It was four in the morning again. I sat there, thinking: why have I been watching the same shows over and over for so long? Why do I fall asleep while watching that same series? And when I try to start a new one, why can't I get used to it, why do I go back to the old one after just a couple of episodes? Oh my God… what's wrong with me?
For the past two years, I had been stuck with the same series. Could it have something to do with that terrible relationship I ended two years ago? During these two years, I changed many things in my life but I realized I also needed to change this. I decided to find a new series and start watching it.
After glancing at a few options, I almost gave up and, in the silence, decided to sleep. Still, even that felt like progress for the past two years, I couldn't fall asleep without my usual series running in the background.
As I closed my eyes, I started asking myself: "Lyra Vale, what is it that scares you so much that you keep your mind busy with the same shows? Why do you avoid thinking?"
And at that moment, I finally realized how long it had been since I really talked to myself. I had long since forgotten my ex and felt nothing for him, but after the breakup, I had refused to feel the pain of it. That refusal stayed inside me, unacknowledged, and I kept my mind occupied to avoid facing it. Feeling heartache for him would have hurt my pride, made me feel weak, and I refused to let that happen for two years.
At first, I didn't leave the house at all. I started learning astrology online. When I finally learned to read birth charts, I got bored and decided to learn English instead. But I still wasn't ready to go outside. That terrible relationship had destroyed my confidence. I took online English courses, thinking, "Okay, I'm doing fine now," but even that eventually bored me. This couldn't continue. For almost a year, I hadn't properly left my home.
It was time to make money. My family had let me stall for a year, but now they were starting to push: "You need to start earning now." By the end of that year, I took a nail extension course and surprisingly, I was better at it than I expected. The universe seemed to work in my favor. I quickly rented a small studio. Meeting new people, socializing it rebuilt my confidence.
It felt good, but I still felt nothing. Whenever I went from home to the studio, it was like I was wearing a mask, pretending to be happy. And when I returned to my room, I'd turn on the same show, avoiding thought.
I couldn't feel anything for any man. At 27, had my emotions died? I used to feel butterflies in my stomach. I used to feel attraction. Oh my God… those butterflies are gone. I think I've crushed them myself.
I couldn't open up to anyone not even to myself because I didn't even understand what was wrong. I never allowed myself to feel the pain, to process it. I was cruel to myself, telling myself, "You won't be sad for even a day."
But now, as I closed my eyes in the quiet, I finally began to confess everything to myself. Really… why hadn't I done this in two years? There was nothing to be afraid of after all.
As the day began to break, I drifted into sleep.