I Have a Better Question

Do you ever feel like a marionette?

The daily to-do’s and responsibilities as your strings?

Only they’re made of steel. Filling up your eyesight and jerking you from here to there. Yet leaving you oddly hollow, skin tight, eyes forcing themselves to stay open through what begins to feel like a meaningless shuffle for a cardboard crowd.

That’s how I feel today.

Tired.

Pointless.

Where’s the joy for life? The promise of something better?

Some days I feel like no matter how hard I try to climb my way out of this revolving door – I’m still here.

Still fighting.

For more.

Something better.

 

What to do?

I mean, we have so many options.

We could always give up, give in. Let depression bury us in a myriad of distractions, mind-numbing things we do because it’s what we always do and we’re just so tired and change is hard.

We could let anger turn into bitter resentments. Become a nasty human who only spreads misery, always has a reason to martyr themselves or explain why they’re not responsible or how it’s someone else’s fault.

We could go the illegal route. Hurt or exploit others for money.

We could slap on a fake smile and pretend everything is just dandy while inside we slip further and further into oblivion. Lying to ourselves.

Or we could keep fighting.

Hoping.

Trying.

Looking for the positivity.

Doing what we can.

Enjoying the little things.

The little successes.

Keep finding a reason.

 

You see, I think we search too much for the meaning of life.

We’re here. I think that’s all the proof or validation that we need.

I think the point is to live our own life as best we can, treating ourselves with dignity and love, and then trying to help others.

I think our purposes can change as we do. But if we’re not really living life, then we’re not living up to our potential.

 

Enjoying life is easier said than done.

I’m still depressed, sitting on the couch, wondering why I bother to write, since I haven’t finished a novel I like yet and haven’t been published yet and simply lack for direction in my life.

But it’s a low day for me. I recognize that. Yesterday was a great day. And the day before that. I’m going to exercise in less than an hour from now and I know that always elevates my mood. I still feel like I’m running on a hamster wheel, though.

The reason I’m telling you this is, I think we can feel so stuck, so miserable, and fight for so long – that it feels like nothing will ever change. That we’ll never fight our way to the top of our own struggles.

But we will.

We already have.

What was so hard to you three years ago that felt like it would never end? Something you’ve conquered?

We’re stronger than we think.

We’re allowed to feel tired and depressed and sick of always having to fight for what seems to come easily to others.

We just can’t let that keep us from living and enjoying our own lives in whatever healthy ways we can.

 

Everything is easier said than done.

There are days where we question the point of our existence. But I have a better question.

What’s the point of giving up?

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Angry Letter

Today I don’t believe in magic.

I hate these days.

I’ve lived 27 years of bad news. Getting worse as I go.

Now I can’t eat, can’t run, can’t sleep, can’t record YouTube videos, can’t seem to care about writing or pick a story to tell or find any characters I care about.

I can’t find any meaning in my days and I hate waking up in the mornings.

I hate these days.

 

I’m optimistic, stubborn, committed, I love life and want so much more out of it, and I will not give up. I’m driven, moody, sarcastic, creative, and I thoroughly enjoy organizing and bringing joy to others.

Just, not today.

Today I’m exhausted and in pain.

Well, that’s pretty much every day.

But today I’m sitting under a magnifying glass. It’s hard to have a few things that bring you joy – jogging, writing, creating videos – and not being able to do any of them.

It’s hard to live inside a body that punishes me physically, emotionally, and visibly for eating.

Today I am tired of always losing.

 

All it took was one special order light bulb shattering and the tears flowed all too easily.

Like they’d been waiting for a chance to be set free.

I can’t help but wonder what the point to me is.

I’m tired of all the noise and the pressure and the failure.

I’m tired of seeing everyone around me fight and fight and fight and succeed. It doesn’t upset me that they succeed. It hurts that I’m still losing. Because I work hard, I fight, I find new routes, new plans of attack, new paths to take, new reserves of determination. And I don’t get better. I get worse. I watch the window of what I can do shrink.

I know this is probably just self-pity speaking. Probably very petty of me to talk about how some days it really stings to watch people around me work hard and get places.

But I’m tired of always caring about everyone else more than myself. I’m tired of caring about hurting another’s’ feelings regardless of what it does to me.

I’m tired of hearing people tell me, ‘don’t give up, just keep fighting, I had this problem with my ____ and I did this about it, and it worked! So just keep going, you’ll get there. You just need some faith.”

What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing?

I’m fighting tooth and nail to be able to EAT FOOD and not suffer for it! That’s a base need right there. And I’m fighting for it. Every day. All I do is work hard. All I do is fight and fail and get back up and fight more.

