There are people in this world who do not feel like they are walking on a fragile tightrope everyday, always on the verge of disintegrating beneath their slippery feet. It would be nice to know what that’s like.
It is difficult to be simultaneously grateful for all the wonderful everything that is my life and terrified of losing it all–knowing how easy it is to fall. I can’t imagine feeling confident enough to live life without worrying every single day–to be able to commit to something like a mortgage and not be one failure away from losing everything.
Maybe there’s a life out there where I don’ have to live in a constant state of panic. Maybe it’s the life I live today with a much more positive outlook and repatterning the way I think. There has to be a better way. Mentally, I’m sick, and physically, well, I’m certainly not healthy. I’m committed to fixing all of this in 2020 and yet here I am, eight days into it, and unsure how, and falling back into making the same mistakes. It’s not only embarrassing, it’s frustrating to feel so out of control when all I want is to be in control.
It’s that death spiral I know so well. Down, down I go, accepting my fate without it being necessary. Being sucked into a whirlpool of catastrophe that isn’t even there and kicking harder than anyone would ever know just to stay afloat. The tragic thing is that I fail to, at a bare minimum, be a likable person. The few people who give me a chance give up on me eventually and again I’m alone to pick myself up from the bottom of the ocean, drifting in the dark, my flesh scraping against the forgotten sand.
It all needs to stop. It needs to start being sustainable and routine and productive and stable. It can’t be a life trying to stay afloat in a whirlpool and swirling and swirling and swirling until I’m so dizzy I can’t think straight and my actions are the result of confusion and fear and a deep self hatred that stems from the earliest days I can remember, when I learned that I’d never be good enough. That I was broken and annoying and needed to stop being so sensitive and hyper and sad and scared.
How much have I really changed these last 36 years on this earth? Not much. But maybe I can change over the next 36. I have to keep the hope alive that I can. It seems like it should be possible with the right tools and tricks. The appropriate guidance and people who understand that I don’t mean what I say or do sometimes and I regret it immediately and I’m working every day on being a little bit better until I’m acceptable. I have to believe that somehow I can get there.
life with interest 