after two more months of mania and excitement combined with big plans and constant exercise I woke up yesterday. listened to some sad songs. and then bawled my eyes out. the struggle intensifying daily. weekly. monthly. yearly. the thought of never getting out of this depressing situation frightens me. psychiatrists. psychotherapists. psychologists. life coaches. group therapy. pills. more pills. exercise. goal setting. constant advice. constant reading. constant writing. constant planning. seemingly constantly constant. Taylor one year away from high school and my life is more chaotic and uncertain than ever before. fear. panic. confusion. struggle. tears. fear. panic. confusion. struggle. tears. fear. panic. confusion. struggle. tears. the never ending vicious cycle. when does it end? where does it end? how does it end? will it ever end?
HOPE. fading hope. fading life. seeing Taylor flourish amidst a house filled with frustration and pain and anger and fear.
“LET GO OF FEAR.” as we sit frozen in fear.
walking Taylor to school daily and then coming back to the house to accomplish nothing. constant lists and constant goals combined with constant clutter and constant battles. life never in flow. life never easy. struggling to help Sarah find her way. struggling to help Taylor find her way. struggling to help myself find my way. everyone trying to find their way as the years pass by and life is closer to ending than beginning.
I drive into the city and see constant stress. constant speed. constant anger. everyone racing to their dead end jobs that pay rich people well and offer up scraps and fear to the rest. a world filled with less happiness. more anger. less jobs. more rage. more fear. more hatred. less connection. less certainty. less friendships. more debt. more depression. more anger. less love. less play. less fucking. more sleeping. less clarity. more mania. more dullness. more dictators. more government. more elections. more awful movies. more awful music. less powerful films. pop culture destroying life. society falling for fake news. fake music. fake films. fake people. fake people now more prevalent than real people. social media turning life into a never ending race for popularity. a never ending battle for likes and a never ending battle for acceptance. social media offering little but fake smiles. fake tits. fake lips. fake opinions. fake friends. fake conversations. and fake popularity. such a fucking soul sucking clutter of fake pictures and fake ads. fake products and fake smiles. a society that applauds the fake while condemning the speakers of truth. condemning the activists but applauding the rapists. applauding the killers. applauding fat useless fuckers like Doug Ford and Donald Trump. putting anger, hatred, stupidity, racism, sexism, and elitism on the pedestal while shouting profanities at the activists.
I drive through the small town of Orangeville and wonder why all the roads are under construction and being paved all at the same time. politicians getting paid good money to come up with bad decision after bad decision. but then we have elections to vote for the same insanity. the same incompetency. the popular vote choosing the leaders but the popular people were never the smart ones. the popular people were usually the dull ones with no opinions so as to remain popular. popularity still important at forty. fifty. sixty. seventy. lives unfulfilled and then dying a slow death looking at their loved ones left behind. such sad lives. such sad people. but then I look at my life and I am sad. I am lost. I am lonely. lonely and cluttered. cluttered brain and a cluttered heart. then the thought of “you are who you are” hits me like a Louisville Slugger. it hits me hard and it hits me quick. can we ever really change? do we ever really change? can we ever recover from a poor upbringing with lots of trauma and frequent losses? frequent betrayals and sudden sadness? the thought of this frightens me and then I think of my age and see life winding down. passing by. memories of childhood seemingly out of reach. and for all the trauma and loss that I experienced I would love to go back to witness and feel it all again. the ups. the downs. the extreme highs and the shockingly traumatic lows. but the constant excitement of life was exhilarating. the hope. the fear. the uncertainty. the FREEDOM.
FREEDOM IS THE PULSE OF LIFE. FREEDOM TO BE. FREEDOM TO EXPLORE. FREEDOM TO ALLOW. FREEDOM TO LOVE. FREEDOM TO HOPE. FREEDOM TO PLAY. FREEDOM TO DO. FREEDOM TO BE YOURSELF. and that is missing. I sit in a dull town with dull rules. dull bars. dull roads. dull people. dull entertainment.
my back is sore. my conversation is dull. I drink wine. listen to music. read. go to bed. wake up. drink coffee. run. cycle. eat lunch. drink another coffee. clean out the basement. make lists. make goals. do the laundry. play soccer with Taylor. come back. read again. listen to more music. pop some pills. turn off the lights. check that the doors are locked for the fourth time and then go to bed. six hours of sleep never enough but I never learn.
does anyone really change?
will my life ever change?
how will I die?
I bawled my eyes out as I listened to “Tears In Heaven” by Eric Clapton and to think that his 4 and half year old son climbed over their 50th floor balcony in New York City and fell to his death.
GUILT.
losing a child must be the most traumatic event in anyone’s life.
would you ever recover?
the world is becoming scarier and scarier and I am becoming more lost and less certain but I have a daughter to raise and I must give her all of my love. all of my hope.
STUCK.
TEARS.
WHY?
notanotherphony. 