It is a new year, with new opportunities and the door of the last year has already closed on us, I have been trying to sleep away the days and ponder in the solitude of night. Forgetting how it is to actually communicate with people, avoiding contact and trying to maintain to the outside world that I am doing just fine when I so clearly know where this road is leading me. Back into another depression… I even had the gall to drive in pure anger and frustration after consuming quite a fair bit too much alcohol. The upside was that I did not really do this on my own, I had the option to spew some of my frustration to a very dear friend, however, this does not take away the fact that I was wrong to even stepping inside of the car. This self destructive need of mine really starts to wear me down and I do not feel I can trust anyone or anything, let alone myself.
Last year went so well, everything seemed to be going in a fairly nice upward spiral, but my inability to draw the line in the sand and stating someone went too far, really messed things up for me. I started being more like the ‘old me’ and am still in the process of convincing myself that I am not worth a single damn in the hellhole I shoved myself in. I get migraines more, I get more insecure and I am evasive. I hate myself every step I take away from the people that I like being with, the people who care about me, the silence I give them. I do not want them to be gone, I want them to see that I am desperately in need of their help, love and support, but I lack the means to actually ask for it. Or better yet, I lack the capacity to grant myself that privilege in asking for it. I am a man, who needs to fix his crap in his own time and not bother the rest of the world with it.
So what is going wrong? I am still employed, which is good, but work times are severely reduced due to the nature of my work, so I have a lot of time and many things I need to do, but not the train of thought to compartmentalise everything into tasks I could be doing. Such as making a list in my mind to do dishes, vacuum and laundry. Then do some shopping, cooking and calling up about work, fixing my central heating problem, or even staying involved with the local football club, making contact with friends, go out and try to meet new people, generally be happy and productive. No… I get isolated, caught up in my bubble and shut myself into a world filled with alcohol and games, but mostly silence, fearing that I might mess up someone else’s life more than I messed up mine.
Now I do not always feel like this, but in the dead of night, these thoughts are prevalent. I am a zombie, I fight, I struggle, but all internally, this war inside my head rages and there is no one to witness it. I cry whenever I am confronted with the pains of the past and the present, then reprimand myself for being a pussy, not worthy of being a real person, let alone being a man. I lack the capacity to see myself as anything else than an inanimate object most of the time and it shows in my ability to just drop the things I love most like a brick into a very deep pond, for them to never resurface again. I cannot have things to love, people to love or activities to like. I am this war inside of my head, this big failed experiment of sorrow and I wallow in it, revel in the gloom and doom I cast myself into.
‘This is the depression talking! Snap out of it!’
I sometimes hear those words, they echo still inside, somewhere, but the clarity has long since faded into more of a background murmur. I know I am worth something, I know I am capable of making things nice, pretty things, I can compose words in a fashion that people tend to like to read, I can make people laugh, I can get people together and talk about many things. I am a good listener, attentive and generous and I can give without expecting anything in return. I can be a good friend, I can be a good partner, I could probably even be considered a catch in some regards, however, this is the bit I least focus on. I focus only on my faults, trying to eradicate those and seeing these faults are somehow a part of me, I sabotage me by trying to get rid of parts of me. I am all what happened, I am all that I experienced, all that I thought, that I had a say in, and probably even more so in the times I did not get any say… I am what I am because of what I gone through… Life still has won out over death… all these years, this war rages on, but it is a testament of my struggle to keep going, regardless of the futility, because in the end I will end up with what I started with… a void without beginning or end. But this is not just me trying to be extremely dark, I mean, I can write, I can somewhat rationalise things, I can share. I am trying to put my worries onto paper, get a grip on them and look at them for what they really are. Because in the end, I am probably not going anywhere, I still have a promise to keep and I intend to keep that, however that now may vex the person I made the promise to.
I am still here, I am still able to talk, I am still able to produce somewhat questionable paragraphs of malcontent at my own expense, but if this is one part of me that keeps me alive and keeps me going, then I guess it is worthy of just being out there. I matters to me, else this war would have been lost a long long time ago. I struggle, and even though I am my own worst enemy, I am also my greatest asset and ally. My only wish for this year is that I do not have to struggle as hard as I have done in the past… I want to feel alive, not just living in a void, a darkness I only can feel, see and taste with every bitter defeat I conjure up for myself. I want to be able to smile again, just for me, for my life, love and the gifts I can present my dearest and nearest with.
Let’s make this the year where I smile, for me…