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low tide  Low tide happens when the water recedes, leaving all the dead and dying sea life on the shore, exposed and destined to meet its final end. Some creatures will be scooped up by predators, thereby helping to continue the cycle of life, while others will simply perish because they are no longer in the water, where they belong. My life feels like it is at low tide but I know that doesn’t quite fit the situation I am in. Still, it’s difficult to shake the sensation that I am exposed, destined to meet some kind of end. While my strides in physical rehabilitation might be measurable, my decline in mental health is not. I knew from the beginning it would be a struggle to maintain a positive attitude but I truly had no idea how difficult this would be. Depression is already a big part of my daily existence but the levels I’ve reached over the past few days are alarming. My desire to give up and give in is strong, and were I not a coward who worried about being punished after death, I’d probably have made some attempts by now to end it all. When you are already in a hole, digging yourself deeper takes you that much further from the light, and without that glow I am finding myself in depths of darkness I haven’t been in for many years. Do I really want to die? No, I just want the mental misery to end. That’s the way it has been most of my life. On a recent Sunday I went to the library to return some DVDs, and pick up more. Being bed bound means I am spending a great deal of time watching movies, mostly for the sake of distraction and escape. I’ve been checking out nearly 2 / two dozen at a time, because on a typical day I can view as many as 3 / three, if not more. Without that, I’d surely go mad. With the cast on my right arm I was unable to play the guitar, and with the wrecked hip and pelvis I still cannot play the drums. Typing has gotten a bit easier but there is only so much work I can get accomplished before I am exhausted. A bit of blogging here, some video editing there, and then I’m left with hours and hours to fill. Sleep hasn’t been coming much better, though I admit I can sometimes get as much as 5 / five hours in a 24 / twenty four hour period now. I am stuck, I am sick, and there seems to be little chance of escape. Frustration is at an all time high and I experience explosive anger many times during the day. Were it not for the ability to escape into those movies I’d be more of a wreck than I am. It’s scary to think about. That Sunday was a special day at the library. There was a book sale, and activities galore for families to enjoy. While I sat in my car, waiting for the doors to open I watched men, women and walk by on their way to storytelling, face painting, you name it. Happiness was all around me, but nowhere inside of me. I felt jealous and sad, even a bit angry at times. So much of what these people were experiencing is completely lost to me, never to be a part of my life again. I will never enjoy the love and intimacy that couples do, and the fact cuts me to the bone. It makes my soul ache with sadness. And really, what good is a life if it can’t be shared with at least 1 / one other person? The antisocial introvert that rules my very being wants to be alone, away from everyone and everything, but my heart is so desperate for the love of another. Just one more chance at it, one more glimmer of it. I know if I were to meet someone right now I would have nothing to offer but my wrecked self, and that doesn’t seem like enough. The plan is to rehabilitate and somehow get my life back in order, and back on track, but for what purpose? Why struggle to get better if there is no real meaning to my life beyond selfish goals and gratification? There are lots of questions boiling and building up inside of me, while answers seem to be rare and unclear. Uncertainty is destroying me. I know depression passes, and the will to live is an automatic thing I don’t have to work to maintain, but happiness has never seemed further away than it does right now. I will not live simply for the sake of existing. If I physically get better, but emotionally cannot, this story might just end on a sour note. I’m not talking about suicide, just about giving up. What that means is yet to be determined because that decision has yet to be made. Writing about how I feel helps, but doesn’t cure anything, or alter my circumstances. I’m in that deep hole, trying to dig myself out while gazing up for that light that I need to guide me. On most days it is a battle I barely win, as the light remains dim and very far from me, but I haven’t decided to stop just yet. I believe there is a life worth living for me somewhere, and perhaps a companion to join me in experiencing it, so I will cling to that hope as long as I can. The alternative is too bleak to give serious consideration to right now, so I will just ignore it the best I can. I’ll keep working, watching movies, exercising and looking towards a future that has possibility. That’s the best I can do, and perhaps that is good enough. Perhaps it’ll help me make it to tomorrow, and the next day, without completely breaking down and giving up. That’s the struggle I am facing, fighting, and surviving one moment at a time. Maybe I’ll get lucky and during this low tide moment of life somebody will come by, see value in my broken form, and decide to pick me up and take me home to set me on a shelf and gaze at with a smile. Small hopes are better than none at all. |
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