I’ve got some shit on my mind tonight. See, I know you’re going through some shit right now. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t have to. Because I know something else, somewhere, deep down in my cold dead heart, and I want to tell you. I’m telling you this because I think you should know. Because I think you already do know. Because I still need to be convinced of it. Because I think all of us could do with hearing it.
Everything is going to be ok.
Now, I know, I know. The last person that said that to me almost got punched in their stupid fucking mouth. I hate that, as a phrase. It’s dismissive, reductive, and minimizing. I always interpret it to mean that I shouldn’t feel what I’m feeling because eventually I won’t feel it anymore. It’s bullshit.
But that’s not what I mean.
Feel it, babies. Feel whatever you’re feeling. Soak it up, let it in. Roll around in it. Dwell on it. Throw yourself a goddamn pity party if you want. It’s your pain. Do whatever the fuck you want with it and never let anyone else tell you not to. Lay on the floor for as long as you think you need to. You’re not going to feel any better there, but sometimes it’s the only way to not feel any worse. Give yourself permission. Lay there until you don’t want to anymore.
And then get up.
Dust yourself off (if your floor is anything like mine there’s all sorts of shit down there).
Because it’s going to be ok.
Not now. Fuck no not now. Not today. Probably not even tomorrow. But one day. One day it will be ok. One day you’re going to look back at this. You’re going to tell stories about that time. That time when you thought there was surely no way out, no way around, or over, or even through. You’re going to wonder how you did it. You’ll ask yourself, in all sincerity, how you mustered up whatever it was you needed to muster.
You might not have an answer. Sometimes, we pull unimaginable strength and tenacity out of our asses when we have to. But sometimes, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we survive something by simply not being destroyed by it. Sometimes that’s the best we can do.
But the best we can do is all we ever can do.
Time doesn’t stop just because you won’t get out of bed. The world won’t stop circling the sun just because you think you need more time to figure it all out. But here’s a secret, babies. None of us have it figured out. We’re all scared. We’re all unsure of what’s going on or what will happen. And that’s fine. Because we’re all scared together, even if none of us are admitting it.
Admit it. Tell someone you’re scared. Tell someone you’re hurting. Not to fish for comfort or advice or attention, but so someone else can know that it isn’t just them. So we can all give up this grand illusion of having our shit together. So I can finally know how to answer honestly when a friend asks how I’m doing, without feeling selfish or whiny or blowing off the question entirely. So we can at least know that even though everything may be shitty, it won’t be forever.
And in the meantime we can at least be here for each other. To listen when listening is called for, to distract when distraction is needed, and to say nothing when nothing will help. Just for today, and maybe tomorrow, and however fucking long it takes until everything really is ok.
Because it will be.
So it goes.