What a Drag!

I feel like I owe myself and anyone else who unfortunately stumbles upon my ramblings an apology. It seems like every time I write something it's sad, dark, depressing and pretty hopeless at best. Unfortunately that sums up my reality, these days. So, of course my writing would reflect that. I used to be so enthused about life and about the potential for the deep happiness that it could bring. I used to seek out joy, wherever I could find it. Life is funny how it balances itself out- just as things become so good that it doesn't seem that it could get any better, something happens to remind you that not only will it not get better but that you were LUCKY to be experiencing that much joy in the first place. Oh, and just so you REALLY get it, it kicks you in the gut with something so painful and horrific that you wonder how you can face another day. I used to be the eternal optimist, with the firm belief that all things, both good and bad, happen for a reason. I always felt there was some purpose for every direction I was led into and that life's lessons would be a linear journey, for the most part. I'd move forward, ever forward, with some small setbacks along the way but overall I'd be moving ahead; learning, growing... becoming a better human being. Never did I realize that things could happen that essentially kick you back to the starting gate of self discovery, self awareness and of having a general understanding of this world.

I worry that who I am at this very moment is who I will be, forever. And perhaps right now is the better version of who I'll ultimately be! Perhaps it will get even worse over time. That is my deep fear, right now. That I am forever damaged. Forever lost. Forever pessimistic about what life has in store for me. Forever frightened. Forever longing! That's not the person I was before and not the person I want to be going forward. Someone reading this might say, "well, now that you recognize it, snap the fuck out of it." But, that's not how it works. I can't snap myself out of it because it's so deeply woven into the fabric of my being, now. The despair I feel has defined who I am... and I hate it.

In case none of this makes sense to anyone that might be reading this... my daughter was born prematurely and died. The first time I held her to say hello was the last time I held her, to say goodbye. I'm not sure how life rights itself after such a wrong. And I'm not sure how I put myself back together.