It’s terrifying to think my life is almost entirely dependent on me. I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing. I’m convinced most of the time that whatever it is I am doing, I’m somehow failing. I want to promise myself that someday I’ll take a deep breath and do it anyway. I’ll stop hiding and I’ll live, taking every ounce of my fear with me, but doing it anyway.
The truth is though, it’s just what I tell myself to make the hiding out okay for now. I’m so ashamed of the little I do somedays. Of how I stay in this house, watch really awful TV, eat junk food, and spend my day in my pjs. I judge myself and shame myself for doing exactly what I wanted to do. Actually, I judge myself and shame myself because it’s what I wanted to do.
It doesn’t help that on days like this, there is a sometimes a moment when my loneliness literally takes my breath away. The pain is so acute, so exquisitely sharp, that I gasp. And after I cry for a little while, I start to tell myself that if I lived my life differently, maybe I wouldn’t be so alone in it. Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I still would.
I don’t know how to do this. How to live. I am so full of fear and doubt. I am so scared and insecure. I am fumbling in the dark, calling up every bit of hope and courage I can to keep my feet moving forward. Sometimes, sometimes it hurts so much, and I wonder for how long a person can do this. I wonder how long I can do it. At the worst of times, when my heart is breaking, and I’m tired of having to hold myself together or comfort myself as I fall apart, I wonder this.
Then, I try to imagine living any other way, and I can’t. This is who and how I am. More, this is the person I want to be. This is the journey I choose, and I will often feel lost on it because no one else has ever walked it before. It’s okay. It’s okay that I’m scared and that I hide. It’s okay that I so often feel insecure and doubtful. If I were seeing it objectively, I would say all of that is to be expected. Of course, I hate that it is because it feels so god damn awful. I wish it could be some other way.
I have chosen to find my own way. This is what it means to do just that. I don’t know why I ever thought it would be easy. Or that it should be easier. I don’t know why I ever thought the fact that it wasn’t, meant there was something wrong with me. I don’t know why I held so tight to that lie for so long.
I am who I am meant to be. Exactly like this. Tear stained and weary. This is the life I choose. And I love myself more for it. Sometimes, I hate myself for it too.