A rising tide of dread

I need to know that it’s okay to feel this way. I need to be sure that I am not losing my mind. The thought of another day, same as yesterday fills me with dread. There was a time not too long ago that this familiarity comforted me. But today I am slowly drowning in a rising tide of panic. I am realising that probably the sum of all my hopes and fears, all my ambition and dreams, finally boil down to this. A listless existence propped upwards by one list after another, doing so much but achieving so little.

I cannot help but feel sad when I get like this. There is no other way to describe it. The feeling of living a life not quite your own. Arriving at a place you didn’t originally signed up for. Sometimes I look over my shoulder to see if I missed a turn, thinking that’s where I was supposed to go. And when I finally get there, I’ll become who I’m supposed to be.

But it is never as easy as that. Where we are does not answer this eternal question. What we do probably comes close, but for me there is always a disconnect. I can do many things at once, become good at them even, and still not knowing if this is who I should be. It must matter for me to ponder this, why else would I be so unhappy?

I try reaching out to families and friends. But I was never raised to be needy. I was raised to be proud and independent. I was taught that I am responsible for who I am and all that I do and don’t do. I almost never blame anyone else. Even when I could, it was something I could never do. And that is why I remain so isolated and detached sometimes. And even as I sit here feeling so lonely, I could not bring myself to call someone. It is a sad cycle of despair. One that would end, sure enough. I am an optimist in that sense. But riding out this sense of despondency does not get any easier, no matter how often I feel this way.

I don’t want to think too far ahead. I don’t want to figure out if hope remains in the horizon or if it has deserted me completely. I know what I need to get done tomorrow. I know who I will meet and what we will probably talk about. Knowing all this brings me no comfort nonetheless. I don’t know what will. Sometimes I look for it in a cup of coffee, in a slice of cake or in a plate of my favourite dish. Now you know why I sabotage every diet I’ve ever been on. If I can’t feel any emotion in soul, I might as well savour every taste just to know I’m still alive.

I need to stop. I could probably go on for a long time. But I have somewhere to be within an hour. The certainty of my days used to reassure me as I marched on into whatever that awaited me. But today, this is almost impossible. Today, my only purpose in life is not to break apart and unravel, though inside I have come undone a hundred times over.