It’s been twenty days since I last wrote.

“Sometimes I am so aware that just being alive is a miracle. Some moments I just sit and think about what it means and feels like to be conscious and feel my thoughts running and how I am breathing and seeing. And my mind runs over all these possibilities and instances and dreams that I have, some of which I need to let go.  What does it even mean to be your own person? It’s crazy that no one else looks out from behind my eyes, my brain is simply and complicatedly mine. My memories are mine and no one else will remember them. Thinking of the uniqueness of my existence brings a somewhat unsettling feeling, quite existential.  And at the same time, it connects me to my own humanness.  How I am one in a billion, seeking something out of life, to be known and loved and cared for and understood.  Just one set of eyes looking and seeking and experiencing.” 

I’ve been really careful with myself in the past twenty days, on account of the delicate position that I now find myself in. But for some reason, I disregarded that this morning and reread things I had written thus far in 2016. And in my true form, I cried.

I still feel the pain, uncertainty, unease that I felt twenty days ago. I’m still seeking acceptance, clarity and peace. My old words sounded like things I said yesterday.

Then someone pointed out to me that that’s the nature of this, of living. You make progress and you fall back. And then you make more progress.

I was so quick to judge myself, and I seemed to momentarily forget the small steps forward I’ve made. I’ve had second interviews and phone calls, I painted my entire room by myself for goodness sake.  I’m slowly getting better at spending time alone again, the pain in my gut occurs less frequently, and I even had chili for dinner. Twice.

My words from twenty days ago still profoundly represent where I am now, only now I am twenty days older. Maybe a little more understanding. Maybe a little more patient.

It’s not happening all at once and that’s okay because that’s not how progress works.




2 thoughts on “Progression

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