©2021 Michael Raven
Recall those life events things with respect to interruptions that might occur with NaNoWriMo? On schedule, one arrived and, frankly, I don’t know if I have the energy to continue writing the tale I started a few days ago.
My life seems to move from one crisis to another crisis anymore. I often wonder why I bother getting up in the morning, to be honest, when faced with the likelihood that, if I am not currently experiencing some crisis, one is more apt than not to show itself within the next day or week. It wasn’t always like this, but it seems to have accelerated this past few years — whether it is the world at large, fate working, or my own admitted tendency towards idiocy.
I’ll accept the blame. Might as well. I’m certain the blame has already been cast my direction for most of the recent of a myriad crises, anyway. It usually does, no matter the situation, so I’ve given up trying to advocate for myself.
The past few weeks (maybe months), I’ve been teetering on the cusp of falling off a cliff. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit suicide or “better off dead” wasn’t in my mind more than it wasn’t. Mostly, I’m tired of the continuous crisis mode I’ve been in. If it isn’t me going through some trouble, it is someone else around me going through their own, or an unexpected and unlikely death of a pet, or any number of major fixes that need to occur when you own your home that like to show up when you don’t need or want them to show up, or coworkers with unreasonable expectations, or this, or that… It doesn’t matter — the important thing is that something is always going wrong lately. And, I feel guilty for reaching out aside from some anonymous post under an assumed name to the world at large which couldn’t give two shits about my troubles. And, even then, fearful of how it will be interpreted by someone who doesn’t know what is up (or maybe does), makes me hold back in what I do reveal.
Today culminated in another climax in the shitstorm of my life and I nearly found the courage to end it all. Surprised? My guess is most of you will remain unsurprised, while others will skim this and not notice what I just said (and hit a star on the way in through the out door), while a very tiny percentage will actually be shocked.
I told you: I’m tired AF. I don’t want to continue to be under these kinds of constant stressors, strains, and finding new reasons to doubt my worth. I’d rather stop living.
Luckily, I recalled someone who didn’t have a stake in the crisis who once offered to lend me an ear if I ever hit a breaking point. So I contacted that person and was surprised I really was worth that ear on loan. I didn’t get into the details of my situation, just the broad overview of a rough situational thing that went along with the broader fatigue of the past lifetime or two. I was told to soldier on. “It’s about to get better. Believe me.” No judgment, although one might have been given, perhaps even deserved, considering the situation itself, even as described in the most vague of terms. And honestly, it might have been just cracking the door in on a deep secret that I haven’t been able to share that helped with the building pressure and stress. I came down a bit from that cliff, decided to sit this one out for more than a few hours. That person who listened — just fucking listened without value judgment — probably saved a life today. How insane is that? We’ll see if it sticks because I’m not gonna lie — I don’t think I’m through the proverbial woods entirely. Or at all. But, as it is with my alcoholism, one day at a time. Right? Right?!?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
But I don’t think I can write that story anymore. It was probably not going to end well anyway.