“It was a Monday night when you told me it was over, babe, and by the Friday night, I knew that I would be okay.” You heard it from Sam Smith first, and you will not stop hearing it until you are truly okay. Of course, he was speaking about a relationship with a lover, but surely I can extrapolate the lyric to the relationship I have with myself.
I lay in bed. It is 4:10 in the morning and my mind is awake for the day. In actuality, my mind decided to skip slumber overall and focus on much more pressing issues – impending doom. My mind conjures up the most (seemingly) irrational thoughts and hurls them towards itself. If there wasn’t an image of myself at my worst already in my head – it I’d there now. Tears, tears, tears, and more tears come pouring down from tear ducts. To tell you the truth, I do not know where they come from. My mind whispers, “girl, you ain’t shit!” and somehow my eyes know what to do next. Cue the downpour. Cue the storms. Cut off the lights, because this is going to be an episode.
A few hours later, the episode ends. The credits play, and catchy gameshow tunes come on. You are okay. You survived yet another epic night (at the expense of your sleep), and now you are on edge. The sun shines and you just want to say “fuck you, sun.” Even though you know this is (also) irrational, your mind says “Nah sis, you’re straight. the sun is a bitch. fuck the sun, it ain’t ever shined when you needed it!”
For the rest of your day, your eyes remain squinted and your patience splinted. These invisible monsters are intruding on my life. Sitting on my shoulders during my political science courses. Whispering while I am attempting to hear how to construct lesson plans. In the midst of class, my textbook begins chanting,
“You will never be a great educator. You will never be a great educator. You will never be a great educator!”
Inside I begin drowning. I feel tears welling up inside of me (again, I am not sure how or why I feel like balling my eyes out), and I begin to rhythmically tap my foot. Beats, melodies, crescendo, rifts, bass floods my head. I sway my body to the music playing in my head and tune back into the lesson for the day. For the moment being, I am not cloudy. I hear nothing but the instruments and the vibrations of artistic voice. Lyrics fall upon my lips, uplifting thoughts finally penetrate.
My classmate leans over and asks, “are you okay? I’ve noticed you shaking your leg for the past thirty minutes.” I want to tell him, “no I am not okay, but I am okay for right now”, but instead I reply softly, “Yes, I am just fine.”
It was Monday night and Friday night every day, sometimes. But I would be okay, I assured myself. Just let me restart.