The last 24 hours have been rough. I schedule these posts in advance so by the time you get to read this a week will have passed. I hope that the progression of time will have helped me to move through my difficulties. However, at the moment that I am writing this, I’m still in the midst of an emotional struggle. I’ve had to take a long hard look at my life and evaluate what is and is not working.
Sometimes I get unhappy and I have to take time to work out if this is due to my depression or an outside factor in my life. This has strained my marriage more than once. I find myself wanting to escape to a time when I was more consistently happy. It’s easier to live in a bubble of nostalgia than to face reality or work on making my future a happy one. I know it’s not healthy but I find myself trying to cling to the past more often than I should. I believe I want to revisit the person I once was but I do so by trying to find the people she once knew. We have all grown and changed and it’s a harsh reality to face.
It’s strange that my husband will never meet her, the person who I used to be, she seems so real to me. I have become braver as my adolescent insecurities were replaced with more pressing issues. I have become bitter and jaded from the harsh reality of the real world. I may be more confident but my venerability screams out from just below the surface. Adulthood makes things harder. I find myself wanting reassurance that I’m on the right track but such a thing doesn’t exist. A younger version of myself would disagree. I had plans; a vision of the future. I didn’t lose track of my goals but changed my focus instead. The things I wanted then aren’t the things I want now. I can’t help but wonder if I could have been happier if I had stayed on that path. Did my past self know better?
A problem shared is a problem halved but in a world where we are all struggling with our own version of existence can we even help ourselves? If I continue with this rationale that my past self is a separate being from who I have become then can I share my problems with this version of myself? There’s a opinion held by some that those who speak to themselves are crazy. I suppose I’ve always been a little mad.
I used to pray but I don’t anymore. Though I found the ritual was a helpful way to encourage myself to persevere. Speaking to myself with words of affirmation can be just an constructive.
I have been accused of living in the past. Of being too nostalgic. It’s a hard pill to swallow because I know it’s true. It’s never comfortable accepting your faults; even when you’re having a conversation with yourself. However I find my life being dictated by those around me or the passing of time and clinging to my past feels like a form of control.
I can’t ever know for certain where I am going. I won’t know what the future holds until I am living it. I know where I have been. I know who I was. It’s more comfortable to hold on to memories when staring into the unknown.