How to rebuild me when I fall apart

I want what I deserve.

Not just the shell with

the sound of the ocean

but the ocean too.

– Akosua Zimba Afiriyie-Hwedi

I spent most of the short twenty years I have lived searching for another world. Not necessarily because I need all my hopes to come true but so that I can hope in peace.

I do fall apart quite a lot, at an extreme level. At the risk of sounding grandiose, I believe the underlying reason behind my “falling apart”s lies in my inserting myself into uncomfortable situations more than I should.

This summer was good to me, more than anyone or anything has ever been. I finally allowed myself to play it safe by way of a self-imposed solitude. For the first time in my life, I know how to rebuild me when I fall apart.

Three-part recipe.

I let go of the usual doing to focus on the present being. What brings me true joy? What part of my doings stem from habits fueled by old patterns? Observing myself was more painful than I thought. I realized that a sternly crude fear of humiliation fueled much of my doings. I moved across the world and that’s gotta pay off. I finally parted ways with a toxic high school environment absent in spirit, collaboration, and initiative to better oneself. As painful as it was to realize the underlying of my crushed self, it uncovered my need to deconstruct further before reconstructing. I’m unlearning first, rebuilding after; acting against the current perpuated by and deeply instilled in me.

I find myself in situations I am marked by and I also mark. Merely reflecting on “situationality” is not enough to undo my submersion. I need to intervene. Act upon and against what broke me in the first place. I become more the more I not only critically observe and reflect upon my existence but critically act upon it. In short, I started acting toward who I want to become. For me, such acts came in the form of reading for leisure, going on short walks no matter what time of day, spending time with loved ones, being intentional with eating, and writing (and writing more).

Third and last: refusing to forget. Change does not necessitate forgetting old patterns. On the contrary, the consciousness of the past grounds changes in reality. I recognize my past and refuse to repeat old patterns. I am cognizant of my pain and the pain I caused other people but I actively dare myself to stay true.

Change and growth do not absolve me of the past, but I no longer need to search for other worlds to take shelter in. I can rebuild my falling aparts. I know I will have more to rebuild as life goes on because dismantling my fear of humiliation took away the discouragement to fail with it. I find power in embracing failure and whatever comes out of it as long as I act to rebuild me when I fall apart.