I am riding in the back seat. A passenger in my own life. It’s a struggle to force the words out from my brain and into my throat. And they rarely make it out of my mouth. My mind and my mouth and my body are all disconnected. Oddly disjoined parts of an awkward whole.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how to describe what I feel. Not for any particular reason and not that anyone wants to hear it, but just to put into words what is going on in my head and my body and my being.
I feel this ominous overarching sense of sadness. Not just a sad for a particular reason or sad because someone died or the world is cruel or there are kids out there who go to bed hungry, but a sadness that permeates my bones. It is deep within the core of my being. A sadness that shackles you to the bed. Restraining you in metal bonds that you can never wiggle free from. Getting up takes all the willpower my body has to muster. And sometimes I don’t even have that. Getting out of bed feels like a war of one against an army of a million soldiers all fighting to keep me down.
I long to feel anything. Sadness, happiness, pain, misery, joy, huger. I just want to feel. The nothingness might just be worse than the sadness. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just know it’s not supposed to be like this.
The worst part is the detachment. The spectator. Just watching life go on without you, even though you are in it. Watching your kids and knowing in your head that you love them, but your heart just can’t connect with your mind. Just staying busy to fill the void. Trying not to get sucked into the nothingness. Trying to be alive.