Where does it all end?
The same things over and over again as if it was played out to be an exact copy. People find comformance and tolerance in such a routine schedule. Yet for me it is only increasing my anxiety.
I don’t know entirely what is happening with me. It is not the fact that I want more in life than working for a corporation and wanting to sprout my own wings. I believe it is the whole process of trying to pick up the pieces and seeing who it is that is staring back at the reflection as the old parts of myself fall off. I’m changing.
I feel the surge of energy coursing through my veins. The words I wish to convey and share to the world seem to come by the mouthful. I believe everyone has this feeling at one point in their life. They can call it their mid life crisis when they just stop and wonder what type of bull of a life they have.
I’ve never conformed to the same standards as everyone else. While my parents were very religious, I was an atheist growing up. When I was born again, I found myself drawn to researching conspiracies and the occult even more from when I dabbled in it before. I was the black sheep of the family, still am. I stand out while also never really being there, a shadow.
I used to believe in marriage, the white pickett fence, the dog and cat, children, and etc, but not anymore. I don’t believe in the concept of marriage as we know it today, a paper or a big wedding does not define your commitment to someone. I don’t believe in the cultural norms, in fact, I completely and utterly despise the way we have turned everything to a stereotype. We fill ourselves with debt and create so much stress for a number on our credit score that defines what we can or can’t buy to be in even more stress. Part of me wishes I could disappear into the past where social media, the internet, was a thing never thought of. This isn’t a life worth living, but this isn’t a cry for help for suicide. I’m just tired of it all.
What is truly happening with me? I can’t feel a lot of what I once considered strong empathy. It just isn’t there. I wake up to my alarm and find myself just staring at the ceiling wondering when I will be happy to get out of bed. The joys I find are when I write, am with my girlfriend or when I eat. Sleep is just a habit and need but I don’t even feel rested afterwards, just drained. Am I finding time for myself? Maybe not, too tired on my days off mostly, and the days I work I am just drained, coming home and wanting to just lay down.
I wonder if anyone else feels like this? Is it normal? I am taking pills for my OCD and my anxiety, maybe it is causing me to get worse, i don’t know. But all I can say is that if you are like me, you’re not alone. I’m sure we will find out what the hell is going on and maybe one day when we go to sleep, we can wake up and just say, “hey, I’m actually good……”