I Hate It Here & the Myth that Life Happens to Us
A personal struggle to claim personal responsibility in the midst of sadness or overwhelm.
I’m tired and some days, I’m sad.
I’m sad on days that my mind is so jumbled that words won’t form and I don’t have the energy to go in search of them.
I’m tired of being sad. It’s a nagging ache that casts a blue shadow over everything. It’s a cobalt blue — almost opaque — coating every feeling, every thought, every moment and movement. It’s the voice in my head that says “I hate it here,” but won’t tell me exactly where here is.
I wrote those words a few weeks ago in an attempt to clear a mental fog/ writer’s block that had been plaguing me for awhile. I’m emotionally confounded and at times, mildly depressed. This piece is not at all a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” admonishment to folks who suffer from depression, self-doubt, or anxiety. I know firsthand that those things are very real. I have been kicking around the idea of allocating funds for therapy for myself for months. It must happen because unfortunately, self-awareness without effective tools is useless. I can see myself choosing self-sabotage at times. Yet, I am powerless to lift the heavy blue veil long enough to stop myself. I do, however, recognize that even in…
