I’m going through some stress in my life so if I am not online as much right now, it’s because I’m dealing with it. It’s taken me a while to try put together enough of a coherent thought, because it’s simpler to try distract myself with other things. I will be fine; eventually.
Yesterday I received some news that was something I’d been bracing for, but hoped I wouldn’t hear. And even if I had prepared myself for the possibility that this might happen, I was still caught off guard. The world, which had finally started to seem a bit steadier, seemed to shake under my feet once more.
That sliver of hope, gone again.
It’s never something I can control, of course; it’s just how capricious my life seems to be. It was nice, to dream a while – but reality is harsh and cruel – when will I learn that the brightness heralds sharp blades of pain?
I’ll bleed, hurt, and add new scars. What else are you supposed to do?
Someone asked me yesterday, how I was able to deal with my losses – losses that have driven others to suicide – and I shrugged, saying “What else can you do?” Because that’s the truth. You can pick yourself up again and try again, keep moving forward –
-or you can curl up and die.
I find that it’s more than that now though. I have no words to describe honestly how I feel right now, and the ones I have seem pithy – numb, stressed, worried for the future – so I won’t try. It doesn’t feel accurate.
I find that despite the setbacks in many plans for the future this news gives me, I find myself assessing now, ‘what can I do? What can I pick up and still use?’ Already I find myself slowly bracing myself once more against the shards of broken dreams, hopes and wishes, bracing myself to push myself upright again.
I can’t lie. I worry about the future. It’s hard to convince myself it’s not going to be harder from now on, harder to convince myself that it’ll be okay, we’ll scrape by somehow, even if I haven’t got the faintest idea how I’ll manage that.
They say time heals all wounds, but I have to say, what it does is give you perspective and distance from the hurts. You never really heal; the scars pinch and hurt, and occasionally bleed. In the meantime, you just have to survive one day at a time.
People say I have such strength. I’m not sure about that. I just try to survive one day at a time, handle one problem at a time. What else can I do? What else is anyone else supposed to be able to do?
I don’t want to curl up, give up and die – metaphorically or otherwise. But sometimes, I wish life would just… let me rest.
Realistically though – and I’m a veteran of realism treating me like a chew toy – you just gotta adapt. Just gotta push forward, keep going.
The alternative is not something I want to contemplate.
I’ll be fine. It’ll be okay. I know it will be.