There are pitfalls. I tend to stumble on them more often than I’d like to admit. We forget in hindsight, what these moments feel like until they find us again. And when they do, it feels like any progress we’ve ever made has fallen through because we’re right back where we started. Though it feels true at the moment, I know that it isn’t. I try to drill it in my brain that progress isn’t linear, but even I fall short sometimes to my own words and come to pity my failures.
These past few weeks have been testing me. I guess that’s the only way I can really put it without turning the drama volume up too loud. But they haven’t been easy. I stopped calling it depression a while ago. Now I call it “my low period.” I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, I just know that that works for me. There are moments, much like the ones I’ve been experiencing lately that make me question a lot. Why be kind when the world can be so harsh? Why work so hard when you wind up in the exact same financial situations you once found yourself in? Why not just quit all of it because it doesn’t look like you’re winning anyway? Is it worth it? Is any of it really worth it?
When I begin to ask myself these questions, I know I’ve taken a really wrong turn on the highway I was driving through. And then I remember that exits exist. That I can re-route again. That although a u-turn is not an option on this road (because that would be far too easy), there is a detour I can take to get back on the path I was on before.
I guess you might be wondering, how – or better yet, why? When you get to the point where you’re asking yourself if it’s all even worth it, how can you possibly convince your mind to go back? To try again at all? (Well, 4 years of therapy helps for sure.) But because finally, I have gotten to the point where that one question – the one I’ve been trying to avoid asking myself this whole time – is actually the one that gets me back on track.
E.E. Cummings once wrote,
“I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness”
I think those words always spoke to me in a way I couldn’t explain. Words like that remind me that words matter. That writing matters. That what we do here, matters. What I do here matters. And therefore, I must also matter. This string of connections that falls shortly after I’ve reached the lowest point I can get to is what brings me back to life. So I want to share it with you today. The words that have saved me many times before. The words that sparked some sort of a light within me when everything felt dark. If you have some of your own that have helped you, share them. They might just matter to someone else too.