I lie here scrolling through instagram. Every picture reminds me I’m not enough. I was never enough. I was supposed to graduate this year. Caps and gowns draped on people who I once walked alongside. But I swear they forgot me when I left. Every picture they share, my heart shatters a little bit more. Were those four years for nothing? Countless dollars thrown into a fire that left me feeling empty and broken. I try to feel grateful for the four years behind me but instead I feel angry and hurt because I wasn’t able to finish my degree. I always knew it was a false hope that I would succeed at something.
This year was filled with pain and hurt and the odd sprinkle of hope. It’s a wonder I made it through at all. My feet dragged on the ground. My body slumped under the weight of it all. I kept going. Head first or heart first? Who knows. Life has a funny way of making us want to keep going and quit at the same time. The seasons that come and go filled with new life and hope but also filled with death and fear.
For me, all seasons are hard. The year started off with me pleading with doctors to help me. Give me some kind of medication that will at the very least, lessen my desire to die. It seemed as though I was never sick enough to get help. They kept pushing it off over and over again with no reason. A confirmation that my life was worthless. I wasn’t worth their time, or energy, or resources. I had both low expectations and high expectations for these meds when I finally got them. I had been waiting for so long that I wanted them to work so badly but I knew that they would merely “take the edge off.” A reminder that this fight is purely on my own shoulders. My own burden to bear.
When summer came around, I was thrilled to take a step away from papers and exams. I was thrilled to be home with my mom and my cats. I dreamt for an enriching summer for months. But it too was hard. I worked a beautiful but emotionally draining job. Helping others feel noticed and cared for while I forgot to let others notice and care for me. You see, it’s not that simple to let others love you. I have excelled at pushing people away all of my life.
In Fall, plans kept changing. It seemed that every time I blinked, something was different. The place I ended up living was emotionally cold. Hidden in the basement alone was a horrible mistake. Nights got longer adding to the ever present darkness of my mind.
What was the point of getting out of bed if was going to get back in it in a few short hours?
What was the point of showering if I would be dirty again instantly?
What was the point of taking my meds if they didn’t help anyways?
What was the point of it all?
I hated being there yet I still felt so much betrayal and pain when it was decided that I should leave. I sobbed for hours. My body shook constantly because once again, my life was not worth anyone’s time.
When I got home, my days consisted of moving from the bed to the couch and back to the bed.
I questioned everything I knew or believed in. There is not a god. There is no such thing as hope. There is nothing of value in my life. I am nothing. I am simply wasted space.
So now I lie here, scrolling through Instagram with tears rolling down my cheeks. Imagining the life I could have lived or the person I could have been.
But who am I to reflect on the year and only see the things that went wrong? I’m sure something went right along the way, i just got to figure out how to see it.