or, no longer feeling sorry for myself
The last five months have not been easy. It feels like every other corner I turn, there is some kind of unwanted change or rejection. Yes, I’m being dramatic; and yet, each time I feel like I’ve caught my breath, I’m hit with another wave and tumbled underwater once again.
Yesterday, I got some news at work that wasn’t quite what I was hoping for. One person I want to talk to about it, (the ex that will be referred to as “he” later on in this post), I can't; two parts of my life where I am shaken to the core.
Over the past week, and culminating yesterday, self-pity has tugged at me like a nasty hangnail. I can’t stop picking at it and yet to do so causes more pain. If I let myself, I could spiral, asking myself why I was not good enough, in so many ways; but that would be both false and unproductive. The only thing I can do is address how I feel, and move forward. And for me, that takes the form of writing.
Writing is a way for me to cope, to make sense of the various thoughts in my brain, to calm my anxieties before they get out of control. And so, in what likely won’t be the last time but will be for now, I put words to my thoughts in order to move forward — contributing to thousands of words I’ve written over the past few weeks. I have not yet decided how much of those, if any, I’ll share; they’re deeply personal, and often rambling, but through them you can see an arc of understanding, many arriving at similar points. So for now we’ll focus on that endpoint: how I’ve decided to let go, and live my life.
TL;DR: So what?
I let myself wallow in self-pity, in personal problems and work difficulties — but only to a point. And then, I stopped. After a certain point, it's not worth it. I know work has been a bit stressful, and a bit difficult but that hard work will always pay off. I know I can't take his indecisiveness as hope any longer; I have to take it as rejection. There's nothing else to say; there's nothing else to think about. At a certain point, I’ve thought all I can think.
And it all kinda sucks. But it's okay.
I’m being kind to myself, letting myself be sad when it hits me, reminding myself that I would rather be someone that feels this kind of pain than none at all (a blog post for another time); But I’m also not wallowing any longer. This will not consume me, and it is hardly a defining factor of who I am as an individual. I may not be to blame for how I feel now but I am responsible for how I feel moving forward. Happiness is a constant work in progress, as they say, and moments of difficulty are part of that, counterintuitive as that might seem.
I’m sad now — but so what?
Recognizing I don’t want to feel bad for myself any longer was instrumental in taking that first step up from this low point I’ve found myself in. Action is the way forward. Feeling bad does not actually hinder life; it is a part of life. ( 🧀🧀🧀) These things I was looking at don’t have to be rejections — they can be challenges. Other opportunities to prove myself. There’s so much else to focus on, and so much else to look forward to. I'm not going to spend any more time vying for the affection of someone that has no interest in returning it. I'm going to surround myself with people who know they want me in their lives, and who I want in mine. And I know when I come out of this on the other side, I’ll be a much stronger person.
As I told a friend yesterday, "I'll feel shitty until one day I don't, and it’ll all be fine." She said she was going to embroider a pillow for me with that on it. And that's not to say there are days where I won't feel shitty; the whole point, really, is I can only take it day by day.