loneliness is a lot like climbing a mountain.

this is one of the hardest posts so far for me to talk about; but as i sit here crying my eyes out over feelings ive held in for months… its about time i process my thoughts the only way I know how. through quick, messy, unfiltered writing. more than anything, i pride myself on being a positive light no matter what i fight through–so, i can be that beacon of light for others. but some days, its a little bit tougher.

I just got back from a road trip where I was able to take a break from the stress of my daily routine, school work, and loneliness. but I learned I can’t take a break from myself. as one of my closest friends was battling his own heartbreak, I felt frustrated as such great people get hurt so badly by others for no real reason. this frustration lead me to thinking about my own heartbreaks whether that be in relationships or friendships– the combinations of nobody ever staying in my life, my hyper-empathy and my strong attachment to people always leaves me the one with too much left to give.

I get frustrated at how hard it is for me to form connections with people, and how hard it is to maintain them. I am always too much or not enough and grey area doesn’t exist in my realm. My biggest fear is being alone. Ending up alone. Feeling alone. It eats at me every day.

I know a relationship isn’t needed in life, and I know I don’t need someone else to make me happy. But there’s this quote I really adore that reads, “rivers know this: there is no hurry. we will all get there someday.” I know wherever I’m meant to be, ill one day find my way there. But, I worry once I get there, they’ll be no one to bask in the fulfillment with. No one to understand how beautiful and strange the whole journey was.

God only gives you what you can handle, but sometimes I feel stretched too thin to be capable of the managing.

Relationships are difficult for everyone, but when you throw the added struggles of PTSD, chronic illness, anxiety, and autism into the mix–I don’t know who would willingly want to have all that added into the chaos and confusion of relationships. Clearly from experience, not even the most genuine can balance it all with me. Hell, I can barely balance it all myself.

Sitting in a car for 20 hours these past few days, listening to playlists of melancholy soundtracks blaring through the speakers…memories I had long hid away started to resurface.

One of them that has been playing on an unfortunate loop was from my last ex-boyfriend. When his other girlfriend found out about me and I found out about her, he said to her: “I’m only talking to her because I pity her. She struggles with a lot and not many people stick around because of her disabilities.” That comment hurt worse than the cheating because the worst thing anyone could think about me is pity.

Yes, I struggle. I break a lot but I always rebuild myself with a better foundation than before. I let my pain drive my passions. I am incredibly happy and filled with gratitude over the smallest things every day. I do not need nor want pity. I don’t want to be an inspiration, I want to be a person. I want to be see at my worst and still held on to. I just want someone to see my struggles, and not pity me for them–but just hold on a little tighter.

But on days when the chronic pain flares mix with anxiety and the silence is a little too lonely, I worry I might never find that. That I will always be blooming alone, a sole flower in the midst of a busy street of people that are together and growing as a garden.

But, I also know I am resilient and molding into a better, more compassionate person daily. I can handle the battles alone, even if they are a little heavy and I’m a little too fragile. I am blessed to be where I am now. Here.

Another quote that has been ringing in my head lately is, “I know you hurt. Its okay. I hurt too. Hold my hand.” (Neil Gaiman) Maybe one day someone will say those words to me, but for now–I will remind myself and continue to hold myself a little tighter when I am unraveling. This road trip, I climbed down a mountain (literally), fully knowing the consequences it would have on a chronically ill body. On the way up, when my damaged body began to tremble and struggle, I accepted my limits. I learned the way back up is always the hardest part and its okay if you’re a little too sick and broken to get to the top on other’s time frames. There is no hurry in life. Maybe one day, someone will help you up the mountains of life. Maybe you already have that person. And hopefully, that day comes for me too.

One thought on “loneliness is a lot like climbing a mountain.

  1. Love the article gives a lot of insight to how someone with a disability can struggle like anyone else to find love, but yet more than most since people sometimes people can’t see past a label.

    Liked by 1 person

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