Like sands through the hourglass….
Time. Time does a lot for people. It does a lot to people. And sometimes, Time does nothing at all. It’s been some time since I last blogged. I mean, really blogged. I could talk about a number of things: my job, my daughter, my family, my hours watching basketball games. But I won’t. I’m gonna talk about me, about my thoughts, my concerns, my worries, mylife. Why? Because I can. Because those same thoughts overwhelm me, those same worries consume me. Because I find no remedy in emphasizing with a Hallmark card about dusting yourself off and moving on, or picking up the pieces and turning a new leaf. Maybe it’s all those years of being busy with something else, something random, something unimportant, that kept me from overthinking all the time; from analyzing every possible outcome, usually negative, to every situation, realistic or not. Maybe it was schoolwork, maybe it was sports, maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the wealth of emotion that comes in loving someone and having them love you back. Not have strong feelings for you, not say the words but lack the meaning, not be that friend that is always there for you, but actually understand how you felt in its entirety and reciprocating that emotion, not out of obligation or necessity, but moreso out of desire, out of care. When that no longer exists, there comes a void in you that is inconsolable. Not a hole in your heart or in your soul or in your life, but in….YOU. A hole so big that it can’t be pinpointed to one aspect of your being, yet so small that you can never seem to truly find it.
Routine. So basically, my daily routine, as many call it, has become just that: a routine. Not in the sense of someone saying they work and then go home, watch Friends, and do nothing (which are usually brief synopses of the actual happenings, leaving out the 30 or so variances that occur each day). What I do daily is the equivalence of looking up ‘routine’ on dictionary.com. There are no variances, no side shows, no quirky moments of change. There is life, and time, and bed. I could live life with my eyes closed. And in doing that, I’ve learned where the grey areas show up; where those periods of time, however brief, open the door to thinking, and more thinking, and then analyzing those thoughts to think on more. And then solitude creeps in. Loneliness rears its head, kicking you hard like a mule you’re too close to. Why? Not to open your eyes to change or let you think of what you want different; it shows up, just because it can. Because if there’s any possible way in the world for you to hurt a little more, why should it pass up that opportunity to do so? Hey, you had a good day, BAM, here I am. Or Great job, congrats on that accomplishment…by the way, BAM. I mean, at what point do you have to just stop trying? When do you concede your life’s failures and mistakes to the fact that you lost, that sooner or later, you run out of quarters and can’t continue to play the game?
Fear. It takes you over some days. Others, maybe you don’t notice it. But trust me, it’s there. I have many fears; I have material fears like clowns, spiders, and a number of others; I have situational fears like deep water or heights; I have fear that something, anything, bad would or will ever happen to my daughter. But lately, I’ve been weakened by that fear of loneliness. Maybe I smiled that day; Loneliness was having no allowance of that. Maybe I met someone who brightened my day, possibly my future. Loneliness called in Doubt and Anxiety to help veer me to the side. It seems like every turn towards a positive outlook is met abrumptly, painfully, with something negative, rarely its equal, but rather even more consuming in the opposite direction you felt you were facing. I’m unsure anymore what I want out of life, out of my future, out of that prospective “special someone.” It’s as if I know what I want, or I find what I tell myself what is right, and then second-guess every detail of it. I try to immediately find things wrong with it so I can escape, so I can stay in this small world of unhappiness I’ve grown so accustommed to being in. I once told someone that the only thing worse than being so unhappy, staying complacent in a miserable lifestyle, is knowing and admitting it. It’s one thing to be absorbed in a set of ways that are depressing and down-trodden; it’s another to have a conscious knowledge of it and no ability, even purposely, to change to better or alter that feeling.
Unhappiness. It’s amazing to look at mylife and see how unhappy I am. What’s even more impressive is my ability to pull it off that I’m not. After a while, I admit to people that I’m an unhappy person, and I actually get told by many of them, “no you’re not, you’re a happy person.” It’s amazing that they somehow know me better than I do myself. But I’m lonely. I’m so tired of being alone, living a life with no one special included in it (my daughter excluded, of course). But I also have noticed that the past few months, I’m keeping myself from letting anyone get close. Someone asked me….actually, they TOLD me…online the other day that I didn’t trust anyone. And it’s true. I’ve been burnt so many times and so badly in the past that I don’t give opportunities to newcomers who are simply trying to be a part of this daily routine called life.
I have more to say about all this,