Remember a Reason or Two to Keep On Keeping On
How do you not give up on yourself? If I knew, I never would have gone through the bleakest 14 days of my life. At some point, I even thought of killing myself—unnecessarily dramatic, I know, but hardly surprising in one who’s been skipping at least two meals a day and sleeping until three in the afternoon. I am grateful for my friends who proved yet once again why I’m friends with them. Instead of prying, they sent me the most thoughtful affirmations of support.
“I hope that whatever it is you’re going through, goes through.”
“I don’t know what you are going through, Chin. Know though that you are in my thoughts. I’m just here if you need someone to listen. ♥”
“Chin, please know that we’re here if you need us. Stay strong. Let me know how else we can help.”
“Hang in there, babe. When I see you, I won’t buy you ice cream, I’ll get you an ice cream truck.”
How does one not soldier on under so much outpouring of love? And so, I’ve decided to snap out of the self-pitying haze I’ve been in for the longest time and rejoin the rest of the world. First to go were the jammies that have practically become second skin; I’ve hidden in them way too long. Second was the scruffy hair; I haven’t been to a salon in almost three months. In Paris, I thought of asking Iris to hack away at my almost shoulder-length hair but ditched the idea when I realized that’d probably scare her more than I already did that night when we stood before the Sacre Coeur and I walked up the steps to knock on the imposingly old, big door, yelling, “Hello! Hello! Is there a nun in there who can hear me?”
Third to go would be this feeling of inadequacy—and that would take a lot of doing. I used to be pretty brave. Even though I fall down stairs and run into doors, furniture, and walls with almost psychopathic frequency, I honestly believed myself invincible, able to take on anyone and anything, even an army of ekg machines. Well, recent events have seriously dented that faith. I wish it weren’t so. It would be so much easier to plod on if I weren’t scared of messing up.
Surprisingly, my biggest cheerleader turned out to be Walid who, despite juggling diapers and the remote control so he could keep an eye on his favorite football team, found the time to email me the loveliest, funniest encouragement his side of the hemisphere. The Beatles didn’t lie. We do get by with a little help from our friends. From now on, I shall make a bigger effort to return to my old self–the one who was always the first to laugh, the last to cry, the least likely to say she can’t.
If you’re going through something difficult, too, hang in there. It’s not true it always gets better after; sometimes it just stays stuck. But, there are worse things to be than stuck so hang in there. One day, you will remember a reason or two to keep on keeping on.