I am pretty close to crying right now, which is unusual for me. Weirder still is that I want to cry because I shouldn’t want to cry. Perhaps I ought to explain myself.
I went to therapy today feeling pretty crap, and told Dr T how I feel stuck; nature isn’t ‘taking care of things’ (aka getting rid of me somehow) like I thought it would, and I can’t face actively ending my life, so all that’s left is to embrace life, however much that might terrify me. So I looked at Dr T, and said I would commit to living. We talked about some small first steps, and I left.
But something’s wrong. I don’t feel positive, or hopeful, or even okay. Today I’ve declared that I’m going to stop waiting to die, but if anything I feel worse than I did this morning.
Maybe this is because it feels like I’ve just accepted a prison sentence; a lifetime of going through the motions. I know I ‘could’ be wrong about this. I know I ‘could’ discover all sorts of surprises and opportunities that make me happy, etc etc, and then the sun might come out and shoot rainbows everywhere, but as you can probably tell, I don’t really buy it.
As I write this I realise I’m on the money – I feel really miserable because I’ve lost my imminent-departure delusion, and replaced it with more years than I’ve dreamed of facing.
There’s no winning this one.