Winter is Coming

I’m older now. It’s been years since I’ve visited. They tell you it gets better.

It does. Of course you will still have those thoughts. But they will be in such a quick, passing manner. It gets easier to convince yourself those thoughts are wrong. You have to be nice to yourself. Once in a while they will creep back in and maybe even get so intrusive that you visit this old blog that you haven’t thought about for years. But I know better. You know better. There’s a whole world out there. Sure you’re probably not going to be great at everything like they told you when you were a kid. You can’t do anything you want to. But you can make your small impact and have your experiences and that is enough. You are enough. I am still having to try to convince myself I am enough. But more than half the days now pass by where I don’t think about being less. And I got here by myself. Of course there were others, but I am the only one who has to deal with being inside my head. Changing my thoughts. I make mistakes and people make mistakes with me. We’re enough. As long as we are all doing our best, that is enough.

I’m not going to pick someone to live my life for. I’m not living out of guilt for how my death would affect my loved ones. I’m living because I want to know what happens tomorrow even if tomorrow is full of pain. I have seen pain, and I have seen the other side of pain. If tomorrow is just pain then I know there will be another day when I’m on the other side. I’m living to see what happens tomorrow. What happens in 5 years. I have bad urges still, I have trouble letting people know me. But when I do, they seem to like me. It is becoming much less of a need to say negative things about myself to lower expectations for others.

I have been damaged. I have been so broken inside that the pain ripping through me was almost enough to jump in front of those cars or off that bridge. So broken that some of the happiest days during that time were spent fantasizing about jumping off buildings or crashing my car. I have written notes. My last note was 8 pages long and it just felt like I couldn’t finish it. I still have it, but I haven’t looked at it in many years. I’m not going to finish it, but that’s kind of the point. To know where I came from and to know I’ll never be able to say enough words to justify not wanting to see another day.

The world lost a beautiful man not too long ago. He had the most love in his heart of anyone I have ever met. He was too young to die. He was so fit and healthy. He whistled as he walked. He constantly philosophized about purpose and love. The man was 65 and had the endurance of a 24-year-old. But that’s not how cancer chooses. His brain attacked him in a different way than mine used to. He didn’t have a chance to fight that biological storm. He is gone and his wife is alone.

I am going to live another day to see what happens tomorrow because I deserve that.