I’m sure most of you who read my blog regularly know I am prone to longterm breaks from writing, and you always graciously accept me with open arms when I return. It means the world to me.
This year has been difficult for all of us. We are experiencing a deadly pandemic, a civil war, blatant corruption by politicians, and the continuation of a centuries-long pattern of police brutality against citizens.
This has also been a year where I’ve been depressed so much for so long that it’s been harder and harder to keep my head above water. I was ill for almost two months. I was the victim of scam. A close friend, who was a major supporter of my blog, transitioned from this realm of existence. My twin sister moved out, so that constant support and love I felt from her isn’t as close as I’d been accustomed to. I got pulled into the whirlwind of someone being publicly held accountable for wrongdoings as they grappled for any kind of goodness and kindness to hold onto on their way down. Because of the pandemic I’ve had to halt going to therapy because, transparently, I can’t afford it. The prospect of looking for work during a pandemic is bleak because places either aren’t hiring or they aren’t hiring me.
I celebrated my twenty-sixth birthday on September 1st and spent the day marveling at my boldness to stick around through it all, to take the good with the bad, even when the bad far outweighs the good. There is still life in my body even when I think I have no more life to give.
Also…thank God for Animal Crossing!
But I’ve been tired. I’ve been weak. I’ve been afraid of being vulnerable, when I know vulnerability is the strength that unites us here. I’ve been afraid of people seeing what I’m going through, placing some kind of impossible expectation of perfection on myself. I’ve been downplaying my own struggles simply because others have it worse. I’ve been angry, sad, anxious and lonely. I’ve been afraid of being accused of over-sharing or revealing too much about myself as I go through the most raw, hurtful stages of my life.
After weeks of planning to write this post, I finally got the courage after speaking to a friend I consider family earlier today. He empathized with my not writing, but made me realize that not only is my voice important, it’s very, very missed by those who support me and believe in me. I am not ashamed to be who I am or to have gone through the things I have gone through, and I owe it to myself to continue to grow through it.
As always, I won’t say I won’t take a break this long again. I will never risk tainting the sacredness of this space because I want to churn out content—this will forever be the place where I am free to open my heart and use my words to articulate the innermost feelings of it, to reach to the very bottom of the depths there and bear my soul for the slim chance that it will help someone feel less alone in this lonely, exhausting world.
I love you. Thank you for sending me your love.