Inhale. Exhale. Clean air. Too clean, even in this valley. Seems it would be appreciated, but sometimes I forget how to appreciate things. Now is one of those times.
It feels dark inside. Lonely. Where does strength go when I really need it? I have to make it go away, the feelings of emptiness and uselessness. I don't want your pity. I'm not reaching out. This is merely a request from a dear friend who wanted to read my mind. I miss you and yours fiercely. It used to be if I was lost, I could find myself inside your arms. I need those arms. These are excerpts from the things I've been writing:
I saw a girl and she was beautiful. And she knew how to smile. I'm sure she has known fear, but she has never been alone. I wish I knew what that felt like--to not know how it feels to be alone. Because, in life, once you're swept away, no anchor in sight, no land to reach for, it's so hard to ever trust that everything will be okay, to know that love is real, to find a secure place to be yourself.
Depression doesn't tie itself into a neat little box. It's not just a change in attitude, an easy fix. Sometimes it grabs me from behind and takes me in the night, gagged and bound. When the blindfold is removed I still can't see the end. My eyes strain. Nothing.
Not that I enjoy nothing; it just feels like the default is set at "shitty." Life isn't shitty. Just me. Does that mean something is wrong with me? Do I need medication? I don't want to be dependent on medication and I really don't think I need it. It feels like that would just be trading one co-dependency for the next. I depend on people too much, build my life around them. Substances, self-medication. Other bullshit.
Why don't I write more? Sometimes I hate being a writer. I try to resist it, even. As much as it helps me, it's ridiculous how in touch with my emotions I have to be to write. It seems it makes me vulnerable to this. To wondering about and obsessing over all the endless possibilities and pieces of life without just enjoying it. Damn being a woman, too.
I used to insist I would age gracefully, but I was fucked up a lot back then, maybe delusional. There's no grace in this fear of everything. Before I had my child, I didn't really fear death. In fact, I taunted it almost everyday in some way. Now it feels like I'm dying, like everyday my cells flake away in the dry heat and it's a part of me that will never return. But aren't we all dying? That's why it's most important to enjoy the short time we do have without always worrying about the tomorrow that may or may not come. Today. Right now.
I'm so scared of losing something I've never even had; it's just an idea to me, a happy family of my own. Time together daily to connect without exhaustion being the cost. Maybe it's in the future. Maybe not.
Change is hard; stagnation is worse.
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