My last post on this blog is dated 2 January 2022. I wrote that account about two months prior to posting it. If you were to ask me how the last one and a half years had been for me, I’d say ‘pure turbulence’. Chaos. Confusion. I kept sinking to a new low every day. I was forced out of a life that I was trying to build around myself, dreams that I had been nurturing for years, the work that I had sunk into realising it, and in one minute, it all came crashing down. And I could not accept the new reality.
I spent weeks in bed, barely ate or showered. I couldn’t imagine a future. There was nothing I could look forward to. I was tired. Of living. Of everyday. I just wanted to give up and walk away forever. I kept spiralling downwards.
You see, I had built a career for myself, had envisioned a life and worked years to finally attain it. I was in a beautiful city in a wonderful country. My biggest fear was waking up from that dream one day and I realised it in February 2021. One fine day, I lost it all. My visa extension was denied. I lost my job because of that. I lost the one person I adored because I had to leave. One minute I was this guy at his best at work, preparing for a marathon, spending his weekends working in a charity and merry making, being at a place to be happy. The next minute, I had lost it all. I was nothing.
I came back home at the age of 29, nothing to my name, no future, no present, lost and desolate. I was broken to the core. I truly believed that I had lost my spirit. But I’ve come back. I’m on the road to recovery. It took me almost eight months of soul searching to arrive at where I’m now.
They say pain makes you write. That it feeds your writing spirit. I believed in it until I felt it. Pain stopped me on my tracks. Pain crippled me. It tossed me about like a yacht in the storm. Dragged me down time and again but somehow, I did not stay down. I guess you can attribute it to my fighting spirit or whatever I had left in me. I kept coming back up for air. I wasn’t going to wilt away and die just because I could not afford to live the life I had wanted.
It took a lot of efforts. I gave up on the world. Ignored everything that anyone said, turned a blind eye to society, its rules and everything it values. I began work on my reality. I worked on building my life up block by block, stick by stick. I built a future for myself. I sculpted it from scratch. I’m not sure if it is the right one for me. But it is the one I’m going to go with.
I’m not a 100% now. I’m not the person I was back then before this had transpired in my life. My pain has changed me. I’m a lot quieter now, a lot more serious. I don’t have many friends. My days are spent working, weekends freelancing, nights planning on my future. I’ve gone ahead and made my life so busy that I do not have time to cry or be depressed anymore.
I do not want to be that person I was a year ago, lying in my bed, unwashed, tired, depressed. I do not want to be that person, running away in the middle of the night hoping to never come back. And I will work to ensure that I don’t end up there. I don’t know what my fuel is, don’t know what drives me. But I’m moving forward, every second of every day.
If you were to ask me if I had accepted my new reality. I’d say no. I haven’t accepted it. It gets to me often. I scream at the wall, at my life, at things around me often. But I’ve realised that I’ve got no choice.
To be honest, the old life has faded away. I don’t remember much of it now. It has become an old scar now. Some memories remain, most of them twisted by my emotions, twisted beyond the point that I no longer feel that was what transpired in my past.
I would not wish this pain on anyone. I cannot imagine how I lived through it, so crippling. I hope that you never get to face it, ever. Even if you did, I hope that you have the strength to pull through.
Darkness be my guide.
This lonely journey be my ordeal.
My destination is a mystery.
My today, stillness.
I trudge on.
One step at a time.
but moving forward nevertheless.
This pain be my enemy.
It be my fuel.
It be my fighting spirit.
It won’t go away.
I’m it and it is me.
Ripped wounds would stay ripped
I’ll hide it beneath the yellow daffodils;
Layer it with unbreakable cobblestones
And keep walking.
This pain won’t consume me.
I won’t be my wound.
Won’t be the sad, old poet in a dingy pub
Drinking his days away
Talking tales of lost life, drowning in it.
Life is a struggle indeed
But it is unending.
You lose one.
Begin another one.
The end is untrue.
No return is a fallacy.
The end comes when you’re dead.
And while you’re living,
You can always begin a new life.
Just keep walking,
One step at a time.
One day at a time.
One goal at a time.
You’ll get there.
You’ll get it all.
One day, you will.
Remember, you got this. Never ever let yourself forget that. Ever.
The above is a snippet taken from the author’s own life. It has not been plagiarized from anywhere.