I don’t think I will ever be happy. A meaningful life is not within my grasp. There is no version of me from this point that can get there. No version that can be content with how things are, or feel at peace.
I still have hope, but it’s irrational hope. It’s constantly smacking it’s head against the logical reality of who I am, and how I’ve lived, and it’s painful. It would be better for me to let it go. But if I do that, what else is left?
So what am I doing here? I’m suffering. Either I’m stressed out from work, or exhausted, or uncomfortable from my body’s many minor ailments. Or I’m tormenting myself with an imagined life that can never be real.
Of course everybody suffers. But for most people, it’s for something. They can put their suffering in some greater context that allows them to be ok with it.
What am I living for? Because I’m scared of death? Because of what I fear losing me would do to my family? Because my irrational hope will not die, regardless of how much evidence it sees that it is unfounded?
None of that is enough, when you’re suffering. Fear brings no comfort. I love my family, but it’s not enough to make what I experience seem worthwhile. I just feel resentful of them for being an anchor, keeping me here. And my false hopes provide no comfort whatsoever.
6 comments
Great description of the position I’m in too. Said it better than I could.
You put into words what I’ve been trying to describe to myself. If you ever need someone to talk to I’m here.
thehusk,
ok I’m with you really I am, tell me what would make life worth living?
remember reality only counts
this isn’t a dream world.
That’s what I struggle with. When it gets diffucult, nothing seems worh it.
same here, but its easier for me to let go because nobody will miss me. maybe in idea, but not in reality.
Thanks for sharing your post. It described many of the same thoughts and feelings I’ve been having.
I guess I’m a little further along, as I lost all hope a while back. My irrational daydreams of reconciliation with the people that abandoned me and erased me, used to bring me some comfort along with the obvious pain. But now they just drive me deeper into despair, as I realize how ridiculous those ideas can be.
I don’t want to hurt my family and my few friends that will be devastated by my death. But at the same time I can’t go on in this condition. Especially when I know it will never improve, and will only get worse.