not my image, found on google image search for “failure”
I don’t know how to feel optimistic these days. I’m failing at pretty much everything I’m doing, which isn’t even very much or remotely ambitious. I’m even failing to come up with any decent thing to write about. So I’m writing about failing.
So many cliches come up when you google search “failure”. I fail to find any of them comforting or aspirational. I just feel tired. Exhausted. Apathetic.
I’ve been launched into outer space in my relationship, no idea if it’s even still a relationship or if I’m just awaiting being dumped. I will find out, but my natural instinct is to brace for the worst. That’s usually how these things go.
I’m trying to stay open. To be patient. To not feel stupid for having felt hopeful about anything. I won’t say I’m completely succeeding, but maybe I’m not failing completely.
A huge part of me wants to just say “fuck off, then.” To bail before I’m left looking as stupid as I feel. But I’m not doing that. But I’m already feeling like I’ve been dumped on the side of the road, a familiar sensation. Holding onto hope is far more terrifying. I’m trying. And yeah, mostly failing. But not entirely. I haven’t just said fuck off.
I would like to feel like I’m making progress in my career, if I can even call it that. I would like to feel that I’m getting better at relationships. I would like to feel like I’m doing something other that scraping by, month by month. Like I’m building a life here that has roots and some buds popping up, future flowers that will bloom someday. But I don’t feel like that at all. I feel like I’m standing still, watching everyone around me moving forward, creating wonderful lives that while also difficult, are clearly full of success, joy, love. The only thing I managed to create this week was a batch of my bone broth, which I’m hoping will help my mood improve, as my depression really lifted when I started drinking it regularly.
I hope spring is around the corner. That is a hope that I feel safe in having. I have other hopes as well, but I feel embarrassed by them, they seem so easy to achieve for other people and still so far beyond my capabilities that I wish my heart would lower it’s desires. Some days getting out of bed is beyond my comfort zone. I guess I should feel like it’s a success that I’ve gotten up anyway.
I have no idea how to shed this sadness. How to build a life that feels full enough but not overwhelming or unmanageable. But I think I’ll be able to manage to get out of bed tomorrow and go teach a class, if anyone shows up. Maybe if I keep going through the motions at some point I’ll feel enlivened again. I thought if I started writing I’d get to some poignant idea or clever conclusion, but nope. I got nothing. Sorry.
Hermit Friday Night number gazillion.