A Pit

I know life is a constant pendulum of up and down and I’m quite at peace with that motion because crying is fun.

But it’s when the pendulum’s hinges spontaneously vanish and it freefalls into a permanent downward spiral wherein I think that maybe it’s not quite normal and okay anymore.

I feel like I’m in a pit again. Which really sucks because I worked really hard to climb myself out of the literal ditch. At least the ditch was a shallow depression in a heaven-like grassy knoll with butterflies twirling nearby whereas the pit is closer to a gaping hole at an oily car yard about to be buried with punctured tyres and forever forgotten.

My dad called today and apologised for not talking to me for weeks. He said that he’s a man and men can only focus on one thing at a time and he’s been so busy with his work that he forgot I exist.

I literally exist because of him.

I took his eyebrows and nose and height and stubbornness and half his name. I am half of him.

But he forgot I existed.

My own father forgetting of me firmly was beyond humbling and reminded me of how fickle and nothing this human experience is. When I will die, I will not matter anymore. The world will forget of my existence, this blog will shrivel away, this very piece will be seen for the last time eventually.

I will most definitely, undoubtedly, be forgotten.

My dad just decided to get a headstart.

I know that resilience is important. It’s a life skill to be able to piece yourself together again when you’re crumbling and dust yourself off after a face-first fall into pit. But it’s the fact that I find myself in these dumb grave-like abysses so often that is quite exhausting. There’s only so many brain space that talks about resilience in year 9 PDHPE take up and bouncing back is harder than it sounds.

My mum said I was fat again today.

She said I looked like I was 3 years old again and my excess weight was why my license photo looked like that.

She didn’t quite elaborate on what that meant but I’m guessing it was not a compliment. So I ate a couple of double stuff oreos in retaliation but I just ended up feeling grosser. My legs are too skinny for her but my face too fat. My hair is way too long and my temper apparently way too short.

I’m not just being set up to fail.

I’m being set up to hate myself.

How does one dig themselves out of a pit? I need tangible, practical advice. Usually, I do a facemask and go to sleep early after a restorative yoga session. I go on with my day as if the one before didn’t exist and I pretend I’m not coming loose at the seams of sanity. (Not the physical seams, I’m not that fat yet ahahahahaha)

But that isn’t working anymore.

I’m not sure it ever did.

Ew, I miss him.

I know I’m not allowed to and that I have to be a cool gal who can turn off her emotions at will. But I’m not. I feel emotions and wow do I feel these strongly. Not a dream has gone by where he didn’t pop up, like a jumpscare but pleasant. But I’m too scared to talk to him every again in case he doesn’t want to and I’m pretty sure my friends will swing at me very hard if I ever did,

So I won’t.

I don’t want to just dig myself out of the pit. I want to plant a flowerbed within it. With rows of daisies, speckles of sunflowers and bursts of lilies, I want to create a divine space. So that when a vulnerable passerby next stumbles past the ditch, they do not fall in but rather take in the gorgeous sight, breathe in the bliss-inducing fragrance and feel a little better.

There’s good going on too I guess.

I’ve got some cool new skincare stuff on the way and I changed my sheets today so it’ll be a fat snooze. I drank a lot of water and I got to eat great food.

May the ever-swinging pendulum screw her hinges back together, oil her joints and begin her beautifully hypnotic swing again.

I believe in her.