Nearly all my life I have had the feeling that life is forcing me along. I sometimes get the distinct feeling of a rope that is attached to me and that life is pulling me along against my will. I think it began when I was a child and the forced motion has increased as I get older.
No one else sees the rope or sees me struggling to get free, so it must be in my imagination. However, the forward momentum seems to me to be inescapable. I feel like laying down and giving up, but oh no, the rope pulls hard making me get up and go on.
I feel like running away into my mind and hiding, but again I am forced to go on.
I don’t like the sensation, but I guess it is a blessing. I guess.
Forced to Live
Being forced to live, being made to stay alive, being a prisoner of existence is not what I always thought life would be like. Somehow, I thought it would be different.
I believed growing up that when the terror that was my existence in childhood ended, I would be okay. I’d be able to experience freedom and become whatever I wanted to be. I thought in my naiveness that I would be able to breathe in adulthood and make my life what I wanted it to be.
I hadn’t counted on my childhood abuse effecting my present. I hadn’t counted on the old tapes that were put in my brain telling me to self-sabotage and self-destruct.
I also didn’t understand how tightly the rope was that was pulling me through my days. I couldn’t feel it then, not yet.
Now the Rope Has Become My Enemy
I may or may not post this. It is very negative, but if people are to understand the pain that a person grows up to feel after childhood trauma, they need to see it. Well, I’m in pain both emotional and physical. I can’t stand life right now and I’m angry that I am being forced to remain alive.
So, why am I being rushed toward it?
I have been suffering, (yes that’s the correct word), with depression lately. This past few days I have barely spoken to anyone offline. I spend my days isolated in my room avoiding any kind of human contact. I just don’t want to be part of life right now. No matter how hard it tugs.
I spend my nights sleeping from 8 pm to 7 or 8 am. It’s ironic that I have found sleep to help. I’ve spent most of my life awake, but suddenly I can’t seem to stay awake. I have called myself a professional insomniac, but that has changed.
You see, in sleep I don’t have to hear the voices from the past or the present taunting me. I don’t have to think about how much of a failure I have become, and how my childhood dreams have begun to fade.
I’m Not Getting Any Younger
I’ll be 58 in September. I doubt very seriously if I’ll grow too much older. My body is a wreck and I just feel like I need to not live much more.
One day the rope that is becoming tauter as my life goes forward will finally snap. Then I’ll finally be released from this journey of pain that is my life.
What do I expect after death? Do I believe I’ll be whisked away to a paradise of some sort or feel relief that it is over?
I hope not.
I hope I feel absolutely nothing and that my aura, soul or whatever you wish to call it will simply cease to exist.
If there is a god, that is the most loving thing he can do for me.
Yes, I am feeling extremely negative today. That is part of the existence of a multiple. We swing wildly from one end of the happiness spectrum to the other. There is no continuity to our life or dreams. They come and go like vapors in the wind.
A Poem That Says It All
I have confession to make before you read the poem I’ve included below. I didn’t post the entire poem. It goes on one more stanza, but I didn’t agree with what it said so I left it out. You can click on this link it to see if you think you might agree with what the author Linda Winchell meant in her writing.
Our Lives are But a Vapor
by Linda Winchell
Our lives are but a vapor,
And in a blink will vanish away.
We are only here for tomorrow,
And then gone in a day.
We all enter into seasons,
Those seasons of our lives.
So do with what you want today,
And leave tomorrows YOU survive.
We once were young and strong,
Like the notes of a newborns’ cry.
Life gives us not a promise,
Other then, one day we all shall die.