This deserves its own entry, but in the same day. I questioned whether to have this count as another day’s entry, but it really is a continuation of the earlier thought processes or (more likely) a consequence of there always being thought processes like the ones from a few hours ago – constantly searching, thinking, analyzing, struggling.
A lot of what I’ve read talks about finding strength to work on recovery – something that you internalize whether it be an image or mantra or thing that keeps you going, something in which you find strength, a strength that helps you see the light in the darkest of times, until you can find peace.
I feel like I am waiting to live and trying to just get through the days, and not only that, but struggling to live and unable to find the in-the-momentness, the calm, the light, the peace – constantly worrying about not living and unable to just breathe and have that life. I’m not expecting still waters, but right now I’m unable to look up and see the expansiveness of the ocean. Given that, the beauty of the ocean, its vastness and wonder, none of those things mean shit if I’m suffocated by trying, stuck trying, stuck working.
I need a fucking death sentence – something to kick me out of this and force me to stop trying and just be. I feel like I can’t just be and that it seems oxymoronic to have to try. Driving back from the gym today, where I escaped the world for a little while (definitely not the best version of gym-induced calm, but at least a small reduction in spinniness – usually it’s better, but I’ll take what I can get at this point), I actually thought about death, suicide, dying. Not as a choice. I have never truly considered it. But finding the light is an end to struggling to live, so is finding the dark. Something that ends this, something better than struggling through and searching for a light that doesn’t seem to get closer or that I know where to find. I wish that I could say that I have found that light by grabbing hold of my marriage, children, my job, family – and you know what, maybe they are my salvation, my tether to the real world, my connection to the light and the blackness has clouded me from seeing that, but FUCK FUCK FUCK – this is so damn hard.
Is the new mantra going to be “don’t give in, you can’t give in, there is no other option”? When did it get so fucking hard to live, to find light?
Maybe it no longer needs to be a “happy list” to shake off the cobwebs when I need it. Maybe it needs to be a “joys that I would miss” list, to keep the spiders from devouring me.