Wishful thinking

I used to be really good at introspection. I could spend a long time with my head up my arse thinking my life through. This had its disadvantages but you definitely learn a lot about yourself.

I was reading some of this today for the first time in months.

I cried. I suppose that’s understandable.

[Incidentally you’re right Ann – i did used to write much better]

Reading it seems like reading someone elses words. It’s like “aw remember when I used to be that person…”

Not in the sense that I reject that person or feel I have “moved on”, just that it feels different.

Back then I wrote this:

I’m not sure I’m entirely well. All this thinking has done me no favours, the perpetual worry has changed nothing. I always find myself thinking is it worse or better to know what I know. Tonight it’s worse.

Is this what an “anxiety disorder” feels like? Is this what “not coping” feels like? I am too used to being invincible, I am too used to taking responsibility and bearing burdens and looking out for people. I know how to do that. I think.

My fear, or maybe resigned acceptance, is that maybe this is just life, maybe this is just what loving someone means. That this is just the way it works when you love someone.

and even this:

I don’t plan too far ahead. I say no to every request for appointment, commitment or meeting. Thinking I’m too fed up of letting people down at the last minute. I’ve applied for a job I’m not sure I want any longer and living in a house I’m not sure I’m gonna want to keep and going on trips I’m pretty sure I don’t even want to go on.

I’ve committed myself to a life of bitterness and sadness and holding onto all my grief and resentment as I neglect every opportunity and gift that GOD leads me too.

I’m OK alone. It’s just everyone else I worry about.

And as I read it I remember what it was like to feel doubt and to feel out of control of something.

I haven’t felt that for a long time. I have become certain of my beliefs, and even certain of my doubts.

I have filled my life with opinion and reading and work and easy answers to difficult questions so that I at least have a sense, or project a sense of control.

Everything I set myself to do I approach with the opinion that I am well able to do it. I do not doubt what I have been gifted with and I have a clear insight into how other people respond to me (or how I can influence them to respond) but this is mere illusion.

We structure our lives to give us the impression that we are in control to deceive ourselves from the terrifying reality that our lives are fragile and our relationships and the things that bring joy are even more fragile.

I trust that my heart will keep on beating at 50 times a minute for the next so many years. I trust that my wife will keep on loving me. I trust that my friends will still want to be with me.

I am in control of none of these things. And they terrify me.

Sometimes life is just desperately hard and oh so painful. There is beauty, so much beauty and joy and truth and warmth but oh can it be difficult sometimes.

Loving people is difficult. They either hurt you (or you them) or sometime they’ll just not be there.

Being alive is just the most precious gift that we have and how casually we treat it and how easy we take it for granted.

I am not who I once was, even though I am and always will be who I am in my very being. We change but in the same way a child becomes an adult as opposed to the way a frog turns into a prince.

I never thought I would say this but I have neglected my “introspection” in the sense that I have not spent enough time in quiet gardens on sunday mornings enjoying the beauty of existence.

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August 2010

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