But I am bitter. I don’t want to be. I want to be this cool guy, worldly wise and supportive but I am struggling.
I like the quote from Bilbo Baggins regarding butter spread across too much toast. You feel thin and sort of stretched out. My patience has to be carefully managed as it is a limited resource. Some people get a raw deal because I have to save my patience for dealing with others.
When I was younger I had dreams and plans. I wanted to travel, settle down and have kids. I am 36 now and I have barely achieved any of them. I have travelled and it was great but it wasn’t the adventurous travel I had dreamed of. I have always wanted to walk barefoot in Africa! I don’t know why this dream exists, I never walk barefoot anywhere, but I have a desire to feel the red earth between my toes. I’ll probably hate it. Again I have settled down in a fashion and I am married with a house. But if anything it is unsettled and not going very well. I just finished a phone call with my wife, where I had my head in my hands trying to wrap my head around her. And children! How I wanted children. I always thought of it as an opportunity to teach someone to be better than myself. I learnt from my mistakes and they could learn from me. But my wife decided she didn’t want kids. I suppose I should have had some sort of say in that decision but then it’s her body. Having children would have more impact on her than me. So I rolled over and accepted it.
Which leaves me here. A suicidal 36 year old whose situation is infinitely better than more than half the world. Yet here I sit in a constant battle with whether living or not is better. It’s certainly not an all consuming thought but maybe 5 or 6 times a day I have the conversation.
But I wrote this blog for therapy so maybe I just need to let the bitterness flow out onto the pages. It’s hard. There are times when I feel rotten inside, filled with black tar and death. It’s funny how depression can rob the world of warmth, colour and even the brightest day of summer is left cold and drab. I have learnt to observe the ebbs and flows of my depression though. By doing so I guess I don’t fall as hard as I used to. I remember when I lived elsewhere I was crossing a road. On one side I was happy and laughing with my friends, but as I crossed something hit me. No hit is the wrong word. It is very difficult to describe. Everything changed as I crossed that road. It was like I was a different person inside. To my group of friends nothing changed, I was the same person, we were still going to the same place, but to me it was different, I was different.
Well I am out of time. I am not happy with this post but post it I shall. Nobody reads it anyway LOL! I just don’t like how I start with one thing and end on another with included rambling. I will hopefully post again next week. I might be a different person by then