As I have said before, I am a little aimless right now. I did make some goals, but it all seems so out of reach. I have hit the “it’s pointless” wall again. I can neither move forward, nor give myself the space to rest. I feel as though I should just give up. I have entered the inferno. “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”
So much of my life has been focused on encouraging others that I have forgotten how to encourage myself. I say quotes that keep me going and I write about how I have plans and what a fighter I am, but I feel powerless. I feel that every day is a struggle. I feel as though I should lie when people ask me personal questions. I feel inept. I am frustrated. I am tired.
I got a new journal and tossed my old one because I was tired of the way that I was feeling and I thought a new journal would help change that. I wanted to make a rule that said I could only write positive things in the new one. Hopefully, a change of the cover would change how I felt. I dyed my hair. Maybe a change of the color would make me feel pretty again. I struggle with forcing myself to eat. Maybe if I lost weight, I wouldn’t be so unhappy.
I keep trying to change surface things in hopes that it will change how I feel. It isn’t working.
Why don’t I embrace how I feel? Why don’t I just admit that, right now, I am emotional and raw and overwhelmed? See. Was that really so hard?
I think part of my emotional problem is that I fear that this is all that I am. I am broken. I can’t put all of the pieces back together. I will be like a surrealist painting at the end of the process; I will be enmeshed with unknowns.
Yesterday, I was asked if I was still writing and I answered that I was, but that I had abandoned certain projects due to external forces. I have not written (other than this blog) since leaving the hospital. I have been unable to focus long enough for a traditional piece of work. I have projects that I want to do, but motivation is low. I miss the muse.
I am trying to keep going. I am more than my diagnoses, my illnesses. I constantly say that, but I think I get stuck in the mindset that this is what will be. It doesn’t have to be though. I want more. I wrote a poem a few weeks back that included a line about wanting to wear rose-colored glasses, if only for a moment. I could use some color to the drab monochrome of my existence, but it won’t necessarily change it.
I want to make more than surface changes. I want sustainable change. I want to feel better and live a more fulfilling life. I want to experience life to the full. I want more.