11/18/15​

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“Happy Wednesday,” I thought to myself as I walked into my stats class that morning. What a stupid thing to think — I didn’t want to be there nor was I happy.

 

I made sure not to get to class early so that I didn’t have to converse with the people who sat around me. But, seven tardies and a well-deserved lecture from my mother later, I happened to be as punctual as ever on that fine Wednesday morning. 

 

I actually really liked sitting next to Connor. He was cute. He was nice. He was smart. And I beat him in our fantasy football tournament to win a $25 gift card. What more could you ask for?

 

I had been working on the whole “self-care” thing that I previously mentioned, but it didn’t always work. Sometimes the panic sets in, the tears rush down your face, and you just have to go with the flow. And by that I mean freak the fuck out because your body is telling you to do so. 

 

A week earlier my cousin had committed suicide. Turns out she was diagnosed with a chronic illness that would’ve kill her in an estimated 6-12 months. She didn’t tell us this in person or in a note. We found out from the autopsy and connected the dots.

 

Sad. That was all I could feel. Instead of doing my work, I doodled. Not of pretty pictures, cursive handwriting, or my crush’s name. I just wrote the word “sad.” Over and over and over again. 

 

I hadn’t been paying any attention to my teacher that day, but all of a sudden it was time for group work. Connor turned around to start discussing the assignment with me, and he saw my notebook. 

 

“Shit,” I mumbled while frantically flipping to a new page. Yeah, I was sad, but I didn’t need everyone else to know just how sad I was.

 

He didn’t comment on what he saw. Instead, we began to work on the problem assigned. I could not figure it out to save my life. I started mumbling, “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.” I wasn’t even sure if I was talking about the problem, or just existing in general. He looked up at me and said, “Good thing the Jessica Jackowicz I know never gives up.” 

 

I started to tear up because this simple phrase had a double meaning. I knew he had heard my mumbling about not being able to do the problem, but whatever. It was all in the way he said it — in the most heartfelt tone, while making eye contact, and doing that I’m sorry/It’s going to be okay frowny face that people make when they feel bad for you. I’d never experienced anything like the feeling I had in that moment. I don’t even know what this means, but I felt like he was hugging my heart. 

 

And I desperately needed that. 

 

He looked right through my attempt at a fake smile and gave me words of encouragement when I needed it the most. For the first time in months, I felt recognized. All it took was eye contact. He could see the pain in my eyes, and he attempted to alleviate it with words. 

 

That’s a step in the right direction.