Not trying to get all Debbie Downer, but sometimes it’s astonishing how little I resemble the person I used to be. Once upon a time, I exuded happiness, excitement, kindness, love, determination…all that is good in the world. Once so full of hope for the future, I now find myself unable to envision a future of much of anything at all. It’s a desperate feeling. Emptiness. Tumbling around a black hole unable to find something to grasp in order to steady myself. No matter how hard I try to dig my nails in, there’s just nothing to hold onto.
Once a perpetual optimist who truly believed in the beauty of her dreams, now unsure about what the hell that even means. Though, no one would guess that just by looking at me. Everything looks great on the surface. Successful in a high paying job (which I dislike immensely). Healthy looking on the outside (while I battle a monster of a chronic illness on the inside). Living in a house that’s paid off (in the middle of a small town far away from anything interesting). Many acquaintances and lots of people that are fun to hang with (but no real, true friends). Always busy doing very little of what I actually enjoy. No goals. No plans. No dreams. Constantly wearing the smile that doubles as my armor.
I find myself in unfamiliar territory. Am I depressed? Am I exaggerating the state of things? Why can I not find a way out of this? Is there a way out of this? So many questions. So few answers. Here’s a question. What is the point of this life? I mean it. All of this feels tremendously meaningless. Life feels as if it is an endless list of unimportant tasks complicated by unforeseen obstacles. The only point seems to be making enough money to live comfortably and that is an infinitesimally small goal to have for your life. I suppose I’ve lost faith in the bigger goals. The goals I used to believe in. The goal that I would one day be a fighter pilot, or an FBI agent, or a doctor, or a pro athlete. The goals of a kid who was not yet jaded. The goals of a kid who truly believed anything was possible. I know that kid is still in me somewhere, but she’s taken such a beating over the years I’m not sure she has the strength to pull herself out of the shadows.
I miss that kid. I miss being genuinely optimistic. I miss having big dreams, big goals, big ideas and believing in them without question…believing in myself without question. I miss hope. Perhaps that is what I miss most.
Anyway, ever have feelings like this? I’d love to hear about it. ‘Til next time.