It seemed like I was always in a corner. As I saw it, there was always someone looking to cause me to question, “Why?
There was always someone causing me to question myself. Meanwhile, none of this was real—at least, not as real as I seemed to believe.
Either way, the main question or should I say the only real question that I had to ask myself was a simple one, which was within me, same as the answer was within me.
I did not understand my personal blindness. I did not understand what it meant to be emotionally colorblind. But how could I? This was just the way I saw things, right?
The only question I had to be concerned with was short and simple, yet, the answer was long and journey-based.
The answer was also evolving and ever-expanding to an always expanding and ever-evolving idea, which asks, “What is my purpose?”
As in, “What am I meant to be?”
“Is this it?”
“Is this where I am supposed to be, right here right now?”
“Is this even me?” or, “Am I even real?”
I never supposed so because it always seemed as though nobody could see me; and I mean really see me, as in a figurative sense, as in why can’t people see me? Or worse, what do I if anyone sees me?
(because then they’ll know)
Such is life, I suppose, while trapped in a box.
I came to a crossroads, much like everyone else does from time to time. I came to what I saw as the midsection of my life. Much of my life had been spread out in too many directions. My family was no longer what it used to be. My friends had other priorities. No one spoke anymore. My Mother was gone, Father gone, and much of my loved ones had either passed as well and the rest just of them moved in a different direction.
I came to a place in my life where I had wondered, where do I go now that I am here?
I was either blinded or unaware that there was an entire world that exists just beyond the concept of my perception.
There is more life beyond the boundaries of my interpretation. There is so much more to this world than my views and my understanding and far beyond this is an entire world of immeasurable opportunities. All I had to do was just open my eyes to see them.
I was stuck. That’s for sure. I was stuck in a mundane mindset which led me to believe, “This is as good as it gets.”
But there was more. There was so much more.
There was more to life than me. There was more to life than the ideas which I had and the beliefs, which I gripped upon too tightly because of all things, I could not and would not shed my beliefs. Not by any means because I did not believe nor could I possibly conceive there was any other way to live.
I used to question everything and believe nothing. I used to believe in the cycle of life, yet, while stuck in my depressive thinking, I believed my place in this cycle was to be in the under-belly, which dictates, nothing good happens here.
I held this, as if it were law. I gripped tightly as if would be the death of me to let go. I was afraid. I was afraid to try. I was afraid of the effort it would take, pass or fail, strive or fall; I was afraid to dare because I was petrified of the unknown.
I was loud, but yet quiet. I spoke often, but yet, I said nothing. I suppose I was hoping someone would hear me. I was hoping someone could help me; however, all I did was question.
I questioned me. I questioned my beliefs. I questioned my sanity. I questioned my value and my worthiness to others.
I came to a crossroads and had a list full of questions but none of them were empowering. None of them were forward motion. None of them were import. And there was only one question I needed to truly answer.
What is my purpose?
I knew I wanted more. I wanted more than my daily gig. I wanted to feel more and be more. Of course, I was afraid. Of course, I questioned this as well.
What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not good enough? What if I stand in front of a roomful of people to spill my stories and then all I hear is crickets chirping in the background to fill in the awkward silence of an unenthused crowd?
The say faith is believing in something without proof. And faith? I had no faith—least of all the kind of faith that encourages one to move forward.
I mean—sure, I had faith in failure. I had faith in my defect and my flaws—yet, I never had faith in my abilities; however, in the same text, admittedly, I never nurtured my abilities to better myself.
I never nurtured the ability to empower me. I channeled my energy in a different direction, which kept me stuck.
I had to ask myself, “Is this what I really want?”
Do I want better and if so, how much do I want this?
Once the drive behind my will and intent overpowered my fears and insecurities and once the downfalls became so painful that I couldn’t stand to be in my skin for another moment; that’s when I learned to make my move.
There was a time when I could not stand up. I could not face people or stand near those who’ve hurt or insulted me. There are times, which are current and up to date and still, I have my struggles.
I admit to them. I admit there is pain and there is memory—but alas, goddammit, at least I have something better to hold onto.
At least I have a presence of self. At least I can stand now. At least I can do, be, and grow into a better person. At least I can be me without regret or apology.
I had to forgive me for my trespasses. I had to forgive me for my burden of self. I had to pardon my sins for the moment because dare I say this, but hell, I have to say this; I was locked into the wrong life and the wrong kind of thinking. I was leashed to fear and leashed to doubt. I was so incredibly hard on me that there was no way for me to breathe freely.
No! In order to find my freedom, I had to understand exactly how trapped I was. I had to understand the cell, which I kept myself in. I needed to understand the door that fenced me in was locked and that I was the warden. I was the only one that had the key, which meant if anyone were to set me free; the only person that could do this was me.
There are people that struggle with depression and there are those that live with depression. There is a difference.
Live . . .
I love this word.
To do, to be, is what it means to live a life
Depression, however, is what it means to live lifelessly.
I came to a crossroads and learned two very powerful words.
No more living behind a cage. No more feeling as though I am fenced in. No more caging my spirit. No More!
When I faced the crossroads, I realized it was time to let my spirit fly; otherwise, I would only remain where I was, in the constant state of question, suffering, and struggling with a lifeless state of existence.
This all began with the determination of one big decision.
What is my soul’s purpose and what am I prepared to do to find out?
The path to my wellness is truly journey-based.
And so far, the trip has changed me in more way than I could have ever possibly imagined.