Original: July 18th, 2017.
I’d once believed life was just a bully. One that I couldn’t understand because it had actually caused my family and I such pain and grief. But… once upon a time, I was a bully. And it didn’t mean I wasn’t good at heart, it meant that I had to go through phases because that was my path in shaping me to be who I am now. Life is just that… the high school bully who needed to be a bully in order to shape humans. Life as a bully, was me.. and I’ve come to learn, life as a beauty, is still, me.
For a very long time I had myself on a societal path of the “dream.” Graduate, big city, college, career, success, boyfriend, fiancé, marriage, house, children. Until I was twenty three and curiosity and wonder started to take over everything. I had only known very little, and experienced what was on my 5-10 year “plan.” I needed to find more, to push myself into the person I was to become. I had to find my life on this world, in this big ferocious city. I didn’t want to regret not taking chances.
I’ve learned more than I can keep count over the past three years. It has been the roughest, happiest, most adventurous, and self discovering years of my life, thus far. The first year started out steady and fresh. It was an entirely new world for me out there. I was quickly finding independence. Testing the waters, stepping out of my comfort zone, and making some really big mistakes. One mistake trickled into my second year, causing a lot of confusion and sending me down a road that I immediately got lost on. I spent that second year searching and constantly trying to find my way, never understanding how, why, or where I was. And then, the beginning of year three became my absolute worst nightmare.
This is where I met life, the bully. I didn’t even want to talk to life, be friends with life, because I was done with it. Had enough of life’s disappointment. I met Depression who planted the idea in my head that life was a total a*shat. Depression introduced me to its friend, Diphenhydramine, weed, and alcohol. For the first six months of year three, I found my escape from feelings, by turning to a combo of my new friends. I cured my anxiety with them, and forced myself to feel absolutely worthless with them. Because I didn’t give two sh*ts about who it was affecting or what people were thinking. I just didn’t want to feel that f*cking churning and twisting of my heart and stomach. Like my insides were being machete’d. I was irresponsible and reckless on multiple occasions. I frequented my new group of pals. Depression, would wake me up in the morning only to guilt me into staying, curling up into bed and disappearing from the world.
Life was a conscience in my head, somehow dragging me out of bed every day to make it to work, eat, and keep on breathing. I was in a constant battle with Life, arguing, and crying, and having breakdowns. Until the sixth month. A night in January where my recklessness put not only myself but someone I cared about in danger, that it shook me. I of course blamed life for this, thinking “it must be trying to teach me another stupid lesson!” But I very quickly realized, i was in the wrong. I let myself get here, by giving into the pressures of Depression and it’s friends. I knew I couldn’t do this anymore. That it was becoming more exhausting to keep up with this style. I had to, I just had to pull myself together.
And the following months after I was seeing beauty in this world again, in people, in the air, in the water, in just about everything. I was feeling the negative energy leaving my body, and the positive energy flowing in. I was feeling relief. I was feeling a freeness that I hadn’t in a long time. The road that I was on, that felt wrong… that road that seemed lost, wasn’t that at all. It was the exact path I was supposed to take, but it wasn’t easy to travel through, and it was scary and unfamiliar. Naturally, I wanted to run from an unknown place. I wanted to be saved from difficulty. I thought that I “needed” to be picked up because of how tired I’d become.
What I learned and found was the most beautiful thing of all. A gift, from my nightmare. My brother had left me, and I believed that I’d be broken for the rest of my days because of that. I believed that I’d be angry with life forever because of this. But instead, he had set me free, he’d cleared my path, he gave me strength, and he showed me that life is the most beautiful thing in this universe. Life was not the bully I’d thought to be. Life is magical, life IS love. And we have to give care, we have to believe in it, we have to give it our all, we have to take chances with it, we have to feed it good energy, and positivity, we have to celebrate it, we have to breathe it, we have to live with it.
I was one to make up excuses for not doing something by saying that “I’m not ready for it.” But it’s taken a lot for me to finally come around and accept that, we’re never entirely ready for anything, even when you believe you are. No matter how much you prepare yourself for the worst, no matter how self-aware you might be. We’ll never be fully ready, but I think accepting you won’t be ready allows you to dive head first into the unknown, and that’s a lovely thing. Don’t be afraid of the climb or the fall, embrace the climb, and allow yourself to fall. You just need to take the leap, you need to dive in and go for it. It’s scary, and nerve-racking, but it’s worth it. Ready or not.
Here I come,