it’s okay.

Despair has still got a rope around my ankle, it seems, and it’s pulling, pulling me down.

I spent this last week in Florida, playing on the beach. My brother and I went swimming on a day when the waves were high, and it was joyous to ride them up and down, effortlessly floating on the sea’s boundless momentum.

But coming into shore, the waves knocked me down with force and dragged my body across the sand. Every time I stood up, I was slammed back down until I was bleeding from the sand and broken shells.

I thought, Oh, this feels familiar.

This isn’t how I thought I would feel at the back half of 22–like I am fighting to see anything good in the world.

My current struggles are nothing out of the ordinary. If you tell someone you’ve had a breakup, you’re a recent grad having a hard time finding a job, they nod. They agree these things are hard for everyone.

But it doesn’t seem to cover it. It doesn’t come near to touching the chasm underneath.

The circumstance isn’t the problem–it is, but it isn’t. It’s harder to say what I really feel–that I don’t think there’s a place for me here. That I am unwanted on every corner. I don’t know what I want anymore. I can’t see a way forward.

Those things are scary to say.

I’ve long been a fan of To Write Love On Her Arms. One of their main messages is that it’s okay to not be okay. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that it’s okay for other people to not be okay, but it’s not okay for me to not be okay. Especially not when all my problems are so trivial and commonplace.

Their founder, Jamie Tworkowski writes in his book If You Feel Too Much, “Life is fragile and we all break in different ways. i hope you know you can be honest. i hope you know you can ask for help.”

So I guess this is to say, I’m trying to believe those things. I’m trying to be honest. In some ways, it seems kind of uncool and overdramatic–maybe even self indulgent to write a blog about how sad and scared I’ve been feeling.

But maybe you feel that way too, or maybe you know someone that does. This is to say it’s okay if your circumstances are pretty normal, but you feel splintered inside. It’s okay. We’re in this together, and however you’ve broken, it’s okay.


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