I feel like I’m always bombarded by authors who write about the worst circumstances you could think of, their husband dies unexpectedly, they lost everything they have, their life goes nothing as planned, yet they always persevere. It’s a...
I feel like I’m always bombarded by authors who write about the worst circumstances you could think of, their husband dies unexpectedly, they lost everything they have, their life goes nothing as planned, yet they always persevere. It’s a happy story about their success and their triumph. The reader is always left thinking “how does this person find joy and success in their life after all of that?”
Call me crazy but I always wonder what happens in the middle when that person is absolutely brought to their knees in devastation, contemplating how to go on and live. I don’t think we talk about that messy middle enough, and when we do, we’re often met with, “Look on the bright side!” “Be positive!” “Don’t worry it will get better!”
There’s nothing I hate more than a good dose of toxic positivity. Nothing makes me feel more dismissed, more alone in my feelings, and more invalidated than a good, “Everything happens for a reason!” Unfortunately, people don’t like to be around folks who talk about how fucked up their life is, or how unlucky it’s been lately. We as a society feel very uncomfortable when someone is in their pain and we are often unsure how to support them.
The truth is many of us will go through some shitty times in life and it’s ok to feel like they’re shitty times, because they are. Anything less would be gaslighting ourselves. Even I look back on stuff I’ve been through years later and think, “Wow that was actually a lot more fucked up than I thought.”
Personally, I’ve been waving my little white flag of surrender to the universe for a while now. I’m just tired. I’m tired of being sick, feeling depressed, grieving, and having to deal with obstacles. Tired of anticipating the next horrible thing to happen. Tired of being crushed when something I didn’t anticipate that is crushing, just happens and I am expected to deal and just go on with my life.
I spent all of my first pregnancy social distancing and staying home in order to avoid COVID and this year I’ve had it twice and now during my second pregnancy, which is the worst-case scenario, and on my birthday, which is today. So yes, I’m not having a good time and I’m not happy. All I wanted to do was feel healthy and have a nice getaway with my family this year for my birthday and instead, I’m stuck at home on the couch feeling like shit with extra anxiety about my growing baby.
It’s hard to accept being sick when you try so hard to be healthy. It’s hard to accept being quarantined when all you wanted to do was be out in the world celebrating (and you already quarantined once this year!) You know, not to mention I am still grieving the loss of my Dad, as well as grieving my relationship with my sister who has made the decision not to talk to me for the last 3 months.
Life is not great over here folks! I know it’s not my job to provide constant inspiration to you all, nor do I feel that pressure, but I do wish I had better things to report.
What I will say is we are allowed to feel crappy when things are crappy. We are allowed to feel hopeless. We are allowed to feel like shit isn’t fair when it’s not.
I think I said something very similar last year when I was sick and depressed on my birthday, but today I turn 37, and it would be nice if the rest of my 37th year was a little better.