It’s 4:30am and it’s raining

And I'm not a fan of it!

I’m scared of the rain, and the wind that comes before it, the thunderstorms, and the lightning that comes after it. I hate how loud it is. But I love the weather. I love how my siblings light up with excitement at the sound of rain. But I also hate how anxious I get when it starts raining, how my body instantly wakes up when it feels the weather changing, irrespective of the time or place, no matter how deep in sleep I am. My body kicks up, keeping me alert, like I should be ready. Ready for what? I don’t know. But my body thinks I should be. It puts me in fight-or-flight mode. I don’t tell people this often because they might think I’m exaggerating.
“Who’s scared of rain?”
“Oh, please, everyone loves rain!”
“You can’t be in your late twenties and still be scared of rain.”
They don’t say these things to me, but I assume that’s what goes through their heads when I tell them.

It’s currently 4:30 am, and just like usual, my body woke me up before it started raining. I didn’t know why at first, until I smelled the rain. I looked around and saw that the light had gone out. And I knew it was coming. I had to prepare. I had to get ready. For what exactly? I still don’t know. But I knew I had to be ready. Maybe to calm my body so I don’t go into a panic attack. Maybe to constantly remind myself that it’s just rain and nothing is going to happen. The rain is just doing its natural business. It’s just raining. It’s only raining!! And people need rain, like the farmers waiting for their crops to grow. People want it. People love it. And it’s not going to stop falling just because I’m not a fan.

I have to keep reminding myself that no one is going to run into our home to rob us while it’s loud and raining, while no one can hear us scream for help. Because we don’t live there anymore. We haven’t lived there for a very long time. So I need to breathe. It’s going to be okay.

My earphones are plugged in and I’m currently listening to a Lana Del Rey playlist I downloaded on YouTube Music. Sadly, it’s not helping at all. It’s only making me more anxious. But my C-drama OSTs playlist isn’t. I love them. They remind me of nature. Maybe because of the setting of their dramas and how it’s always nature-like, but they calm me. They transport me somewhere relaxing, like a stream or lake, surrounded by rocks and plants. Green, healthy plants. And they’re stuck beneath the ground and a stream. Every time I go there, I see myself sitting on one of the cold rocks, with my right hand in the water, swaying slowly, feeling the warmth of the stream. And I’m smiling—because I’m happy and calm, and I love it there. I love nature. I can’t tell if it’s my past or future self. I never bother to ask. I just go there and sit with her, cause I’m scared that if I ask questions, she’ll leave. I don’t talk to her, but she talks to me. She reminds me to breathe. That everything will be okay. She reassures me every single time I go there. She lets me put my hand in the stream. Let me swing it. Let me feel how warm the water is. How free it is.

I love going there. It’s my happy place. My escape from the world. I go there when everything starts to feel too heavy. And I always meet her, the me at the stream.

I love nature. I love how the wind feels on my skin. I love the trees. I love how big they are and how they protect us from the sun and give us fruits. How they swing their leaves through the air, granting us wind. I love the sun too. And sometimes, I love the rain. I used to love the rain. Long before it all happened. Long before I was a teen and an adult. Long before every bad memory I had as a child was connected to the rain. I want to love the rain like my sister and brother do. I want to get excited to jump in bed when the wind starts blowing, because the weather is about to become perfect. But instead, all I do is sit up and stare. All I do is take notice of my breathing, like I was taught. How I count to ten repeatedly. All I do is listen attentively to how the rain kisses the roof. How the loud wind hits our walls. And I calculate if the house is going to come down or be blown into other houses.

All I do is listen to the other sounds around the house, if someone is coming in, if they’re trying to open the back door, so they can rush in with their weapons and scream at us with heavy breaths to bring all our valuables. All I do is play silent detective while my heart pounds louder than anything else.

There are days when it rains and I’m alone, and I miss my best friend or my sister. They always stayed with me when it rained. Sometimes they lie in bed beside me, and just let me know they’re there and there’s nothing to worry about. Sometimes they sit at the edge of the door, and just press their phone. “It’s just rain,” they’d say calmly. That wouldn’t calm me down, but their presence would. It always did. But they’re not always around, are they? I have to learn how to survive on my own when it rains. Which is why I’m here, writing to you. I’d normally be reciting words to calm myself down, but I’m writing because it feels more calming. And because I haven’t written in a while, hehe.

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel better. Or if I’ll just have to live with it. I read somewhere that I need to connect good memories to the rain. But how does one do that? Rain carries a weight of bad memories for me. So many bad things happened when it rained. But I’ve been listening to a lot of rain playlist lately. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s a start.

I want to love the rain. I’m going to have to love the rain. I love the smell of it. I love the concept that the world has taken a shower after a long, hot day (days).

It’s really just rain.

It’s just rain doing its natural job.

It’ll be fine.

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It’s currently 5:48 am, and the rain has calmed down a bit. Nothing happened. The rain has stopped. And nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. Nothing will ever happen.

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It’s 6:00 am now. The light is back. I’m going back to sleep for one more hour before I start my yoga.

Good morning❤️