Maybe the reason I write is because writing is part of my purpose, part of some greater plan. I don’t know. I just know I’m meant to contribute to the world through my words, and I just hope that one little thing I say, whether it was something I said last year or if it’s something in one of my future posts… I just hope that I can inspire you, even if it is only a little bit. We live in a world that is full of inspiration, and sometimes, we find it when we least expect it.
Here’s where I’m beginning: I’m done waiting. Waiting to be heard, waiting to convince myself that I am being heard instead of simply believing it. I’m done feeling like I’m not good enough, like my writing isn’t good enough, like I will not be good enough ten years from now, or that I’m simply so broken, so far beyond repair. I’m done lying to myself, telling myself that things are worse than they are or that there’s a chance that things won’t be okay, because in the end, they always will be. I’m done. I’m done believing that I don’t have the energy to try, the willingness to move forward. I’m done being stuck in the past. Instead, I’m ready. Finally, and I mean it.
I feel as though in every post, I take time reflecting on the past. Maybe I say, “throughout the past few weeks, things have felt (insert potentially tumultuous or otherwise brutally optimistic descriptive filler-word here).” But things are far from simple. I suppose since then I’ve realized simple words just can’t capture the meaning of everything… but the most a writer can do is try.
Things changed for me back in August (although I had been struggling before then) when my grandmother passed away, when I lost a piece of the essence of who I am… but in reality, I merely gained an angel, and my essence can only grow. Regardless, It was the first time I realized I wouldn’t hear Sicilian being spoken at home anymore. It was the first time I had lost someone who had been a figure in my life from the time I was born. It was the first time I experienced the funeral routine from the family-of-the-loved-one’s perspective… and it happened a week before I moved away from home, to a new city, to begin a new journey called college.
And so I brought the pain with me. I brought the pain of loss, a pain that I still have yet to fully experience. I still feel numb. I still want to buy my Nonna her birthday present. Even now, I feel like my life has changed so much to the point that I’m living some second life, separate from the life I knew up until that one pivotal point of my Nonna’s passing. Throughout the past couple of months, I have tried to bring myself to write, but I couldn’t. Every time I opened my blog, I attempted to think, and then I froze. I convinced myself the timing wasn’t right, or that I didn’t have anything to say, or something else, something that always seemed valid.
Well, in addition to me witnessing one drastic transition from life on earth into life beyond that which we know, my own life transformed in what felt like an instant. My living quarters changed. My sleep schedule changed. My church schedule changed. My ability to do laundry improved. The air I breathe even became different. Little by little, all of these things accumulated. At first, I was overwhelmed with a sense of excitable joy, a nervous energy that drove me into absolute happiness. Now I feel as though this was some sort of illusion, a way of coping with everything, because soon after, I crashed.
I plummeted, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. I realized how much things had changed, and I felt a depressing loss of identity. I thought that I had left my essence back in my hometown, back at all of the places I used to visit and the activities in which I participated. My feelings of anxiety and depression swallowed me, and I began to drown in my own emotion. At first, I was able to tread water, until I reached the point that I convinced myself I couldn’t swim anymore. Then, my emotions took over. The crying, the panic attacks, the desire to avoid any sort of pressure-filled situation, the fluctuation between sharing my problems with absolutely everyone and then deciding that no one else needed to know… everything felt like chaos.
Now, I’m healing from the pain that life brings, and I can finally say that I am okay. I am hopeful about my future, and I am learning what it means to practice the art of acceptance. I suppose this is also one of the first times in my life where 1) I’ve had the maturity to understand the concept of self-worth, beyond simply “feeling good about myself” and 2) I’ve realized that I am sufficient. Regardless of my grades, my titles, my labels, my activities, my resume, my writing, my appearance, or ANYTHING… I am sufficient. With this sufficiency comes the ability to handle whatever challenges come my way from this point on. I’ll never lose faith.
I am ready. I am ready to see the world for what it is. I am ready to be defined by my essence rather than my feelings of anxiety and depression. I am ready to live each moment, immersed in its goodness, recognizing that life is profound, even in moments of great pain, hardship, and doubt.
Acknowledging the crosses that you bear is a beautiful and inspiring act within itself. You are sufficient. You are strong. You are capable of so much, probably more than you realize. Please remember it.
Thank you for reading. I’m happy to be back.