Present Day Lamentations
In over my head, yet way under my feet. There are a lot of things life has allowed me to experience. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Weathering storms in silence is one of the most toxic coping mechanisms, I think, I’ve developed during my twenty-two years of life. It’s not that I don’t want help, but how do I ask for it. To this day I still haven’t figured out if it’s pride that bridles my tongue or the sheer panic of realizing, “Oh, fuck! I’m drowning.” Then again, it is what it is. Life goes on even when you’re trying your best. Sometimes it’s just not good enough and sorry to say it but, “It really do be like that.”
Sometimes, the soul just gets tired. That’s a newfound revelation on my part. It’s not a suicidal notion but I genuinely am...tired. Tired of existing, tired of considering other’s feelings, tired of needs, and tired of wants over my own. Honestly, I wish I could just float away. You know, the feeling of cool salty ocean water filling your ears dulling the hustle and bustle of the things around you. The buoyancy of the water makes the weight of your body feel like nothing. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders and you can finally let all the air escape from your lungs. My soul yearns and cries for a moments reprieve. Everything is just, “Go, Go, Go!” Monday to Sunday, all day, every day. “Work, School, Work School.”
Here I am sitting on a bench when I really should be in class, soaking in the sun staring at the sky as a light breeze dusts across my face. I am trying to catch myself, emphasis on trying. Some days, I earnestly wonder what it would be like to be a cloud. To float across blue skies without a care in the world. “Shoots, clouds may have feelings too.” Perhaps when they’re sad it rains and when they’re upset it thunders. But of course, my daydream is interrupted by life. The voices of my fellow college attendees fill my ears. Their boisterous shrieks of play amongst each other instantly make me tense because having fun seems illegal at this very point in my life. Fifteen minutes late, I begin my solemn trek to class. My once clear mind instantly becomes clouded again with thoughts of bills, assignments, deadlines, grades, parental stresses, practicums, graduation and of course work.
My portion of the rent is $800 dollars, my insurance fees are $575, self-maintenance is $275, grocery is another $300, bridge toll fee and gas monthly cost is $160 and my pay cheque a whopping $1,800 per month leaving me already in the hole by $310. “So, you know what we do best?” We can scale back on groceries and self-maintenance then push ourselves extra hard with overtime to try and meet the deficit but that too comes at a price: burn out. My grades are suffering because by the time I get off I no longer have the energy to wield a pen with vigor and vitality. My brain is fogged over, my brain is on its last inch of life. But I can’t show that. I have a 32- page comprehensive nursing care plan to complete, inclusive of a teaching plan that I must perform, and a comprehensive head-to-toe assessment to complete for a grade during an 8-hour shift on the ward while completing my ward duties and documentation. My parents want to know when and if I’m going to get married, but I haven’t quite escaped their grasp of subservience yet. Like hell am I going to pledge my loyalty and freedom to a man anytime soon. That, and I have zero prospects. At twenty-two I’m already beginning to feel like an old maid. Inquiring minds would also like to know when am I graduating? Honestly, I want to know too because I am fed up.
I probably should go to the counselling center, maybe they can help me declutter my life. However, what am I going to tell them? “I can’t be a normal human and cope efficiently with normal day to day stressors.” What if they tell me my problems are miniscule compared to the others they’ve seen? I would call my best friend Preanna and express my frustration but we both are in the same predicament, and I refuse to emotionally vomit on her. She works two jobs, goes to school full time, and her portion of the rent is like $1,200. In addition, she’s not even here in Nassau. She’s in Canada which makes her plight ten times worse than mines. “Who to call?” I think to myself as my heart begins to race but I’m nearing my classroom door and for once I don’t think it’s me being out of shape. “Lowkey, I may just have anxiety but now ain’t the time for that.” I respond in my head as tears begin to fill my eyes, but my hand is already on the door handle of the class. I quickly take a deep breath in and try to reign over my emotions. And the answer to the question is “There ain’t a soul to call but Jesus.”