Tag: Thoughts

identity crisis

michelleLeave a comment

My spirit is heavy.

Expectations and duties hold me down, 

I can’t seem to find the strength. 

Do they even belong to me? 

My foundation has never felt so weak 

With each step, another piece crumbles away

However, there is a beauty that is evolving, a newfound confidence

It assures me that I am going in the right direction,

-but it doesn’t help me carry the weight 

I am hopeful and as lonely as I have ever felt.

My desire to be understood keeps me going. 

I can only hope that I will be alright.

Who can I blame for my troubles? 

Who can I trust to paint the picture? 

I wonder in and out of conversations 

I only ask what can be answered. 

My silence is the only honest thing about me.

I can’t shake the pressure to remain small, so I struggle to communicate my new truth. 

This dead skin no longer fits me. 

Coming out for air is painful, at least I can breathe again 

At least I know where I am going

My self-portrait appears to be a blank canvas.

I wonder whose job it is to paint it.   

I now know what love is.

michelleLeave a comment

On my 24th birthday, my friends told me that they loved me. 

We have said the word love to each other before. I knew that I loved them, that they loved me.

But this time, I knew without a doubt how much my friends cared about me.

they didn’t even say the words, though.

This year has been tough. I often find myself just sitting and reflecting, still trying to process everything that happened over the past few months. I couldn’t believe it had only been 4 months. Deeply grieving, time was flying, and I was being dragged along with it.

Existing was hard, finding joy was harder.

But I was trying. That’s all I had in me, just try.

I’m not sure if I communicated this, I wondered if that was even possible.

My pain was unspeakable. I became it. 

I used to be scared that it showed. That the stench of my miserable life would remain even after I left a room. And the undertone of my discouraged world view was all that people would hear when I spoke. 

So, I decided to keep to myself. 

The fewer people who could smell me, the less there was proof that the pain was real. 

However, my fears then revealed themselves to be revelations to me. When people love you, I have now come to realize,

They notice.

I mean, I have, and they did. They may not say anything at first. All they might try to do is distract you from the sinking ship, attempting to offer you a break from the chaos; a gift of momentary ignorance, maybe in the form of a really bad joke. That momentary ignorance that allows you to catch your breath before you inevitably go back to the chaos. 

They may ask you about it, offer a lending hand, or a shoulder to cry on. 

The point is, they notice. 

My friends noticed. Maybe me telling them about some parts made them notice more, but they noticed and then, showed me that they loved me.

My 24th birthday honestly meant nothing to me. My childhood friend had passed away in January this year, so the concept of growing up without her did not interest me. 

I let my feelings be known. “Do not expect anything big, if at all.” 

The intention was to forget. To survive the weekend. Ignore the imposed survivor’s guilt.

I tried to ignore the tiniest part of me, the deviant that wondered maybe we should celebrate? It questioned why we would cross the finish line with our heads down. 

I entertained the thought. 

However, my fatigue was my strongest opponent, and boooyyy I was exhausted. I thought that there was only a tiny piece of me competing against it.

I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone. 

They offered me a weekend of stillness. When the ongoing war was reaching its climax. When my fatigue had gained an ally, when I felt so out of control and alone. They anchored my sinking ship, they granted me the understanding and privacy of my vulnerability, and supported me through it. They simply just showed up. Not passively, with intention, they fought hard to celebrate me.

This was the greatest act of love I have ever received and the most precious gift. It is a moment that pains me but also grounds me. They reminded me that I was loved, that their love for me was not dependent on how I showed up. They carried me into this new year of life. I wonder if they knew that I was kicking and screaming. They were with me from when the clock struck midnight to when it ended. 

They showed me that they loved me. I felt loved, but more importantly, I felt considered.

Sonder

michelleLeave a comment

One of my favourite reminders of my humanity goes like this:

The moment when I just observe.

Those moments when there is nothing in my head, in that silence, I am able to remember where I am. 

The silence allows me to hear people,

As they speak to each other, as they speak through phones, as they take up space in the world

I am only granted snippets, out-of-context moments of their day, afternoon, or evening.

They are talking about something to someone. 

But it’s not to me, it has nothing to do with me. They pass me by, focused on their way to somewhere.

I am aware that I’m not a very significant part (if at all) to their story, I know this just as well as I know that we exist in the same space and moment in time. 

This doesn’t make me insignificant, I realize, it just means that I am sharing.

We all are 

We share this space, feelings, milestones, and hardships, even as we navigate through life, sometimes alone. 

I fear that this may also sound quite cheesy, I know, because it is.

But cheesy never meant untrue. And, I am not a liar.

It’s in these moments that the world doesn’t seem so small, so dire, so urgent. It reminds me that there was a before and there will be an after.

It allows the room to stop spinning.

It grants me the ultimate blessing;

To listen and to hear things with clarity.

No whispers, no other thoughts. True and doubtless.

In those moments, I see clearly, 

Perspective shifts, and I begin to understand.

I breathe deeply

My head rests, shoulders relaxed, free again.

I am sharing 

That means I am not alone.

Loneliness can not envelop me. I know that gravity will not allow me to just fly away, even when I feel like I am, drifting off.

I believe they call this moment: Sonder.

As I step out of myself, as I face outwards, as I observe

I am finally able to empathize with myself, the same way I empathize with others.

Non-judgmental but, more importantly, kind.

It’s in these moments that I find peace, and then, I am happy to be alive.

Pretty people die, too.

michelleLeave a comment

Did you know that? That pretty people died, too?

We live in a society. A society hellbent on dividing but not conquering. We live in a time where the perceived sum total of a person is based on what category they fit into and what box they tick. There is an emphasis on all this separation and identification even though, at the very end, no one is exempt from the hand of life and, ultimately, death.

These man-made pedestals do much for the living and nothing for the dead.

And even the most powerful, influential, and beautiful, they, too, remain at the mercy of life itself.

In a world that thrives off on separation and distinction. In a world with occupants that continuously seek to push an agenda that ties our worth, our dignity, and the importance of life itself, based on its ability to meet criteria. Criteria that those who perpetuate don’t and can’t meet themselves,

I urge you to remind yourself that pretty people die, too.

And a statement like this can imply a wealth of ignorance. I am here to inform you that I know the world that we live in (- or at least I am starting to). I see how these categories and divisions create a perceived sense of power and ability to determine another’s worth. This is why many march, many demand, and some ultimately have to beg that other person someone can see beyond the division, beyond the categories. 

It is why empathy is reserved for those who can actualize it as opposed to a universally taught standard.

Despite this, despite all of this, pretty people still die, too. 

Everyone does. A moment, a second, a decision can be the only line separating the living and the dead. We know this, but we can and probably will ignore it. Ignore how simple and how fragile, how precious, human life is.

And so, we continue to polish the pedestals, rejecting those that do not meet the requirements of the pedestal. While others will dehumanize those standing on the pedestals, subjecting them to fates, few understand and speak about. 

A few will fight against the pedestals, and fewer will see actual change.

And the train will keep going. And everyone, including the pretty people, will die. And we will all wonder what the point was and why the pedestals even existed,

And then, slowly but surely, the cycle will continue. 

And when another pretty person dies, we will stand in shock because we will be reminded that pretty people die, too.