Uncharted

For the past few nights now, I’ve woken up around midnight and failed to get back to sleep. During this time, I can find myself thinking about the person who’s no longer physically here. Tonight is no different.

The Future and Life Itself

So maybe I’m afraid—fearful of the future, fearful of living. Feeling stressed to think about it and dreading the obligations and expectations, the responsibility, potential stress, and having to do things. Even so, the previous night, I flushed my plan of suicide.

If, to me, it seems being dead would be easier than dealing with life, then why did I do such a thing? Why did I flush my plan down the toilet? At the time, I had been thinking about my death wish and letting go of the old, letting my old self die. Perhaps validating that death wishing, suicidal ideational part of me helped in the decision to let go of my physical means of (an attempt to) escape. “I want to die,” it says, and so I allow myself—the old self, the old self that wanted to hold on to the plan of physical death—to die. The start of something new.

And so I am no longer on the familiar path and am without an intent to escape, and that can be daunting. I’m not sure what lies ahead and I can feel afraid of potential difficulties.

Though I often feel alone, I do have help. I’m grateful for my therapist and for my pet cat who seems to love me no matter what. They’ve both helped me (begrudgingly, to my old self) not to physically kill myself (or at least not attempt to again), something that, oddly enough, it feels I’ve done before.

Though my main anchor has physically fallen away, I can hold on to the feariosity, even though it seems that for now, the fear outweighs the curiosity.

And with the fear comes taking refuge in apathy and feeling that my depression isn’t that bad of a thing considering it can provide me with that apathy. Because so what? So what if I don’t make progress in time on that thing that I’m supposed to be working on? I don’t even care, and at least it can lower people’s expectations of me. And so what if I get rejected for that potential life change that might be on the horizon? Then I won’t have to deal with the stress and responsibility (and stress from the responsibility) that comes with such a change.

In the end, whatever happens happens. I’m not sure if I’m right, but maybe I feel like things will work out, just as I felt that maybe in the end, I’d be okay.