I Hate Everything – A Tale of Optimism

For quite a while now my first thought every single morning has been, “I hate everything”. Well, to be fair, it’s usually a word that starts with “F”. Or “S”. But the second thought has been, “I hate everything.” It’s like the soundtrack to my life. *

Why? Because I’ve been in immense pain. But why have I been in immense pain? Because I’m busy. And that’s why it’s a phrase of optimism.

You’ve known me for a very long time – remember when I turned 16 and started freaking out about growing old and being sick? – and you know I’m big on self-reflection. I’m astounded when I think about how much I’ve grown in the past seven months, on so many fronts. Besides all kinds of official things – being upgraded to an adult credit card (not below 18 anymore), having no more age-related driving restrictions, having control over my own medical everything – there are the things that are less obvious.

I’m not here to list all those things. Normally that would be a classic post, but today I’m content with just the knowledge that I have grown. Today, I’d like to talk about the fact that I’m busy (and therefore I hate everything).

Since September I’ve been volunteering with a certain charity, and in the past few months I’ve had to make a decision: either find another place to volunteer for a year, or go on to university. I took the higher education entrance exam (psychometric test) and got a high enough grade to enter the excellence program and receive a 50% scholarship (!) at my school of choice. Attending the course, preparing for the exam and still working (i.e. volunteering) three days a week took a lot out of me, but the success felt amazing. So that covered the technical aspect of university for me, but I was left with the question: am I ready?

I’ve never told you where I live, what my real name is or what my religion is, and you’ve never seen a picture of me. You know no truly identifying factors (which I’m sure has driven some of you crazy). I have my reasons for this, but the reason I love the most is that this blog is the opposite of real life. In the real world, the first things you (usually) know about a person are what they look like, the part of the world they live in, their name and maybe their religion. It takes longer to learn about their personalities and their feelings, if you ever do. In this world, our world, the only things you know about me are my personality and my feelings.

Which is why I’m still not telling you anything, including where I’m volunteering or what country I live in. I wrote all of this simply to explain that in my country, it’s not weird that I’m not starting university at 18. In fact, even if I go when I’m 20, I’ll still be on the younger end of the scale. Generally speaking, I’m much older than my age suggests, so I’m not worried about fitting in socially with an older crowd, but I am worried about my feelings. I’m so separate from my contemporaries as it is, and if I jump shoot choosing a profession, studying and starting a career I fear I’ll feel galaxies away from everyone.

It has come down to the fact that I have doubts. I’ve decided that the fact that I doubt I’m ready to start is enough to decide I’m not ready. I’m not the sort to waste my time and I take things very seriously, so I’m not going to start until every aspect feels right.

Which leaves me with finding another place to invest my heart for a year. I’ve been busy because I’m following leads and putting myself out there, all the while keeping up my regular work schedule. Sprinkle in tutoring, physical therapy, exercise, doctor appointments, additional work events and the occasional (*gasp*) attempt at fun, I am exhausted.  

So my brain is occupied with hating everything the majority of the time because I constantly feel like I’m dragging my body around and running myself into the ground (please note that I’m still taking care of myself – I haven’t aborted the mission of health just yet). When the thought first started popping into my brain I was kind of amused – it is kind of a funny way for my mind to have phrased my displeasure – but I recognize that it’s a sign of me being proactive with my own happiness.

I am my own person, and I am making the decisions that are right for me. I’m not just sitting here, feeling miserable, and hoping I do something worthwhile with my time. I’m already doing it. I’m being smart about my life. I’m building my path from scratch and turning it into something I can be proud of. Even if I don’t always realize it, I know that every step I’ve been taking recently has been an offspring of a superpower: optimism. Somehow I’ve been operating under the assumption that I have the ability to make everything work out.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why hating everything means I am a true optimist. Farewell.

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

We’re on the right side of rock bottom. –Rock Bottom, Hailee Steinfeld

*I literally push myself up into a seated position on my bed and think, “I hate everything.” Then I go to the bathroom and think, “I hate everything.” As I’m getting dressed, I’m thinking, “I. Hate. Everything.” When I find my way to the kitchen and start making breakfast, I’m just a broken record of, “I hate everything”. It’s quite the life I lead, my friends.

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Is This My Destiny?

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For everyone else, this last year of high school is a step they need to go through to get to the brighter beyond. But for me, with every passing day, the anxiety grows. When I got sick in 9th grade, I thought I would be better by 10th. When I wasn’t, I prayed it would be gone by 11th. When it wasn’t, I closed my eyes and pretended that there just wasn’t an option of me not being better by the time I graduate.

But it’s getting closer and closer, and I’m staying the same and the same. Trapped in the same constraints, suffering from the pain and loneliness, and quivering with anxiety. Because when I imagine my future, I am healthy. When I think about choosing my next path, I am healthy. When I think about colleges, dating, careers… I am healthy. But I am not healthy. So what’s going to happen?

Up until now, I haven’t let myself seriously consider what will happen if I don’t get better by the end of 12th grade. But the last few days, and today especially, I can see it crystal clear. My friends will move on. They’ll still love me, still support, still care for me (because they’re awesome), but by the nature of things, they will move on. They’ll be living farther away from me, be very busy, and probably be struggling with adjusting to their new environment. Being the kind of friend that I am, I’ll try to be supportive, listen to them and be empathic to their struggles. But inside I’ll be thinking, damn, I wish I had your issues.

I’ll be feeling lonely, because I’ll be seeing them very little. Conversations will probably take place over the phone or via text. Weekends they’ll probably want me time, which is legitimate, they’ll be tired from a long hard week, and anyway, there’s not much I can do anyway. I get tired, you see. I’ll try my hardest not to become a burden to them.

But I’ll feel lonely. And they’ll move on.

So how will I fill my time?

I can come up with a few things to do, my teachers at school are trying to help me make plans. It just sucks, because they aren’t the plans I want to make.

I can picture myself healthy so easily. How much I would bloom and love life. It’s not like I think life would be perfect, I know I would still have problems, but I would just feel so free. This happiness, that I have inside that is beaten back every day as I feel pain and every night as it keeps me from sleeping, I would finally be able to call it my own.

I need to find a way to insure that even if I’m not better I won’t let myself go, because that would be so easy. I can feel the temptation already. Nobody else knows how hard it is for me, how much goes into just putting a smile on my face, into getting out of bed in the morning. I’m tempted to not get out of bed. It would just be so much easier. Life would hurt so much less. I wouldn’t be looking at everything I can’t do everywhere I turn. 

Isn’t that just really what I want? For it to hurt less? It hurts so much. I talk about the emotional part of it all the time, but physically it’s just too much already. How much longer am I supposed to be able to withstand this attack? How long is it going to be until something in my body just fails? How long is it going to be until my inner strength just runs out? How many more tears do I need to shed in order to get through a day? How many more times do I need to sob and ask god what I ever did to deserve this until I can get some respite? HOW MUCH MORE DO I NEED TO SUFFER?

I can’t take much more. Every day this smile feels a little bit faker. Every day this laugh feels a little bit more forced. Every day this will power gets chipped at a little bit more. Every day my eyes grow heavier. Every day I crave affection, support and reassurance more, but the level I receive remains the same. Every day my breathing becomes more labored. Every day I just try to fill the void. Every day the doubt grows infinitely. Is this my destiny?

Ella.

Song Quote:

Give me love like never before, cause lately I’ve been craving more, and it’s been a while but I still feel the same. –Give Me Love, Ed Sheeran