What Is The Point?/ Possibly The Longest Ramble Ever Written


Fair Warning: This is a negative post with much questioning of life. Could be triggering for some who deal with depression or suicidal thoughts. If you have doubts, please turn back now. Fair Warning.

Talked with my Dad yesterday. He wanted to know what the plan is. I told him the mask stays on. Life becomes one big act. He seemed to respond in a way that said “duh!”. His thought is that this is what every responsible adult does. A good person gets up in the morning, pretends to be something he is not. This good person will go to bed only to get up and do it all over again, every day, for the rest of his life.

I can’t do that. If pretending is all life is, I don’t want a part in it. No doubt we all hide something or some parts of us. Generally people don’t want an honest answer when they ask the polite “How are you?”. But why? Yes, life would be very different if we were all honest, but would it necessarily be a bad thing? If we could genuinely tell people how we are thinking and feeling, would it be a bad thing? We could be expressive with tact. There is a big difference in telling someone that their shirt isn’t your preference and saying that it looks like it belongs in a toilet. Tact would be a huge deal. But when someone asks “How are you?”, what would it be like if we could respond honestly and people actually cared?

I am only twenty three. I can’t do this the rest of my life. If today is my last day, I want to be honest with people. That doesn’t mean giving up on life because it is hard, but just being genuine with people. I would love to tell my neighbor everything she means to me, and I do mean everything. I would love to be able to tell my sister exactly what I think about how she is treating our parents and other sister. Would is be so bad to tell my Grandma that talking with her is one of my biggest triggers? What if just telling her caused her to stop being so negative? There is a possibility that my ex would receive a phone call in which he would learn that I think we made a mistake. It wouldn’t change anything necessarily, but it would be out there. How awesome would it be to tell that cute person walking down the street that they are attractive? Isn’t this a lovely fantasy world created on this post?

Dad just seemed so proud that I finally figured it out and realized that I need to pull up my big girl panties and move on with life. I don’t think he understands though. He doesn’t understand the thoughts I have and the way my brain works. He doesn’t understand that sometimes a panic attack is seconds away, and I have no idea which seconds those are. He doesn’t understand that spending forty five minutes outside yesterday was a HUGE deal for me. His remark was “So do you just spend all your time holed up in your apartment?”. Wow Dad, way to encourage. Reality says that life goes on. Just because a person is questioning the point in living and sees things in a skewed way the majority of the time doesn’t mean that life stops. I understand that. From my earliest memories, my family’s method of dealing with problems has been to ignore them and go on. A family member is molesting another under age family member? That is bad but we can act like it didn’t happen. Youngest sister is depressed at a young age? That is not such a big deal. Just ignore it. It will go away eventually. That does not always work though. I can’t ignore this. It is not a desire to give up, but it is a desire to get better. Dad also made a comment last night that really hurt. He didn’t mean it in a bad way but goodness how it seemed to validate my worst fears. He says to me that we, he and I, are both pathetic. It is clear what he is saying there, but it is like the negative “voices”, “thoughts” took over. They started to point and laugh and remind me that they had been right all along.Everyone has known it all along.ย  All this time spent on trying to get better and understand has been wasted because they are right.

Then something completely opposite happened today. I taught a class. It lasted over an hour. At the end of the hour, there was more “me” present than what has been in a while. It was something I wanted to hold on to. So to the apartment I went and did some cleaning that has gone by the wayside lately. Shortly though, it was over. The exhausted feeling is back. The negativity, (reality?) is back. What is the point here? What are we living for? For the next moment? For the next high? For the next heart break? Heck, at this point, I might would take a good heartbreak. At least there would be a reason for these feelings and just some genuine feelings in general. I have written before about enjoying the moment. Perhaps many people aren’t happy because their version of happiness is too large. At this point, I don’t really know.

Why am I alive? The expected answer is that I am to be living for God and glorifying Him. I am failing miserably at that at this time. Is the answer to help others? I can’t even help myself. How could I help anyone else?

Am I screwed up? Screwed up past being helped? What if this is normal from now on? What if this cloud my head seems to be stuck in lasts forever? The sunlight blinds me. The air suffocates me. And life is drowning me. I can’t handle that. But how can I say that it will get better? In all honestly, can anyone really know that? Are we just supposed to hold on until life possibly improves?

People, I am tired. In every way possible, I am tired. Yesterday I wrote about how questioning life and depression seem to go together. This morning though, I began to wonder which causes which. Does questioning life cause the depression, or does the depression cause one to question life? No doubt there would be logical answers on both sides of that equation. Not sure what they are, but there could be good answers somewhere.

I wish there were some way to let someone into my brain. Then they could see. They could understand. Maybe they could help. Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they would pull out the crazy stamp and put it to use. Maybe they would run screaming. I don’t know.

In contradiction to the rest of this crap I have written, here are five things I am thankful for.

1. My sister.

2. Sleep.

3. Music.

4. My neighbor.

5. Teaching.

Contemplating whether blogging is good right now or not. There is no need to contaminate others with this mindset and the negative thoughts. But if this is life, if this is normal, aren’t they already thinking and feelings these things anyway?

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7 thoughts on “What Is The Point?/ Possibly The Longest Ramble Ever Written

  1. Yes, tell others how you feel. So happy you had a brief good time with teaching and cleaning. I don’t want you to stop blogging. I don’t feel you are contaminating at all, you are being you and expressing your feelings and thoughts. I love to see you do that.

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  2. I know what’s going through your brain…well, not the exact thoughts, but my own personal questions. I have found that blogging, like you are in this post, has been a great way to sort through my own thoughts.

    Something I always ask myself–if something doesn’t feel right, or make me feel good about myself, what is my part of the solution? I don’t know if that will help, because when depressed, nothing makes sense, all we want to do is wake up tomorrow and everything will make sense, and we will be happy. It’s hard work, but it can be done.

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  3. You are amazing – all of this difficult stuff running rampant in your head, and you still end your post with five things for which you’re grateful?! That’s remarkable to me. Truly.

    I think you should blog as long as it helps you. Don’t worry about contaminating the blogosphere or your readers. If people don’t want to read, they don’t have to read. (Someone wise told me the same thing on my blog when I was debating this.) So blog for as long as you want to.

    You’re right that your dad doesn’t understand. It’s likely that he never will, because he has spent his life with the mask on – and he probably has no idea what he looks like under the mask or how to take the mask off. That’s not to say that he’s a bad person, or a bad dad, but it sounds like he just hasn’t had the emotional help and guidance to help him find a healthier place.

    But your dad isn’t you. You are trying. You have insight. You want this to be better, and you want to live life without a mask. Isn’t that incredible that you could have so much understanding of what you’re going through, when it’s clear you haven’t had any family support getting you there? I think that’s a real testament to the You who is inside, behind the mask.

    As for letting someone in your brain, so you don’t have the burden of carrying around all this awful stuff…that’s the relief I get from therapy. To be able to say the awful things out loud and not have the other person recoil in horror. To have them say that they can understand how I might think that. To simply listen without any other baggage. Maybe you’ll be able to pursue the possibility of therapy when you’re home; if not, maybe there’s a friend with whom you’d be willing to open up a bit more.

    Hang in there. One day at a time, one breath at a time. xx

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    • Love this so much and read it repeatedly to let it all sink in. Therapy is sound beautiful right now.

      There is something wonderful in hearing the stories of other people and writers. So many experience different difficulties in life, yet so much of life is the same for many. Thank you for being willing to share parts of your own story in the comments and on your own blog. Your words are always so genuine and somehow positive.

      One day at a time. It can be done!

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