You will feel pain. Gut-wrenching, machete-to-the-stomach pain, and it won’t go away with cigarettes and peanuts with m&ms and bottles of wine. You are going to have moments, days, weeks, when it seems as though every possible piece of your life has fallen exactly into the wrong position and is perfectly at odds with everything else. And when you’re sitting there feeling really miserable, utterly sorry for yourself, guess what? Something else horrible will happen. It’s going to get worse. And it’s going to fucking hurt.
You will want to scream, to curse anything you could possibly blame for the existence of existence, you will cry and you will wallow, you will sleep for days and have horrible sleepless nights full of waking nightmares.
But you know something?
You will get through it.
And you’ll come out stronger the other side.
Bad things will not stop happening to you. Ever. Because life doesn’t get easier. You just get stronger.
That’s what I had wanted to read when I sat down to drown my sorrows in books this afternoon. But despite a lot of beautiful, inspirational things, I didn’t find this. So I wrote it to myself. It’s mostly about a boy and a cancelled vacation and a few bouts of ill health.
Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m trapped in the mind of a teenager. That all my pain, fear, agonies, and joys are the results of such trivial trifles that if anyone ever actually realized what the inside of my head looks like I would be fired and then laughed out of existence entirely. Boys. Crushes. Hating my body. Wanting approval from my boss.
It sounds grade-school. And it’s embarrassing. But then sometimes I think that maybe the big unspoken secret of adult life is that our problems never really change, never really become more interesting or more existential – we just start to give them different names: love, loss, pride, acceptance, belonging. They’re all base instincts in the end. And I would like to think that I’m not the only one who has these problems rattling around my brain most of the time.
I may be a terrible psychologist because I find it so damn hard to understand what people are thinking. But I think – think –that even the most illustrious and/or irreverent minds I have around me still struggle with these same concerns.
Perhaps they’ve all just gotten stronger?
Or maybe I’m just an infantile prat, in which case, please don’t show this to my boss. Thanks.