I haven’t cried in a while.
There is something luxurious and indulgent in crying.
I feel sad, and I feel my eyes want to cry a lot; they prick and itch, but that’s all it is. It happens to me a lot, but I don’t say anything because I don’t want to cry anymore.
I get stuck in my head a lot. I think and think and think, and sometimes the words I want to say just dry up in my mouth, and I keep everything inside. It’s not that I actively choose to not talk about it anymore, I just can’t express myself.
I just don’t want to carry on hurting. I have spent so much time crying. I just want to be happy. I don’t think I’m alone in this thought, because I think this is commonplace amongst young people, especially at the minute with regards to mental health.
Yet at the same time, I can’t just ignore everything. How many times does this blog remind everyone to talk and feel? Yet here I am, a hypocrite in a young woman’s clothes.
I think the problem is that I’m afraid to open up. The last time I cried, I was in front of someone else, completely vulnerable. A new person who I was afraid to let see me like this. I want to be seen as ‘Evee’. Not bruised, troubled or someone you have to tiptoe around.
So, recently, I have been in my head. The skull of safety, the cranium cradle, the place where I can feel without fear.
Whilst Katie and I slowly traverse these new fields of happiness, sun and laughter, we need to set aside times and areas where we can still talk. I am afraid to feel grief. I haven’t even been writing privately for myself. I think I’m perhaps seeing myself, in a way, as in ‘recovery’, and I can’t feel lost, or scared, or upset because, hey, I just told everyone I feel better.
And, as I bottle things, inevitably, I start to have night terrors again. But the cycle continues; I don’t talk about it because I don’t want to be a burden, or for people to inwardly groan at me.
The truth that I have been ignoring is that I am feeling better, despite my mum not being here. I feel guilty for that. Even though right now I can hear my mum saying “don’t be so silly, Evee.”
So, if I were to be honest with my feelings…
Katie graduated from Swansea University with a distinction in a Masters of Translation and Interpreting. When she walked on that stage, I was so proud. She did it, my sister. She’s an ‘adult’ now (whatever that means). I felt like Mum partly got her there.
And in a selfish sense, I felt so alone. Whilst I was choked with emotion for Katie, I imagined my graduation. Mum has seen Katie graduate once before. I hope she still sees mine, but I feel the familiar ebb and flow of sadness as university draws nearer. My university is beginning to call my name, and I’m feeling like I’m holding onto Mummy, whilst reaching out for my new life. Before I was on my ‘gap year’. I was healing from the trauma, and now I have to get geared up for this next step.
And, here’s something I never thought I’d say, I don’t want it. Yes, of course, I’m excited, and it is everything I’ve strived for. But I want my mum to be there to come home to. I was meant to do this with my mum here by my side.
I have to accept this new future, but I also have to let go of the future I thought I would have.
There was a point in my life where I didn’t think I would have much of a future. I thought I wouldn’t be able to carry on living. That’s the brutal, unfiltered truth.
I’m feeling so overwhelmed with the fact that this future is here, and that I want it, but don’t want it.
This has been a really difficult post for me to write, and its made me begin to realise how easy it is to sweep your emotions under the rug, forget they’re there and fake a smile occasionally. I hope that right now, wherever you are, you take a look and ask yourself what you are really feeling. We don’t have the answers, but if you want to comment, you can just to get it all out of your head. It is so much better to talk than to worry in silence.
“I should stay strong but I’m weak, and what’s wrong with that?”AJR, Weak