Sunday, May 14, 2017

The First Day of Spring

I think I avoided writing a post in April. But I'm here now, writing about why.
The first day of Spring. The first day that T.S. Elliot marked as the day of horrid revelations: spring is not so beautiful. In fact, Winter is favorable, for the snow covers the death that killed Spring's once blooming joy.
Spring is the season I lost my family. It's the season I went to the hospital. It's also the season of my graduation. It's the season when, usually, I fall apart.
Not this time.

This time, I tripped and stumbled, but I did not let myself fall. Because I'm tired of that pain dominating how my life will feel during a certain season––we should never let pain have any power over us. Because in the end, we are stronger than pain ever was or ever will be.

I understand why some people are afraid to be alone; they're afraid to be alone with the thoughts and memories that haunt them. The thing is, those thoughts help us process the pain, our thoughts trigger the healing process of our wounds, and so if we never let ourselves think those thought or feel that pain, we will never start healing.

I try to remind myself of that whenever that immense weight crushes my rib cage to get to my heart and I think I might die. I try to remind myself of the impermanence of life's happenings, but in the moment sometimes all you can feel is what's in that moment and it seems like it will last forever.

People ask what it's like to love. What is real love? How do you know? And I tell them that you know it's real when you love them and you don't expect them to love you back but goddammit you love them anyway and would help them be with someone else it if made them happy. Real love is so silent it's deafening. Real love is a mother blaming herself as her child curses and beats against her while  she can't help but wonder what she did wrong because she's afraid that this child is unhappy because of her, and is hurting because of her. No, this is not the love where, as you may put it, people "stomp all over you." This love is when you do whatever it is you can to let that person know they are loved, even if they won't love you back. That does not mean you do not leave him when he hits you and slaps you around like you're nothing. This means that you leave him because it's what's better for him, and it's what's better for you. Yes, this love also applies to yourself. Because while you love others in this unconditional way, you must also love yourself. Too often, we forget that we are not God, we are not Jesus, we are not immortal. We forget that we're supposed to care for ourselves too.

You know that voice that tells you you are not good enough? Or the one that tells you that all this pain will never go away? Imagine that voice is coming from this little blue blob, and you tell that blue blob to shut the hell up, then kick it off your ankles. That creature is weighing you down and you don't need it in your life. And when it tries to come back, just keep walking. Keep going.

I finished my first year of college a couple of weeks ago, so I've been on summer break for a couple of weeks now.  I've been working to save up for a study abroad trip next summer, and I've also been reading and writing. As I do this, I realize that life doesn't give you breaks. Summer "break" isn't really a break, but that's not a bad thing. It's a break from school, not life. We're in a constant battle with ourselves, our environment, our relationships––everything. But that doesn't mean it all has to be bad. We live with so many beautiful, wonderful things. Friendships. Graduations. Weddings. Twenty-first birthdays. Baby showers. A new job. College acceptances. A trip to a new place. Bloomed flowers. A day of sun. A good night's sleep. A new season.

Spring is the season I've felt the most pain. But that cycle will fade. And I'm not alone, I never was. Neither are you.

Sincerely,

Alena

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