It's Hard.

       It’s hard.

      It’s really, really, hard. When your mind is saying, yes, yes, let's do it! and your soul is chiming in, this will make you happy; but your body simply replies with the same answer every time, like an old man on the bus who says the same words to the driver every day when he nods goodbye: I’m so very tired.

        I’m sorry, I can’t do it. 

        It hurts too much.

       All I want is to practice the piano, or sew, or take a full-length shower; and if I go ahead and do it anyway, afterward my body is in even more pain— a lot more.

       Then I have to take more medicine,

       and my mind gets even more dizzy, 

       and when my soul says, you can keep moving forward! I want to grab it by its hair and shout and sob and show it the dull, burning flashes of frosty lightning tracing every path my neurons connect to with a silent scream.

       Yet even when tears are streaming down my face and all I need more than air itself is a hug, but I can’t get one because everyone else is asleep— I still hear my soul, quietly flickering away in my shaky heart to keep it warm.

       You will.

   Your will is stronger than fatigue.
   Your hope will overcome depression.
   Your strength will carry your pain.
   Your determination will sharpen your mind.
   Your faith will shape your future, and
   Your soul will keep you warm.

       I hope you have a good day. I'm super sleepy so I'll be watching The Great British Bake-off and drinking plenty of fluids. 

        Love,

          Joelle.

Lost In Translation

DEAR
      Young adults:
                It's hard to stop trying to find validation through others.

               It's hard when you know you have worked every day, every year, and you try and fail over and over again. It's hard to pick yourself up and keep going after every fall. It's hard when you finally get somewhere, only to be ignored by the very people you are trying to impress.

           I'm turning twenty-one in two weeks, and I still have no idea what I am supposed to do with my life. I sing, I write, I draw, I paint, I create. And yet, I have no understood purpose in life; no path to follow. All I know is that I will not be able to move through life unless I continue to create.

             I feel like someone has put me in a helicopter, flown me out to sea, and dropped me in the center of a vast ocean. There is nothing in sight. I do not know what is beneath me. I can't see anything coming toward me. I am struggling to stay above the waves. There is nothing to swim toward, nothing to measure against. I am alone.

           The only thing that I know is there is the sky, but even the sky changes. Sometimes it's filled with light, and sometimes it's dark. Sometimes I see the stars and the moon, and sometimes it's raining, and I cry along with the clouds. The only constant is the rising and setting of the sun, even if it's obscured, because I know it's there.

             What I'm trying to say is, my life is the ocean, and this is how I feel. I am overwhelmed and lost, and the only thing I know for certain is that God, the sun, is somewhere nearby.

           I don't know how to end this post, because I am so tired and sad and emotionally dry right now. I suppose I simply wanted to write out my state of mind.

                It's storming in the sea of my mind right now, and I'm feeling a bit under the weather. Normally, I'd post something positive about how to get out of the storm, but I have to admit that I can't get out of mine right now. I think it's time I admitted that I am just as lost and broken as so many other people, and I simply needed to share my turmoil. Maybe we can help each other.

                 Da duit.

With I Can't Even Right Now (Seriously),

Joélle.