I may have already written this in another post, I’m not sure and I don’t feel like looking, (sorry for the abruptness, bad day) but when I was younger I had some strange idea that I wouldn’t live to see eighteen. I’m not really sure why, it might be that my younger brain couldn’t actually invision my older self doing the regular everyday stuff that comes with being an adult- raising kids, paying bills, having insurance (seriously when I would hear my parents talk about insurance the concept baffled me.) Yet I did make it to eighteen. I made it through the horrible awkwardness of puberty, the geeky torture of my early teen years, through the drunken nights of High School. I became a mom, I weathered bad relationships, I grew, I learned. At some point the idea of ‘I’ll never make it to eighteen’ changed to the unconscious idea that my healthiness gave me some sort of invisibility shield. I, of course, didn’t think I was invincible, but as a healthy young adult the idea of death was so far in the distance till it was almost mythological, impossible. There would always be time, for this, that and the other. But life is funny, as the saying goes, one day I had all the time in the world, the next day I was staring death in the face. I thought for a while that that was going to be a wake up call for me, make me start “living” instead of just existing, but I fell right back into the same pattern. I went back to work, went back to existing. Two years later, I had another wake up call. I thought my perspective on life would change this time. Life IS too short. Life IS too beautiful. But depression is an ugly thing. It sunk its claws in and the grip was so type I haven’t been able to breathe for the last two years. I’ve been stuck, in this place where I’m alive but pointlessly. I rarely feel joy, sadness, anything at. I just take up space, waiting to die. Then yesterday I got another wake up call. It’s been two years again. In another two years I’ll be forty. Each wake up is more serious than the next. At this point I have to face the uncomfortable reality that I am not invincible. That I am a great big soul inhabiting a genuinely flawed body. I was told by a cruel person in a cruel relationship that I should have never been born. My body is a damaged one never meant to exist. As a human animal this is in fact partially true. In a way I have felt like I was never meant to exist. In the animal kingdom I would have been left behind to die. Left for the elements to take. The meal for something greater and bigger to ravage and destroy. But I am more than just an animal, I am human and I was blessed with a beautiful mind. The only thing that can truly ravage me now, even in this weak body I was given, is the power of my own thoughts. I have to take this wake up call and decide- is it time to live- do I want to rage and burn- or do I want to fade away in two more years ‘go gently into that goodnight.’

Life

One thought on “Life

  • September 18, 2016 at 5:48 am
    Permalink

    I feel we must be kindred souls. Yes, rage on. We need to hear more from you!

    Reply

Leave a Reply