just a tiny...

bit of compassion travels a long way. Everyone needs a little, every now and then. 

Life can take some pretty serious downturns when you least expect it. Sometimes it's due to circumstance or bad luck, but more often it's due to a sudden inability to make appropriate choices. Has your vision ever been clouded? Have you ever felt more optimistic about an outcome than you should have, or been too confused or afraid to make the right decision? I have. I could say it's unfortunate, but it's not. It's human. I am human. I should be o.k. with that, but sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I take everything terrible I've ever actually done, then add some terrible things other people tell me I've done, and stew on it. Season it with a little bit of stuff I think I should be doing right now but I'm not, and there it is. A perfect recipe for feeling like a lonely, abandoned, inconsequential human. 

Even right now, just writing this I hear the faint whisper of criticism telling me that I'm not being human the right way, or that I'm once again submitting to the anxiety that keeps me from really connecting with the people I care about. That I'm batshit crazy, and I deserve every bit of terrible luck and heartache that comes my way. I hear it, but I know deep in my gut that none of that is true. A broken person can in fact mend, and that's what I've been doing. 

The truth is, it sucks to be human. You have to feel things, and you're stuck with this innate desire to be searching for the meaning of said things. Sometimes you have to suck up all of your nasty, ugly pride and forgive. Like when someone you love dearly can't wrestle their demons and win. Even when you know they never will. Sometimes instead, you have to carry your guilt like a wet blanket that because you can never be forgiven, never dries.

I'm not sad anymore. I'm still anxious, despite the little pink pills that are supposed to make me less so. A year ago, I didn't want to go out anywhere, nevermind someplace where I'm not comfortable. And I wouldn't have dared to go it alone. I did all of this and more over the holiday weekend, and I'm satisfied with that, if not happy. It's small progress. Or is it? Compared to last year at this time, it's a giant leap. 

Now that I'm doing better on my own, I've been reaching out, looking for friendly faces in a world that seems to have gone mad. I'm finding some, and it's good.

Life is hard, because by nature we want to live it for as long as possible. We don't have to make it harder, but we do.