I thought I was going to post something positive tonight, something that might be uplifting to read, something that might speak of my sense of perseverance and how I had come close to coming out of it on the other side, still somewhat intact or discovering or building a “new intactness of my own” or something along those lines. I had meant to make this into an inspiring post about how keeping at it pays off. And then I succumbed to binge eating again for reasons I can’t even put my finger on, every time getting worse and pretty much nearing La Grande Bouffe from one time to the next – in other words, each time getting closer to suicide by overeating and having my guts explode. I feel I have burnt every ember I ever had – and I made the last one of them burn for the past seven, eight years. This… is not manageable any longer, although I found another bit of relief via medical marijuana (which is illegal in my country and which I’ll only be able to afford by growing it myself – which I plan on doing once I can put the money aside for seeds.) This – is not living, it’s surviving from one day to the next … and it feels as if there was nothing worthwhile in sight any longer or in the numbers for me at all.
I don’t consider myself a quitter. After all, I’ve just made the 50 years mark. Yes, I have been putting up with this thing for pretty much all of those 50 years (it started in my infancy when I was only a few weeks old). But lack of perseverance is not my problem. It’s the absence of something to look forward to. It’s funny, in many ways I feel like I’ve lived twice the amount of years and everything feels like “been there, done that, spare me now”, you know? And this goes beyond a simple episode of major depression (which it could be, I’m aware, but again – that’s beside the point, I don’t think, that’s the main problem). This insane survival trip has been going on for just too damn long and for the life of me – I can barely remember any day that felt … well, how about “easy”, “worthwhile”, “significant”? I get the feeling that surely a few of us must have come across that experience – despite the odds being firmly aligned against us.
Was I whining again? Probably. More like… getting ready to exhale. Let go. Just let go of this fickle flame of survival instinct – or whatever it was that had me hold out for this long. It feels like that flame has been dying on me for quite some time now and I hadn’t even realized that it had been dying inside of me. I come home after a day of appointments, seeing a friend, even doing something that many might consider “quality time”: Taking a walk in the bright winter sunshine, smelling and inhaling the crisp air, sharing laughs here and there, having a cup of coffee overlooking a gorgeous vista of lake, snow capped mountains, mist in the valley and sunlight illuminating it all. Yes, it was gorgeous weather today and I commanded my inner dialog to sound something like “this is aweome, just look at all this beauty” and things of that nature. But … I didn’t really feel any of that. It’s actually scary how I have arrived at being a socially inconspicuous zombie who says and does all the right things to pass for “normal”… really scary. If it was a part in a movie and someone paid me for it, I gather they’d at least acknowlege the profund effort going into it all – and the latter visualization of my imagination being a privilege I’ll never have in this lifetime. Like – ever. Have this insane survival trip acknowledged by anyone? If not myself, then noone. And that’s what it’s been like until now: Literally an insane ride – or rather: a faint reminiscence of it. If only it had been a rollercoaster, a breathtaking trip that would have had me cling to the handlebar with my feelings swiftly oscillating between ultimate terror and exuberant joy… I can’t think of a time like that. It was rather this thick smelly soup of insignifiance and indifference that had me engulfed right after waking up pretty much for most of my life. And waking up to… exactly what? Whining on my blog? Checking Facebook for yet another mundane status post or comment? Freaking myself out over the world’s news with all her recent atrocities committed in the name of “freedom”, “democracy”, “western culture” and all the other smokescreens they keep holding up to our faces? Or that other realm of insanity coined “islamic fundamentalism” with those monsters of the IS and whatnot. This fucking species not only kills in the worst possible ways, they are even being creative with the abhorrent ways of ending another species member’s life… I can’t think of any species doing anything like that.
At least I knew love once – or the closest thing to it that I was able to come to. I tried to pursue my perceived dream when I was young, I adjusted to a conventional life style later, I travelled a bit, I married, I loved – and then saw all of it fall apart. I wasn’t able to rekindle any kind of passion, let alone courage.
Maybe, that was that. It’s been feeling like there’s nothing at all in the cards for me any longer for some time now. And I can’t even think of anything that might get me excited enough to put up with … well all of it, all of them. I.feel.thoroughly.spent.Done. Kaputt.
I had really meant to sound different tonight. I apologize.