The lone “hey” is not a text I send very often, but I sent it yesterday afternoon. I’m a full-sentence-using triple-texter more often than not. Or a sender of spontaneous memes.
Yesterday was a different type of day.
It hasn’t been the easiest week. It’s been this type of week, to be exact: I went to work yesterday in the same clothes I had slept in (but I’m extremely proud of myself for throwing on some mascara). My brain is being a bit of a bully lately and each time I think it’s over, she just lays into me again. I’m talking dark, brutal stuff that I don’t think would be beneficial to anyone for me to write about in any detail. Curiously enough, I can tell that I’m not far from that dark place even now as I write this. I see the waves in the distance. Since coming home last night, I’ve done everything that pinterest/tumblr/a hippie friend would tell a girl to do: I relaxed with a cup of green tea beside me, an aesthetically pleasing candle burning, applied some nice skincare nonsense, and technically I’m “journalling” as we speak. Still, those waves are coming. To the me of the near future reading over this post: please don’t delete this! I think you’ll need it more than anyone else will.
We were talking about my text.
I went spiraling down a rabbit hole yesterday thinking about my inadequacies and how the future will only magnify all of my current problems. I’m a burden to those I love and always will be, blah blah blah, really unoriginal depressed person thoughts. I thought a lot about my boyfriend and all the love he has to give, and how it’s so unfair to let him waste it on me.
I’ve been here before, with this exact same train of thought. Last year, actually. I called my boyfriend at the time and asked him if he’d rather be semi-miserable forever, or feel a lot of pain for a little bit but then be able to carry on just fine. He chose the latter, so I told him we shouldn’t be together anymore, and…yeah. That was, more or less, that.
All damn day I pushed back against the thought that if I simply cut this poor guy out of my life, he’d be happier, and I would be happier for finally doing something good for him. Even at my worst, I usually have enough sense to keep my wild ideas in my own bubble, but the price I pay is that when I get stuck in there, no one knows where I am, let alone that I need help getting out.
The biggest struggle of the day came from needing help, but worrying that if I opened my mouth, a bomb might fall out. In the interest of working through things, however, I decided that I could attempt to wave a little distress flag without going full crazy. I’d just have to hope that he could see it. After hours of looking at my phone and seeing an enemy, I awkwardly (without any intention of starting an actual conversation) texted him a simple “Hey” for what I think was the first time ever. I’m not going to say it felt like the right thing to do. It felt weird.
He responded in a similar fashion, and I didn’t say anything else. He asked if I had to work that night, and I said yes. The end.
…BUT IT WASN’T.
He showed up at my job last night and checked in on me. He figured out pretty quickly that I wasn’t okay and that I didn’t want to talk about it at work, so he listened patiently as I explained a little bit about this current job of mine. He proceeded to disappear for a moment and came back with hot cider and a cookie. He then insisted on buying two of my products, and ran away before I could give him his change. He also left behind a scarf and gloves for me to keep warm.
I’m not trying to show off here but honestly, what sort of a human does these things?
There’s a point to my bragging, and it is this: speaking up doesn’t have to be this grand, well-thought-out thing. It makes such a huge difference to have even just one person in your life who will recognize a flag when you wave one. Not only that, but it is brave to wave the flag at all. I had to swallow a lot of poisonous thoughts yesterday to get to a point where I could poke a hand out of my bubble, and I’m so grateful that I did. I’m equally glad that I didn’t try to wait until I was fine to speak with or see him. He took me for what I was when he showed up with nothing but caring concern and good intentions, which was definitely a less warm and fuzzy version of myself – but the warm and fuzzy did come back in their own time.
A lot of things went right yesterday, and they won’t always, and that’s okay. That’s why this time, I’m writing about it.
Also, the next time I write will very likely be after my rheumatologist appointment next week, so I will be getting back to my original semblance of a theme soon. For someone who doesn’t think all of her life problems stem from anxiety, I’m sort of doing way too much writing about anxiety. Please don’t show my rheumatologist. Imagine she actually finds me on here. I’m giving myself another anxiety attack thinking about this. What a whirlwind.