I missed posting yesterday. I do my best to keep consistent, but sometimes things happen.
To be honest, I was struggling with what to write about. So much has gone on in my little life this past weekend, but none of it seemed right. There were no lessons to be learnt in it, and complaining about my pain on a blog that’s meant to support others going through their challenges seemed stupid. I do have a few drafts saved up that I could have mindlessly uploaded just to keep a schedule, but that didn’t seem right either.
No, for where I’m at right now, I needed something almost disgustingly authentic. I needed to have something written with my soul and drenched in my blood, not something that sounds nice simply because ‘Mondays have to be posting days.’ So I’m going to talk about something that’s really close to my heart right now.
I used to spend my whole life in anxiety. I lived in fear of what could happen. Every single day I was panicking about one thing or another, and the thought of the future not being as wonderful as I wanted it to be terrified me to no end.
The ironic part of that all, is that everything I feared came true. Every single thing. But the thing is, I’m still here. I spent all this time worrying about the future, but when it all panned out exactly how I didn’t want it to, I’m still okay.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking miserable. I burst into tears when someone does so much as to breathe, it seems. I’ve sobbed harder than I think I have in my entire life. I distract myself by playing video games for hours, keeping the sound low so I can marathon Netflix at the same time. One thing isn’t enough to keep me occupied, after all. Drowning out your pain really isn’t that easy.
There’s this phrase, and before you call me out as being a total geek, hear me out. Yes, I know it’s Japanese. I’ll explain it all in a second.
私わまだ ; Watashi wa mada ; I am still
Seems weird, right? ‘I am still?’ What kind of inspirational phrase is that?
Well see, in Japanese, you always have to end your sentence with a sentence ender. It’s just a proper grammar thing. This sentence, however, doesn’t have one. It’s incomplete. It’s unfinished. It’s not done yet – the resolution hasn’t occurred. See where this is going?
An incomplete ‘I am still,’ can mean anything. I’m still okay. I’m still fighting. I’m still going to make it through this. I’m still here.
I am still.
After everything I’ve been through. After anxiety, depression, abuse, abandonment, heart breaks, betrayals, loss, suicidal thoughts – I am still. After every single one of my fears came true, after I’ve watched my entire world crumble around me, and everything I had come to place my identity in dissolved into dust, I am still. After feeling misery that runs so deep, through your veins and into your blood – misery so terrible that you can’t imagine a human being could possibly feel worse – I am still.
It doesn’t really help. The pain is still there. It still hurts. I still feel like I’m being torn apart. But it’s a testament to who I was, who I am, and who I strive to be.
I’m still myself. I’m still breathing. I’m still alive. I’m still strong. I’m still brave. I’m still a conqueror.
I am still.
And if you’re sitting there right now, reading thoughts that I’ve had and getting a bit more of a look into who I am – you are still as well.
You will always be still, just as I will be.