A year ago today, I shared some things with friends and not so close acquaintances that I had been struggling with. On June 4th, 2018, I was diagnosed with anxiety with recurring panic attacks. I had started 2018 with high hopes, thinking maybe it would be a year that would finally let my life fall into place and make a little sense for the first time in years. Unfortunately, that did not happen. Just about as soon as the year had started, my hope for it was crushed and never really returned.
It was a hard year for me. In many ways, I still feel like I am fighting against the damage and climbing through the rubble. But I have come a long way. I've grown and become better in ways I didn't think were possible. I've finally gotten to the point where it feels somewhat strange to cry. When last year at this time, tears were all I knew. I did not know how to make them stop; I didn't think they ever would.
Not much in my life has changed. The relationships that started the landslide were never mended, I never got any sort of closure or apology, I am still "estranged" from my sister, my relationship with my parents is rocky, my future career is uncertain, and I don't have a place to call home... but somehow I still have hope. The most important thing I have gained through all of this is hope. It seems so counterintuitive, but I am really grateful for hope.
I've been thinking a lot about Pandora's box. There are many interpretations of the story, but what sticks out to me is once everything inside the box was released and lost, the one thing that remained was hope. I feel like that's been my life. Right now I do not have much more than hope; but when you've lost everything, hope is a pretty special thing to have.
When I was twenty, I remember giving a guy I was seeing a ridiculous speech on my disbelief in relationships. He responded to me in the most discouraged way, saying "what happened to you? You don't believe in anything." I will never forget the brokenness in his voice. That was one of the most real empathetic moments I have ever experienced. I have never forgotten it. And so, through the ups and the downs after downs after downs, I can say that I am lonely and discouraged at times, but I don't view life like I used to. My biggest fear was always what I would lose if I told someone my feelings, set boundaries, or stood up for myself. The hard and uncomfortable truth is that doing all of those things has actually cost me a lot. I've lost friends, my faith in people I looked up to, and potential lovers. My family relationships are constantly changing because of my growth; I risk being called difficult or dramatic when I set boundaries. Most of the time, I get disdain instead of respect for drawing those lines. And it stings every time. I get scared every time. I question myself every time. I think to myself "okay, but if I do this, they won't talk to me anymore."
As much as I tell myself it doesn't matter, it's for the best, or I don't need them- it still hurts, makes me question myself, and always makes me feel like i'm overreacting.
I want to be valued and respected. I want to fit in. I am terrified of losing people. Of being the bad one. Of my thoughts and how they drive me to anxious self doubt. But, I have been pushing myself to do it anyway. I step into the fear and discomfort, and although I often come out saddened, I also come out strong- as a fighter for me. That's what counts.
For so long, I had been taught to stuff my feelings so far down that I still struggle to determine if they're real or whether or not I deserve to feel them. I often call my friends and ask, "am I overreacting? Should I be upset?" I completely hate that. One thing i've learned is- that's a side affect of emotional manipulation. It's a result of having feelings, wants, and desires belittled and made out to be unimportant or dramatic. I am working on putting what I know into practice. I know myself, I know what's right for me, and I know what I deserve.
So although I've lost more people, experienced more disappointment and pain than I thought was bearable, and have had to hold on to hope by a thread.. I am thankful that I haven't given up.
No, it doesn't make it hurt less when you lose someone; but isn't it time we learn to be more afraid of losing ourselves than people who don't truly care about us? I have lost me. I lost me because I lost the people I poured myself into- the people I chose to let be my only source of happiness. Now, I love me enough to make the hard choices, to set boundaries, and i'm ready with a tissue and self affirmations when the shit ends up hitting the fan.
Because one thing is for certain... it will. hit. the fan.
And I will be okay.
