Catharsis 0.019 (What you write when it rains and you’re a mild ombrophobe)

I’ve already set my alarms for tomorrow (later). On a usual Sunday night, this would mean that at this time, I am already asleep– and by this, it means I have pacified the storm that is my mind.

But today, I haven’t.

Today, I allowed all the stress and the negativity to take its toll. Today, I allowed myself to be consumed of the anxieties that were swimming around my head, following me like shadows that even the darkest nights can’t hide. I didn’t even put up a fight like I used to. I tried to recall the comforting lines “Often the goal is nearer than it seems to a faint and faltering man. Often the struggler has given up, when he might have captured the victor’s cup.” It didn’t sound convincing even to my own ears.

I have ran out of the positive things to tell myself. I am acknowledging my cynicism because what else is there to do? I no longer want to pretend that everything is going smoothly in my life when I know I’ve only been covering up the mess I’m in for the past months. I saw myself slipping through the cracks and I guess there’s no way out than facing it head on. Escaping one’s own reality does not work. I know it’s only a matter of time before I let the pretense down.

And so, with all honesty, I tell myself: I am not okay. I acknowledge the lapses; I acknowledge the relapses. And most importantly, I acknowledge that healing is not an instantaneous process. I acknowledge the lethargy of it all. That I should stop making myself believe on some healing I have not fully achieved but should never discredit that I also have, somehow, managed to get through all the chaos.

And maybe my life isn’t as perfect as I wish it would be at the moment, but I am thankful. Thankful for the trials because yet again, I feel alive. Yet again, I feel the immense challenge waiting to be surpassed. And yet again, I am reminded that being at your worst means there’s nowhere else to go but up.

And so today, I commit myself to the everyday struggles– for all strong walls shake, but never collapse.


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