.
Thoughts of resilience.
