30th

Oct. 9th, 2011 04:28 pm
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Not gonna lie, it's not the best birthday I've ever had.

In a way, though, that's okay.  I was planning (long before this) to do something fancy, a big party or something, because that's supposedly what you do when your physical body has reached this arbitrarily significant number of years of age.  To be honest, it's almost better this way, because I'm not sure many of my friends would have come, and then I would have felt disappointed, somehow, like I'd failed to mark this "milestone" appropriately.  

Instead, something far more significant has happened, something far deeper and more life-changing.  It's that thing on which I should focus now, instead of assigning such morbid significance to turning 30.  It's not the number of years, it's the stage in life.  

Of course, the fact that my dad is gone is such a huge thing--something so much more terrifying and at the same time inspiring than checking off three decades.  Terrifying, because it brings into sharper focus everything that I haven't done.  In a way, I'm at the worst point so far in my life: I am more broke than I've ever been, yet with more debt that I've ever had.  I haven't written anything.  I have no job and no career, no place to live except sponging off of my mom, no working car, no immediate and attainable goals.  My dad is gone, and I'm not in a position to be of very much help to my mom.  At the same time, it's the depth from which everything has to change.  Either everything will, or nothing will, and of course the latter seems so much more possible and horrible.

I can feel the pattern of depression already dragging at me--the lack of impulse to do anything productive, the panic at how insurmountable all problems seem.  The easy, if dreadful, consistency of doing nothing.  The exhaustion, even after twelve hours of sleep.

Logically, I'm a believer in the Universe helping those who help themselves, but sometimes I just want to give in, breathe and not think, surrender myself and hope for some kind of divinity.

Today, I feel caught somewhere between the two.  It's not the manic feeling of starting fifty projects at once, but it's not entirely the profound hopelessness that I will never achieve anything.  It's more the despondent, but calm, realization that I have to achieve something, and that that something might be so much smaller and so much more insignificant than I'd ever wanted.

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