mentalcat

There is a big difference between living and being alive. When you live, your days feel meaningful, your existence has a purpose. To stay alive, you only have to manage the basic minimum of eating, breathing and sleeping. You would think the latter would be easy, with actually living being a lot harder. I'm not sure that's the truth though. Our inner life seems to function a lot like our physical body, the less we use our muscles, the harder it is to lift (even the simplest of objects). The less we exercise psychologically, the harder it gets to just be. The more we run away from or deny difficult feelings, the less we are able to experience the good ones. And even the most basic things suddenly feel hard, like deciding what dinner to make or what pyjamas to wear. You are constantly walking up-wind. Sincere depression is a lot like being paralyzed. Lifting a finger feels like lifting a planet and even the brightest of rainbows seems to be nothing but different shades of the same overwhelmingly lifeless gray that colors everything in the world.

 

I'm not depressed. I just am. I guess I've had a good emotional base to cope with, keeping me kind of sane through these past 6 years. I'm scared, however, that this base is starting to leak. I feel like the world is getting bigger and I'm getting smaller. I'm drowning, even when I'm with the people I love. Or should love. Life is nothing when you don't feel pride, integrity and meaning. I miss feeling good about the world. I miss knowing who I am.