In Blackest Night – The Weight Of The World
I think I’ve mentioned it before but if suffering from depression has taught me anything it’s that you have to keep repeating yourself. From recounting your childhood to explaining your symptoms; it’s a twisted and bitter joke.
My weight has always been something I have held concerns over. I lost a bit a number of years ago before getting twatted with Chicken Pox and lost my ‘mojo’. I always said that if you want to lose weight then you would. You don’t need special diets or groups or any other crutch. While that was true for me then…it could be true now but I can’t be sure if I truly want to lose weight. I would like to lose some pounds–I can’t even tie my laces without a struggle; fighting around my gut to perform such a trivial task I once took for granted. I know I’m not huge but I feel it. I haven’t weighed myself in months but I don’t need to to know that I weigh more. And do I really need to hammer the fact home by seeing the digits on the scales?
My knees have been really bad lately; I put it down to the weather and rheumatism or something but again, I’m not so sure. I know that keeping active when my back is playing up is vital but, with the way my knees scream at me, I have a feeling that keeping active is detrimental. Maybe it’s arthritis. Maybe it’s my weight. Or maybe it’s a combination of all of the above.
It’s funny–in a cosmic joke kinda way–that my body is changing to physically represent the hideous and vile internal struggle. I mean, I’ve never been that attractive but I don’t think I hit every branch of the ‘Ugly Tree’ and now my physical appearance is forming the ugliness that is inside. From the grey hairs to the sunken eyes–it’s more than just ageing.
It feels like my body is telling me something. It’s like it has given up on me and my mind and so my mind should follow. I’ve read and heard others’ accounts of hitting a certain point in life and reaching a turning point. For some it is having kids; for others it’s hitting a particular milestone that makes them buck up their ideas. The thing is…I’ve had kids, I’ve gotten married…I’m not sure if there is a turning point for me. Maybe I’m too blind to see it. Maybe it’s been and gone.
It almost feels as though I’m just…waiting. Waiting for whatever nudge it is I need to sort myself out. It’s hard to try and get people to understand that – yes I may think and feel certain things but there’s no drive. It’s not laziness, it’s not fear it’s just…a sense of emptiness that exists.
I was thinking earlier about how I would define my ‘life’ – a way of explaining what it is. The only way I can describe it is in a slightly techy way. Think of a hard drive partition. You have x amount of used space, x amount of free space and you create another partition. That partition with space set aside – not in use…just there in case you want to dual boot another OS or to serve another purpose. That’s me. That space set aside for something. Just there. Incapable of changing it’s environment–its purpose. It exists. And that is exactly where I feel I am at right now. No purpose, just existing.