Last night, I had a moment. The kind of moment I haven’t had in a long time, a moment I’ve missed having. The Boyfriend and I had gone to bed, he was snoring next to me. And despite having taken my sleeping pill, I was wide awake. All I could think about was how much I wanted to be back in New York City. Not how much I want to go back, but how badly I wanted to be back there at that very exact moment. Wandering the streets, figuring things out as we went, deciding on one thing and then changing our minds as we stumbled across new things on our way to our original destination.
I found myself sneaking out of bed and heading to my computer. I wasn’t sure what was going to come out, but I opened my laptop, pulled up a Word document, and typed.
On the streets of New York
Thing that would be
Now, I’ve never claimed to be a poet, so I’m not trying to say that this is anything groundbreaking. But for me, and for what I’m experiencing at the moment, this is groundbreaking. This is the first creative thing I’ve written in over a year. I didn’t force it, like I’ve been forcing my “book.” It just came out. Fingers on the keys, eyes closed, and this is what came out. It was a rather beautiful moment.
And what came out got me thinking. About getting lost. And losing yourself. Which is essentially what I’m going through right now. The Boyfriend told me a week ago that he just wanted me back. And it really drove home the point that over the course of the last eight weeks, I have disappeared, become lost in a sea of work, stress, obsession with perfection. And I feel like I am currently going through the five emotions listed above.
Last week was terrible. I broke down. I broke. I don’t know that I have ever felt so shattered before. And so trapped. To be told I was depressed, though comforting in the fact that my feelings were validated, was also terrifying because I don’t know where to go from here.
Breaking down is traumatic. It was traumatic for me, and I know it’s been traumatic for those around me watching it happen. I feel helpless, and as someone who is a worrier afraid of disappointing people… Helplessness just adds to the worry and the fear. It has also been traumatic assessing the sources of my breakdown. I’m sure I’ve narrowed it down, but I’m afraid of what that might mean and the changes it might bring.
As for the final three… I’m looking forward to the exhilarating and liberating feelings of building myself back up, putting pieces back in order. Just like getting lost in a strange city, I know this is going to be scary, but it’s sure to introduce me new and exciting things. I’m hoping to learn new things about myself, about the people I love, about my interests and passions, just learn new things in general. And this entire journey, I can already tell, is going to be cathartic. I can feel the emotions flowing through my fingers as I write, something I haven’t felt in a long time. There will be a lot of tears (and already have been), more laughter than there has been in a long time, and more love than I deserve.
As scared as I am right now, being in the early stages of being lost, I know I have a lot to look forward to.