Her Musings #ProjectNigeria

Get Up And Live

I don't want to get up today.
I didn't want to get up yesterday, and I didn't.

I snuggle deeper into the cocoon I have made with my blanket, breathing in the scent of the clean sheets mingled with mine; cotton, sweat and hair products. I feel safer here, away from people and their eyes and their words and their actions.

My window is shut, because I don't want to look outside and see people getting on with their lives while I despair in how stagnant mine has become these days.

This is what I go through sometimes. I spend days in bed, too scared to go outside and face anybody. Sometimes I don't want to see my own reflection, or the new clothes I had bought a while ago in excitement.

It baffles me how something I tried on in the fitting room and admired could look so ugly to me now; especially when I put it on.

It baffles me how my moods can change, from happy to sad to angry so quick that even I, the owner of the moods, don't have the time to adjust.

It baffles me how I can feel this way and not talk to anyone about it. I'm always the good listener, the sympathizer, the adviser. Yes, I'm the responsible one, the hardworker, the encourager.

What happened to the lively girl, the one who everybody thinks is always happy and laughing? Where did she go?

I stare at my white ceiling, wishing for my life to rewind, rewind back to my childhood when things were simpler. The thought makes me smile, a smile that doesn't reach my heart.

I listen to the silence. My stomach rumbles, but I ignore it. I have not had a decent meal in days.

The tears fill my eyes, the stupid tears that had refused to come when I needed them. I feel relief finally as the warm liquid flows from my eyes, down the sides of my face, and into my hair. I don't sob; I just lie still, eyes wide open while I watch my life play before me, the bits I love and cherish: the laughter of a sibling, an affectionate touch from my grandmother, a hug from my mother, my father throwing a little version of myself into the air, a kiss from a past lover, a scream of delight from a friend, a joke from a deceased loved one that we had laughed at so hard I remember nearly suffocating.

The heaviness in my heart subsides.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a few minutes.

When they open, I am ready to face the day and continue. I know I'll be back soon, I know that one day my emotions will get jumbled again, and my bed will call to me again, and I'll answer again; I'll sink between it's covers and go through the cycle again.

Isn't it funny, that I'm anticipating another episode? But what matters is that today, I overcame. Today, I got up. I don't know when the next bout will hit me, but I know it will.

For now, though, I'll get up and live.