|
I hate getting older. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I feel like time is running out and I still haven't "gotten it right." Depression definitely doesn't help the situation. I seem to struggle with so many issues on an almost daily basis and I hate that too! I know it's a waste of time, but my brain just goes there.
When I was a CSI, back in the old days when there wasn't a TV show and no one really understood what I did, I processed many suicide scenes. There were definitely a disproportionate number of older men and post-menopausal women, which always made me fearful of what was to come. I was in my 20's and 30's, and having myself contemplated suicide on a regular basis, these men and women who had ended their lives by their own hands fascinated me. I still remember many of them.
So every day is a struggle. I have to force myself out of bed, and I probably wouldn't if it weren't for the fact that I have a fifth grader that needs breakfast and a ride to school, and two dogs that need their daily walk. Often I think I have placed these things in my life as unconscious survival mechanisms, so I can't just lie in bed all day and succumb to the darkness. (The smell of coffee helps too!) Making it through the rest of the day is often difficult.
I chastise myself: "Why can't I just get over this." And as far as getting older is concerned, I know I should accept it and move on. Everyone gets older. There's nothing anyone can do about it, in spite of all the plastic surgery, green drinks, and yoga. You can age gracefully… or not. But you will age. So, I should live my life one day at a time, in the present, do all the good I can and not worry about what ifs? I know I would have so much more energy, so much more to give, if I weren't wrestling with depression, if I weren't so introspective and sensitive. I should mention that one of the things that depresses me the most is the state of the world-the inability of people and countries to get along, the way we are degrading our planet, the death and destruction we as human beings seem to perpetuate. There is too much misery, too much suffering – how can I be happy in the face of that? No matter what I do to help, things continue on in a dismal manner. I avoid the news, but I can't avoid seeing road-killed deer strewing the roads, and I can't help but notice that last summer there was a drastic decrease in the number of hummingbirds at my feeders. As my husband and friends point out, I have absolutely no control over any of this. But that doesn't matter.
And, returning to the subject of getting older, I feel as though I could have done so much more, functioned so much better, if I could have been "normal." If my brain didn't keep returning to that dark place, somewhere in the amygdala or in what neurologists call Area 25, what more could I have accomplished? I had so much potential, and I feel as though I have squandered it. I know I have done a lot, but I still feel as though I haven't done enough (so I still try to do more). In spite of what people tell me, I feel like a failure. And honestly, I can't really talk about it all anymore because it's too sad for others! I don't want to upset them, too. And no one really understands…unless they've been there too.
I feel as though my time, my life, is running out now. There is no more hope that I will have what most people seem to have – a life that is for the most part free of dark thoughts, a life that once had, if not has, at least some sexual passion, a life where one can truly love their partner (who loves them), a life with more joy and fewer tears…it is too late. I should, again, accept that this is what it is and just keep going because others depend on me. Does it really matter, in the grand scheme of things, if I am content or not? I doubt it. But I guess there is some part of me that still wants more. Because I'm still here…
|
You are a member of Debi Strong's Fan Club!
