Elastic band

Stretched to the limit

My body begs me to breathe,

and my mind screams.

I should let myself be malleable,

be open to contracting.

But I am terrified of being inside myself.

I teach myself to never 

trespass beyond the limit.

I stay in the throes of tension.

Pinging constantly.

Pain

Ping

Pain

Ping

Pain

Ping

Within this limit 

I am highly strung but I am 

intact.

I think if I saw you again I would snap in two.

A year ago...

This time a year ago, things were tough. I had submitted my essays on May 1st and what followed was doubt, disbelief and pain. I remember that the theory of affect and the line 'things fall apart' kept running through my head like a song; I thought about them constantly. 

There was this emptiness. Just so much emptiness. 

I know that I was privileged compared to other graduates; I had a destination. I knew where I was going. But I kept thinking about everything that could go wrong. I spent a lot of time wallowing and I didn't tell anyone. To this day, I don't think I have ever told anyone how truly painful those few months were from May-September. It is only third year. It isn't the be all and end all of life but it feels like it. It feels like the world is splitting apart and you are right at the heart of it. Knowing that I was going to start my PGCE course was hard because there was an immense build up in my head. I was absolutely terrified. Just so completely and utterly terrified.

Sitting here, a year later, I feel the same. Slightly different, but the same. If I am kind to myself, if I could find a way to be a cheerleader for myself, I would say that I a proud. I am almost at the end of my second placement. 25th May and I am done. I have my assignment but other than that my last lesson will be Wednesday P3. I cannot wait. 

I have managed to get through the year and even though I am still anxious and worried, I have come so far and I need to cheerlead for myself because no one else is going to do it for me. 

That's what sucks. I hate that I do myself the injustice of not telling anyone how I feel. I bottle it up and instead of releasing the hurt, I contain it until late at night when no one will be able to see or hear my stifled sobbing. It's pathetic really.

Note to self: if you had a bucket list the top of the list would read "find a best friend - someone who you can hug and cry to".

Note to self 2: this time last year you discovered your left for The West Wing. See, when things fall apart, sometimes there are crevices of joy.

Note to self 3: you won't see the year 10s again after 9:30 Wednesday morning. You can survive them.

Note to self 4: you are enough. Internalise this. You are enough. You will find what you are looking for. But I hope, more than that, you realise that you never actually needed it.

x

T

This be the verse.

I learned to take each day as it came not because each day was precious, but because the alternative was painful; looking ahead meant facing pain in the future too - the pain in the present was enough. 

When I was fifteen, I tried my hardest to tell myself things would get better. They did. Mostly. 

There would be times when my thoughts would stumble into wondering about the future. I wondered, will things change and will it stop upsetting me?

Years later, I am reminded of Larkin's poem- although I personally would switch 'parents' for 'family', in the poem.

We learn the hurt when we are young. Life numbs the pain but also remembers and re-remembers it. It doesn't ever leave us. We think it does but it creeps up like a shadow. Like an email you thought you deleted. A text you thought you didn't send. The door you left open by accident. 

Today, I remember that 15 year old girl. I want to tell her that she was right; it gets better. I am better. 

But I don't want to tell her that now, the pain she feels is different. It's another shadow that creeps behind; another email she thought she'd deleted; another text; another door. 

Another, another, another.