The Butterfly

I’m not sure if it’s normal of all women, all people, people living abroad, etc, but throughout the month I go through periods of mood swings. Naturally, at that time of the month, I find myself depressed and that every tiny thing causes me to doubt myself, my existence, my everything. It lasts for about two weeks, oddly enough. It’s a fog really. They say people who are depressed literally do see the whole world in a shade of gray. And that’s exactly how it feels. I feel that I am a horrible worker, who can’t do any project right. Or that I’m unattractive, because many women just generally feel this way. Or that there’s a flaw in my personality. I get down about my language ability and it’s a constant source of frustration. I feel excluded from many things, such as work conversations or jokes, etc. And this isn’t always their fault, it’s mine too for not studying more when I know I should.

But then, the fog clears and you feel normal. Not that you care about any in particular, but things don’t particularly affect you as much as they did during the fog. The fact that someone hasn’t immediately responded to my text message doesn’t mean that they hate me and don’t feel like talking to me. Perhaps they are busy. Perhaps I just don’t give a flying-. And when I’m in the shower at the YMCA, I look in the mirror. I see that while I’m fat, I’m not as fat as I was. I see the progress I’ve made. I see the sexiness that is and that is still possible. That soon quickly gets crushed by girls who walk in with their small little waists and cute butts. But then I see some with no boobs, or droopy boobs, or flat butts. And I feel better. Mine do that too! And it’s comforting. And the fact that I’m excluded from stuff at work is their fault sometimes too, not mine. They don’t want to take advantage of my vast knowledge of useless information. Or acknowledge that I know some Korean. Or truly get to know me more than one day. They’d be lucky to see how fun and happy and talkative I can be. Yes, I talk about strange things sometimes. But it’s better than complaining about things all the time. And I’m good at Korean but I will get better.

My moods feel like the butterfly stroke in swimming. There’s the wave, the up and down wave of the body, in and out of the water. My head constantly feels like this loud happiness, this breath of air, then back into this suffocating drowned out filtered noise with an ugly bottom. A soft kick and a strong kick, to propel you forward and keep you going. Sometimes you have the energy and sometimes you don’t. But after 25 meters, there’s usually an end. And what a relief it is. But then you remember you have to go back. Again through the water. Life is like a butterfly stroke. Tiring, but somehow satisfactory because of once you’ve done it, you can look back at how magnificient you must’ve been doing it.

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