This blog post has perhaps the most precise title I've ever come up with, yet it also required the most bravery to write: indeed, I have hit rock bottom, and I haven't been able to climb out.
A few months back, the weather was extremely cold and windy, causing my umbrella to flip inside out and eventually break.
Coming to terms with this reality has been difficult, especially when I have been such a positive person my entire life. I am always trying to see the good, and even though my speech turns grim sometimes, I do retain some of that core belief that after the turmoil everything will be alright, that bad months don't last forever, that there is a rainbow after every storm, and that I will come back a stronger version of myself after this. But I would be lying if I didn't say that the act of remaining optimistic gets a little bit harder every day. Especially when you feel like you are doing the right thing and keeping things under control but day after day nothing really changes.
I go through the motions constantly, and every week, my mood can vary radically. In some I am actively romanticizing life, enjoying the in-between, feeling like I want to be social, meet new people, and take over the world. But other weeks, the pain of it all is too much, the pain of the heartbreak, of not having certainty in any way, of finding myself in precarious conditions, and I feel like I want to cry my eyes out and stay in bed forever.
Some weeks it's like my brain reboots because it can't worry any longer. Other days I find myself questioning if effort and results are ever directly proportional. In others I wonder if I have bad karma, even when I have tried to uphold myself to the highest standards of goodness, if not perfection, carefully and willingly putting others before me. In others, I have truly questioned notions of good vs. evil, and the belief I sang so many times out of Jason Mraz's song: "leap and the net will appear." And while the answer is yes, there is always a net, mine has been a fragile one.
Through this attempt at being honest, at being real, at being authentic, I want to take a moment to thank God for the things that have kept me sane and renewed my strength to keep going:
The unwavering support of my friends who have hosted me, fed me, and heard me.
Daily calls from my parents, offering the help I will always be too proud to take.
Weekly therapy sessions that, despite the tears, remind me I am on the right track.
Writing, working out, and practicing French and Italian every day.
Music and its magical healing power (I am ever thankful for Ermal Meta and his songs, the soundtrack of my heartbreak).
Podcasts that make me feel heard and guided.
The tiny Bible that I found a week ago and that has slowly lured me back into praying with a willing heart.
And I also want to write about the findings of these last four months:
I already feel like a more authentic and open version of myself that is not scared of speaking her mind or wearing her heart on her sleeve, especially when it comes to expressing and sharing pain.
I have had to let go of the ideal of perfection that helped me put myself in such high regard and that, for long, was the only thing that I thought made me worthy of receiving love.
I have had to step out of my comfort zone in radical ways, which has led me to become more resourceful.
Even though it is uncomfortable, and certainly not the way I expected it to be, there has been a net holding me, and I have received exactly what I have needed, lacking nothing even in adverse conditions.
All of the above has even made me physically stronger, but undoubtedly, my heart is the muscle I have been training the most.
All I can say is I cannot wait to look back on this post when it is a memory and give myself a hug (probably with tears of joy, I am not going to lie), for getting out of what has been, up to this point, the toughest one yet.
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