sad

I’m very sad most of the time. If I’m not sad, I’m typically anxious or scared. I don’t like feeling better even for a minute because it makes the return of the sadness feel more burdensome.

I’ve been thinking about London lately. The images that flash through my mind are of the mundane moments, which actually makes me super uncomfortable because I do not know why those images pop into my head at all. I think of my daily walk to and from school each day, of the paths at different times of day, and of the weather. Simple moving images in my head. The walks were calming at the time, but remembering them is painful.

I would strive to feel hopeful on my daily walks to and from campus. I would think about how I was trying to confront my self-hatred in therapy, which was brand new to me then. Nobody knew I was in therapy, except for the therapist.

I was guarded and secretly hopeful that my hard work would pay off. Why secretly hopeful? Well, hope scares me more than a hungry lion does. Every time I have experienced pure hope, even in small doses, it has been following by the biggest humiliations of my life. I hoped London would be different; it was even worse.

My hard work did not pay off as it turns out. I’m worse off than I was when I applied to go. I’m still criticized overtly and silently. I’m still devastatingly lonely. I’m scared to have any hope at all. Why bother?

The problem that I’m facing is that I have no reason to wake up in the morning without hope. My lack of hope makes it hard to survive. I’m in the process of cultivating some hope for myself. I don’t have any seeds though and the soil is dry. I’m mostly sifting through weeds, praying that one of them bears fruit.

I wish I could hope that this blog goes well, but I don’t even have any hope for this. Sorry to disappoint. I will continue to try though, hopeless as I feel every day. Is hoping for hope a thing? If so, I’m somewhere on that spectrum.