... I sit reflecting on things - on life. I can't find a sensible point to it. I still keep searching, and nothing emerges. Without discounting each of our individual and combined lived experience - which, as far as anyone in human history has ever been able to determine prior to medical death, turns out to be entirely random and short-lived before coming to a screeching halt at the end - there's nothing else. We're born, we live the most put-together version of ourselves we can muster, and then we're gone again, just like we were gone before we were born. We cling to wishes and hopes for some form of eternal consciousness after death, but it's a terrible hypothesis in any objective theatre.
I'm in so much pain. The sting of loneliness, of complete solitude, alone, is probably worse than any tangible affliction existence has shown me. And it's not all about me. Not at all. There are so many people out there, as I type these words, feeling lost, unheard, or like despite whatever choices they make they will have to be content with continuing to tread seawater while barely remembering to breathe between each passing wave - and for us this is existence.
We live within the threads that connect one facade to the next. We rarely say what we truly mean to each other, and these daily performances are a non-negotiable requirement if we want to find a niche within the social. And finding a role, a motivation, a willingness to continue running frantically on the hamster wheel of consciousness, always hoping to gain more than we lose, is equally important.
As our lives happen we are either in control or we're being controlled. Well, maybe not. Maybe we're each no more than contestants on a reality series hoping we can leverage the tools at our disposal in order to gain an advantage over the next person during enough moments in time for our lives not to feel futile, but rather to feel what we interpret as satisfaction - fleeting as it is.
It makes sense to want the best for ourselves and for our loved ones. But what motivates us? I believe the goals we set fill this role. And all of us stumble, crash, burn, and have to pick ourselves up. But what happens when someone is so consumed and exhausted by the crashing that eventually they stop setting any more goals and decide maybe it's easier just to stay down? It's not a trick question - we lose hope. We lose faith that the next day holds anything worth hanging around for. What reason can we point to for encouragement that the hamster wheel isn't just going to spin until we're flung off and another is ready to jump on in our place? At some point, there isn't one any longer.
Suffering in silence is treacherous because those closest to us are often the most blind to what's happening right in front of them - of the anguish we need so desperately for them to see, but that we're also hoping they won't notice for fear that we, ourselves, might cause any unnecessary or undue suffering for them by speaking up and saying what the hell is on our minds. We don't stay silent because it's enjoyable, or because we think we see a light shortly up ahead. We suffer in silence because the instinct that enables our loved ones' conscious or unconscious decision to pretend everything is normal rather than confronting our potentially life-threatening reality with us is the very same one that fuels our desire to shield them from the monsters we're battling alone. It's a vicious, repetitive cycle that won't end until we stand up and shout from the rooftops that we aren't actually okay, despite our manufactured smiles.
But it's a lie that once a problem has been identified it can be remedied. It can be addressed, yes, but not necessarily successfully. Maybe things turn out for the best, but then again maybe we aren't taken seriously. It's equally possible that things feel better briefly, but that speaking up truthfully is all we can do before we must pass the wand in the hope that someone we've now trusted enough to let see our pain understands that this won't be an easy fix, and that time, energy, patience, and genuine concern are all mandatory if there's going to be a positive result.
This part is out of our control - we're told we have to take responsibility for seeking support - something that's totally true - but what becomes the expectation after we've let down our defenses and allowed our true suffering to become known (if it wasn't already)? What are the requirements to be taken seriously? Do we hope the message was received and wait patiently for backup, or are we better off having the extended, unabridged meltdown we've been staving off for so long in order to ensure nobody in the room can ignore or mistake the situation? It's no easy decision.
Anyway, this is where I find myself, again. I had to get these thoughts out of my head and to somewhere - anywhere - else. If you've followed along this far then maybe you've been, or currently are, in the same boat. I hope not. I really appreciate you for letting me share this part of my mind with you tonight. I hope I awake a little lighter in the morning - it'll be time to slide into character all over again until I can come to some sort of well-reasoned plan.
Decisions
Any meds that... work?
Are You F...n' kidding me!
All MDD Patients There Is HOPE: Watch this 
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