137 Days

Let's be honest. No one has really enjoyed 2020 so far. It's been worse for some more than others, but still, not a great year for anyone. Today, May 17, marks the 137th day into the year 2020. These have been the hardest 137 days I've ever experienced. Not all 137 days have been bad. Of course, there have been good times and great memories. But, I know that when I think back on 2020, I will remember it as the worst year I've ever had (at least, for now).

On January 29, I wrote a tweet that read:

"I knew going into 2020 that it wasn't going to be 'my year.' It's actually harder than I thought it would be. Taking faith in the fact that I don't need a new year for my life to turn around. 2020 might not be my year but tomorrow could be my day and for now, that's enough."

I admire the confidence and positive attitude I had then. Some days I can still find that same spirit. Other days, I can't.

Over the past 137 days, I've dealt with more than I think I ever have in my lifetime (though, I have been blessed with an easy life, overall). In early January, there was a horrible, life-changing night that first crushed my spirit and greatly damaged my relationship. I thought that was rock bottom. But I recovered. Life went on. Except, things didn't get better. For reasons I will choose to not share, I decided to start therapy. I was diagnosed with high functioning depression. Great. Everything that was already hard complicated just got a lot worse. When my grandfather unexpectedly died, and I couldn't even attend his funeral because of COVID, I thought surely things could not get any worse. That is, until two weeks ago, when my long-term relationship came to an end. It's hard for me to write that, as I still have trouble accepting it and admitting it. This is something I can't even begin to write about yet, as I know it will turn into a blubbering mess of emotions. So, I'll leave it at that. I lost the one thing I thought I'd always have.

As the year progresses, each event seems to get worse than the last.

I've learned a few things. First, a lot can happen in 137 days. Second, I'm a lot stronger than I ever thought I was. This year, I've also managed to score a great job that I'm passionate about. I maintained a 4.0 GPA for another semester, setting me up for success for my last semester before I graduate. I rekindled old friendships and have grown closer to many. In many ways, I am thriving.

But, more often than not, I am broken. While I've always loved my ability to be an optimist, it's become increasingly more difficult. Knowing that these last 137 days have been the worst I've ever experienced is one thing. Not having any idea what the next 229 days hold is a whole other thing.

I wish I could say this blog has a happy ending. I wish I could say that I'm healed and happy and ready for what life brings me. But I'm not. I'm terrified and sad and confused. Some days are better than others. One saying that I've long held close to my heart is that "Everything will work out in the end. If it's not worked out, it's not the end." I repeat this to myself countless times a day. I don't know what exactly "worked out" means, but I have to believe that it will happen.

My mom has always told me to take things one day at a time. Sometimes, one day is too much now. I have to take it one hour, one moment, at a time. Trusting the process is all I can do. That, and sharing my deepest vulnerabilities here in hopes that compassion, positivity, healing, and encouragement will come my way.

2020 has not at all been what I thought it would be. The events, the emotions, and the uncertainty that this year has brought often consume me. I've lost myself and my worth. I've lost my stability and sometimes even my hope. I can't even begin to put it into words. It feels like I'm trapped on a roller coaster that never stops going down.

But, I will be okay. Not today. Not for awhile. But one day. And, just like I wrote in my tweet from January, for now, that is enough. It is enough to know that I'm not okay now, but I will be. One day.