But I get up because that's what I'm supposed to do. I think putting on a brave face is what they call "being an adult."
Step 1. You get up
Step 2. Get dressed
Step 3. Punch in, punch out
And then repeat steps 1-3 the next day and the next and the next until you're allowed just a tinge of freedom for approximately 72 hours.
I'm not one to just "deal with it," to "suck it up," let life take control as I hold on miserably.
I like to think I fight back. I'm not very violent but I do like to use my words. So I say mean things to life. Call it what I want. Then cry.
Because life, I've been told, is 'beautiful," and a "gift" and so on and so forth. But that's not what I feel.
There's a pain in my left ankle that never goes away, and my knees don't like to bend much, my wrists start to throb after five minutes of consecutive typing and my heart---that thing is heavy and weary and weighs me down, my shoulders are constantly squinched up, and my brain surely has holes in it because my thoughts don't make sense--they jump from one nightmare to another and it never seems to slow down.
I know, it sounds like I just need a massage and to relax a little. Maybe have a beer. But this, what I feel all day long, everyday is discomfort, disconnect, and the dread of what is to come next.
Things will work out, they say. Trust in God, they say. You're supposed to have challenges.
Okay, that's fine. Tell the little voice in my head that. Tell inner Meghan that. Let her know to stop calling herself so many names, and that things will work out, and that God has a plan.
If you think I want to be miserable, you're wrong. To think that one would yearn and long for melancholy just to have attention is absolutely and utterly blasphemous.
I want to be happy, I want to have fun, I want to be the person people want to hang out with.
Some people say that depression is easy to control. Anxiety is all in your head. And for the most part I agree.
But there are seasons in life for a reason. Emotions are valid and real and should be acknowledged. People are allowed to be bitter at what has happened to them because there is such a thing as righteous anger.
That is what I get to go through right now. This is how I get to be. This is not the best version of myself and I'm aware of that. But this is the part of me that eventually will help others. At the end of the day, I'm able to empathize because I, myself, have walked an ugly path too.
So when I get up in the morning, I push forth. I repeat the steps. I get dressed. I punch in, I punch out. I smile. I wave. I say "I'm fine." I repeat the steps. I pray but it's mostly yelling. They say God likes you to be candid. I get mad. I repeat the steps.
If this is what life has come to then so be it. The world can't stop turning and neither can I.