“We haven’t heard from you in awhile!” they say. “We thought you left town again, where have you been?” “You haven’t been around in forever!” “What have you been doing -we haven’t seen you or heard from you in a long time?!” And they are right. Each and every one of them. I haven’t been around in awhile. If you haven’t seen me in a long time -you aren’t alone. I’ve been here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I just haven’t said anything. My words have been stuck somewhere between my heart and my throat. It just is easier to remain silent.
It has been a long bit. It isn’t that anything major has happened, it is just the little things that stack up and make everything seem so major. The things that would be easy to handle on their own -if not accompanied by 300 others. I remind myself -almost daily, that my issues are not that big. That I have no right to be this depressed over these things. That I need to get my sea legs back. That I need to do something -big. That these small issues are nothing. I try. Desperately to agree, because I know it’s true. These issues -they aren’t big. But oh, they feel big.
They are crushing blows to my heart, over and over again and again.
A friend who is wading the waters with me -going through many of the same things I am -issues that aren’t big but feel oh so big summed it up well by saying life feels as though it has thrown us the finger. Then laughed. Then thrown us to the ground. Then while we are down kicked, stomped and thrown dirt. As if that would be enough. Life has then laughed to our faces. Dangled the rope of hope and laughed as we lunged for it just as it was ripped away.
It sounds dramatic, but it sums it up. Oh so well. I don’t feel like getting up. I know that life will throw me down again and I don’t know if I will be able to get up again. I don’t grasp for the hope -because I know it will be ripped away. I don’t like good days -because I know I will pay, dearly. Most likely with sanity or a life. Both of which seem equal right about now.
Good people dying. Better people leaving. Evil prevailing. It is all just too much to grasp and so instead I close my mouth and hide under the covers -watching repeats of my favorite shows, if for nothing else to escape reality.
I’m here. I’m just quiet. Because I have nothing to say. I have no words. I have no thoughts.
Life handed me something -something I assumed I didn’t want, and was surprised to discover, that perhaps -I did want it. I accepted life’s offer -and was beaten over the head with it. I no longer want what life has to offer. I don’t want anything good that is has in store. I certainly don’t want any more promises of hope.
I will get my sea legs back, eventually. My words might return. My thoughts will reassemble. But the hope and trust that this world will one day become a better place? Is gone. I don’t think it will ever return. I’m not sure I even want it to. I just don’t want to see what life has to offer anymore. I am tired of being kicked and beaten. I am tired of getting up.
But that’s about it.