I haven't written a blog post in two years. As I reread a couple of posts from two years ago, honestly not much has changed. I again tried to move. I again contacted a realtor here and in two other places and I again failed. I don't know what keeps me here. Is it my anxiety? Is it fear? It certainly is not this place of cement, steel and glass. this city that calls itself compassionate yet no one speaks to one another. And buildings get torn down to make way for more cement, steel and glass.
More impersonal. More cold. More money spent for the wealthy and less on much needed services for the poor.
I've decided l am living in the wrong time. I am still in the 60's and 70's. A time when I was truly with my element. When I was happy. When I was young yea, but also when I was doing something I enjoyed and I was doing! I was not crippled by anxiety.
I was fearless!
No more. I live like a hermit. I am a minimalist and could live with even less.
I don't belong here. This is not my home and never will be.
If I continue to live here,I will eventually become invisible.
i have had enough.
I am tired, exhausted, fed up,.
I am finished.
I had so very much wanted to move away from here. I had a realtor, a potential buyer, I researched places to live. With limited resources and at an age where moving has to be well thought out, there really were few options. In truth, I really wanted to live in one place. I was not wanted there.
Doors closed. The reality of rejection hits again. Each time it hits, it hits harder. Each time it hits, I want to retreat further and further into a place where I cannot be reached and hit again. If I choose to be a part of life then I cannot retreat into that dark place. This means that there is no escape. No escape from rejection, no escape from being hit, over and over with a reality that is very painful to accept.
I have been in and out of the “darkness” for almost two months now. It has been a tiring journey. Just when I think that I am on the other side and breathing into life again, something will trigger me and I spiral down. Even just a little way and I wonder if the darkness has returned again.
Yesterday, I did some sketching. It has been quite awhile since I have sketched. I have found that with everything I do, I feel an overwhelming anxiety, even sketching. Going for a walk, going to sleep, even sitting here writing these words there is a slight constriction in my upper chest and I have found that this is where I carry anxiety, panic and fear. Fear: I live, breathe, eat and sleep with it. Fear is running through my veins.
I think you find the answer to the ” meaning of life” when you leave this world. Then the answer comes and in that final breath, the “aha moment” comes, and then you pass away into whatever lies beyond.
It has been a dreadful month. My level of depression has skyrocketed and I have been isolating more and more. My level of trust dwindling and the urge to run away increasing. I just want someone to magically buy this property in which I reside, so that I can magically live somewhere else. One problem, there is no magic. It is all work that I have to do. I am 60 years old, 61 in a few months. I do not have many financial resources, I have no one to help, I have nowhere to go. Staying here feels paralyzing. At this point I have just shut down.
I guess I am just waiting for my last breath to have my “aha moment.”
facing decisions these days feels like climbing mountains. I am having to face decisions that will shape the the years that remain in my life. Needless to say much consideration goes into this process, nothing is taken likely.
Each decision brings a measure of loss. There is no gain anymore. I am sixty years of age. I live alone and am very lonely. I have faced far too much loss in my lifetime and wonder why I am still here. But I am, in spite of myself. I do not take that lightly. I have made many mistakes on this journey that cannot be fixed. I have tried to heal the pain and I have failed…loss, loss, more loss.