In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Extreme Tale.”
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
A year ago around this time I found myself at the lowest I had ever been, trying to force a relationship with someone I knew was never going to work, keeping myself away from my friends and family, depressed to the point of thinking that if I was dead it wouldn’t make a difference.
I remember staying home on Christmas day watching movies, drinking cheap wine and ignoring everyone’s phone calls and texts. I did the same for New Years, actually I was in bed by 9 pm New Years eve. I wouldn’t leave my bed unless it was to go to work and some days not even for that.
And then one I decided I was moving to a different city, a different state actually. So I called my mother and told her I was moving with to New Orleans with her. I though that putting some distance between me and my problems would be the best way to work things out. Here I was in a new city, with no friends, no job, no school, unknown streets and a totally different culture to get use to, starting from zero.
A few months after moving I became frustrate by the fact that getting a job had been harder than what I had expected and that although I love my mother and my little sister I needed other forms of human interaction. Instead of feeling happy and free of all the things I had run away from I became even more depressed.
I was not solving nor facing my problems when I decide to move, I was in fact avoiding them and running away to the safety that is my mother, just like a toddler runs to their mom when they feel uncomfortable around strange environment.
It was not until I realized that trying to keep my problems behind without facing them wouldn’t help me get out of the big whole I was getting myself into, I was digging this hole and only I could stop it from getting bigger.
So I accepted my mistakes, with moving being the first and biggest one. I put real effort into looking and eventually getting a job. I went out to and tried to learn my way around the city,got lost hundreds of times, oh the amount of times I went the wrong way on a one-way street. I found something that made my happy, photography would be that something, to help me adapt to my new life.
It was not as easy as it sounds and it is a still an ongoing progress, but that is why my life as it is now is the best and the worst of times for me. Because when being at my worst I found the light within myself that is guiding me to my best, and I know that once I get to the end of the road, when ever that might be, I will be ok.