What do you think I’m doing? Sitting around and bemoaning life? No! I’m fighting to have a life!

I don’t think about me. I don’t think about how much I hurt. I think about contributing to the world, to those in my life. I think about brightening someone else’s day. Lightening their load. Only it’s gotten to the point where I can barely freaking think due to pain and lack of sleep.

 

I’ve never given up. Never thrown in the towel.

I’ve had to overcome so much. I’ve survived a lot. I hope it’s made me a stronger person, a kinder person, because this world can always use more compassion. I hope my suffering somehow helps someone else or helps me in the long run.

But I’m growing quite tired of wishing, hoping, believing, trusting – Only. To. Get. Worse.

 

I mean, think about that.

Imagine working to be the best version of yourself possible. As healthy and emotionally mature as possible. Help others as much as possible. Enjoy life, create, inspire. Spread some joy so maybe even though my life sucks right now, someone else can feel good about themselves and their life. No one deserves pain. No one deserves to have to fight to survive. We all deserve so much beauty and empathy and excitement for life! Imagine wanting to help.

Only to have your body fight against those things. Nope. Simple nope.

Every day.

 

We deserve brilliance. The capability to learn from our mistakes and make magic out of them. To breathe fire into our own souls and allow that warmth to trickle into someone else on their coldest day. To stand as a beacon to the lost. Return home to a peaceful, exciting life we’ve created.

I deserve these things too.

I feel like a bird that’s been tethered to the ground.

Trying furiously to rise above medical limitations so I can focus on the magnificence of my own life, the majesty of this world, the glorious multitude of possibilities, and the vast amount of incredible people.

But that tether won’t let go. Won’t loosen its grip. In fact, it’s getting tighter, pulling me lower.

And there are people flying around me telling me to believe in magic. It worked for them in a short time span.

They tell me to have faith, to believe – as if I don’t.

Don’t you realize you’re mocking all the fight I’m giving? Do you see how you’re putting my efforts down? As if doing more is what I need to do, because what I’m giving isn’t enough. Don’t you hear the patronizing tone you’re taking? Get off your high horse.

Try fighting the urge to eat and then suffering when you do, so you cannot function or do anything that brings you joy – and no matter what you do, what you try, you only get worse. Since childhood. No wins. No successes. Talk to me then.

 

To all you who are suffering and fighting and only seem to be getting worse – I know you’re fighting. I know you are trying everything you possibly can. I know you’re hurting and exhausted. I know you’re of the utmost value, an amazing human being with so much to offer and a challenge in life that keeps you from delivering it, or from enjoying your own life in even the simplest of ways.

 

And of course, since all I can think about is this possibly hurting your feelings (talking to everyone reading this) – don’t feel bad. You’re not who I’m talking about.

I know when people tell me not to give up, they mean what they say. Thank you. For your encouragement and inspiration. This letter splashing my anger in a messy haze isn’t to you.

I tell people not to give up, to keep fighting. Encouragement is not offensive or patronizing. That’s not what I’m talking about. Being someone’s cheerleader is one of the most freaking noble things ever! We need more of it!!!

I’m angry at the people who act like I must not be doing enough, working hard enough, searching for answers enough. The people who keep telling me that if I believed, if I had faith, it would all get better. Magic. *poof* Obviously, they reason, I’m just not trying hard enough or having enough faith. I must not be thinking positive thoughts. Like this is my fault and I need to just get over it.

Those are the people this letter is about.

If anyone thinks I’m being selfish or self-indulgent with my pity party… That’s nice. I’ve had just about enough uncalled for criticism.

For crying out loud I’ve fought all morning and afternoon. Only now am I so done. I have the right to feel gross, to feel cheated. To feel insulted by people telling me I’m not fighting.

 

I know tomorrow – or maybe even a few hours from now – I’ll be back to believing in magic. I’ll believe I can and will overcome this. I know I can and will. But right now, I don’t feel it, don’t believe it, you know? There’s a difference, between knowing and believing/feeling. Today all I feel is the pain.

So, I want to allow myself to grieve. For so much lost time and lost magic. I want to allow myself to feel angry at all those who think I’m not trying or believing things will get better. I am allowed to. Just like you.

I think it’d be inauthentic to never expose these days. Pretend I’m doing fine and plaster on a fake smile. What’s the point of sharing anything of me with you if it’s all going to be made up? Everyone has their days. Me too. We need to stop shaming each other over that.

 

I am fighting. I am keeping positive.

And I do believe. I have faith. I always have.

Just not today.