thoughtsfromthedeep

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

From a parking lot for the first time in forever

He sat in his car, fighting the sinking feeling.  This is stress.  This is life.  Self-sabotaging but not self-correcting, he meekly careens around in the old car that needs to last a few more months.  He used to think unhappiness was an absolute, a guarantee. That nothing matters.  This is not conducive to hard work.  Those who lack purpose lack motivation.  And without motivation, he might as well end it like he’s always thought it would end.  With a choice.  A deliberate tap-out.  

He wants to be brave.  He wants to persevere, to have a story that doesn’t end in despair.  But on certain days, that doesn’t seem possible.  How much of it is a chemical imbalance? How much is attitude, will, desire?  He feels cut adrift, purposeless, and yet does not search the horizon for land. Discontent floating, yet never quite paddling. This contradiction, lack of will, it is frightening.  When you don’t know why something left, how do you go about getting it back?

Do you throw everything to the wall, to see what sticks? Do you value routine over spontaneity? No wonder you barely eat anymore.  Your hair is falling out.  7-8 strands a day, clumped in the comb reminding you that you’re aging and you’re not happy.  Who do you want to be? Because dead is no longer an option.  You’ve come too far to give up now.

Where you are right now does not have to be where you will always be.  This is a pit stop on something bigger.  All you can do is work your ass off. Take control of your life.  Reach out, be a friend.  Be vulnerable, be social, be alive.  Because this, this right now, is not working.  And you cannot give up now.

The only way out is up. All you have to do is grab the ladder rung day by day.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

clunky truth

I love her. My first real love. Sometimes I get this heaviness in my chest when we haven't seen each other in a while. Pining, I guess, is the word. She's changed me for the better, but old habits return. Feeling down like I first did years ago, forcing myself to want or feel nothing. Merely existing. Drowning out everything in order to not feel miserable. And the worst part is that I don't tell her on those days. For some idiotic reason, I think it's heroic to carry my burden myself. Because I still feel like it shouldn't be a burden, I should easily be able to shrug it off and see the beauty around me and in her. I need to be more honest. I'm scared because if I don't feel better with her, then maybe I never will. That the nihilism will still be there when I hold my first child. But it's not her job to be my medicine. It's a foolish notion to think that love solves all our problems. I guess I had a storybook idea of what love was supposed to feel like. All I know is that I love her. And being near her really does quell my own doubts and fears. I am happier than I have been in a long time.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

I thought it would disappear by now. Fade away into a distant memory of dark rooms and sleeping pills, purposeless wandering and daily masks. But it remains. Ever present, in every corner, in every door I open, scarring my periphery, always tugging on my shirt. I'm much better at fighting it now. When I'm busy it's easy to forget the self-loathing, the friendships left by the wayside because of distance. But I am not busy now. And it grows stronger again.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

written years ago.

You carry it with you, giving away pieces as teenagers and though you think that’s all you have, and you give and think you are empty but you aren’t you haven’t even begun to give but you think you have so you’re cynical for a few years and you think you missed your chance but you haven’t.  You only realize this when she flutters into your life and you’re so nervous to actually hear what her voice sounds like.  But you go anyway and she seems so certain about everything and you know that eventually you’ll give her everything of you but it’s not time yet and you wonder how she’s so certain about everything and you wonder how in an impossible world this little bit of perfection happened to cross your path.  Everything she says, everything she does, is different, is unique in a way you never thought could be real.    After time you finally say I Love You to each other and you mean it, this isn’t bullshit song lyrics of teenage years past, my life isn’t complete if you aren’t here, I feel small without you.  It doesn’t always have to be complicated or convoluted.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

Gray mornings and unshaven faces

I’ve been trying to stop time my entire life. It has always, always, always, always continued on, with me in tow, kicking, screaming, punching, clawing the floor, gnashing my teeth, hiding in corners and darkness, holding on too tightly to those it takes from me. I cannot escape, yet I am terrified to submit.

I am in limbo, adrift. I am a contradiction. No one knows me, not even myself. I am lonely but I don’t like talking to people. I want love but I do not love. I want to succeed but I am too afraid of failure to try. I want to change but I remain the same, do the same things, make the same mistakes. I want to be understood but I put on a mask.

I want to be whole but I break myself down.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

First Meetings

It was a small church house out in the plains, sun-drenched, quiet, serene. My family grew from there, the plains, to spread our roots across the nation, in our own separate ways. But we always return home. We stood at the front steps, looking out at the land. "She's here," my mother whispered to me as she squeezed my hand. And she was, in the wildflowers and the wind that swayed the tall grass ever so slightly.  I looked out among the gravestones of the ones who had passed before me.  She wasn't there though, not buried in the ground.  She was everywhere, in the sun, in our heartbeats, in my mother's face. I looked at my mother and knew that she was an extension of her, her greatest work, like each of my aunts. Kindness and love and understanding that could never be broken, could only be instilled, cherished, and passed on. That was our family heirloom.  I smiled and looked back at the plains, felt the wind on my face.  That was the first time I remember meeting my grandmother.

