ouroboros

This is from last year. October 12th, to be exact. 

This was way too raw to share then, but I have some healthy distance, and I think I’m ready to release. This ouroboros image is especially relevant because it depicts the eternal cycle of death and rebirth. As we evolve, an old self dies, and a new one is born. The cycle at 23 felt especially potent for me. 

October 12, 2023. Rebirth.

A friend asked me what I’d been up to since our last catch-up (over a year ago), and I responded that it felt like everything and nothing had changed at the same time. 

At the start of this year, I had just relocated to a new city, and my excitement quickly gave way to fear once I realized what a new start really meant: a new routine, a new home, a new area – even a new way of doing my groceries.

Naturally, like most plans, my first month went to absolute shit. I realized my apartment didn’t have a wardrobe, next-door construction was louder than the brokers led on, and I was sick with a mystery illness that would not let up.

I had no furniture, no groceries, and my apartment was freezing. All I had was an air mattress that kept deflating and a thin blanket (all courtesy of my friend; otherwise, I don’t know what I would have done). 

I was too scared to bother anyone, so I silently froze and dismissed it all because soon enough, I’d look back on this time of my life and laugh. The laughter didn’t come for another seven months.

Anxiety has been my middle name for as long as I can remember. I don’t ever really remember a period of not overthinking. Even in childhood, I constantly feared the worst, so I wasn’t even free then.

But this anxiety was like something I’d never known. I’d craved aloneness for so long. Yet, when I was actually alone, I was utterly freaked out by the fact that all I had was me, myself, and I. 

At first, I blamed my loneliness on my lack of a social life. I made plan after (mental) plan on how I would intentionally try to grow my circle and be more active, but you know, we plan, and God laughs.

Astrology had somewhat prepped me for the solitude of the 12th house year (age 23), and most people had said it was their worst year yet. But as I experienced more of it, I thought there is no fucking way anyone made it through this. It’s hard to articulate how painful a period in life it felt.

My usual escapes lacked their effectiveness and my support systems felt so out of reach. Drinking only made me feel worse after I struggled to piece together what had happened in my drunkenness, company made me feel strangely out of body because how was it that I was with others, yet still feeling so alone? I felt like a robot that was glitching and malfunctioning and I just prayed others wouldn’t notice. 

For the first time in my life, it felt like my mind had fully convinced me that no one cared and that I was bothering people by bringing up what was going on. I was convinced that I was too sensitive and paranoid and that I needed to just calm down. 

Every interaction constantly replayed in my mind and I just wondered, can they see through me? Can they see the cracks? Can they sense the tension radiating off me right now? 

The courage I thought I had so carefully built over the last few years had deserted me, and it felt like my voice was slipping away from me—to the point where I couldn’t even express how I was to those closest to me.

In my heart of hearts, I knew if I continued down that road, I would lose myself completely. My mind was wandering to places and things I had never once contemplated. The heart racing, the tears, the constant mental churning — it was incessant, and I remember thinking, if this is what life is going to continue being like for me, I don’t think I have much strength to continue. What is life without peace?

I quietly decided to return to therapy; if I was losing my mind, better to lose it in the company of a stranger, so at least if she thought I was unhinged, it would feel less hurtful than if my friends thought I was. Imagine my surprise to hear that the shortness of breath I was feeling more and more frequently were anxiety attacks?

I wasn’t insane — not yet anyway.

The first few sessions felt like they were gone in the blink of an eye. An hour in therapy is incomparable to an hour in the real world. It felt like each time we chipped away at something and started to unravel and unearth the root cause, it’d be time to go.

The time between sessions felt like being underwater for a long time, finally coming up gasping for air, only to be told you have to go down again and hold your breath for another long while.

Being affirmed was the first step, but I still didn’t feel like I could breathe for a long time. I never really revealed to my therapist the extent of how little energy I felt I had left. I wasn’t actually going to do it, so there was no real cause for concern.

It was a few months before I first cried in therapy. 

I was an expert at analyzing my thought processes and telling you what caused what. I’d come in with a point, evidence and explanation. But when she suggested we shift to feeling through the body, I quickly grew annoyed. So this was the woo-woo shit people were talking about in therapy. I had no clue where I felt things in my body. Other than my heart racing, I wasn’t even aware that I felt things in my body. 

On a nondescript Friday, I was embarrassed to find myself bawling in front of my laptop. I was embarrassed, not because I thought crying was embarrassing, but because I didn’t anticipate the tears. I didn’t expect what triggered me to still be a trigger because I thought I was over it. It started with my eyes misting up, and then it gradually led to ugly crying.

And, of course, in the midst of unearthing something so painful, the session was over. And I had to deal with my tears and emotions and thoughts alone.

In our last few sessions, they were more emotionally detached check-ins—not in a negative way, but in a way that left me no longer engulfed by my emotions. I could be triggered and still be functional. I knew what to anticipate (to a certain degree). I knew what to do and especially what not to do when triggered. It felt like I’d finally learned how to take care of myself.

Change seems to have happened in the blink of an eye. But in retrospect, it was several small, consistent, yet still inconsequential moments that led to that big moment.

