I remember days of hope. When I had hope that one day I would be free. Free from what, I’m not sure. From something inside of me. I remember days when I felt free, moments when I felt free. I felt I was going somewhere, towards a light, towards a day when something in me would give way and I’d feel whole. I had hope that one day something would fill me full, and this emptiness would give way and I wouldn’t need all the heavy concrete I kept pouring inside, trying to fill the void, but I kept becoming emptier and emptier. It seems to all come down to faith. Can I have faith that my situation will improve, that I can improve, that I can make my own life better? I wish suicide had not taken root in my mind. I see it as a way out from all this suffering, and I cannot unknow it’s potential for comfort. It’s true, my suffering would end, but so would my joy, my life, my everything. And it’s not just about me. The people I love. The work I love. Love is not easy.Nothing is easy. I’m just unable to get back on track. Well, I’m able, I just can’t, right now. Faith, I need to have faith in myself. There will be no miracle to guide me. There will only be me to guide me. There will be no revelations. I cannot hope for magic. I can only have faith in my own ability to recover. I’m in this limbo where I am between recovery and sickness, where I am choosing my path I’m so scared, but of what exactly I’m not sure. I have to suffer the boredom of regular life. Sorry, but that’s just the way it goes. No grand escape, no fantastic struggles, just drink your coffee and move on. I am so perfectly bored of the quotidian. But my boredom isn’t everything. I am not everything. I am one factor in this big world, and I can’t keep acting like my boredom overrides my responsibilities in this world, as a student, friend, daughter, everything. I’m so addicted to making a big deal out of my misery, when really my political science homework is much more interesting. I feel helpless, but I know better. I’m not helpless.
Two weeks worth of dishes in the sink. I did clean out the fish bowl today though, that’s a victory. Poor little fishy. Oh, I’m not alone in this. I can’t forget that. Watching Ted Talks. Addicted to Facebook. Share your love, always, because that’s the only way to conquer anything. Hours at the library, little work achieved. Maybe I just need a whole day off.
Hours and hours spent, I may as well not pretend sometimes, and just allow myself the time. Stop pretending things are alright, stop pretending that I’m a machine. I’m a human being, and I’m forgetting that.
Each Day Is A Journey 