I feel like I'm disappearing.
Maybe it's the typical post- Holiday mixed with it's cold and winter/January blues, but I feel it's something greater that's pulling me back and forcing me to stay down. I'm finding that most days, I'm struggling to breathe. I literally have to remind myself to breathe in and breathe out, as though I'm teaching the art of this every day practice to myself all over again. I forget and hold my breath and I feel like I'm drowning, my head wavering just above the surface, offering a tease of hope that merely lingers because I refuse to let it go completely.
But it's hard.
And it hurts.
And I don't know why it hurts so badly but it does just the same.
I used to go with the flow much more easily, taking each day at a time because that's all I had. Time. Where did it go? How did I end up here? Stuck. Lost. Alone. Simply existing because I have to. My passion for life has started depleting as I see my goals and aspirations slipping from my fingertips, just out of reach from my touch, laughing at me.
It's so easy to get caught up in the everyday life "things" that we grow so accustomed to. What's for dinner? Why don't I have any clean socks? Damn. We're out of coffee. I find myself forgetting to do routine stuff that I've done for most of my adult life. I get caught staring into the deep unknown and struggle to come back to reality. Then once I do, I have no idea what's been going on around me for the past few minutes, hours, days?
I keep it all buried inside, hoping it will all just disappear. Then when it tries to sneak out into the form of words, I get even more frustrated because it doesn't make any sense and I can't convey what it is I'm feeling or what it is I'm trying to say. The words are meaningless, so I feel meaningless.
Lately, perhaps I am meaningless.
I search for the motivation it would take to simply get out of bed each morning. Willing myself to take that first step onto the cold hardwood floor and start moving. Don't sit down. Don't get distracted by your surroundings. Don't give up. Don't give in. Take a moment and breathe.
Just breathe.
Don't let the world take you over. Who cares if no one understands where you're coming from?
But wouldn't it be nice?
Wouldn't it be a joy to simply know that you're understood and you're not being a freak or seemingly appearing ungrateful for the life that has chosen you? Wouldn't it be nice to not feel like you have to explain yourself and every little action you take?
Wouldn't it be nice to not feel invisible?
To not fade away into the darkness that threatens to take hold of you?
Wouldn't it be so nice?
Maybe it's the typical post- Holiday mixed with it's cold and winter/January blues, but I feel it's something greater that's pulling me back and forcing me to stay down. I'm finding that most days, I'm struggling to breathe. I literally have to remind myself to breathe in and breathe out, as though I'm teaching the art of this every day practice to myself all over again. I forget and hold my breath and I feel like I'm drowning, my head wavering just above the surface, offering a tease of hope that merely lingers because I refuse to let it go completely.
But it's hard.
And it hurts.
And I don't know why it hurts so badly but it does just the same.
I used to go with the flow much more easily, taking each day at a time because that's all I had. Time. Where did it go? How did I end up here? Stuck. Lost. Alone. Simply existing because I have to. My passion for life has started depleting as I see my goals and aspirations slipping from my fingertips, just out of reach from my touch, laughing at me.
It's so easy to get caught up in the everyday life "things" that we grow so accustomed to. What's for dinner? Why don't I have any clean socks? Damn. We're out of coffee. I find myself forgetting to do routine stuff that I've done for most of my adult life. I get caught staring into the deep unknown and struggle to come back to reality. Then once I do, I have no idea what's been going on around me for the past few minutes, hours, days?
I keep it all buried inside, hoping it will all just disappear. Then when it tries to sneak out into the form of words, I get even more frustrated because it doesn't make any sense and I can't convey what it is I'm feeling or what it is I'm trying to say. The words are meaningless, so I feel meaningless.
Lately, perhaps I am meaningless.
I search for the motivation it would take to simply get out of bed each morning. Willing myself to take that first step onto the cold hardwood floor and start moving. Don't sit down. Don't get distracted by your surroundings. Don't give up. Don't give in. Take a moment and breathe.
Just breathe.
Don't let the world take you over. Who cares if no one understands where you're coming from?
But wouldn't it be nice?
Wouldn't it be a joy to simply know that you're understood and you're not being a freak or seemingly appearing ungrateful for the life that has chosen you? Wouldn't it be nice to not feel like you have to explain yourself and every little action you take?
Wouldn't it be nice to not feel invisible?
To not fade away into the darkness that threatens to take hold of you?
Wouldn't it be so nice?
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