My necklace just broke and I can’t deal with it.
Like, I literally feel like I can just break down at any moment.
Although I knew the clasp was weakening (it managed to slip off two weeks ago as I was on the phone in bed and then again at the gym), I’m still in mild shock at how it just snapped off as I attempted to do a headstand seriously for the first time in 15 years. The chain is damaged, the silver completely sticking out instead of in, so I’ll either need to buy a new chain or get it repaired at the jewellery shop as soon as I can. And it better bloody be ASAP, e.g. tomorrow, because it’s 11pm here in Jakarta and the malls are closed and I can feel the panic rising within me each second this pendant is not resting on my chest.
This necklace holds an enormous amount of meaning for me; since it was given to me it’s not been off my neck except in the two seconds it took for me to hurriedly replace it when it fell off as per the times mentioned above. This chain has withstood vigorous gym classes, dancing in clubs, young children pawing at me as I taught them, me grasping it tight in my palm as I kissed it or held onto it for comfort. It’s been with me as I’ve cooked, bathed, slept, jogged, twirled, travelled, cried and laughed. It’s been with me through so much I’m surprised it’s actually lasted this long, but I guess such is the power a sentimental object offers, because it is sentimental. I keep it safe. Very much so. Gifted by someone very close in order to keep me safe and give them better piece of mind, this necklace has been on me since May 2018, right before I jetted off to travel the Middle East.
I rely on this pendant a lot, largely because it holds an extreme amount of personal significance for the person who gave it but also because it’s amazing to receive something so important. It offers me comfort, reminds me I’m loved, gives me peace and strength. When I’m going through a rough moment, I clutch it, when I’m joyous, I clutch it too, to show I’m thankful. The attachment feels just like the mini teddy bear I had next to me as I sat all of my national exams at the age of 16, or the toy I’ve grown up with since I was one month old and cried buckets over when I thought he was gone forever when I left him at a hotel on a school trip (my Mum is amazing, and she got him posted back back to me after begging the manager on the phone to enquire from the housekeepers whether or not I left this ratty, lovable thing behind on the bed). Nothing can happen to those two things, and nothing can happen to this necklace either.
It’s an irrational fear, this uneasy feeling I have that things may go drastically wrong without this necklace on me, but it’s present nonetheless. I can’t help it. It’s odd how objects make you feel so strongly. Whether it’s lucky underwear or a comfort blanket from childhood, even lovingly written cards or a drawing made specifically for you, everyone has something sentimental to them, something they can’t imagine giving up, something they may want buried with them in the end. The idea of me having my special something, that necklace, break? Nope. I can’t allow it if I can help it, and I can help this, because it’s not beyond repair, and I just need to keep telling myself that whenever the panicked thoughts begin to rear their head at the thought of me sleeping, walking, exercising, hell – even just breathing – without my pendant. As I only have this one necklace too, I can’t switch chains either.
But soon it’ll be good as new. I’ll feel calm again because I’ll have that small piece of material dangling safely around my neck once more. It’s stressful, having a marginally tough time because of slim bit of metal, but it’s beautiful too, because it’s nice to have something I care about. Although I’m not a minimalist, I’m not a hoarder either, and I’m usually happy to throw things out if they begin to clutter my surroundings too much. Yet… this feels like something I’ll never chuck away, like my beloved toys. Maybe I’ll put it to the side one day, to make room for something else, but for now, it needs to stay in it’s proper space around my body, no matter how little sense it makes for me to feel so strongly.