Self Inflicted Lock-Up
A Free Write ~ Tryst Journal
We spend our whole lives, trying to figure out the meaning to life. Waking up, each day, putting one step in front of the other, constantly moving forward. Each moment, consciously aware that we are alive. What is my purpose? What is the meaning of my existence? Why am I here? Where am I going?
Questions like this circulate constantly in my mind, every single day. When I was younger, I was very conscious of these wonderings, these thoughts, but my mind was still very young. My mind was very unexperienced to the ways of the world. I was trying to grow, and fit in, not only to the world and its social elements, but also trying to fit into my mind… my spirit. What did my spirit want? What felt right? What brought me happiness, or sadness? Also, at that young age, I was thinking about growing up, and what I wanted to, and could do, to be an adult. How was I going to take care of myself.
It’s such a paradox, that we want so badly to grow up and have the freedoms of an adult. Then, when we reach adulthood, we do what we need to do to survive, but in the process, every year that passes by, the questions still remain, very much alive and unanswered… what is the meaning of my life? Who am I really? What am I supposed to do?
I find myself in moments of unhappiness. I know I feel the unhappiness. I know what I want to make me happy. So, why am I even fighting it? If I know the answer to something, where is the action towards obtaining it?
I lose hope because what I want is not something that I can just go out and get. I can’t buy it in one second and begin enjoying it the next minute. Things aren’t always obtainable like that. Things aren’t always in arms reach.
I think that when I feel the most defeated and render myself stuck, in life, at a standstill, pondering the sadness, the unsatisfactory, picking apart the continuing questions, I get a real sense of hopelessness. I feel overwhelmed. I am standing there, looking at the whole picture, saying I want this and this and that, and I have none of that at all right now. I find myself saying that I’ll never get there, or be able to have all those things.
Starting at square one is a start. But it is a step that must be taken. Like growing up. Growing up doesn’t happen in one day. It is a process, a gradual, day by day, sequence of time that we never get a break from. Time never stops. So, when I feel like I’m standing at a wall, going nowhere, the whole world is still going on and moving around me. So why, how even, am I so stuck?
My life doesn’t get to stop while everyone else keeps going. Yet, there are ways to paralyze yourself. There are ways that I have stopped my life. And when I define these moments, it’s what I call a waste of time.
Wasting time is when I find myself, moving, but not moving forward. This is my genre of depression. The depression that I have invited into my life is just this: the feelings of overwhelming doubt put me into a conscious state of living paralysis. I somehow, lock myself up behind self-inflicted bars that aren’t really there. I cry feeling the sadness of being stuck, but I am feeling this way because I have allowed my life to invite this reality. I allowed it. I have a choice not to be stuck.
So, why am I so stuck?
This free write was written in the space of the last few days… or so… just some babble, I thought I’d post in my Tryst Journal…
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