Every time I think, “Now it’s over.” But then it isn’t. Yesterday, I walked the same route as I always used to. I walked from Upper campus to my flat. Two minutes after I started, I was in tears. Panicked. I ran into a friend, who walked me home. But I felt victory, because I did it. And then last night. Lethargy. Depression. It set in slowly, like mist settling on a mountain. And this morning. Stress. Feeling overwhelmed.
I want to give up. I want to go home. I want to go home for six months and not study or work or try and be strong or try and prove anything to anyone or try to show people that I can do this, that I’m not a quitter, that I can go on no matter what. I want to quit. I want to be that person who can just say, “You know what? I’m a mess and I’m exhausted and I’m especially exhausted from trying to show everyone how strong I am and trying to show myself that I’m fine and that I’ll be fine and that everything is fine. I’m out of here. See you when I see you.” I want to be that person. I want to give up. I want to quit and leave and not have to be here having to sort things out.
I know this is just an emotion. I know that it will pass. Yesterday was a good day on campus, my first day back in lectures. It was good. I felt fine. So I know that the reality is that everything is fine. God is in control.
But then there are these moments where I sit in my kitchen in the morning crying my eyeballs out wishing I could just freaking go home. And writing is the only thing that makes me calm down and feel better. Maybe I don’t have to post this on a public blog, but everyone keeps asking me how I am. THIS is how I am. I feel fine, and then suddenly I’m back three weeks and I feel broken and hopeless and like nothing will ever be right again. The fact that I know that this is just an emotion doesn’t help. It is what it is.