It’s hard to pull all of this apart and see what’s actually what in the context of the last 9 years we’ve had. Regardless, we are living through/in these times and we’re aging . And I know to age is to live, so please don’t come at me with the basics. It’s like telling an anxious person to “calm down” or a depressed person “to do something fun.”
It’s one thing to be looking in the mirror and noticing a drooping eye lid, a softening neck, lines here and there. But lately what’s really getting to me is a deep sense of failure and a lack of time to really do anything about it.
I’ve spent too much of my life (and I know many who can relate to this) fighting depression and anxiety and trauma. So much of my energy has been stolen by trying to survive those things. And if you think of money in terms of not just the dollars spent on therapy and interventions but money not made because of illness, well, it’s also cost me a small fortune and therefore a sense of stability as I age.
I’m feeling a lot of rage over that lately. But there’s more.
I’m feeling so much rage and grief over missed opportunities. Avenues not taken because I was just trying to live. Talents not fully explored. Potential not fully known.
Dance not danced. Books not written. And so much more. All because I had so many years during which I could barely function much less thrive.
I’m angry, indeed. I did not choose this brain nor early experiences that exacerbated the tendencies of this brain. And many things did not just happen but were done. (More anger.)
And now at the age of 56, I am still fighting this fight that should not be any of ours. I am not as stuck and struck down as I was during most of my 30s, but I am not in the healthy place I was in my middle to late 40s.
During that breathing space of years, all the work I had done was finally paying off.
Then we entered the years of hate and vile government and sickness and cruelty exposed in people around us and my brain, prone to deep grief and sadness from early on, did not have the tools some have. The old coping mechanisms — the unhealthy coping mechanisms of staying still and drowning in despair over things I cannot change — all reemerged with a vigor I never thought I would see or experience again in myself.
The devastation of that alone… the thought that I had healed or gotten to a place of high level management of my chronic illnesses and then to backslide as the world got (and continues to get) uglier and uglier.
I am enraged and I am sad and I am at a loss for words to explain this feeling of utterly being let down by the world and by myself.
I have no answers, so if you’re reading this thinking you recognize what I’m writing about and wondering what conclusions I’ve come to, I apologize. I have nothing. Not yet.
Though I will keep fucking trying… as annoying as I find that sometimes about myself… I will not give up, and I will not stay silent about this, sitting in some sort of shame that makes me feel I am alone when I know full well I am not alone and maybe, just maybe, in community, we can figure this shit out.