Nobody puts baillee in the corner

People often tell you that endings are the hardest part of life, but I respectfully disagree; it’s the beginnings that will get you every time. They’re either the part of the story where you’re blissfully unaware of what’s to come, or worse, they’re the part where you have to rewrite the story because the plot unexpectedly fell apart.

Sure, the tearful goodbyes will shatter your heart into a million ragged pieces. Yes, the endings will knock you to your knees. Absolutely, the big finish will leave you feeling completely vacant. But having to force yourself to start over? That’s the exceptionally tricky part. You have to take that first step even though your entire body aches. You have to choke back tears thinking back to what was. You still have to get up in the morning. Now, that’s the hard part.

It’s a constant internal battle because slipping back into an old routine is easy and comforting. It’s a struggle not to cry in the bar because a stranger happens to put on a song that reminds you of what ended. It’s hell when you catch a glimpse of your reflection and see the pain staring back at you in your own eyes, knowing you just have to keep walking. That’s what will absolutely kill you.

It’s the first day out of bed after wallowing and accepting life is different. It’s turning off Sinead and taking a shower to rinse away the last remnants of the past. It’s leaving your room to take out the trash and clean the kitchen. That’s what takes every ounce of strength you have. It’s not the ending that tears you apart; it’s having to face the idea of a new beginning.

It’s having a warm and familiar carpet yanked out from under your feet, knowing good and well that there’s only cold concrete underneath. You know you have to eventually get up, but damn it if scraping yourself off the pavement and dusting yourself off isn’t the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. You’ll fall back down. You’ll scrape up every part of your body in the process. You’ll feel like you can’t. But that’s when you will.

The problem with beginnings is you know they have to happen, but you can’t pinpoint when they exactly will. You have to fight like you never have before. You have to find how to cope. You have to keep going. And one day, that page will turn. The words will come to you, and you’ll be able to write your new story.

Until then, you have to wait, knowing it’ll eventually come. Endings are brutal, but beginnings are cruel. Beginnings will tease and taunt you with false starts and almosts. But, my dear readers, that beginning will come. Just know that.