i’ve been thinking a lot these days, all the while having thought-provoking conversations with people from my community.
it’s been 6 years since i fell into depression, and it’s also been 6 years since i hung up my pointe shoes for good. to say that the last 6 years was difficult, is a sore understatement. i’ve always found it hard to get back on my feet. each time i seem to be grasping recovery in my hands, i fall even harder. my doctors can only conclude that i am severe case who can’t seem to remit or get better.
loss. loss is something i experience a lot, and I have been unable to properly grief each time. i’m still hung up about each and every loss that i’ve experienced, that i almost seem to live in the past. the what ifs, the could’ve beens, the should’ve beens.
the loss of giving up ballet due to RA’s joint involvement, and the inability to even try to go back to class because of my deconditioning from prolonged hospitalisations and the breathlessness from long-drawn anemia… i never got over that. and now even though i could go back to class, the recent mysterious attack on my left leg has rendered my leg almost useless for ballet. it never really ends, does it? this was one of the two passions in my life, and giving it up hurt plenty.
the loss of my sanity in 2010, my fall from “grace”… i never got over all that i’ve lost from that fateful day when i finally called it quits and downed all those pills. i continued losing a lot more because i could never reconcile with myself the fact that i am imperfect, flawed and only human. i continued to battle with myself, against the words of others and the self-deprecating beliefs about myself. and right here right now, i’m still clawing my way up the deep dark hole that i fell in.
i lost my calling. the calling which I was so passionate about. even though i was the one who chose to give up nursing, it still aches so bad. but between getting hurt by the people around me as a nurse, and hurting because i left, it’s easier to choose the latter. nursing is unfortunately my only other passion that gave me some semblance of a meaning and purpose in my life. it’s been a year, and although i moved on to study psychology, i’d return to nursing in a heart beat once my doctor gives me full clearance.
i lost my freedom to be free and active. the fatigue from RA and fibromyalgia can be very debilitating, and it’s something very few people can understand. the fatigue, amotivation and insomnia from depression piled on top of it. and then i gave up trying. long days overwhelm and tire me. physical activities scare the shit out of me. crowds and excessive noise drive me crazy. the hot weather test me each time i step out of the house. if i could i’d curl up at home and watch the telly. and that’s what i’ve been doing. commitments are hard to maintain because i’m not the energetic bunny i used to be. i’m now the lethargic sloth who’s tired everyday and tries all ways and means to stay at home and not practice any self-care.
i lost my ability to be fearless. to be uninhibited. all the what ifs hold me back and hold me captive. tomorrows are never certain. i could be all fine and dandy today, tomorrow i could be a disaster. today i could be walking, tomorrow i could have one limp leg, or joints that are angry. everyday is a surprise. on one hand my life is a monotonous unending cycle. on the other hand it hits me like a hurricane each time i get up, or with each conversation i make. nothing is ever stable. nothing is static. i can’t be fearless. i live in fear, inhibited by the memories of past.
i essentially lost myself. i lost who i used to be in its entirety. how do i get over that? how do i tell myself “i’m sorry you had to lose so much, but look forward and not back. live. your future is in your hands.” it’s something i’d tell someone else, yet not to myself. reconciliation has never been more difficult and under-managed. the Steph that is now, is not the Steph who lived till 20. that Steph died. and me, this Steph that i am, has been damaged, and broken, shattered into smithereens, put together haphazardly with craft glue, scarred, and yet still on the verge of falling apart. so flawed. so imperfect. so damaged. so unloveable.
this is not a pity post. i put it here because i know i would forget this aspect of my insight into myself. i want to reclaim back my life. yet what tugs hard at me is the “NO”, because i’ll fall and get hurt again. how do i ride against the tide and the waves physically? my body feels extremely incapable of doing anything physical without having any adverse effects on my body. and how do i stop looking back, and look forward instead? how do i forgive myself for going savage against myself? how do i forgive the people who took it too far with words?
at the end of the day, no matter what, it is always God whom i should turn to.
“when i can’t, you always can.” -Kari Jobe