Monday, June 6, 2011
Do you ever feel stagnant?
Like water that has been sitting too long, losing oxygen and growing muck?
This is how I have been feeling lately. I realized it the other night when, with much fervor, I decided that I hated everything about my surroundings. This can usually be remedied by rearranging furniture. But when you live in a 100+ year old house, how to arrange the furniture isn't exactly a multiple choice question. Despite that setback, I started moving things and changing things and discarding things as if my life depended on it.
But there is still a dam somewhere. The water is still not flowing freely. I can't quite figure it out. It isn't my surroundings at all (although, the changes did seem to help). There is something inside of me that is stagnant. After such a long time, I am fighting off moments of depression again. I am happy one moment and completely miserable the next. But why?
Maybe it is because I am starting to realize that I will never have the life that I had always hoped for. I am never going to have a house to call my own. I am never going to have a bright green yard and berry bushes and a cozy patio for cooking out. I am never going to have a husband that wants the same things that I want. I am never going to have a female friend that I can trust and that I want to call and talk to about everything in my life. I am never going to be able to make a living doing what I enjoy doing.
And this is okay. Really, it is. I mean, come on. I am blessed beyond measure. Happiness does not come from material things. I feel like a little bitch complaining about what I don't have. I am so fortunate that I should be scolded for ever even mentioning the things that I hoped to have. But some of the things I want are not material things. They are much deeper. They are things that cannot be bought or built. And maybe the part of me that desires those things is the part of me that is not getting oxygen. I commented on a blog earlier that I think I am growing increasingly numb towards some things and increasingly sensitive towards others. I don't particularly like going numb. It makes me feel much less human.
And so this rambling ends with no revelation. Only the recognition of something that I can't explain. Only a knowing that this life will never be what it has the potential to be. Not just for me, but for everyone else, too.
Something tells me that if the dam isn't broken, the water will eventually dry up and leave a hole somewhere in my being. A dry, empty grave where once there was the possibility of a ever flowing spring.
*photo from Pinterest.