I’m sitting on the floor, and tears are falling down. I couldn’t stand on my feet anymore, suddenly. Sometimes, this heaviness all around me is too strong. My body is weak. It’s like melting from inside. But I know it’s not meant to last. At least I can write here. It’s one of the rare places that makes me feel safe these days.
I feel like I should do something. Or be someone. But how does someone start to exist when there’s nothing left of them? When their soul has been ripped away. I try to be careful with self-fulfilling prophecies. Yet it doesn’t feel like I’d be allowed to think about having a future. I’m tied to the past. I can’t let it go. It’s just always here, all the time, like a shadow. And now I’m stuck in the present with a constant flow of stressful things to deal with.
I know this will pass. Like always. Until it happens again.
Sitting on the ground. Crying, hurting. Getting back on my feet, walking. Repeat.
What a life.
It feels like I’ve been on the floor a thousand times. Yet it still fascinates me to see how fast I can end in this position. No matter how good I was the second before. World seems to be unreal from that place. It looks more simple, less stressful. But I don’t want to move yet. I need to be outside of this reality, of myself, for a few minutes again. Just a few minutes to recharge.
I wonder why there’s always something happening, some bad news coming from nowhere. I don’t believe in reincarnation, but sometimes I keep thinking about what I could have done in an other life to deserve all of this. What kind of monster I could have been.
This moment is not comfortable. But I’d like to think that I’m sitting and writing for a reason. It’s time to be honest with myself. This week has been stressful.
My mom was missing for 3 days. I only had some news from my dad a couple of hours ago. She’s okay now. But she was gone, don’t even know where. She already did that before, because of her mental health issues. I’ve been worried and pissed for the past few days. At her for her behavior. At myself for being worried. I wish I’d be able not to care about her anymore, not to love her anymore. But I can’t. I don’t chose to love her. I do it anyway. Despite the amount of times she hurt me and our entire family.
The perspective of having to go to my parents home, to drive for 7 hours and support my dad has been shaking me. I’ve been stressed just to think about having to sleep there and being surrounded by so many bad memories. I’m processing. Slowly. I’m trying to let that stress go away. But it’s exhausting to feel like everything is a potential threat to me.
I’m gonna need to find a job sooner than I expected. The owner of the apartment I’m living in wants to put it for sale at the end of summer. It means I’m gonna have to see my husband too. But the last time we saw each other it didn’t go well. I guess the question of living together again or not will be asked. I don’t know what I want. But I don’t feel ready to work again. To spend time to look after a job, go to job interviews… yet it doesn’t sound like I’m gonna have a choice.
There is this enveloppe waiting on my desk to be open. It’s the results of my last medical checkup. It’s been waiting for a couple of days. It says if my cancer is back or not. And as I can’t rely on my physical sensations and health to guess if I’m getting better, the idea of opening this letter is scary to me. I’m certainly afraid for nothing. I should wait to see my doctor for this. But I’ve not been able to schedule an appointment with them yet.
It seems that my head is full of memories when I’m stressed. Full of painful emotions. And it’s paralyzing.
I’m grieving the person I could have been if life had been different. I’m reflecting on my past. Feeling it.
I just need a few more minutes.
It will pass. Nothing to worry about.
To whoever read this to that point: know that you are loved.