“How long must I wait for you undone in the evening?” — Daughter
It’s 1:26 a.m. on a Friday morning. I have work tomorrow, but tonight, I’m skipping the numbness.
I’m not going to mindlessly watch “Real Housewives” to take me out of the negative thought vortex. I’m not going to eat ice cream just to get five minutes of happiness. I’m not going to have a drink. I’m not going to even listen to music.
I’m all Sarah Gisriel tonight, and wow, is this uncomfortable.
Without my vices I cannot deny the fact that I am clinically depressed. I cannot ignore the fact that one of the people I love the most on this earth can’t be in my life right now. I cannot dodge the fact that I’m scared to move somewhere new, but the thought of staying here makes me instinctually grab at my throat like the life is being squeezed out of me by an invisible hand.
I am pretty good at dodging my demons throughout the day and sticking to a washed-out anxiety-proof evening, but I’m wondering if perhaps, I need to feel the sting of my fears as they lick my limbs.
There’s a million quotes out there to tell you that life is a journey, never give up hope and it’s always darkest before the dawn, blah, blah, blah, but there’s nothing really that just says, “hey, sometimes you have to dive head first into everything that pains you and just calmly allow the white-hot terribleness of it all fill your lungs <3.”
If I don’t really allow myself to feel everything — good and bad — then I’m stuck being comfortably numb, which we already know from Pink Floyd, is no way to live at all.
If I don’t sit with myself honestly, I’m not allowing myself to enjoy how the sun brings out my freckles or the kickass golden origami crane that a Buddhist Monk made for me or the fact that I will be anchor training in a few weeks.
So, I’m here, holding on for dear life. I’ll let the memories and the frustrations ravage and rip right through me, but to be capable of feeling this much pains means I can give and receive a hell of a lot of love.
“Leave the radio playing all night, all night. Reciting the words ‘you were right.’
I got a full moon for a spotlight.” — Transit