I’ve struggled to write at all the past months.
I have been drowning.
At the end of winter and beginning of spring I sunk into a very deep depression.
Come the weekend I couldn’t leave my bed. It took everything I had on a weekday to go into work and attempt to function like a normal person. Regardless I still felt the nagging weight tied to my legs pulling me under throughout the day. People would point out other people had it worse. This is true. It also makes me feel no differently.
I went through a shitty break up and felt a lot of my the hope I’ve ever carried about life go into the trash along with that relationship. I’m completely over that whole thing now, but my hope is still gone.
In April I signed up to be a workaway host and my first workaway volunteer arrived at the end of April.
I am so grateful.
Counting down the days before he would arrive kept me from acting on extremely suicidal thoughts. Very soon we both got to know each other (have I mentioned the cabin is a very small one?) and realized we are complete opposites. He is calm, peaceful, positive, young and full of energy and has a zest for life. I am chaos, a dark storm, negative, old ( I feel very old and drained of any youth I might have ever had) with no desire to continue really.
Our first week together was like going to a rehab. Coming home from work I started looking forward to the drive rather than dreading it. I couldn’t wait to see what progress was happening at the cabin as well as share my day and work more on being pulled out of the stormy ocean. One night at the end of one of our deep conversations on life Ryan asked me if I love myself. I said I did not.
Weeks later I am realizing I do. That I’m extremely hard on myself and find it hard to accept and forgive myself. To accept and approve that I am doing the best I can. The clouds began to lift. Peace started to seep in through the windows.
Then the winds picked up.
It’s been a miserable couple of days.
Things are piling up and the tides come in to pull me back out again.
My main miseries:
Love: I feel that the universe keeps love away from me beacause I am a black hole. Sucking up any life, love and light and transforming it into nothing. “There is someone for you, you’ll see”. False. There is not. There never was. It is impossible for me to think there ever will be. The most frustrating knife clenching part of it is that my lifestyle was meant for two. It’s been almost two years since we bought the property. Only four months of that was with someone else being there seemingly wanting to be there. The goal is driven by me. My cause is fading. It’s so heavy. Coming home to my workaway, Ryan is nice and we are good company to each other, but it doesn’t fill the void. We are in absolutely no way romantic and he is here until I believe the end of August or so. I’m dreading that time. I will be sent off on my own again into dark waters. He thinks I am young and there’s plenty of time for things to turn around. Is there? The past two years for me have been much of the same. At the beginning of this I held onto hope. Hope that tomorrow good things would happen. Bad thing after bad thing would happen. Every now and then a bit of grace would come in and something good would happen. But for the most part this ship has been sinking.
This winter I let go of hope.
I don’t hold hope anymore. The love I fell into while in the short lived relationship of this past winter I felt lifted. Like I could soar. Like with that man by my side I could move mountains and take anything on. I felt strong and capable. The curtains closed and the rug pulled from beneath me. Emptiness. Empty cabin. Empty heart.
Why did I hold on to hope in the beginning? Why did I hope for something good? I know what my luck is like. Why did I hope it would change.
I can’t afford my lifestyle. The cabin. The truck. The animals. I’ve used any credit I could get my hands on and my debt to people and companies is unbelievable. The cabin was meant for two incomes (not both from me) and two people. It was meant to be a partnership. It wasn’t meant to be alone. It wasn’t meant to turn into a prison.
I am lost. I don’t have any answers or much to give. I didn’t want to write anymore depressing dark posts and here we are.
Two nights ago Ryan was off outside listening to french lessons he’s recently been learning. I was inside looking through old homesteading magazines I have from the beginning. Beautiful pictures of earthy homesteading loving couples that create beautiful lives together. Two.
I felt the sting. I thought I would write about it in my journal. It still stung. I flipped back in the journal to last year at this time. My lament was the exact same. Two.
I’ve slipped beneath the surface since then.
Sinking slowly, quietly to the bottom.