A Self-love Story

Chapter 7

Your faith can move mountains and your doubt can create them.

Dear Diary,

Today when I went for work, I didn't hide my scars. I didn't hide my face beneath makeup and I didn't conceal my emotions under a mask. I let my soul, although vulnerable and a little broken shine through my eyes. I smiled only when I felt like it even though those moments were rare, instead of permanently pasting a fake one on my face. Because only what's real can truly be beautiful. I still didn't feel completely beautiful. It was still difficult to think of my scars as beautiful, because they were a constant reminder of my pain but I was able to accept them and maybe one day I'd find them to be beautiful too.

At work, I saw a couple holding hands and laughing and I didn't stop the longing from enveloping me, leaking out of my heart and wrapping tight arms around me. I let myself miss Theo and I let myself hope that one day I would have a relationship that would make me stop missing him. And I won't lie and say that it was wonderful because it hurt. Oh, it hurt so badly but it was a relief. Allowing myself to feel that pain was like cutting the chains around my soul, even though the wounds burned in the air.

Then I stared at the painting that was in front of me. It was of a lioness feeding her cub and a lion standing guard, watching over his family. I let the tears quelling up in my eyes flow down my cheeks. I missed my family. My dad, my brother, my mom and even me, the girl I was when with them. My mom was probably the only one who loved me unconditionally, but that doesn't stop me from missing my dad and brother and all the memories we shared too. It is easy for the brain to forget and to dismiss, but the heart always remembers, the good and the bad.

More people approached me today and some did stare at my scars, but I ignored them and didn't let it hurt my pride or shoot down my newfound confidence. Maybe people could sense that I wasn't being cold anymore, that I had reopened thee gates of my heart, finally willing to let people in again and that's why they found it easier to approach me. The thought made a smile bloom on my face. A real smile. Because if that were true, it would mean that all those fears of judgment were just figments of my imagination and fabrications of my insecurity. And the twinge of happiness I felt warming my heart gave me hope that happiness was not an impossibility anymore. I'm not deluded enough to think that I'm happy now. I know I'm not, but that doesn't mean I've given up on ever being happy. I've now finally found the courage to chase that happiness and pin it down until I've absorbed it all.

I'm not pretending that everything is okay in my life or with me either. Sleep still evades me at night and those few nights that exhaustion lulls me into sleep, I'm haunted by nightmares. I do still have some really dark days where I find it difficult to remember why it is that I'm still living. I still feel so utterly alone. But I haven't lost hope and I haven't given up. I've finally found some sort of companionship in myself, instead of a constant enemy and that bolsters me, it gives me strength to pull myself up from the depths of my sorrow or anger or loneliness. I may cry myself to sleep sometimes and I may sometimes feel absolutely worthless but there are days, or moments at least, when I like who I am, when I'm proud of having survived all that I have and that is everything to me.

When I reached home, I decided to paint again. Not the kind of painting that is a masterpiece or even an attempt to be one. No, it was the kind of painting that was just splatters of colour on a sheet of paper whose only purpose was to express the feelings swirling around in me that couldn't be explained using words. I created six paintings today before I felt okay. Or okay enough, at least. I've realised that that is good enough.

I decided to go for a drive tonight. A few moments to feel the cool breeze splashing against my skin and witness the marvel of the bright stars sparkling the dark sky. I love them because they show us that even surrounded by darkness, beauty exists, that sometimes darkness is necessary for the beauty to shine.

A car came out of nowhere and I slammed my foot on the brakes to avoid crashing into it. I cannot even begin to explain the fear that overwhelmed my senses. That impossibly fast hammering of my heart, that clenching of all my muscles, that moment when the air seems to have vanished and breathing seems like a mystery. My eyes could only see the accident that happened all those years ago and my entire body forgot how to forget it. The lack of oxygen made it feel as if my brain when growing larger than my head could contain. I was startled out of it when I heard the other car honk and drive off as if nothing had happened. I almost just had a panic attack. I sucked in breath after breath and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the goosebumps rising on my skin. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I chanted it over and over, in my mid and out my mouth, until the very words seemed unintelligible, devoid of meaning but it didn't work.

My breathing quickly became too ragged, as memories flooded my mind and flashed across my eyes. My chest rose and fell much too quickly. My body began to dance to the tune of my fear. Somewhere in the back of my thoughts, I realised that I was hyperventilating but the thought was too quiet against the noise of my breathing and I could hardly hear it. Black spots swirled across my vision. Then before I could call for help, my mind was lost to the deceiving sleep, that is unconsciousness.

When I awoke, all I could see was white. White walls, white bed and a nurse in a white uniform. Hospital. I'm in the hospital. That scared me. To be honest, it terrified me. What's wrong with me? What happened to me? I looked at the nurse with, what I assume was a frightened panicky look.

She placed a calming hand on my shoulder and said softly, "Don't worry, you're okay. You hyperventilated and lost consciousness, is all." That jolted me to a new reality, a reality that I had somewhat refused to believe until then. I'm not normal. I was normal once and that normalcy and innocence were forcefully stolen from me. I am not normal now and it was stupid of me to pretend to be. I have problems that need to be taken care of and just because I allowed myself to feel, doesn't mean I'm going to be okay. If I try to heal myself all alone, I'm bound to fail. No, what I need to do is get help. I need to go to therapy. Therapy. It makes all the problems I have, seem so...real all of a sudden. But I push down that paralysing fear of telling others about my problem and decide that it is a reality I have to face. Just another bend in my rollercoaster of a life. I have gotten through so much, I can get through this, right?

They sent me home after a while and I lay on my bed, memories of the car accident flashing through my mind. I could have died. It scares me slightly, that that thought doesn't scare me so much. How can I have so little fear of dying? What is wrong with me? Do I feel my life to be so useless that I don't mind it being over so soon? Am I so broken that I feel like I can never be fixed? Today I hyperventilated just because of one person driving a little rashly.

Suddenly it felt like all the progress I'd made or thought I'd made came crashing down on me. For a moment it almost felt like I was back to square one. Then I made myself take a deep breath and told myself that problems don't get fixed overnight. They take time, healing takes time and maybe it's okay to take one step backward every two steps forward.

Yours,
Tia.