March 4, 2017 - 09:35
Mood: Tired. Stressed. Wondering when I took my meds last.
Music: FB Game background music.
Thought of the day: Offering to help somebody rise means nothing if you don't stick around to make sure they are finally standing.
They say that drowning the the gentlest way to die, but there's nothing gentle about drowning in debt. I'd been treading water quite comfortably for quite a while now and had hopes of rising further, but one small hiccup with a delayed paycheque was all it took to pull me under. Now I'm wondering when I'll be able to breath next. People say to me that maybe I need a fresh start. A fresh start? Let's count how many fresh starts I've had in the last ten years. I don't need a fresh start. You can only start the video game over and over so many times after not getting anywhere before you get tired of trying. What I need is a solid step to lifting myself up. Something that will hold me up and invite me to climb farther. Something that doesn't require me to lose everything I've got yet again so that I can start from scratch. Again. No more bubblegum and paperclip fixes. I need limits that grow with me, not fence me in, or drag me back. You can't tread water in shackles. I'm getting tired ... and the sharks are circling.
I'm not giving up yet though. I have fur babies dependent on me. I have plants waiting to be watered. I might even have a couple friends who would notice if I suddenly disappeared. I think. Giving up is not in my nature. "I don't believe in the no-win scenario." "There is always another option." Captains with something to teach. Fictional or not, my soul agrees with these lines. So I continue to struggle. If only I had a good sword, instead of a dull pocket knife, I good fight instead of struggle. I'm not cutting into my debt, I'm muddying up the hole to make it more comfortable to sit in. Sometimes I find a rock to stand in, but it doesn't affect the hole. It just fools me into thinking that I'm standing taller. Firmer. Until it sinks in the mud that I made with my knife. Sometimes my muddy hole feels like an ocean. I wonder if land is closer than I think, if only I knew which way to look. What direction to go towards. It all looks the same under the muddied water. Bubbles churning in all directions and I thrash in an attempt to find the surface. Finally, I can take a breath, but I know it's a temporary respite.
I am drowning. The land I thought I saw in the distance turned out to be floating garbage. Bits of plastic and tangled string that give the illusion of respite, but offers only further trouble. I take a breath and search again.
Sweet Dreams
