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The Epitome of Life (A diary entry from Anxiety)

As I sluggishly stir from my deep, intoxicating slumber, the emptiness of my soul prods at my heart. Go on, go on, go on it chants. This is the constant reminder that though I am alive, I am not living. I’m just here. I’m acutely aware of the emptiness in my stomach; that sharp blow of reality each morning is my subtle reminder that I’m not doing what I should be doing. This isn’t my life. I’m on borrowed time, but whose?

My soul tries to help me out from time to time in a desperate attempt to throw me a clue. A guttural pain, an attempt to guide me from my core, go on, go on, go on it prods aggressively. It largely goes unnoticed or mistaken for indigestion or a reflex to the monotony of my day to day life.

With heavy limbs and an even heavier weight in my stomach (which could easily be a result to the inability to stop eating and drinking) I heave myself up to start again. My more blatant reminder of being is my daily ritual: breakfast, wake the kids. feed them breakfast. resolve unnecessary conflict arising from turn taking in the bathroom. help the kids find their homework due in that day. help the husband find the car keys. leave the house in a wild rush with my slippers on. school run. return to clean the mess. more housework. work from home. school run again (this time remembering to change footwear). resolve further conflicts about the consumption of the last biscuit. prepare dinner whist listening to dramas of child’s life. Quickly eat dinner barely tasting it. clean up. prepare kids for bed. unwind with wine and a book. Bed. Rinse and repeat until it’s all dried up.

Is this why we are here?

We sit together. We go through the motions of life. How was your day? She’s been at it again. Can you pass me the salt? How was your day? You’ve asked me that already. What’s not being said? Everything. What’s being said? Absolutely nothing. So, where do you go from here? Nowhere. You carry on.

No understanding, connection or compassion. Is there anywhere or are we just alone in this world? Does anyone actually truly care or are we all just superficial beings coexisting and just waiting to be taken onto only God knows where. If there is a God. Is there? If you are there, what do you do when you hear people’s screams, my silent screams, my desperate pleas? Sit there and watch? Are you going to help? Show some sign of mercy? No? Fuck you then. You’re just like everyone else, plodding on oblivious to the chaos. The desperation is getting stronger within me.

Each day we think, we believe we will change; the diet will start tomorrow, I’ll exercise, train for that 10k run, drink less alcohol, take fewer drugs. Does it happen? No. Do we stop believing it? No. We always have tomorrow. To make that change, you have to really believe you are worth it, believe that you have what it takes- that absolute determination to not pick up that cake after a shitty day of bed-wetting and screams, to not gulp down the bottle of wine after a blazing row with a friend. To resolve your problems, you are told you need to peel away insecurities to get to the core of your being- strip away reservations, restrictions and conventions to reach the essence of your being. That’s where you go to find the answers, to find out why you are like you are.

Does anyone really go there, to that place which hides their deepest, darkest secrets? I doubt it. It must be the scariest door to open. Reminiscence. Regrets. Unfulfilled desires. Yep, best leave that one firmly locked. And bolted. Maybe stick a chain on as well. What would Freud say? Who gives a fuck? Just eat and drink to fill that void that otherwise lingers over you the whole day, week, month, year long. The truth will hurt even more.

Life will always throw disappointments your way. You can catch them and throw them back or you can let them hit you and force you down. But if you let them knock you down, there’s no standing up straight again that’s why you have to fight it. Whatever happens, fight it. It’s why I drag myself up. They can’t win. I won’t let them.

Jon Dunne said that ‘no man is an island’. It’s bullshit. That’s exactly how people should live. That’s how we do live. People in their own entities, ‘autonomy’ and ‘self’ are buzz words for today’s generation. Those days of communities and collaboration are being washed out with the sense of ‘I’ and ‘me’, while ‘us’ and ‘we’ have been left at the bus stop with the bright red payphone and the box labelled ‘manners’ and ‘respect’.

Your friends? They will always be with you. Really? Maybe a few. There will be those who you think are your friends but as they shake one hand, they firmly grasp the knife in the other. They wait, build up your trust, then they stab and twist. You can always trust me- I’ll always be here for you. Always.

Then they twist again, just to make sure. The emotional pain hurts more than the literal. To think that you know and trust someone and for them to betray you is breathtakingly wounding. And permanent. Time helps you forget but the scars remain for life. Why let them in in the first place? Leave them outside.

The bottom line? There isn’t one. The words can just fall off the page saturated and forgotten left unnoticed and alone. The epitome of life.

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