Note: This post is sort of the antithesis of my previous post Moving Through Seasons, depending on the day – depending on the moment – I am arguing with myself on which side of the coin I find myself.

I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what I am.

The past ~3 months have been nothing but a blur but at the same time the most excruciating and time bending feat of emotion. Looking back at things that were created by the previous version of me, is very dysphoric. So much so, that I don’t even remember making most of them. Listening to my voice memos that were recorded on January 27th feels as if I am listening to a version of myself that doesn’t share this same planet or reality. These are frightening things to say the least for a person who fancies themselves as present and attempting to be aware of their future and their past.

I lost myself, I lost the idea of my future self, and I lost the idea of something that could be. To this day, I am still lost. Floundering about, attempting to make it seem as if I am not. Things don’t really hold the same meaning and vigor to me that they once did,

These aren’t to be understated as if the universe moved in what some would consider, just harmony – we would be expecting come August. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case.

We knew we were in flux from the beginning but the Naivety still stings, things worked out twice – why wouldn’t they work out once more? Purgatory is not a place that many should find themselves, but why have I found myself here so many times? Waiting, suffering, toiling. Only to be released into a new reality that was obviously a possibility at the start. Is it my fault for believing or is it my fault for not believing it couldn’t be?

Anger

These feelings don’t lead anywhere positive. Resentment and Anger? What have they ever done for you but you can’t help yourself from feeling that way – you aren’t your thoughts and you aren’t your feelings after all.ÂThis is a character deformity, you aren’t doing something generative.  Reacting to uncertainty with baseless target practice yields no fruit.

Why would it go any other way?

The most sour part of this digestion comes at the point of ultimately the ego. The inability to self determine my way out of this. The feelings that I have about my feelings that are in relation to my feelings. The feelings that I don’t share, the feelings that I keep guarded under lock and key. The ones that don’t ever seem to trickle into the light of day. What am I holding onto? How does it benefit me? The feelings that I was chasing of ultimate conclusion. The bookmark being removed from the page and moving on to the next one. This isn’t something that was in the cards (pages) for me. Ultimately, I just wanted to catch what felt like a break. The end of the chapter of having to ponder this type of purgatory. The end of these types of hell. The end of this type of suffering. In a way, I guess I got what I wished for as we don’t intend on doing this again. That part of leaving it to chance is over. That part of my life is over. An additional death? A dead end? An open door?

I argue with myself about being an eternal pessimist or an eternal optimist and end up at the point where each part of myself is telling me I’m just an eternal petulance.

If writing these things down makes me feel better, why don’t I do it more?

If creating things in light of and under the influence of my life experience makes me feel better, why don’t I do it more?

What am I afraid of?

Writing things and expressing myself in the moment doesn’t undermine the foundation that I feel is provided by myself in the family unit. I do feel as if it comes with a certain amount of uncertainty, is that reality? I don’t know, because I don’t know what reality is anymore.

The 10 years war

Are all of these feelings just fragments of what broke me 10 years ago that I still don’t really understand? Does the unaddressed trauma still remain such? Is this why my reaction is this way? Are these coping mechanisms as old as me or as old as him? Were these feelings just neatly wrapped and packaged in order for me to come across them later? What does the scoreboard read and by looking at it to begin with are you losing momentum? Are you just dealing with the fact that you haven’t had any wins in so long?
I don’t know – I will never know.
Nothing will fix you.
Nobody is coming to save you.
That’s the scariest thing I can think of.

Toxic Positivity, Toxic Optimism or Toxic Futurism?

When one door closes, another opens.

Can things only get better?
Does thinking ahead deny the present?
Are these things just more coping mechanisms for a reality without certainty?
What’s the catalyst, enjoying the present – the dreams of the future or the wisdom of the past?

Quite the juggling act.

Excerpt from additional voice messages:

“It’s just not fair, but that’s nothing – nothing I didn’t already know …

life’s not fair – wow – what a revelation” I immediately respond to myself

“It’s funny, because metaphorically – I’m in the same place. I am physically where I just was and I’m turning around. (I don’t have a destination in mind) I don’t know which way to go. I’m going to walk by the house but.. which way is the path forward?”

The messages and meaning that are to be gleamed from all of this are still unclear