I don’t recognize myself anymore.
I’m probably more surprised than anyone else about the things I do and say. And I don’t mean to say that the things I say and do are bad – they’re just not something I would have ever associated with me prior to now.
Now… now my life is a free-for-all of emotions.
I catch myself fake laughing before I even realize I’m doing it. I hear myself mumbling because it just takes too much out of me to say the full words. I sense the differences in me and don’t seem to have the motivation to change. I look at myself and wonder about who that woman is staring back at me and if she’s just a temporary figure before someone worse appears. But mostly, I feel like my soul is desperately clawing at me to be happy and, for the life of me, I just keep responding with a blank stare.
I feel like I’ve lost me. My identity. My muchness.
And even though that scares me, I almost feel numb. Like everything I’m feeling is just a dull manifestation that has to be sludged through at the end of each day before repeating the next morning. This is my life now. This is my reality.
I’m not sure when it all started. Depending on the day, I think it’s this event or that one. Undoubtedly it’s brought on by the uncontrollable series of events that have challenged my very existence over the last handful of years. Moments that I should have written and shared on this blog to gain some form of release or greater understanding. But I was too stunned, too shocked by the blunt-force trauma that a twisted reality can have on an unprepared person – or any person, really.
Depression. Early midlife crisis. Mental breakdown… people tend to have fun with labels. I’m sure I’m a little bit of all of these but what does it matter? Nothing is going to change now that there’s a name for this thing or that one. No one can rewind the clock and stop my best friend from saying goodbye, my brother from going to prison, my nephew from being abused, my Godson from dying, stop me from taking a job that stripped me of all of my idealism, a move back to the very place I ran from so many years ago, my mom from going into a routine surgery that went horribly bad and left her paralyzed and now my dependent – no one can take those from me. They’re mine and mine alone.
I’ve learned so much about each one. About me. And this woman now, the one typing this, she’s the real me trying to climb her way out of the shell of a person she finds herself in. But the abyss is so dark when you’re in it. I don’t know if I’m swimming up or down or sideways – that’s what happens when the water is too dark to see – but I’m still swimming. I’m still holding onto that big breath of air and praying to my Creator to help me find my way.
I’m still living. I’m still surviving. I’m still here. And I’m looking forward to the day when the real me finally makes a fulltime appearance. She’ll be a beautiful sight to behold with all of her strength and scars and mostly, all of her growth.