It\u2019s 7:13 a.m. and I\u2019m wide awake. Not because I\u2019ve had a good night\u2019s sleep or anything. No. I woke up with a heavy heart. The kind of weight that feels like a 5,000kg load strapped to someone who weighs under 70kg. It’s crushing, suffocating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I try to shake it off by doing laundry. Just five pieces of clothing, not because I have much to wash, but because I need something, anything, to help me feel a bit lighter. Maybe dipping my hands in soapy water will rinse off the sadness. But no, even after hanging the clothes, the heaviness stays, pressing harder on my chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I move to the kitchen and heat up the food I made yesterday \u2014 spaghetti and stew. No microwave, so it\u2019s the good old stovetop method. Should I fry some plantain to go with it? Hmm\u2026 maybe later today or tomorrow. I\u2019m not in the mood. So yeah, food\u2019s ready. Stale, but ready. Still, nothing lifts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I settle into the couch and play that Netflix series I started last week. Just something to distract me. But instead of a distraction, it becomes a trigger. Suddenly, I feel the pressure shift from my chest to my whole body. The tears come out of nowhere. I don\u2019t even know I\u2019m crying until my cheeks are wet and my throat feels tight. And I just sit there, mumbling, \u201cI don\u2019t want this life. I\u2019m tired. I just want to be free. How did I even get here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mind drifts back to when I became an adult. I ask myself, have I ever truly lived for me? Like, done things just because I wanted to? Failed because I chose to try? Gotten up because I believed in myself, not because someone else expected me to?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And there you have it. For people like us, it feels like we’re not allowed to make mistakes. We\u2019re not even allowed to try. Our lives were scripted before we even had a say. We’re expected to follow the plan, stay in line, don\u2019t fall, don\u2019t stumble, don\u2019t dream too loud. We\u2019re just\u2026 extensions of our parents\u2019 decisions and sacrifices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But for how long? Till I turn 40? Is that when I finally get the green light to start living? To date without guilt? To build a life I want, even if it means failing and starting from scratch?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everything around me feels like guesswork. I don\u2019t know what tomorrow holds. I don\u2019t even know what I want. I haven\u2019t done most of my \u201cfirsts.\u201d I can\u2019t even try because one wrong move could shake the fragile balance I\u2019ve been trying to maintain for others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Right now, everything feels uncertain. I\u2019m not sure where I\u2019m headed. I\u2019m just here. I exist. I give. I help. I bend. But for whom? And for how long?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes I wonder if everyone I live for suddenly no longer needed me, who would I be? I don\u2019t know the answer. I don\u2019t even think I want to find out right now. Because I\u2019ve given up so many firsts. I\u2019ve delayed so many dreams. All in the name of duty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This life, my life, has been nothing but question marks and crossroads. And honestly? I don\u2019t have the answers. I\u2019m tired of pretending like I do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But maybe, just maybe\u2026 today is a soft reminder that something\u2019s got to give. That it\u2019s okay not to have it all figured out. That healing isn\u2019t always a loud breakthrough. Sometimes it\u2019s just waking up, crying, and still choosing to move through the day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe that\u2019s the beginning of living for me. Even if it starts with cold spaghetti and stale stew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I whispered it through tears, halfway into a Netflix series and completely unsure of who I am anymore.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1046,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"give_campaign_id":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[66,67,58,46,68],"class_list":["post-1044","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-blog","tag-life","tag-love","tag-mental-health","tag-writing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1044","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1044"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1044\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1046"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1044"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1044"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.asoebipay.com\/autismthrive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1044"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}