It’s Friday. We wake up, have our coffee, pull ourselves together and go to work or school or whatever it is we have to do, anticipating the weekend. For some of us, this is the easiest thing in the world. There’s a simplicity to the routine and a delicate contentedness that sits in our skin.
For others though, and I’d be bold enough to say for most, it’s hard going. The routine is mundane and the feeling that sits in our skin is more like a hundred crawling ants. People in the world treat us harshly and our memories make us cringe and the weight of everything around us hollows us out while simultaneously crushing us from within. It’s easy enough to understand this perspective because at some point in life, we’ll all go through it.
For me, it was during my first two years of college. Nearly every day I would wake up feeling empty, hollowed, ghostly. I’d walk through the day as if I didn’t exist and people would just walk past me. I’d think to myself that everyone else was having a good day and why, oh why, was the world treating me like I didn’t matter?
In that though, I found myself. In the deepest crevices of my mind and in the sinking feeling of my heart and the empty lungs that refused to take in air, I found the person I am today. I am strong through my weakness. I am confident through my insecurity. I am kind through my anger. I am intelligent through my stupidity. I am calm through my volatility. And I am a work in progress. And that’s okay.
Life can be tough going. But I’ve learned that sometimes that makes us stronger.