I think it’s the vulnerability I have here that makes me treat Substack like a little secret; I want it hidden from people that actually know me so I can continue living a double life - Colette, in the real world and my vulnerable self here, in this one.
“Our bus has been hijacked and we’ve been abducted” This bus contained 20 persons minus the driver. 20% are friends and the remaining 80% were going to be new friends. They were traveling for the same event I was. I did not see this coming at all, no one would have thought.
When the month was still new, I remember feeling so excited. I had just gotten a 100 followers on TikTok, I had new braids on and I was following a kdrama. (yes, I stan kdrama!) Life was finally making sense. Monotonous, but I was happy. There was even this conference coming up that month so the excitement was over the roof - I would finally be seeing my friends again after almost a year, I’d also be getting new dresses and getting my nails done!!! ( I play the guitar so getting my nails done is not a regular practice). Fast forward to when I had to travel for the event, I met up with some friends to travel together ( what’s better than a road trip with your friends? )
We had not even reached our destination and we received the news of the abduction. I was not sure what to feel, whether to panic or not. I just didn’t want to feel anything, except relief, in that moment.
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Maybe this was God’s punishment for sending halfhearted prayers. But so what? It wasn’t my first rejection. I’ll just try again next year. Easy. I thought I was okay, not until I was asked. The tears that had prolly been there since the beginning of the year, flowed freely. Ah. My lacrimal glands must feel so much relief, how they could hold up so much fluid awes me. I think I shed tears that I didn’t shed when I pierced my finger with a needle 3 weeks ago. I shed tears I didn’t shed when my dad reprimanded me in July. I shed for when I couldn’t tell a friend how I really felt. I shed for when I had an argument with my younger sister. I also shed for when I was hungry but too tired to cook.
If I’ve learned anything from grief, it’s that the denial stage is usually the longest and hardest. But the faster you accept it, the quicker you heal and the better for you. It took me a while before I could finally accept it. This year, I want to feel. Everything. The excitement, the heat, the sting, the fun, the sadness, the pain, the happiness, the anger, the love; especially the love, the disappointment and the warmth. All of it. Because to feel, is to be alive. I want to be alive.
It’s so nice to read your writing again. What’s more wholesome is the opportunity to see this side of you, because you chose to write and share this❤️. I hope we continue to get reminders such as this piece, to give our feelings space to be.