Writings of a Nobody

I think this is what burned-out feels like. Everyone I know talks about burn-out all the time, but I've never really put much thought into it. I've always just pushed through everything, except for sports or anything I wasn't immediately good at ( yes, yes, I know). I had so much anxiety as a kid that if I wasn't immediately good at something, I would rather quit than let someone watch me learn.

Anyway. Burn-out. School is something I didn't really have to work at, it just came naturally to me. For the most part that's still true, but now I have to actually apply the knowledge I'm gaining in grad school to my career and get it to long-term memory. for some reason, that is RIDICULOUSLY hard. I feel SO dumb in all my classes, and I always feel like everyone else knows way more about what they're doing than I do. Don't even get me started on practicum.

I know this is what I want to do. I know this is what I'm meant to do. So why must it be so mUcH all the time????? And so hard??? AGH.

Sincerely,

When does the world get its quietest?

When do the little creatures and the frogs and bugs sleep?

When does mother tell all of her children

Hush now, it’s time to rest?

There seems to always be noise.

Even in silence, my ears ring.

Is there any true, honest to god silence?

Is there a secret hour of the night where the whole world sleeps?

I think I’ve discovered something new about myself. 

I read a post of someone coming to terms with the fact that they are not the sun, but the moon. They don’t give off their own light, they reflect. But they are not any less beautiful or nearly as hard to look at as the Sun.

I think I’ve discovered the opposite truth for myself. I have always identified with the moon. Hiding in the dark, unnoticed even by friends sometimes. I felt, for a long, long time, that I did not shine like others. I only reflected others back to them, in meaningless, copy-cat ways. This is what I thought.

I have realized that not only do I give off light, but I also give off warmth. I may be difficult to look at because of how brightly I shine, but that does not make me any less of a beautiful thing. I bring light and warmth to those around me, and even if they don’t look at me and congratulate me for doing it, I get the pleasure of watching others enjoy my warmth. I get to watch them enjoy the life I bring into their space.

So, I am not the moon. I am not mysterious, I am not here to cause fascination and wonder. I am not the one that you could stare at for hours upon hours. I am not the one who is a beautiful reflection of others around me. I am the Sun. I bring life, I bring warmth. I bring a comfortable space where I am not the focus of attention. I bring a space where people can enjoy my company, with or without acknowledging I am there. 

Hey, it's me again. I'm not sure if you can read all the letters I've sent to you over Facebook Messenger, but if you can, I hope you an see this too. I don't really know how reading works when you've passed away, but there's no harm in trying I suppose. I can at least let all my feelings out this way. I'm not sure where you are, or even IF you are, and I'm not sure which is more comforting.

Anyway, I saw you today. I mean, not really you, but I saw something that reminded me of you. I know, I know, you're probably like, "what else is new?" I just never really healed when you left. You went so fast, it was like you vanished. I see things every day that remind me of you, or make me think of you. In fact, every time I go to the nail salon I think of you. I remember the time when I was 6 or 7 years old and you took me to get a pedicure with you. You picked a pearly, pale pink polish. I remember how I hated it and thought it was an 'old lady' color. I adore those colors now. Every time I see one, I remember that moment. That silly, small moment. It wasn't even super special, but it ended up being one of my most prominent memories with you.

Today, I was walking back from my university cafeteria and I saw that they planted your favorite flowers. Not only that, but they're planted in the flower bed closest to my dorm room window. They are the prettiest, most full and vibrantly purple irises I've ever seen. It may sound silly, but it was the most beautiful reminder that you're with me. I don't know how, but I know you are.

I miss seeing your face, hearing you laugh. I don't cry as much anymore, but every once in a blue moon I sit down and listen to your favorite songs, wear your work shirt, and let it all out. I remember all the goofy moments where we were riding in your car and you were singing all the lyrics so loudly and out of tune. You danced and slapped your leg to the beat, just to make me laugh. You couldn't sing amazingly, but you did know how to dance. You talked about dancing all the time, maybe because you missed the days when you weren't in too much pain to do it.

The only thing I try not to remember is the last time that I saw you. You were in so much pain. We went to the lake with you and your parents, my great grandparents. We all stood up to take a picture, and just standing for that long had you breathing heavy and sweating. You weren't the healthiest of people, and you never went to the doctor. It's not fair the way that only catches up to some people and not others.

I will forever feel guilty about not spending more time with you. I will forever feel terrible about being an annoyed teen, too cool to hang out with my nana. I felt that you left me. My other nana did, and then you took a job traveling the country and I thought you left me too. So then, when you did come to visit, I hid in my room. I didn't come out to hang out with you. I barely said hello or goodbye. You never held that against me, and I really hope you don't now. I miss you every day of my life. I wear your ring. I have a tattoo with your handwriting in it. I carry copies of your journal pages with me all the time. It's ridiculous, but I will never get over you leaving.

The last thing you said was, "tell my babies I love them." You weren't concerned for yourself, you wanted us to know that you loved us. Me. My dad, your son. My mom. My sister. My unborn brother, who you would never meet. You just wanted us to know that you loved us. I think about that every day. I hope and pray to whatever god is above us that I will see you again, no matter how or where.

I don’t regularly journal, but I thoroughly enjoy writing my thoughts down and letting all my emotions leave my brain and hit the paper (or, in this case, screen). I enjoy writing and I find the sound of the keyboard to be soothing, so I suppose typing my writing feels more invigorating and rewarding.

If I could write a story about my life, it would be filled with quite a lot of philosophy. The main reason I am keeping my blog anonymous is because I know for a fact that many people I’m friends with would find this content much too deep for their liking. I tend to overthink, dream about the universe, and try to explore its depths in every conversation, and I've come to realize that most people can't handle that. It seems like every person I have come across is so afraid of seeming too cliche or weird for thinking and feeling so deeply. It makes me incredibly sad that other people don’t see the beauty in the world that I do.

Every single sunrise is fascinating to me, as well as every sunset. In fact, every moment that I’m breathing and well, I’m looking at the world I’ve been blessed to live in and thinking, “Wow. Does it get better than this?” The next time you go outside, look at the hue of the sky. Look at the way the grass grows in odd patches, or maybe random puffs or perfectly lush. Lay under a tree and watch the sunlight peek through its branches, and close your eyes and feel its warmth. Let yourself feel things. No one is immune to pain, sadness, happiness, or any emotion for that matter. Instead of digging your heels in, try going barefoot in the grass, feeling the breath of every creature and the movement of the earth itself. Be kind to her, she's so kind to you. Thank the trees for their sturdiness, the clouds for their rain, and go out and dance in it when you get the chance.

Feelings are meant to be so much more than what we treat them to be. If you don't care, go about your way. I don’t ask that you remember my every word, or hang onto this message for dear life. However, I do ask that you think about feeling and thinking deeply, just every once in awhile. Imagine the world’s possibilities, the universe’s existence, because whether you realize it or not, it's completely impossible that you are here right now, reading this. It’s a 1 in a quintillion chance that your parents created your very being and you are here, alive, right this moment. If you wonder about your purpose, the answer is simple: You make your purpose. On this tiny rock we call home, there are billions of us. Billions and billions of purposes and questions and theories and moments. The purpose of your life does not need to be more than living. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The universe bestowed a gift upon you to live, and that doesn’t mean that you owe her anything in return.