What I want to do is shut down, just for a while. Until I feel human. I don’t know how long that would take. It’s not allowed. So I never get to feel human. I feel like I’m barely breathing:
Like the song goes, “you’ve got to breathe, man, breathe.” I need to be able to come up for air, and I’m not allowed. It’s just expected of me to drown a little every day.
I get up, groom, dress, go to work, eat lunch if I pack one, drive home, have dinner, and do whatever I have the energy to do before bed. I watch something and fall asleep watching it and usually miss the end. It sometimes involves cleaning and general chores. It sometimes involves going to school or extracurricular activities with the kids. It sometimes involves going to church but I have all but cut that down to the barest minimum. It isn’t “fun” for me.
I don’t know what I’d do with the time if I could finish my current projects and clean my house and garage and finish chores and have energy left over. I don’t feel the energy to do these things, much less tackle more. Maybe fishing, but after a day and a sunburn, I don’t want to fish, if I didn’t catch anything I want to go to the grocer and be able to afford the catfish they raise on the farm and cheat with nets to catch. Or a chicken to fry, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why a raw chicken costs more by the pound than one that’s processed and cooked and nasty. Oh. Nevermind. It’s not in demand because they’ve already ruined it. It’s dry and not seasoned correctly and it’s nasty. Or it’s tiny and I could eat that in 2 settings all by myself. I could cook if I had the time and money. I could bake, because I like to do that. I could read again. I haven’t read a book for fun or education in a long time. I miss baking and reading, but I don’t make the time because I don’t feel like it. It’s another two things I cut out. I used to love the experience of worship. I don’t feel anything.
Mrs M wants me to either donate or sell my books, whether I have read them or not, whether I want to keep them or not. I don’t know why I should keep them, but I want to keep them. Because I like to read. Or because they were meaningful to me when I read them before. It’s like one of few things I have because I like to have the collection.
I DO need to get rid of the clutter in my life, but I want to be careful not to remove something that would be integral to bringing me back from fingertip hanging over the cliff edge. Some would think that hanging would be exhilarating. I find it terrifying. I used to want to be heroic, but right now just feeling alive would be nice.
I’ve already shut down, but unfortunately for me the things I’ve cut out, shut down, stopped doing, are the things that I liked. I’m only doing the things I don’t like, because they have to be done, and they sap my energy and they steal my passion, and they leave me hating the life I “live,” because I’m not living, I’m just existing.
I want to flip the “on” switch and be free to do the things I love (and that includes YOU, Mrs. M.) again. I just feel buried, and unable to come up for air. I want the freedom to pursue what makes life worth living (and that includes YOU, Mrs. M.). I’m at the bottom of the pool, smothered under what I have to do, and I need artificial resuscitation (Like this, Mrs. M.).
I can’t breathe.