The past few months have been rough to say the least. Pandemic aside, it kind of feels like I’m a piece of tinfoil, and someone put me in the microwave, and then I went BOOM! And to be completely honest, I haven’t reacted well to it. I wish I could sit here and say that I took it like a champ, looked on the bright side of things, and was able to transcend all my challenges; basically, living the Pinterest, “it” girl dream. But instead, I have done the total opposite.
My reality has looked a little closer to not being able to get out of bed; sitting on my couch for hours on end, looking out the window and crying at nothing; taking everything personally; trying to get other people to make decisions for me because I’m so cripplingly scared of making the wrong one; experiencing the most powerful mood fluctuations you ever did see and giving everyone in my life whiplash as a result; and, and I’m not proud of this one, wanting to be put in a voluntary coma just so I didn’t have to feel my emotions. You get the point. I have been the total opposite of the “positive mindset, the-universe-has-a-plan, manifestation” baddie that I have always so desperately wanted to be. What I wouldn’t do to be one of those girls who hears their morning alarm, immediately gets out of bed, does her gratitude journaling, is fully honest with her therapist, and has the confidence to tell the world how she really feels. I’ve always wanted to be her, but reality and my mental health have gotten in the way.
And, for the first time in months, I’m starting to realize that that’s okay.
Yeah, I feel like my life resembles a dumpster a lot of the time, but at the end of the day, this is still my life, and these are my stories to tell. Sometimes when I’m feeling particularly down, I’ll imagine that I’m in my seventies, sitting in the world’s most comfortable armchair with a cat on my lap, just thinking back to this time of my life. In this alternate universe, I look back on this time fondly, not because I enjoyed myself (trust me, I’m not having fun), but rather because these experiences contributed to the puzzle that is my life and lead me to where I needed to be. Now, I’m probably romanticizing all of this as a way to cope, but I don’t care.
Long story short, we all need to realize that the struggles we go through – the punches in the face life hits us with – are all a part of the blueprint of our existence. We have all gotten through every single one of our bad days, and even though it doesn’t feel true, we will continue to do so. These hard times are just mountain-sized bumps in the road that will be the catalyst for a lot of self-growth and understanding. It may feel like a Herculean effort to exist sometimes, but at the end of the day, you’ll still go to bed, have a good night’s sleep, and wake up knowing that you’re one step closer to walking down that mountain.
And, if this doesn’t feel comforting enough and you want to truly romanticize your problems, try telling yourself that this is just a poetic struggle. These hard feelings are what people write poems, songs, and books about. If Taylor Swift can get through the dark times that produced “All Too Well,” you can get through this.