Where life stands: Stages

It’s Tina.
At the beginning of this month I wrote on my calendar, Whatever I make of it, in the hopes that I would do great things in the weeks to come. As I wrote X’s over those words as the month is almost at an end a wave of melancholia came over me. Individually the days had dragged on and most of them were almost painful. But collectively they were gone in the blink of an eye.

I barely left my house, or my mind for that matter.I’ve been emotionally detached from the world. Stuck behind the glass of distaste for reality. My headphones have become an extention of my body. Blocking out the noise of the world, or the silence of it, it seems I can’t stand either. And drowning my own thoughts in the rhythm.
In early June I took a trip. I felt a new found freedom that weekend. I also learned a few things about what growing up.
The minute I set foot on the threshold on my arrival home and felt the heat of the thick summer air it was like I was suffocating. Everything had gone back. It was all the same. Everyday. Every week. A series of scenes that I’d lived out my entire life. Nothing had changed. Why did I expect it to? Maybe because I marked that trip as the start of my life as an independent, but it didn’t really work out that way.
It’s hard to live like that, for me at least.  Going through the motions in solitude. Feeling in solitude because the souls around you don’t take notice or understand. Their conversations like sandpaper on my skin.
It’s hard for me to see the point of doing things when I have no direct consequence, and when you’re alone there aren’t any.
I was restless at first, I couldn’t focus on any one thing for more than two minutes. I was bursting with energy. I’d pace around my house, both inside and out. Work out, clean, cook, school, read, watch television, write, nothing helped. I felt trapped inside my form. I just wanted to scream out.

That’s passed. I entered a new stage.

It was a strange happy, one that gets a question mark. Little things triggered tears.  For instance I was driving while listening to a kpop song; the rapper’s part came on and I started to tear up because I thought his voice was so beautiful. That happened a few other times with in similar circumstances. Things I found beautiful brought out the water works. I constantly laughed and smiled at funny things in my head or at nothing at all. There were things I was joyous about. One was the thought of my friends, some old, one new. How being around them didn’t make me feel small, they actually make me feel free. That was the feeling I had forgotten friendship was supposed to feel like. But remembering that they’re far from me triggered something.
Stage three.

Limp and aching.

Aspects of the first two are intertwined in this one. There was one key difference, though. I could focus, but the energy was not there. It was like gravity had zoned in on me and was having its fun. Extra weight had been added to every inch of me.
I wanted to pull a blanket over me and never leave my room. I’d lay on my floor playing the same songs over again. Random little things trigger tears. Tones, memories, songs. Sometimes happy, sometimes painful.
I wasn’t numb, in fact it was the opposite, I felt everything. A colorful canvas of every emotion with one that was the center of the picture. Sadness. Deeply rooted in my chest.

This has passed, for now. I’m in new state of optimism and joy. But unlike the “happiness” I had felt a few weeks ago, this feeling is not the trickery of my brain to mask my pain. I really am happy at this moment in life. But I have the feeling I will go through the stages again soon enough.
It’s not something I have control over. My emotions are fleeting, they leave when they please and come when they are not called. Long have I not accepted what they were telling me or how I had felt, but I’m learning to now. Even if they don’t stay long, it doesn’t mean they weren’t valid. I don’t think I could ever “fix” this. To be one thing all around, I would hate that. The ability to feel this life so deeply, I wouldn’t trade it for dry eyes.

(I haven’t written in so long, but with 99% of my lovely peers living apart from me I’ve decided to write on here more.)


2 thoughts on “Where life stands: Stages

  1. I’ve been having those moments. Moments of pure bliss then on the verge of tears; I saw this little girl with dark long hair and bangs and she reminded me of you when you were about five years old. She brought tears to my eyes. Someone’s voice. The melody of a song. The sounds of the birds outside, all moments that remind me of home. Then, I become strangely aware of gravity.


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