January 4, 2018
My broken pieces shattered on the floor
Porcelain cracked will only last so long before it breaks
Losing the trip to Spain, not returning back to school this semester, it is like losing a loved one
What do I do?
My whole entire body is crying, sobbing
The whole world just a bunch of scars
Camouflaged by a sky full of stars
You took me in and sheltered me
Blindly, I let you tell me who I’d be
Now I’m buried deep beneath the sea
Unable to see the stars, surrounded by my world of scars
They told me to reach for the stars
I did, but there were only scars.
January 6, 2018
And now I am here again
Demoted to the back of the car
Watching helplessly as life passes by
It’s been eight years, eight stolen years
You tell me I haven’t, but I have
I’ve lost everything, I’m so stupid
I’m so mad at myself, I jeopardized everything
As I’m thrown back to square one
Locked up inside my mind
Watching and listening to other people’s lives
Idolizing, dreaming, wishing, waiting patiently
But I guess some people like me are just hopeless dreamers
I read these two poems I wrote a few months ago and I want to cry. When I read them I can see and feel as clear as day the pain and hopelessness I was feeling as my pen scribbled across the pages of my notebook. Today was a very hard day for me. I was low on a couple night’s sleep and found my head all foggy and discombobulated. Old intrusive eating disorder, self loathing and loneliness thoughts plagued my tired mind. The most confusing part of it all is that nothing bad happened. But that’s the thing sometimes we feel a certain way for no particular reason. But a bad day does not mean I’m where I was on the days I wrote these two poems.
I know even on the hard days I’m not in the same space as a few months ago. It hurts to fathom such pain, but that pain brought me to where I am today. It brought closer to recovery, brought me a stronger sense of self, a beautiful, confident glow, acceptance, appreciation. I’m reminded on a down day like today of how much I have to lose. I’m reminded how much I would be sacrificing, throwing away if I let a natural hard day be a sentence back to hell. Bad days are uncomfortable, but it’s important to take comfort that they don’t last forever.
Tonight I sit at my kitchen table. Writing this post brings me clarity, calmness and ease. A mug of hot cinnamon tea beside me, today was not a step backwards, wasn’t a point on my journey in which I turned around, it’s just a little bump in the road. Everyone has them. It would probably be real weird if I didn’t have off days, if I sometimes had days where I felt off. These aren’t necessarily enjoyable days, but that doesn’t mean a bad day, even a bad week means that never again there won’t be another enjoyable one. So is it okay not the be okay? This may be an answer that is hard to sit with, one that is hard to accept, but yes it is okay not to be okay.