I'd like to think she never left.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

You ran away and we both thought I'd chase after you like I always did. But this time I stayed put. That surprised both of us.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

Religion

thousands of years ago some small weak caveman thought "if i can get this big hulking dumbass to believe in something he can't see he'll stop killing people like me and taking all the food and fucking all the women." and here we are, the modern era, worrying and fighting about fetuses and gay people and whose imaginary friend is the most powerful and most real.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

the kid has finally lost it.completely bonkers, batshit crazy, alone for entirely too long.pacing the house naked thinking about drugs and painting and music and fucking.tries to calm down by playing jazz but he accidently touches the light fixture hanging from the ceiling and he's deathly afraid of it, swinging there back and forth, and he doesn't know why.he just always has, since he was small, has feared that motion of what should be still and constant but isn't.the jazz isn't helping so he eats some yogurt and stretches out on the floor.the kid has lost it.completely bonkers.he's not a closer, his friend told him and he's right, his friend is right, he's not a closer.great first step, can get her number but not her heart.he doesn't know how.the world is unfamiliar.how do people talk to each other.how do they relate.there's no going back.he's in too deep at this point.chin up, tommorow will bring everything he's ever wanted even though he's not sure what that is.tommorow never turns into today.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

"Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Crime and Punishment (via 13neighbors)

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

I took the bus home alone, wondering where the night took a turn for the worst. I realized on the ride home that I had forgotten to take my medicine that day. I also came to the conclusion that I need to be more assertive with what I want. The lights behind the advertisements on the bus selling insurance and cars and gas and self help flickered. I looked out the window and thought of good things so that I wouldn't be so sad anymore.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

"When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I."

E.M. Forster, The Life to Come and Other Stories (via 13neighbors)

We're never quite who we used to be. Even if it's just a day later.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

it

It's wishing you were somewhere else but not knowing where and never finding out. It's never feeling good enough. It's feeling sad and alone when everything is perfectly fine, and then feeling guilty about the sadness. It's sometimes impossible to articulate. It's worse when you aren't busy. It's worse right before you fall asleep. It's worse when you wake up. It's not going to dictate my life any more.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

“There comes a time when you look into the mirror and you realize that what you see is all that you will ever be. And then you accept it. Or you kill yourself. Or you stop looking in mirrors.”

Tennessee Williams (via 13neighbors)

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

The Gospel of a Non-Believer

You’re welcome to convert if you’d like.

The New Gospel

1. Empathy and understanding are our ultimate goal.  To truly be human, you must be willing to sit down and reflect on someone’s perspective.  Then you can understand what motivates them, what drives them, and accept them for what they are.

2.  Tolerance is a virtue, one that is rarely practiced in our society.  At the end of your life, will you be proud of the way you treated others? Or will you remember the times you practiced bigotry, sexism, racism, etc.

3.  There is  beauty in everything and everyone.  Sometimes you have to dig a little deeper to find it, but it’s there.  We are all holy, we are all God.

4. A life dedicated to bringing happiness to all those you meet and impact is a life well lived.

5. Faith is an important part of life. It gave our ancestors purpose, it gives us passion, and it can be a powerful tool in spreading good.

6. When we die, we either go to a place where we can finally understand everything. The good, the evils of the world, it’s all laid out. Or, we simply sleep forever. A deep dreamless sleep. Both sound just fine to me.

7. Don’t fear death. Accept it, as it is an inevitability. Live a life that you can look back on your deathbed with pride.

8. Make the next generation better. Teach them to love, to accept, and to appreciate good.

9. Look down and help those who need help.  Not for personal gratification, or a reward, but because it is a symbol that we as humans love each other.  That symbol will inspire others.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

Why I Had to Ask For Help

My life has always been a series of small peaks and low valleys.  It was manageable until the fall of my junior year of college.  I had always pushed down my feelings of inadequacy, my fear of the future, and rode the waves for as long as I could. Eventually though, I was all over the place.  At times, on better days, the fact that I was breathing, the fact that I merely existed gave me elation beyond compare.  I was ecstatic, I felt that I had a purpose and that I would make a difference.  I couldn't articulate that purpose, but the feeling alone drove me to work as hard as I possibly could.

The lows nearly killed me though. I'd wake up and feel like I turned into a ghost, a floating spectre of my former self doomed to wander campus unnoticed until I finally snapped and jumped off the top floor of the library.  They'd look at my splattered body on the pavement, shrug, and I'd be forgotten within a week.  Some days I would wake up and feel like a grain of sand, doomed to insignificance without ever getting to say what I wanted to say.

Over time, the highs weren't quite so high, and the lows got lower and lower.  I stopped eating, sleeping.  I took to smoking weed for a majority of the day as a crutch, in a way to get out of my head.  When I did sleep, my dreams had turned to lucid nightmares, where I wandered empty halls searching for something, anything to get out. Reoccurring dreams of jumping and feeling nothing ever again tormented me.  I knew that wasn't the way to go, that I was meant for more than to be just a headline about a sad boy who killed himself because he felt alone.

So I asked for help.  

And life has gotten so much more enjoyable.

[thoughtsfromthedeep]

"And in the end, we were all just humans…Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness."

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via 13neighbors)