Letter.

To the fixers:

Maybe you don’t know what else to do, so you give a suggestion. Maybe my problem seems easy to you. Maybe you can’t relate. Maybe you see an easy solution and you can’t imagine why I haven’t seen it. Maybe I have. Maybe it’s not as easy as you suggest. Maybe I can’t do what you can do. Maybe your solution is just a step in the right direction, but that same solution is surrounded by obstacles in my life. Maybe I don’t need a solution. Maybe I don’t need you to fix this. Maybe you want to help and you want to take control and fix this. Breathe. Just take a breath and be here with me. This can’t be fixed so easily.

To the challengers:

I see my flaws. I know there are many things I need to change. I’m probably more aware of them than you are. You challenge me to have perspective. You challenge me to think in different ways. You challenge me to think passed this. I can do those things. And nothing you are saying is wrong. But you’re invalidating what I’m feeling. I’m in a vulnerable place and you’re telling me, “Hey. I know what you’re feeling. But stop feeling that. Because you haven’t thought about it in this way. You just need some perspective.” I am allowed to feel what I’m feeling. You make me feel like I’m bad because I’m feeling this way. Just stop. Just hear me. Empathize with me.

To the uncomfortable:

You asked me why I was crying. So I told you. So you made a face that said you understood. Then you looked away. And you looked back and talked about something else. You tried to make me laugh. You ignored what I said. I know you’re not comfortable. I know you don’t want to help me carry this burden. Then please don’t ask. If you can’t handle it, please don’t ask me why I have tears in my eyes. Please don’t ask me how I’m doing. Because watching you see my pain and then ignore it? That’s something I can’t handle. So if you want to engage in my pain with me, then please do. But if you don’t want to–if you can’t– then leave me alone.

To the distracted:

You heard me. You not only heard me, but you said all the right things. You are the closest I’ve gotten to feeling a bit of relief from the sadness inside of me. You have gotten my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, I’m not alone. But you are busy. And the hours and the days and the weeks pass by and you seem to forget everything I said to you. When you see me, sometimes I can see you still remember, but you’re hurried. You have to move on to your next task, your next meeting. You say we’ll connect again soon as you pass by. Or you are so busy and distracted that you never follow through. In any way. You don’t even ask how I’m doing. Either be one thing or the other. Either be my friend, or don’t. But do not get my hopes up.

To the listeners:

Where are you?

-Melissa

Two.

I do much better in the daylight.

But it was dark. And cold. All the curtains were drawn so that no one could see in. It was meant to keep them out. But I was kept in. And I was very aware of my heartbeat.

Calm down. You’re fine.

I was fine. I’m fine. I. am. fine. My breath though… it was more shallow than normal. My heart rate was speeding up.

Would you stop? You’re fine. 

Yes, I had to stop. But my head felt funny. I couldn’t think straight. Why couldn’t I breathe like a normal person? Why could I feel my heartbeat so clearly? Am I okay? What should I do? I can’t sit hear anymore. Pacing. No stop. I’m fine. Am I safe here? I can’t stand anymore. Sitting. The floor.

For goodness sake. You’re fine. You know you’re fine. You’re being dramatic. Just breathe.

Just breathe… I can’t! I can’t get enough air. Why is my breath so shallow? Aren’t I breathing? My chest hurts. Should I… call someone? Text someone? What would I even sa–

No! You are fine. You are in control. You do not need to get a hold of anyone. No one would be able to do anything anyway. And you know that it’s no big deal! You’re working yourself up for nothing! It’s all in your head. You are fine! Pull yourself together. Why are you so dramatic?! Just breathe like a normal person!

How do I calm down? I want something… comforting. Something warm.

Tea.

Tea… Tea. Do I have tea? Why didn’t I bring tea! Why didn’t I bring enough of anything?! I’m supposed to be more prepared than this!

Your backpack. Are there still some tea bags in your backpack?

Backpack…. Yes! There’s tea. Lemon.

Good. Go make it and calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down.

-Melissa

Excuses.

I was trying to think of how to explain why I was 24 minutes late in turning in my paper. The prof I was trying to turn it in to is one of the most gracious people I know so he probably would have accepted any excuse. But I literally couldn’t write one.

Not that I didn’t have one.

But her words were in my head. Her words. “Results, not excuses.” Pounded into my brain a dozen times, directed at me when I wasn’t the only student in the room. When she called me out by name to say those words.

As if I did something wrong. As if I did something bad. Her unwillingness to hear me explain. Her unwillingness to believe that there could be anything valid for me not doing something perfectly. For me not understanding something.

As if I needed more guilt.

And tears filled my eyes and all I could think was: Shit. She got in my head.

So I said I was sorry for turning in the paper 24 minutes late. I said I would explain, but I’d been taught not to. And then I gave him the paper.

I have no idea why this hurts.

-Melissa

Too.

