It's Gonna Be Okay.

The other day my professor for one of my lecture courses started the session by calling my name and asking me to read my paper in front of the class. I declined. 

Writing is what I do and it's what I'm comfortable with, but it's also where I go with all the parts of me that I don't feel safe enough to speak about. That's where I go to put the feelings and ideas that make me uncomfortable or that highlight my insecurities, because there's nobody inside that paper trying to question it, criticize it, or (worst of all) give me an unsolicited opinion. But I didn't know how to make him understand that, so I just told him I'd pass.

"He looks defeated," the person sitting next to me in class told me as my professor tucked my paper back into his binder.  

My professor pulled my paper out a second time, motioning to me in hopes I'd change my mind. "This is really good," he said. "You're full of really good ideas and I wish you yourself would recognize that."

And then he went on to give the scheduled lecture, which I managed to entirely tune out. I had already learned something, and that mattered a lot more to me that morning than whatever the 50th powerpoint of the semester could've possibly entailed.  

There have been a lot of moments in my life recently that have caused me to physically just have to sit in silence in order to take in. And for a while, I've told myself not to write about them. I have a toxic habit of agonizing over how to share what's happening in my head, and I'm trying to break that. I'm trying not to spend hours at my laptop obsessing over how to be creative enough with words that anyone who reads it is impressed. I'm trying to care less about the artistic factor of this and more about authenticity, so the rest of this is going to be effortless. Just thought I'd tell you.

My grandma called me while I was driving to work the other day and as I was telling her about all the things the day would hold for me, she said, "Wishing you a day of patience and understanding."

All I could think about the whole afternoon, into the evening and even all the way to now was/is how I hope you have people in your corner telling you the same types of things. Reminding you of what's important, keeping you grounded, filling you with hope and forcing you to feel loved.

I walked into work that morning and someone holding the door said, "Welcome to work!" with a smile on his face at 7:32 a.m. On a Monday. I guess that's when it hit me, how different I am from most people. Because most people keep to themselves and are grumpy or quiet (or still just a little bit asleep) that early in the day... and I was already in beast mode feeling lucky to work somewhere with good people.

Beast mode meaning the sun hadn't even come alllllll the way up yet, and I was ready to take on whatever was coming. I used to have a bitter hatred for mornings, so to be both emotionally and physically in a place where that problem no longer exists is everything to me.
 
Today a man I've never spoken to in my life told me I'd be prettier if I smiled more and if you know me you know how inclined I am to want to punch those people in their also-not-smiling faces. And he would've killed my vibe, had it not been for the person standing next to him.

"Would you stop?" he said. "She's just driven. And she has better things to do than listen to you."

That was everything. Everything because I walked away from that exchange feeling like there was fresh breath in my lungs instead of feeling a knot in my stomach or a drastic drop in self-esteem. 

I didn't hate myself, and as stupid as it seems that was a big win for me.

It was either my sixth and seventh or my seventh and eighth grade years, but either way I spent 2/3 of my time in middle school freaking out about my math grade. Math was always my worst subject, and the people around me in those classes picked up on that. One of them wasn't surprised. I had been in class with him every year since first grade, so he had me pretty well figured out. He knew I was prone to perfectionism and that the idea of making anything less than an A made me anxious. He knew that I tended to stress myself out easily and that it wasn't unusual for me to let things bother me more than anyone else our age. So one day as our algebra teacher started passing out quizzes, he high-fived me and said four words.

"It's gonna be okay."

And then he made a habit of saying those same four words to me at the beginning of every class, every day from then on. He said it so many times that other kids in the class started telling me the same thing. Two of them turned it into a game - whoever could see me and say it to me first that day would win. Some of them made a point to try and improve on it, changing the high-five to a hug or adding additional affirmations.

It was just something fun for them and I'm not even sure they'd remember anything about it if I asked them today. At the time I didn't think anything of it either, and I definitely didn't think I'd hear their voices saying it to me every time I remind myself of it now.

Life has a habit of proving me wrong though, as it has this time because the words, "It's gonna be okay" are more relevant now than ever. 

It's gonna be okay because there's always gonna be another rainbow sunrise that an iPhone camera can't do close to justice. It's gonna be okay because there are gonna be tough days and battles and incredible losses but there are also always gonna be good people and good parts of things. It's gonna be okay because progress is infinite and personal growth has no deadline. It's gonna be okay because there's gonna be a lot of discomfort, but goddammit you're gonna learn something.

It's gonna be okay, because it is. Let's keep it simple and focus on just that for the time being.