I think that this past year, I’ve undergone immense trauma. Life milestones have gone unacknowledged, friends have become strangers, loved ones now only exist in my memories, and the person that I loved decided that they did not love me.
It’s like a fog. I’ve entered this fog many times. Trying to find my drive and creativity, I often got lost in the fog. I would search and scream to try and find my way out, but I was never successful. Once in a while, I would come to a clearing. My inspiration would come back, and I would feel the need to sit down and write. Once my hands hit my notebook, I was lost again. I was stuck again.
I think that this year was the first year of my life where I truly did not want to exist. I would never try to hurt myself; I just didn’t want to be on the planet anymore. I would have been happy on a spaceship, alone, drifting through the vast void. If NASA wanted someone to volunteer for a solo trip out into the nothingness, I would have given anything to embark on the mission. Nothing matters when home is behind you and all you have is yourself.
In 2021, I broke down. My body told me “no.” I was forced into choosing me for a goddamn change. You should know, this breakdown was happening in the fog. This human that was falling apart did so with no documentation. No words were written about the feelings I experienced. The only person that truly understands what I felt like is me, and there’s something beautiful about that. Family, friends, and health professionals will try to understand. They really will. They will just never know.
For months and months, I was a slob. I didn’t care about what I was eating, I didn’t shower often enough, and my gas tank was always on empty. I spent a lot of money, and honestly, I’d do it again. I had zero fucks left in me, and if I was going to embark on this mission from NASA, I might as well live in excess while I could.
Only recently have I felt like I could sit down and write something. It’s like I saw the sun again after months and months of seeing nothing but dark, dense fog. It’s warm again and I’m wearing a t-shirt and my favorite jeans outside in the yard. When I sit down, my brain is firing in every direction about things I want to say. I have so much to say, so much to write down and document in words.
I think that this year, I have seen what it truly means to come out of one of the darkest places of your life. I’ve seen myself be the happiest I’ve ever been. I’ve seen how my eyes can light up when I see the person I love. I’ve seen how happy I can be with my friends. Just spending time together and laughing like we’re in high school again. I’ve seen myself go from that to never wanting to see daylight ever again, let alone see friends of any kind.
Now, when I sit at my desk, I crack my fingers and begin writing. I write and I write, and I try to make sense of what I have felt. I try to put into words what my brain has stored. I can translate. I can write again.