confessions of the eldest daughter

By 25, my nervous system had been shot. I have spent a lot of time living in chaos and maneuvering through life under pressure and the impression that something is bound to go wrong. When life seems to start to settle and be at ease, something has gone awry. At the beginning of my second year as a M.A. student, I found myself facing eviction with no immediate family to turn to. Did I mention I’m on the other side of the country as well?

Admittedly, I froze and panicked. I had given up and withdrew into a shell. Normally I’m the one with a plan. The one who figures things out. Yet something about this moment I just could not handle. It wasn’t like I was without a job and couldn’t find another place to live. The way the housing market in the Bay Area is set up, I would have found a place to stay. Even if I had to share a home with six other people, I would have been fine. But I didn’t want that. Not because I was too good to share a space, but I just did not want to fight anymore. My tank had run empty, and I was sputtering off the road.

The truth is that the eviction came at just the right time. I was running low in every aspect of life. Working full time led me to hating my job. The culture of it, the instability, the pay——— shit, even the job itself. Going to school full time left me feeling drained. I would leave the house at 7am and not return to nearly 10pm. My roommate would find me lying on the living room in pure silence, in the dark, with tears silently streaming down my face induced by overstimulation and exhaustion.

So, why would I fight to stay at a job that I resented when I had already decided I was moving out of state after graduation? This just sped up the process. Once I came to terms with my decision, I called my grandmother and made things happen. Before the official eviction notice was issued, I was out of Oakland and back on the East Coast.

It wasn’t until I was crying in the middle of Target1 that I realized I was not okay. I moved around so much in my early years that this initially felt like just another chapter in my book. But for some reason the tears wouldn’t stop! I am no stranger to tears and actually embrace the vulnerability they provide. But this was different. Every day for a month, I was crying. Crying loudly, silently in my bed, in the shower, or even in public settings. This experience broke me to my core in ways I did not understand and was not familiar with. I had so much anger. So much judgement and sadness. So much grief. I was not only grieving my time living in the Bay, but I was grieving who I had expected myself to be. I was grieving the life I wanted for myself. I was grieving the people I had loved and cherished and hated. I was grieving so much that I felt angry. After that anger subsided, a newness came over me. I’ve thought I hit rock bottom before, but this was a new low. Not lower than before. But somehow equally disturbing yet differently channelled.

I allowed myself to feel for that month. I was on break from school and was unemployed. So, I slept. I got high. I drank. I slept again and mindlessly binged movies and different Real Housewives franchises. However, I didn’t stay here. I couldn’t. I had a thesis to finish, and in some way it was a form of retribution to the system in order to prove that I am so much more than my circumstances. As I exercised my mind, I wanted to exercise my body. I refused to look like what I was going through.

I began exercise as a way to improve my mental state. Eventually, I was only doing this to prove something to myself. I didn’t consider anyone else or their opinion of my decisions. I was broken, and all the pain I had known was used to heal my soul. I talked to my ancestors, and I talked to God directly. I talked to myself, and I talked to my sister, my friends, my mom, my cousins, and my grandmother. Before I knew it, I was rewiring my perception and my nervous system. I gave up my vices for over a month and noticed my communication style changed. I processed emotions more quickly and thoroughly. Whenever I felt the urge to indulge, I questioned and tried to understand why I wanted to smoke. Why I wanted to drink. Was it out of boredom or to avoid feeling? The answer is yes.

For the first quarter of my life, I was just doing stuff. Doing stuff that I thought would make other people like me. Doing stuff so others could see the value in me. When in reality it made me deeply unhappy and deeply resentful towards the people in my life. And frankly towards myself.

I ran and avoided my feelings. Avoided myself. And the thing with running away from something is that eventually you tire, and it catches up to you. I’m not sure why things happen the way that they do; but being on the other side of things, I am just so grateful to know it is happening for me. I am so grateful to have had this time to reset my nervous system and rediscover who I am. I never fully left myself; I just hid her.

Next week I will have turned 26. That same day, I will have graduated with my Master of Arts. I don’t have a job lined up, and that is okay. I know who I am and where I want to be, but I am also willing to end up wherever I am destined to be. As long as I listen to myself and not the noise of others, every decision will be led with intention.

And what a way to start the next quarter of my life.