10/16/15

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I was going through a rough patch. Like, a really rough patch. In a span of 6 months my best friend died in a car accident, I was sexually assaulted by a friend of twelve years, and my cousin committed suicide. Put it all together and what do you get? A disaster of a seventeen year old slowly losing herself and her grip on reality. 

 

I was in a perpetual state of sadness. 

 

Day after day, the same monotonous routine: wake up, have a panic attack, skip breakfast, brush your teeth, go to school, leave first hour to cry in the bathroom, tell everyone that you’re fine, nap during lunch, panic attack number two, cry in the car on the way home, go to dance, stay up late doing homework, cry yourself to sleep. 

 

Yes, every day. 

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I didn’t even know it was possible for my tear ducts to work that hard.

 

One morning, I overslept. I woke up to my mother frantically swinging my door open as she shoved a piece of toast at me saying, “Get up! You’re late!” I quickly got ready, shoved the toast in my mouth, and drove to school. I hit shuffle on my Spotify playlist and Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna played as I drove. I arrived half way through second period, took a test in third period, and then we got released early from school that day. Molly and I went to get chili cheese fries and chocolate shakes, and we proceeded to watch Jaws, Jaws 2, Jaws 3, and Jaws: The Revenge. It was late and I was exhausted, so I laid in bed and fell asleep instantly.

 

I rarely slept through the night, but this night was different. Instead of waking up wanting a glass of water or needing to make a trip across the hall to the bathroom, I jolted awake as if I had just been electrocuted. And now I couldn’t fall back asleep. As I laid there thinking about my day, it hit me. I made it through the whole day without crying. Wait, am I sure? I retraced my steps searching for my moment of weakness, the moment that I crumbled, and I couldn’t find it.

 

Remember in the Aladdin movie when the Genie’s jaw drops to his waist? Well, mine dropped further when I had this revelation. My routine had changed so significantly that day that I didn’t even realize it was the best day I’d had in months. I got enough sleep, I ate enough food, I socialized, and I relaxed. What a concept. Taking care of yourself does wonders. 

 

Yes, the first sticky note that I ever put in my “jar of happy things” implies that every other day before that one was terrible. But, I didn’t look at it that way. I looked at it as the day that I realized how I needed to start living my life moving forward. I needed to start taking better care of myself, and I needed to appreciate the little victories because I had to start somewhere, or I’d never start at all. I felt invigorated, like I could conquer anything that came my way. 

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And then I remembered that tomorrow when I woke up, my best friend wouldn’t be waiting by my locker to walk to class together, I would have to see “him” again, and my cousin wouldn’t be on the other end of the phone to talk about how excited we were for next week's Grey’s Anatomy episode. 

 

I mumbled out loud, “This whole ‘taking care of myself’ thing is going to be way harder than I thought.”