Have you ever stopped and wondered when the exact moment happened where it all started to go wrong? When you were maybe innocent, or trusting, maybe loving and untainted and from one moment to the next it was gone. Do you remember the moment after which nothing was ever the same again?
I recently read a book about “How does it feel.” It has stories about how does it feel to get attacked by a shark. How does it feel to be lost at sea, be stuck in a tornado, be a pet psychic! One of them was “how does it feel to be suicidal.” The person in there described how feeling suicidal is a very anti-climactic event. It isn’t like in the books or movies, where you proclaim in a dramatic way how you will depart this horrid world. As a matter of fact, all it truly boils down to is having lost the will to live, or the will to give a shit. She described in detail how she simply didn’t care anymore if she lived or died and all I could think was “wow! Yes, I remember it like this.”
A few years ago I was that person. It all felt too much, the pain, the worry, the fear, the sadness. I simply stopped giving a damn about anything, but most importantly about me. I wasn’t dramatic about it. In fact, I didn’t tell a soul. I just sat alone sobbing for days, I had stopped eating and all I did was chain smoke and shake like a leaf. The inability to explain the kind of hopelessness I was feeling left me even more isolated. How could I have told anyone?
I always felt that there is a tipping point. It is this point where you walk too close by the abyss, and while you have always managed to not fall, you suddenly start slipping. What always amazed me was the opposite of what people expected. I didn’t share, I didn’t talk, I disappeared. I truly disappeared within myself and within my own mind. Maybe that is how people become catatonic?
I got over it, without the meds. Life is a fine line I am treading each day. Sometimes it gets hard. I get angry for the things I had no choice over. But then I hold my chin up and onwards I march. It’s just that sometimes I wonder why things have to be so difficult and why nothing can ever be easy. I wonder if others sometimes feel this hopelessness and simply don’t talk about it. I wonder if we are all so conditioned to just nod and smile, pretending that the world is amazing and pretending that nothing bothers us. I wonder about a lot of things. But most importantly, I often wonder who the hell I truly am. I wonder who I was before, when the world seemed ok. But then, I can’t remember back to that point. I simply can’t.
Somehow the past few months have brought up a lot of emotions in me. But most importantly the question “who am I?” It isn’t like I suffer from amnesia or anything like that, it’s just that I sometimes feel so conditioned, so hardwired to react a certain way to a certain thing, that it does almost feel as if there is no choice involved. But then, I remember that we always have a choice. We always have a choice in how far we let ourselves go and how long it takes us to simply do something about the demons. Some people never call the exorcist. And how can I blame them? But at the end of the day, it boils down to a choice again. I can live with the demons, and they will then always run my life, run me! Or I can choose to get rid of the ones that are killing my light.
I don’t want to be a victim. I don’t want to be a martyr. Above all, I don’t want to make others pay for what was done to me. So the chin comes up once again, I put one foot in front of the other, I stop numbing (no more nicotine, etc.) and I drag my tired, sore body to the gym where Kenyatta, my trainer, is putting me through the wringer. One could say, he is excorcising my demons.
I don’t want to die anymore. I simply don’t want to feel dead anymore, even though I pretend so well to be full of life. I want the dead parts inside of me out. I want to live my life to the fullest, feeling healthy and vital, and feeling confident in me, knowing that I truly and honestly did do the best I can. Knowing that I tried and no matter how often I fell on my butt, I got back up again and continued this journey we call life. The life that requires that I am the one who takes control over my mind, body and spirit. The one who finally understands the true meaning of magic, having balance between the five elements: Mind, Body, Spirit, Emotion and Will!
I have failed many times before, but this time around I may just get it right.
