I am not a hoarder of material goods, but I tend to hoard burdens, concerns, anxieties, fears, and grudges. A quick perusal of my previous posts will show you that I often depict myself as a laden down individual. Burdens abound and muscles are knotted. I am perpetually wound up.
That is until a month ago when I let things go.
It was as if a giant crane had taken ahold of me and began to tilt me until everything that I had tucked away was shaken out. Disappointment in my best friends was tossed aside. Worry about my post-graduation plans was chucked. Fear of leaving my comfort zone was flung aside. Obsession with my past pains was lobbed. Everything was ejected. I had remnants, but nothing was whole. I had to begin again. The task of collection was renewed.
I rekindled a friendship with someone who housed me when I moved out. I made up my mind to take a year off after graduation despite qualms of losing my edge as a grad school applicant. I spontaneously accepted an offer to study abroad in London. I counted my blessings. I let go.
And I felt lighter than ever before. I was happier than last semester at least.
Last semester, I took delight in sleeping. I could escape into darkness and absence. I actually wished to stay asleep forever. I sought to be gone.
Now I seek to be present for I am happy.
But please don’t mistake my smile as a constant. Sometimes, I will cry because I am lonely. I dwell on the what-ifs. Doubt creeps in again.
I feel myself winding up and easing into what I have always known and understood to be familiar to me– anxiety and depression.
Catching myself, I stiffen and force my body to relax. The distance between the familiar and unfamiliar widens. I am righting myself up.
I’m beginning again and I have only Him to thank.
This past week was hands down the best week of this year (and yes, I say that fully aware the year began only three months ago). I didn’t have to volunteer or work because the elementary kids were on spring break. I met with two of my favorite professors and felt like I finally achieved cool student-who-is-on-a-first-name-basis-with-her-professors status. The weather was beautiful enough for me to lie on the quad with my best friend. There was a used book sale (!!!) at Davis. I had free ice cream thanks to a Space Jam lovin’ friend. I’m back on social media as you could obviously tell from my torrent of posts. I finally ate at TOPO and had the most passionate conservation about race with my friends who I met by chance at convocation. I almost broke 100 when I went on bowling on Thursday night, which was followed by the ever so delicious Cook Out and a sleepover with the best girls that I know. And last but not least, I saw Sylvan Esso live. I jammed out with a pizza slice in one hand that I finally got after an hour of waiting in line. All in all, the week was great.
But I am not looking forward to the upcoming few weeks. Just thinking about it leaves me paralyzed with anxiety, stress, and worries. All I want to do is close my laptop, turn off my phone, and burrow under the covers until I get to go home.
Even writing this post is difficult because I cannot stop thinking about what I should be doing right now so I don’t fall behind. Or rather what I should be doing so I can catch up.
However, I took the time to write these words down so I could reflect and bask in the awesomeness that I experienced this past week. In the hopes that a few minutes of reminiscing would relieve the nightmare that I’m about to face…
I can already hear my mother telling me in her accented English, “You can do it!”
Thanks mom. I’ll do just that.
P.S. Kudos to you if the song “Wake Me Up When September Ends” started playing in your head when you read the title. Green Day would be proud.
Yak: “Why is it okay to stereotype men but whenever a woman is stereotype ‘stop judging women!'”
Comment: “Man. If women think they’re oppressed they must think black people are still slaves.”
I’ll leave this interaction for your viewing because I don’t think anything I can say will be greater than these words.
Tar Heels at its finest, folks.
“She scares the shit out of me” It was meant to be a whisper. But in a silent classroom, the words were heard by everyone near the foolish girl who clearly failed etiquette class and also the super human girl who can literally force yourself to excrete feces. I could feel my usually obnoxious and belly aching laugh bubbling up my throat. Thankfully, I caught myself before I, too, scared the class shitless with my roaring laughter.
The foolish girl amused me with her unfortunately timed comment because throughout the debate, she mocked and poked fun at the superhuman girl who was amazing in every aspect.
Eloquent. Concise. Witty. Intelligent. She rocked the debate and even the foolish girl knew it deep down somewhere in her artificial heart that she calls a soul.
I won’t apologize for my harsh words because the foolish girl was mean. And I sound childish for tattling on her but hey, there’s nothing wrong with being immature. You were handed the short end of the stick by life and it is up to you to mature. In the meantime, you can find me in the front of the classroom speaking with superhuman girl, instead of insulting her from the back of the classroom with your back turned to her.
I pity the foolish girl. She thought she won the imaginary battle of the wits because her friends laughed at her joke. She had succeeded in gaining the admiration of her peasants.
Unfortunately, her brain is still underdeveloped from all the alcohol consumed on school nights so please do not mind her much attention. Her thought processing is still that of a thirteen year old girl and thus, she failed to realize that cracking a joke at the expense of her classmate will not benefit her. Moreover, concealing one’s jealousy with cruel intentions will not last long.
I’m not worried about superhuman girl though. She is a total badass who will go off and achieve great feats. On the other hand, I am truly concerned for the foolish girl. There will come a day when her brain finishes developing and she will realize the depth of the hole that she dug for herself. I shake my head as I write about her because I cannot even imagine the rude awakening that awaits the foolish girl whose whispered jokes are reaching their expiration dates.