It was most certainly one of those days. Actually, perhaps it would be more accurate to suggest that it was closer to a week, however it truly felt like a blur. She hated this feeling, when time would slow yet race. That was how it felt, as if she was running yet standing still.
The past couple of days she had woken, remembering that it was all still the same yet reminding herself of gratitude; of waking and not dying in her sleep, of breathing, and clearly as she was in good health, of her body lying between the fresh sheets that she had covered her bed with the night previous, and her favourite sheets at that. Gratitude of waking with a roof above her head, of fresh water next to her bed. There was so much to be grateful for. As she stood from her bed in pursuit of the bathroom, her head began pounding, just as it had yesterday morning. Just because the headaches were expected, didn’t make them feel any less shit. Once the sharp vice eased on her mind after she stood still for a minute, she turned to check the sheet, it was clear. That was most certainly something she felt true gratefulness for in that moment, for how irritating it would be to strip, soak and re-make. She could handle the abdominal pain, of course she could, she was a woman, she had pain built in, but the mind-cramping —cramping by melancholy thought and of pain— was really pushing her to her limit.
The theory of gratitude was gone, and a true distain she felt for living as she continued her day. Nothing was of interest to her, there was no form of serotonin or dopamine anywhere to be found. She gave up midway through the day and decided to return to bed. As she laid there, staring out of the window observing the mostly blue skies of the very early autumn day, she had a vision of herself accomplishing the day how she would like, truly living every moment, and with that disappeared gratitude present again. She was smiling, she was laughing, she was almost floating around gracefully whilst everyone looked at her in complete awe, wondering how she continuously looked so beautiful and whilst she achieved everything she did with such success — a walking evergreen. That was how she liked to not only present herself, but what she also allowed herself to be. ‘Tomorrow’, she assured herself. Tomorrow she would be her usual self again, and if not tomorrow, then the day following. The point was that she would feel like that again, that this current state was just a passing blimp of time. But for now, she was too focus on attempting to relax her chaotically, sore mind, and leave off any unnecessary pressure that she could easily place upon herself.
There comes a point where we must just be, we must let even the most unsettling thoughts just be. For it is important to remember that we are not our thoughts, and if there is a day or period of such unsavoury thoughts, especially due to the lowering of hormones, then that is ok. All is ok. We must just let them pass and remember that we are not them. So that is what she did, she gave herself the permission to lay in her bed and let the thoughts of the mundane, low-lying despair flow in and flow out. She knew that she didn’t believe them, not at this point in her life. Her commitment to herself was of such high regard now that she would never purposefully hurt herself, whether by act or behaviour. Never again. So, when the thoughts and feelings of her existential existence rose, she knew it also wasn’t about her physically being her, it was about some current conditions within her life. She didn’t choose them anymore, she hadn’t chosen them in a long time actually, but she was sick of them. She herself wasn’t sick and tired, but she felt sick and tired. She wanted more, she wanted to experience more, to experience the best, and she knew she deserved it.
That is the difference —and further proof that she already is the person that she had longed to be— that it wasn’t a question of her worthiness no longer, whether she was worthy enough to experience her goals and her dream life. Of course she is worthy. She saw everyone of being worthy as soon as they were born. How could we not be? For aren’t we born perfect? It is only the beliefs that we take upon ourselves as our own that make us grow up feeling imperfect, believing we’re deeply riddled with fault. But then why wasn’t it unfolding for her? She wondered why it felt as if there is a disconnect, whilst reminding herself that there is no disconnect. But what was the point in being here if she wasn’t experiencing what she wanted to experience? She wanted what she wanted, and nothing else. Was there something so wrong with that? She had long foregone the worry that such view of herself was self-centred. As again, what the hell was wrong with that? Why wouldn’t she want the best for herself? Shouldn’t everyone want the best for themselves?
“Ahhh”, she groaned loudly to herself as her mind kept questioning the fabrics of the universe. Her mind hurt, it was physically hurting from it all, from everything. She had to stop the fight within her mind, or simply move her focus to something else. She often wondered about that theory, that does something truly exist if we don’t pay attention to it?
If we move our senses onto something else, doesn’t that other thing essentially disappear? Paint always dries quicker when we’re not watching. Paint dries quicker when you just let it be, when you don’t let the process of paint drying effect your emotional status. She rolled back over, coming face to face with the now greying sky outside. Then it hit her. It clicked. Even beneath that cloud, there is blue sky. She needed to sleep, and now she knew, that when she woke, even if those clouds hadn’t passed by, that she could just be, because she not only trusted, but knew that there was always blue sky underneath.