I sat quietly, trying to read one of the thousands of pages I’d been assigned. Unfortunately, my mind wasn’t anywhere near the book I held in front of me.

I replayed the moments in my mind. Not the good moments, though I had many of those to choose from. Just the awkward ones. Just ones where the silence lasted a touch too long. Just the ones that didn’t go perfectly, that made me question every single thing either of you had ever said to me. And my mind worries over every single second.

Because what if one of those seconds made you realize I’m not as great as you’ve somehow made me out to be? What if one of those moments caused you to wonder why you had bothered to come? What if you realized how uninteresting I was and got bored? What if you suddenly became aware of the fact that I am a horrible conversationalist? What if you came to terms with understanding that you had an idealized version of me in your head?

And I know none of those things are true.

Maybe it’s because I can’t read either of you very well. Or I think I can’t. Or maybe it’s because I… well, I honestly think you’re really cool so I can’t imagine you actually wanting to be my friends.

I do realize that this is not fair to you. I know that. I know that you, if I said these things to you, would argue relentlessly. I know. I am aware. I know you’ve proved me wrong countless times by now. And yet I question everything. I wish I could just turn that off.

Wouldn’t that be great? Do you have any idea with how much more comfortable I would be around you? Do you know that I rarely, if ever, fully let my guard down around you because I am so focused on how I’m being perceived? No, you don’t. Because I can’t tell you. Because that would legitimately hurt you, and for good reason. Because I should not be like this. I consider you close friends and yet… I’m afraid it’s too good to be true.

I’m so sorry for that.

-Melissa

Effortless.

You were clearly gearing up to ask a question. The words were actually seconds away from spilling out of your mouth and I freaked out.

I had no control over what you would say.

Before I could even stop myself, I hurled a question at you before you could get yours out. It’s not that it was an invalid question. I really was wondering. I always wonder a million things and, if we had time, I would pick your brain on so many different subjects. But we don’t have time for that and we both know it.

But I couldn’t help it. I blurted the question quickly and you went with it. Effortless. Sometimes it’s effortless for me to take the conversation and go wherever I want to with it. And I know that sometimes you realize what I’m doing and you let me do it anyway. Actually I think that’s how it is a lot of the time now.

But I hate that it’s so effortless that even I can’t control it. It’s second nature. When did I learn to do that? I don’t know. Why did I learn to do that? Not sure, but I have a pretty good guess.

And why do I feel the need to have control over the conversation? Why am I happy to have that control? I don’t know if happy is the right word… But why do I feel safe when I’m in control if the conversation topic?

Is that why people seek control? For safety? To feel secure, like nothing can touch them? Because I think that’s why I want it sometimes.

I let you take back some control when I had stopped you from asking your question because I felt safe now. Because I had manipulated the conversation to stay away from the unknowns that your question could so easily lead it to.

It really shouldn’t be this effortless.

-Melissa

Clouds

“Not much for conversation, still find need to pray. Sometimes I get tired of walking through these ordinary days.”

Yesterday, I think I freaked my friend out. He left me alone for a minute or two as he changed and when he came back out to get me, I was in a completely different mood. He hugged me goodbye and pulled away and looked at me.

He asked if I was okay.

I was too thrown off to lie.

I said I think so. Maybe I said I didn’t think so. Either way, I was confused. So was he (rightly so). He took a step back and asked what was wrong.

“If nothing else I get to see you, even if we never speak. All the words and sometimes we don’t quite know what they really mean.”

But I didn’t know. My mind had become muddled. I felt so sad and anxious at the same time. He was concerned. I went back to my apartment and immediately got in bed and started watching White Collar, mainly because usually it can calm me down. But throughout the entire episode, my heart felt like it was racing. My mind felt empty and overwhelmed simultaneously. 

“Let me lay down in this field and stare up at the sky, hope the days and clouds turn into something as they pass us by.”

When I was feeling a little better, I texted my friend to apologize if I had made him uncomfortable. He was fine, just wanted to know if I was okay. I tried to explain the feeling to him, and he was still really concerned. I told him I was fine.

It happens sometimes.

But why does it happen sometimes? Why, when I least expect it, do I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Usually it happens at night or if I’ve been alone for a long period of time. But it was five in the evening and I had just been hanging out with several people for the past four hours or so.

“Maybe you could settle for a skyline faded blue. Hope you might settle for this love I have for you.”

But really, I’m fine. I didn’t end up having a panic attack. I just took it easy for the rest of the night and woke up with only slight side effects of exhaustion. I just want to know why it happens, you know? What am I ignoring to the point that my body caves under the stress of it?

Good thing God’s in control. Good thing He knows what’s going on.

Goodness knows I don’t.

“I don’t know where, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but Your love can make these things better. Your love makes these things better.”

-Melissa

Lyrics from “Ordinary Days” by Jars of Clay