Stay

The other day someone approached me and said they had found my old poetry on Facebook, and that it was beautiful. My initial reaction was ‘embarrassment’ because I cringe to think about the way my younger self probably expressed herself. And now, would a complete stranger think I am still that person today?

My second reaction was ‘gratitude’. Someone read what I  had written years ago, and thought enough of it to tell me, it was beautiful. Not weird, or confusing, or poetry b.s.

“Beautiful.”

The ironic part of this is that less than a month ago I had almost deleted this entire website because I hadn’t written in so long. All my prior thoughts and feelings that live here would have been deleted with the ease of pressing a few buttons.  

I’m not sure if anyone still reads this (or reads at all, let’s be honest). 

I don’t know if people remember that I once wrote a blog that I loved. How in my early twenties I was writing articles for other people and they were being published. That I approached everything I did with excitement, and how I was developing and molding my dreams into reality. Then the world stopped, and I think I stopped with it.  

My mom will text me every now and then and be very adamant about how I should start posting again. “girl you need to be writing... you are gifted. You know I’m not just telling you that because I’m your mother. Because if you sucked, well, I would tell you that too.”  I haven’t had much to tell anyone. I’ve had a lot of things happen, and I’m sure my friends would agree that I have enough material to write a couple of books. There’s not much my brain has felt I could share though.   

But… here’s a letter to the void

For anyone who may randomly remember “Around Her Table” and has thought: what’s chantel been up to?Disclaimer: I don’t really have the brain space to write out some eloquent poem or draft a story with a proper timeline or any sense of ‘flow’. So, I’m going to start anywhere. &  ‘anywhere’ starts…this summer.

 ~

This summer I worked three jobs and ran myself into the ground. I told myself it was an effort to save more money. Build for a better future. Work hard now, so you can rest later. In hindsight, I think I wanted to stay busy so I wouldn’t have time to stop. I found whenever I did stop I was 1. lonelier than I had ever felt in my entire life, and 2. deeply and wildly unsatisfied with where I was, but so exhausted from this neverending ‘self-improvement’ movement we all seem to be on. So, I worked, and then worked after work, and then would go to my other work, after that work. Often getting home at two or three in the morning with just enough time to take the dog out, shower, pass out, and repeat the next day.  

I turned 28 this summer. I had a panic attack on my birthday. It had nothing to do with getting older or being deeply and wildly unsatisfied with where I’m at, or that after working all those hours this summer my financial situation is somehow worse, in part due to the depth of those feelings and several others (but that’s another story). For only being 28 I’ve lived more life than most people do for the entirety of their existence. However, I remember sitting on my couch laughing and hanging out with the people who were celebrating with me when all of a sudden it was like every thought that I had pushed away and shoved down for the past few months was slammed to the forefront of my brain. There were people around me, and I tried to get up and walk to my room before it really hit. I think I had cracked a joke to mask any panic that may have been visible on my face. I started laughing, but the laughter quickly turned to sobbing, which then turned to hyperventilating. I stood in the middle of my living room floor unable to stop even though I felt humiliated and stupid as it was happening. Though no one there said anything to evoke either of those emotions from me. Instead, my friend hugged me and told me everything was going to be ok, even though she had no idea what was going on, but it didn’t help.  

This summer was the first time I think I had completely lost my faith in God, and if you know me you know I don’t say that lightly. I don’t mean knowing there is a higher power and just choosing to live your life as you please. I mean sitting in a service and singing on Sunday all while thinking “I’m singing and talking to absolutely no one”. Then in the next breath praying and pleading to be able to feel something, anything again. The voice in the back of my head pleading with me to keep pushing, but the only feeling that rushes over me is emptiness and isolation while surrounded by people who I know to love me beyond a shadow of a doubt.  I contemplate running to the alter, but I know if I hit my knees what comes next is 10x worse than anything I experienced on my 28th birthday. Then, my chest tightened as I hyperventilated and could not stop. This time, I’d scream. Instead, I lift my hands and pray to a being who I wasn’t sure was there or listening to help me overcome my unbelief. 

This summer I did my best not to focus on my issues and the problems I was sure resided only in my silly little head. Don’t play the victim Chantel, that’s not you. After all, the mind is a battlefield so what’s one more thing to conquer? At the end of the day, I’m blessed...right. In comparison to a lot of other things, I should be grateful, and maybe if I focused more on what’s going well in my life I wouldn’t feel so bad. More on, spending time with friends, family, and people who I know, love me, then…it'll lift. If I go out, meet new people, and socialize the isolation won’t feel so intense. Did you know that exercise produces endorphins which act as a natural antidepressant if you don’t want to take meds? I’ll exercise more too. Or maybe I should rest and take a break. Yeah, let’s try that. Or maybe I should stop giving my energy and attention to people who are glad to drain me of it and give me nothing back in return. Ah, if I read one more book… prayonemoreprayer,bemoresurrendered,talktomypastor,talktoGodagain,talktoonemorefriendsothethoughtsdon’tstaysocrowded inmyhead-

IF I JUST TRY H A R D E R!!!!!!! …it'll make me still want to be here. 

Smile and hug everyone Chan. It'll pass. 

Summer’s turned to fall now.

Two weeks ago, I had my very first psych appointment. 

One week ago, I started a new medication to help with my inability to focus and keep my thoughts straight. Something I now realize has affected me my entire life, but I've just now been able to start getting help for it, and I no longer dismiss it as a “Haha, oh that’s just a Chantel” type of thing. 

This past Sunday was the first time in a long time I didn’t feel grief seeping from me as I sat in a service. 

Tomorrow, I start therapy. After years of only ever being able to do introductory sessions, because that’s all I could afford, I’ll get to talk about things I now realize have been plaguing me for years, and in turn, have affected my life. 

For the 104 days that remain in this year, I will focus solely on myself. Ignoring the voice in my head that calls me selfish for doing so. I will fight for myself in the way that I would fight for my younger sister. It's because of her that I’m still here. She’s the reason I’m bothering to write any of this anyway.

And maybe someone will come across it someday, at the right time, and think- I really thought she had it together. Her life seems like she had it made, but she was struggling, like that?? 

I was. Well, I am. But I'm also trying. 

That’s what this is. That’s what a lot of what I'm doing recently is, it’s me trying. If you know me in my day-to-day life and my actions don’t make sense to you right now, I can’t apologize to you because I can’t focus on anyone else at this moment. Even though I just said that I’m going to “focus on me” I still feel the need to explain myself for fear of being judged or disappointing anyone else... and I don’t know even know if anyone will ever read this. 

As I said, I’m trying. To heal, to grow, and get healthier because it’s reached a point where I can really tell that I am not okay right now. I’ve never known what that has felt like before, at least not to this extent. What I’ve written above doesn’t scratch the surface of what this summer or the past several years have been like. I’ve often felt like I’ve been on the outside of my body experiencing these things happening to me, changing me, wondering where the person I used to be has gone, and when she’s coming back? 

But anyway, if anyone does read this, and you see me... we don’t have to talk about it.  

Thanks.