I know it’s been quite some time, lovely folks….I’ve been quite caught up in making it through that I simply got behind on everything.
The truth is…. I’m scared. About everything. Growing up is hard! Someone very smart once told me that the sad part of life isn’t about finding something that will make you ecstatic/happy/excited/some elated emotion… life is about finding out how to simply manage. And it’s true. :(
What has always kept me going when the going went tough, was telling myself that someday everything would be perfect. Everything would turn out better in the end. One day I would be happier than I could ever imagine.
When reality hits, it tells me there will always be something to drag me down. This is when I get completely terrified of my life. I forget that my life has gotten better, but for some reason… it feels much much worse. It is as if all the times I have kept it all together (emotionally/physically/mentally/whatnot), suddenly and simultaneously crashed down on me. During those times, for some reason or another, it is as if that particular moment is the most absolute worst moment in history of my life. I (being me, of course) wish to trade for a moment when I was “happy”. I forget that I felt the exact same way. Maybe to a different degree, but always the same.
There is always SOMETHING to bring you down. But also always SOMETHING to bring you back up. Sometimes, for whatever reason, the things that would usually bring you right back up lose potency, probably from how powerful that DOWN thingy is on you.
That’s depression for you. It plays tricks on you. It tells you you will never be happy. Life will always be hard. Everything is going downhill. Everyone gets the “tricks” to making it in life, except for you. And worst of all… Happiness isn’t real. That up thing is clouded by every moment you felt crappy. And boy, those crappy feelings do damage those special moments that really make all that hard stuff worth it. Kind of a weird cycle.
To be quite frank, I have gotten so tired of that way of thinking that I simply say to myself, “whatya gonna do. That’s depression for you”. I force myself to enjoy the dumb stuff, even if I don’t want to. Eventually, all those downs don’t quite control my life like they usually would.
The weirdest thing is, when I do let myself laugh and dream and love and want and hate and cry (even if it doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to do at the time) I actually feel quite normal.
And normal… it’s pretty nice.