I have recently found that there is nothing more difficult than admitting you have a problem. And not just that you have a problem but that you truly don’t know how to fix it; that you are at an impasse.
How every time you acknowledge your problem(s), nothing is ever actually done about it.
How you have zero resolve and the truth is that maybe you never did.
How you feel like your brain has been hijacked by something that is constantly thinking up new ways to sabotage your life.
How this something ping pongs back and forth in your brain; a paradoxical virus which gives you unbelievable anxiety right before it convinces you to not worry, that nothing matters, that it will work itself out on its own, that life is meaningless anyway…
How you can’t fully concentrate on anything or anyone; you spend your days constantly looking around, scanning rooms and people’s faces, ruminating over things that no longer serve you, and in the process, feeling like a prisoner locked inside your own body.
I spend my days thinking of other individuals, women mostly, who seem to have their shit together. On the journey from newborn to toddler to child to young adult to adult; they have made it. They are functioning. I, on the contrary, am not. I won’t get into details (yet) but I know that I am not okay- and that’s okay. Except it’s not. I wish to join the folks who don’t necessarily have it together, because who does anyway, but who at least are equipped with the tools to make a choice. I feel as if my choice, my power has been taken from me. I just want it back.
How did I end up here and how the hell do I get over there? Don’t get me wrong, this is not a comparison. I know the quality traits that I possess and I do not wish to be like anyone else.
I only wish to be who I am meant to be, nothing more and nothing less.