It sounds both melodramatic and a little dark when I say I’m so glad I’ve made it to this point because, at the start of 2023, I could not see an existence where I wasn’t swallowed whole and plagued by anxiety each day.

Winter is coming, and it’s almost like my body remembers what last winter was like, and she’s scared. But I’m not the same person that I was then, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. 

When so much of your change is internal, it’s impossible to articulate what exactly has changed. I can’t and won’t go into the minutiae of how I’ve evolved as a person because I don’t think anyone gives as much of a shit about ourselves as we do.

Someone else can’t really say it to you because no one knows you like you know you, but for all the internal and unseen progress I have made, all the work I have done, all the fear I have moved through, and for the person I’ve grown to become today  — I am so proud of myself. And I am so excited to discover who this new self is.

It’s new to me, but it’s not really new. That self has always been there, I just needed to let her out. 

january reflections

A recent conversation with a friend prompted me, yet again, to reexamine my relationship with writing. Its purpose in my life seems to change with the seasons, so after our lengthy conversation, I pondered what writing currently means to me. 

In the past, I’ve wanted my writing to be conclusive, helpful, polished. But if I, the writer, do not live a neat, tidy, conclusive life, how can I expect that of my work?

Post-writing fellowship a few years ago, we were asked to share one tip we had. Mine was to get your ideas on paper as soon as possible. I’d made the mistake countless times of shelving an idea that really excited me, with plans to return, and I either never returned or lost excitement and interest in it.

Committing to electronically scribbling my thoughts of the day seemed feasible enough. So, in January, I wanted to track my streams of consciousness over a more extended period. I was curious to see what themes and lessons would keep coming up. In time, what would I find important enough to share?

For this era, I want writing to be a tool for self-exploration. Maybe that means asking myself, and you by extension, more questions than providing answers. Maybe it’s simply a way to archive and chronicle my observations. I joke about my Instagram being my online diary, but maybe this is the real online, albeit curated, diary. 

I found my copy of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations when I was home during Christmas. During my first read a few years ago, I found it painstaking to read. Ironically, the meditative pace of the book was too slow for me.

Then, I struggled with taking things slow, meditating, just sitting with things. Now, I’m appreciative of the book’s open nature. It’s not an instructive manual; it’s there for you to relate if you do and step away if you don’t. 

So, alas, here are the best picks of my January Meditations:

January 7th

you have to be militant about visualizing exactly where it is you’re trying to go. keep that future you in your mind, and take the actions that person would take to maintain what they have. you are already them; you just have to cross over.

be objective in your judgments of people, places, and things. don’t project, just view.

aligned people, places, and things won’t require you to ignore your better judgment to make room for them. there will be no need to rush and overlook. even going at a steady pace, things continue to make sense and fit seamlessly together.

January 8th

it’s hard not to doubt your value when people undervalue you, but reminding myself their behaviour does not have shit to do with my worth.

January 14th

I want to be more comfortable saying no, especially when I strongly feel against something. there’s no need to feel shy or bashful for being seen as someone who says no a lot. saying yes to everything does not make me a better person; it makes me a person without boundaries.

I also have to be more comfortable being patient and trusting divine timing. if I have set an intention, why don’t I just try tuning in, being grounded, and going at a pace that makes sense instead of rushing?

January 15th

to strengthen your internal compass and self-trust, sometimes you must lean less on other people’s advice and listen more to yourself.

overthinking, and the associated anxiety usually comes from you trying to counter or understand your intuition logically. intuition is the antithesis of logic. logic requires conscious reasoning; intuition does not. many times, it is inexplicable, but it is your choice to listen or go against it and deal with the consequences.

it’s okay to be the bad guy if it means you feel at ease at the end of the day. haven’t you noticed the internal lightness that comes after you make a decision in line with your intuition as opposed to one that goes against it?

i’m no longer asking people to confirm what I already know. a lot of times you don’t need someone else to weigh in; you already know - just listen the first time.

considering how old I am now, I am responsible for my life experiences. it can feel impossible sometimes but if you don’t like your circumstances, it’s on you to change them. it doesn’t have to be a huge overhaul at once, but what small action can you take today to change a circumstance you don’t like?

don’t just receive what you are given; ask for what you want. “choose what you want and how you are going to get it.” (from Acts of Faith)

January 17th

if your actions and desires aren’t aligned, what are you doing? 

January 25th

this is the first time in a while (if ever) that I have big goals and am actually pacing myself. reminding myself progress is made in many small steps not in one huge leap.

random aside: I tied so much of my confidence and lack of dating success to looks. now, I’m better looking, but in the romance department, not much has changed. It’s evidently not about that stuff. 

January 26th

making peace with the unknown. nothing is particularly happening right now, and I know there are so many possible outcomes. but I can better surrender because I know my future has to be better than my past. the only way is up. I have no choice but to focus on myself right now. 

I hate that we can’t control the pace at which we heal. being heartbroken takes me a little longer than I would like to get over. the pain isn’t constant, but some days it just creeps up on you. still, I’m diving into myself in a way I haven’t done in years, since I was sixteen honestly. now I have the discipline and wisdom to ensure my actions align with what I am trying to achieve.