It has always made me happy to see people when they are in high spirits, distilling good vibes. An optimism that shines through, making them look more beautiful; the way they attract positive things to their lives, and everything seems to be going well for them; their dreams, finally within reach, arranging a reality that looks straight out from a fairy tale. I, myself, have been this person, one that talked extensively about manifesting. Right, now, I wish I still was, or was again. But I can’t.
The reasons are unknown to me. On a surface-level, everything seems to be going well. My life, my job, my health, my family, and my friends. There are underlying issues that have been bothering me for a while, making me wonder if, when and how I need to change them, but I had managed to keep them at bay, hidden, and under control.
Because I am that person who is always in control, who is always diplomatic, never shouts, never explodes – a little princess, as some would say. I made it a point to be that person from a young age, to embody the values that I thought the rightest. Somehow all I want to do right now is crying myself as much and as loud as I can.
Saying I am fine would be a lie. I know everyone around me thinks that I am doing good as always; they see me laughing, orchestrating plans and events, finding jokes on every situation, answering the calls of everyone who might need me. Business as usual. But the truth is, I do not feel that well. Anxiety has slowly taken a more relevant role in my days, and as much as I try to avoid it, complaints have been plaguing my words, in what feels like a true betrayal to my optimistic self.
Everything feels a little bit like betrayal.
Uncertainty: I have always longed for it a little bit, always speaking highly of the many opportunities the unknown brings. But in this position, I truly do not know how to harness them. I also do not know who to turn to. It seems like, whenever I bring myself to speak about the issue, I can only do it superficially, as I do not want to burden anyone with my problems, nor do I think anyone could understand them.
My morning pages, always a source of calm, of relief, of peace, can now do little to help me out. Especially when I cannot accept myself, not physically and not psychologically.
The ghosts of my failures, of my hurtful comparisons are haunting me once again. For every compliment I receive, a trigger erases every trace of content it could have brought. Me and the feelings of inadequacy, of imperfection, of not doing or being enough are at war once more.
Painfully, I must admit that even prayers seem elusive to me at this point. Like that direct line I seemed to have with God has been experiencing problems. The weight of my decisions or the lack thereof, torment me. All I want to do is sleep… or be in one of those movies in which, with just the blink of an eye, characters fast-forward into a future where everything is solved, and everything is fine.
Waiting seems like a better option. Waiting while I try to keep my life as it is, trying to improve myself to the best of my ability, every single day. But as I wait, I cannot keep on being dragged by the current that has been pushing me, as I feel too weak to do something right now.
Outside, it’s raining, and loud thunders had me spiraling. For a long time, I loved the rain, because it helped me feel something. But now that it condemns me to the walls of an apartment, it is driving me a little crazy.
I promise I am alright, though. I am just a little sad, and this is me acknowledging all my feelings, in their entirety.
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