My seasonal holiday blahs were a little late this year.
I was - almost - excited about Christmas. For a while.
Now it's back to my usual 'woops, where the hell did that fuckin' pothole to hell come from?!'.
All I can seem to think about is how I have failed my kids. And how I have basically wasted four lives - theirs and mine. I find myself wondering what I did to deserve being put here on this earth? And yes, that is meant to sound like a punishment - because that's how it's felt for most of my life. Trapped in this... I don't know what. Trapped in this life I've always felt out of touch with. Trapped in this body I've always had a hard time thinking of as 'mine'. And the people I love are trapped with me. I almost said 'trapped with the people I love', but that makes it sound like they are the source of the pain, and that's not accurate. I am the source of the pain. Hence, they are trapped with me. Stuck with me. I cannot help the thought that maybe they would have been better off if....
But I should not finish that thought. I don't need to, really, because you all know where that thought goes.
Repeat after me, and maybe after a while, we will believe it:
'My life is worthwhile. I am worthwhile.'
Remember, I am not necessarily reminding you of what I think you should do....
I am reminding myself of what the truth really is.
Because Depression twists everything, taking away the taste and making everything blackness.
Depression is the Lie, not the Hope.
But Hope is painful. They don't really tell you that when they're reaching out to help you, mostly because they don't know.
Hope Hurts. Hope f*ck*ng Hurts. Hope gets you far enough up the wall of your own internal Hell to look down at the sharp rocks and give you just enough Vertigo that you're not sure if you can actually hold on.
But you can. Hold On.
I'll hold on with you. Whoever you are. I don't need to know your name, because I already know part of your fight. We're Battle Buddies.
So right now, I'm sitting in this trench, and the bottom of it is spiky and full of the broken shards of dreams and busted bits of my identity.
You know the trench. You wind up there, too.
I'm going to remind myself that it's not my fault I'm here.
That's right - you heard me.
I didn't ask to be here.
I didn't seek this horrible trench out.
I was walking point, and lost myself for a minute, lost my focus, and Bam! here I am.
That's how it happens sometimes.
Walking point means that I was out of the trench and Making My Way Forward in Life, dodging the Slings and Arrows That Innocently Sally Forth, and slogging through all the Tough Shit That Haunts Me.
That's the hazard of walking point. Sometimes, despite your Best Efforts, You Step in Shit - Tough Shit That Haunts You.
Maybe you don't mean to step on it.
Maybe you actually saw it, and made a mental note to avoid it, but then someone jostles you - all innocent like and unrealizing - and Bam! There it explodes under you, and down you go, into the trench.
Not your fault. You were doing the work - the hard work, mind you, - that most people don't have to do.
Most people don't have to move boulders just to walk through life.
Most people don't have to wade through energy-sucking quicksand to get dressed.
Most people don't live in a world that tastes and looks like all mashed potatoes.
That's why it's not your fault. You didn't ask for this.
No matter what they try to tell you with their ignorant selves, repeat after me: I didn't ask for this.
Makes you angry, a bit, does it?
No.... Don't toss it away like trash - that's your lifeline slapping you in the face.
Let anger get you out of the trench and far enough away that you can work on forgiveness - forgiving the World In General for handing you such a crap portion. Because forgiving isn't about excusing anything - forgiving is when you tell yourself that you deserve to heal and move on.
Most of all, forgive yourself. I'm still trying that one.