I was walking past a ditch. I wasn’t so close to it thatI would feel afraid of falling in. And not close enough where I thought to move over. But the problem is, I was just far enough away to forget that it was even there. In the entire time that I was walking right beside it, I could have made the effort to look around me and look down to see it. I could have avoided the ditch completely if I had just paid enough attention to it. And I blame myself because it’s not like it was hidden or a trap or that it spawned out of thin air. But I believed that there were other things I had to pay attention to.
I was distracted. And it wasn’t one or two distractions, but it was school, work, responsibilities, expectations, and there were friends, my family, money, my future. It was also the overwhelming pressure to be the person I had sold to myself and everyone around me without realizing that I had simultaneously changed but still had to meet previous expectations.
All these distractions felt important and they were important to me at the time. I had been so focused on the things surrounding my life that I didn’t stop for a second to focus on my surroundings, and how close I was to the edge. Each step taken after the other had no change to the naked eye. But slowly and surely the dirt beneath my feet was becoming more undone each time my foot hit the floor. The dirt loosening from under me was such a small thing that I had missed and it’s not like it was happening all at once, but it happened after. And as more dirt collected at the bottom of the ditch, I ultimately did as well.
And I only realized once I hit the floor.
I fell and found myself inside of a pit. And it hurt. I cried because I was in pain. And I cried feeling that there was nothing that I could do. But I cried the hardest because my life had fallen out of my control and was scattered all around me. My school responsibilities got buried in the dirt, my family and friends were unreachable, and my motivation and sense of direction couldn’t be found. And even while I was hurting in the ditch, I still tried to pick up the pieces of it all even though I couldn’t get to all of them. At some point, I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to collect the pieces anymore. It’s such a hard feeling to know that people are depending on you and yet have responsibilities to take care of. But I was too tired and overwhelmed and at some point, I lost my mind inside of the ditch. And I gave up.
Although I might have been the only person who fell into the ditch, I wasn’t the first to know about it. Everyone around me has been successfully dodging their ditches while balancing their lives. And with that nobody knew that I was inside the belly of the pit. Nobody was looking inside the pit just in case and it’s not like I was telling anyone that I was there, either.
And sure, some people would call or briefly check in with me but they were not actively making sure I was actually ok. I can’t blame others for focusing on their own lives, especially when they make an effort to check in on mine occasionally. I felt alone in the ditch that was so deep you couldn’t see the sun and everything was so far away. Still worried about the things I felt I had left behind while my future was depending on me, I was depending on me. And I couldn’t be there for myself. And the ditch was an isolating feeling, as I knew it wasn’t a common occurrence for someone to literally find themselves inside a ditch. I felt like nobody could understand what that felt like. I was so broken finding myself in the situation I was in while fighting with myself for being there in the first place.
All different types of people walked by. Some didn't care, didn’t bother to look, stopped and stared. Some couldn’t help me physically but gave me advice and resources to use so I’d last another night. Good Samaritans would try to pull me out but were unsuccessful in their attempts. And through each encounter I had, every conversation, resource, advice and even helping hand I hadn’t moved my position. I was still alone in the ditch.
But I knew that lying in the puddle of my tears and mess weren’t going to get me out of the pit either. I knew I had to strategize and begin my escape. I didn’t begin my escape because I had randomly gained strength, it was quite the contrary. I was still tired and aching and even scared of what my future would look like after all this damage had been done, even wondering if there was still a future for me left at all. Yet in the same breath, I was tired of relying on someone to help me out and just tired of still being there.
I took all the advice given and I used all my resources and began to find ways to get me out. I started digging and building and climbing. None of the steps I took were big or made a drastic change, but I made some progress. I believed that the process took much longer than it should have, but I had to learn that getting better doesn’t mean it happens all in an instance. My progress consisted of barely getting through the day and taking full rest days but always deciding that I will try again the next.
I continued to scrape my way up, the dirt would fall on top of me at times. The dirt covered my hands and clothes and fell into my eyes. And I’d begin to cry. In those moments I couldn’t even distinguish whether the tears on my face were caused from the dirt, from how tired I was, or from the pain I felt physically and emotionally or a combination of it all. And I had days where I needed to distract myself from my reality. And the other days, I didn’t have a choice but to sit with it. But what I learned is that each day counted towards something, it had to mean something or else I was doing work for nothing.
On the day that I had finally made it to the top of the pit,I didn’t climb out gracefully. I was trembling and visibly distressed. I didn’t look different in a positive way.I was tired, sore and dirty. I came out of the hole barely holding onto what I came in with because so many pieces of my life were missing or had changed. I didn’t feel differently, either. I was still hurt but I was out.
The person who fell into the ditch was carrying much more than she could handle and didn’t ask for help. Her pride overtook her and humbled her. Now I understand that hard work can come with exhaustion; people that help others might not always have enough to give; and you can at times lose sight of the things you found most important. Now that I’ve made it outside, I look at the road that’s in front of me. People are still traveling down the road, busily worried about themselves. It’s the same road I once traveled down but it now felt different.
The feeling I had was knowing that I still had things to figure out even when I was still hurting, but my mind was a little quieter now. All that had once consumed my life had been lost and left within the ditch. I look at the road ahead of me and I see how such a long road can be tedious to many. But I look at it differently because I know what is right behind me. Although the road that I have to follow will be long and I’ll probably crawl my way down it, I still choose it over what I just endured. And slowly but surely, I begin my walk. And I’ll make sure to look at my surroundings, but I will not look back.
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