’What are you even doing here’, he said and I felt busted. My answer was that I didn’t know. Actually I did know, but explaining would be far too complicated for that moment so I simply said ’I don’t know’.
Because how do you explain that all you’ve ever done is taken wrong turns and made bad choices and lived by other peoples’ expectations and never once let yourself do what is right for you and you only? Where do you begin telling a story (your story) when you don’t think anyone is interested in hearing it? It’s just another typical story of someone feeling lost and in the wrong place and never finding their right place, and you kind of wish for a happy ending but life has treated you badly and you don’t expect to be happy, you expect to be miserable for the rest of your life and you’re tired of even trying to expect anything else because this far anything you’ve ever loved and wanted has disappeared, ended or left you.
’What are you even doing here’, he said and all I could answer was ’I don’t know’.
I am carrying a lot of regrets. I do know that it does not benefit me to dwell upon the past and what I might have done ”wrong” (if there is such a thing as doing wrong, but that is a philosophical road which I do not intend to take at this moment). Still, I find myself every now and then looking back at my life so far and regretting choices I have made. I can see moments in the past where I have chosen certain paths not because they were what my heart desired, but because they were what I thought was expected of me and also because I felt as if my options were limited to either something bad or something worse, in which case I would choose whatever felt least painful.
The root (or one root) to is probably in my childhood. As a child, I was never taught to listen to my soul or follow my heart. I was taught to obey, to fall in line, to mind my words and to live up to whatever other expectations society would lie upon a young, bright girl. I was taught to deny my spirit’s callings, to question my own judgment, and to follow the road that had been paved for me. So I tried. And I tried. I reluctantly did what was expected of me. It was never joyful. It was always driven by pressure. But I got results that pleased others around me. In many ways, I would say that I have managed to succeed. I did finish school, with decent grades even though my absences were rather extensive. I went to college in another city just to get out of my poisonous home environment. Somehow I managed to graduate with two Bachelor’s degrees, however that happened. Eventually I got a decent job and then I got another job and then I met a partner and we bought a house and we had a child and we are supposed to live happily ever after now, right? And yes, in many ways life is good to me. I have a lot of privileges and of those I am grateful.
But what have I actually achieved? At what price? I am a shadow of a broken spirit. I am shattered soul, cut to pieces and arranged in order to fit into a mold built for someone else. I have lived up to everyone’s expectations, but there’s no gold medal here. No shiny prize. The happily ever after wasn’t here.
So I grieve. I grieve my lost potential. I grieve the life I never got to lead. I cry. I cry for myself and for the souls of everyone else who never got to do what they would have done so beautifully, wholeheartedly, lovingly.
I need to de-clutter my social media. I unfollow or block people who share things that are making me feel bad. I can not waste my time spending energy on these negativities. I do not need to educate people whose agenda is to spread hate and anger. I only need to follow those who spread peace, tolerance, compassion and love. We need hope.
Somehow I start something
Just like that. Before I’ve come to the end.
I want to end it before it ends me
I like things short, quick, simple.
Diving into something large, elaborate is overwhelming and I get
Still I was never a sprinter
I’m so confused about myself. Like I’m everything and nothing. Floating mind. Feeling less grounded today than ever.
Slight blues. It’s interesting.
I want to cry but tears don’t want to come.
I’ve never had any faith in humanity. I’m thinking that this might be a problem. If I don’t have faith in other humans, how can I have faith in myself? I am a human, after all. If I want to be a better person than I am right now if I want to expand my soul and live more in alignment with my true self and believe in myself – do I need to believe in others as well?
This day is so far very grey and I’m not sure there will be any daylight. Heavy clouds.