Thursday Morning, I Woke Up Contemplating

Thursday Morning, I Woke Up Contemplating

Thursday morning, five a.m. I woke up with a jolt feeling scared. Had to calm myself down by inhaling and exhaling like a pregnant woman. It was another lucid dream where I felt like I was there to watch the pieces fall. I was standing there as the girl from that script.

I was taught to be independent and I am. I conceal what I feel and I don't admit them, at least not to other people. I pretend like I know what I'm doing when I don't. I pretend like I know how to glue my lego tower house when they fall apart and break to pieces. It's how I was bred. My parents taught me that showing emotion, especially negative emotion, is equivalent to weakness. I know it's not and yet, the idea has been sewed in the back of my mind, a tumor goes unnoticed. Growing up, this mindset has affected me in many different ways — a list that I will have to crack open when I'm brave enough to be a little more transparent, for you my readers.

I dreamed about being left behind by my anchor, the person who I sort of rely on when it comes to keeping myself human and grounded. In that script, I was the girl who said the wrong thing, made the wrong decision and let myself ruin the foundation of what we have been building for quite some time. In it he was disappointed and upset, left me by the street and drove into the night, telling me not to call him until further notice. I left there standing by the pavement, feeling like a wreck. Feeling lonely.

I don't like that word: lonely, or loneliness. I'm an introvert and I am fine with being one. Being alone is easy for me to handle. Being alone gives me the time to recharge and be myself, to grab a book and read a few more pages. But being alone is not the same with loneliness. With loneliness, it's hollow and sad and endless. I am but a sinking ship whose captain decided to leave me stranded in the middle of a vast ocean, dead machine and overgrown moss.

I don't know what it is about loneliness that rubs me the wrong way. I think it's all because I am so used to being alone and know how to handle being alone that loneliness sounds vulnerable in my ears. I hate being vulnerable. But that just means I hate being human....right? I keep telling myself it's not loneliness or worse, emotional attachment. I have been a lone wolf all my life before I found my anchor and I managed just fine. I should.

And so I woke up, smelled of anxiety and reeked of fear. I had woken up three hours earlier than my schedule (since I usually wake up at eight for work) and I just stayed on my bed, staring up the ceiling. I was contemplating things at five in the morning when I should have gone back sleeping for another two hours. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispered to me: "you are scared to close your eyes again, afraid of a dream so realistic you could feel it in your bones. You are scared because you have grown accustomed to having an anchor."

Maybe it was true, all along. Maybe I wasted all years keeping up a brave front, saying I'm okay and I know how to fix myself, pretending like I wasn't trying so damn hard to prevent the tears from falling. I spent years getting used to being alone I forgot I'm not a robot. I spent months yelling at myself inside my head, screaming about how I should stop feeling too comfortable with my boyfriend as my anchor. I spent all seconds, minutes and hours denying my loneliness, beating myself up for being vulnerable when really, I was being human.

My anchor, my boyfriend. He who is also my best friend, the alkali to my acid. He who, despite all his flaws, tries so hard to make me forgive myself, to remind me what it means to be human. The captain who loves his dysfunctional, troublesome ship despite all her depressive relapses. I think I get why people tell you to date not only an individual but also, your best friend.

Despite my luck, I remember that I am also my own anchor. I am still independent and tough. I know how to handle things on my own. I know how to defend myself. I know my worth and I know I don't need anyone to validate my strength.

I have a heart and it's doing what it supposed to and maybe it's okay. Maybe, I should let it flow. Maybe I should let myself be more human.

Who knows.