It’s been a really long time since I last wrote. I’ve thought about my blog often, but in the end would always stay away. I’ve said before how it’s hardest to write when you don’t have anything good to write about. When you’re sad and angry and what you want most is to hide from the world until it all goes away. And I’ve often said how it’s precisely during those times that writing is what helps me most. What helps me get through things and see them in a different light. At this moment, I’m doubtful that it will help, but it’s all that comes to mind. So here goes.
I’m not very happy. At all. I have all the material things one needs to survive and to thrive, really, but none of it makes me happy. I think back to times in my life when I had so much more and I get angry that it’s all gone. I’m angry that I don’t have a house anymore, even though I never liked the one I had and was never happy there in the first place. And I’m even angrier that I don’t have my nice little apartment in the West end. I’m angry that my savings are all gone. I’m angry that my hair is so short and it makes me feel like a boy. I’m angry that I feel fat even though I haven’t gained weight since the last time I felt happy about how I looked. I’m angry that I took a year off to find myself and never did. What makes me angriest of all though, is that even if you reversed any or even all of those things, I probably still wouldn’t be happy. Which begs the question: What the fuck is my problem?
I try to tell myself that being happy is state of mind, and if I just get into the right zone, everything will be fine. But I’ve been looking all over the place for that stupid switch and I just cannot find the god damned thing. Then I tell myself that if there is something I don’t like, I should change it. But how should I go about that when I can’t even imagine what I would trade it for. It’s a bit like walking into a public bathroom stall, throwing your outfit over the wall without anything else to wear. Although I must admit that being arrested for public nudity would shake things up a little.
I don’t know whether to love or hate the optimism that lives deep down inside of me and just won’t die. It’s responsible for getting me out of bed in the morning and not completely losing it. It also tries to feed me appreciation for what I have, but some days all I can do is gag. When I pass a homeless person when I’m walking to work, it tells me to be grateful to have a home, a job, and the legs to carry me there. The homeless people particularly scare me; I always feel that with a few small changes of circumstance, it could be me begging on a street corner. But then I get angry again. I don’t mind the idea of going to work, but I don’t particularly like my job. As much as I tried to be optimistic at first, and these days to simply make the most of it while I’m there, I don’t like it. But the job is what keeps the roof over my head.
Am I insane to believe that we could all do something we’re passionate about? That it would be work and pay our bills, but wouldn’t feel like it? That we’d devote hours to something each day and feel energized instead of drained? That we’d be bursting with great ideas and inspiration instead of stifling groans and resentment? I know that some people agree, but many others think it’s crazy. Sometimes I wish I could just convince myself it was crazy and put the idea to rest, but I just can’t. Instead, I’m the one that feels crazy.
I guess it’s because at times, I have been passionate about my work. I have gotten up in the morning excited about what I might achieve that day. But that hasn’t happened in a long, long time. I’ve tried to find new passions, but they quickly fizzle out. I don’t know if I just give up too easily or if I haven’t just hit the nail on the head yet. I’ve always told myself that when I found the right thing, the doors would open, but none have. I also figured that if I was passionate about something, I’d have the will and energy to fight for it. That hasn’t happened either.
I’m tired of sitting here waiting for things to happen. But I’m even more tired of trying to make things happen when they won’t. I’m just plain tired. A nap sounds good, but a bit of passion and excitement for life would just be so much better.This post may contain affiliate links.
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