The fog lingers still, but it’s brought a different feeling with it this time around.
I have never woken up wanting to crawl back under the covers this badly before. I’m a person with a large personality. Picking myself up after a harsh beating of any sort? Usually not a problem. I have a pretty good level of self-confidence on any given day, but it was…so rough. I hit my alarm several times, even turned it off so when I dozed back into sleep, I wouldn’t have something to wake me up. The only reason I would wake up would be if I chose to in some way shape or form.
And I did. It was like walking with sand bags tied to my ankles all morning. What has gotten into me? Normally, I can put on a song, look at a picture, read a passage from any book just lying around and I’ll find the encouragement to continue on through the piss and the rain. Not today.
I tried smiling at myself in the mirror, and it resonating falsehood. I can’t smile. Not here. Not now.
But what’s the tragedy? Not having a plan for life after May 13th, the impending day of when my real life begins and my Academy life ends? If that is the underlying current here, I am going to call myself pathetic. It’s not that I don’t have a plan. I do. It may not be the ideal plan I had for myself when I first stepped foot on this campus.
This is most certainly not where I saw myself five years ago.
On the flip side, I wouldn’t give up any of the experiences I’ve had over that course of time. It’s a trying time, no one is doubting that. Head up, right? It’s just hard grasping everything that’s going to happen in the next 2 months.
I don’t feel like an adult. I don’t feel like I should be making adult decisions. I don’t feel like I should be able to live on my own. Where is all this confusion coming from? I’m supposed to be happy, independent, strong-willed, and full of bubbling sunshine!
Ha, now that is a thought that just brought smile to my lips. For the first time since I opened my eyes this morning.
“I think of myself as thirty-two. But when I was thirty-two, I felt a hundred.”
I’m very much in understanding of these words, Beatrice Wood, the Mama of Dada. This is what she said when she turned a hundred years old.
When you first step foot into your dorm room for the first time, piles of bags at your feet, and you stare into this empty, sterile room. You think, “This is the start of the rest of my life.” And it is, in a way.
Yet, here I am once again, starting at my apartment bedroom, my posters hung on the wall, clothes strewn across the back of my desk chair, piles of books and magazines and papers placed around the room so I have a clear walking path. I look into this room, and think almost the same thing. Except, now there’s a cloud in the back of my mind, saying “I hope this isn’t the rest of my life.”
But what do I have to look forward to?
Yes, I am wallowing. I’ve hit a ditch in my progress. The thought of the work I need to put into my job search in the upcoming weeks is a little daunting. In fact, I know how much effort I put into these things and it’s not a simple hour-long process. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have school work and other obligations sucking the air out of my lungs with every step, but hey, that’s life.
What can you do other than bitch and moan about the things making you angry at any given moment?
I could pour myself a drink, be at work in the next 20 minutes absolutely buzzed off my bottom, and see how things play out. But, that would be me heading towards rock bottom and there’s no reason why I should be near rock bottom. I should simply be on the decline, ready to rebound.
Watch. Tomorrow morning I will be so full of energy and zest for life I will annoy every single living being I encounter.
Someone just tell me to shut up already.
Please. I’m actually begging you to slap me, shake me around a little bit, and tell me my life is not even close to being labeled awful.
**I’d like to make a note right now**
I wrote the prior text before heading to my work shift which ended at 9:30 pm. I am now finishing up this post after consuming a huge, nasty burger and an extra side helping of fries. Currently, I’m staring down a box of triple deck oreos…both chocolate and vanilla creams sandwiched between the cookie pieces. They are going to be the death of me.
I’m not kidding.
My stomach already feels like it’s going to burst. Probably because of the deluxe burger I wolfed down about an hour ago. But, boy oh boy, it was delicious. I’ll pay for it tomorrow. I’m sure of it.
Anyways, I’ve allowed this day of self-pity to consume me, and I already feel myself starting to rise. Or it could be the gas beginning to build from this grease fest I annihilated. Either way, I’ll be better off when the sun comes up and a new day starts.
The Force is amazing like that. The important thing to remember through of all this…the Force is always with us. Even when we swear we’re completely alone in the world, it’s over our shoulder, whispering in our ear to keep going. It’s what it did for me. I thought I was heading down the dark side of the tunnel, but I got myself up, showered and out the door (which was something I *did not* want to do.)
But, here I am. Ready for the next day.
May the Force be with you all.