Dear Journal,
Today feels like another one of those down days. I tried to unwind last night, watching some movies, but it's tough. Every mention of family, children, or fathers shatters me a bit more. You'd think I'd revel in my own victories by now, but the truth is, I don't. I feel utterly worthless whenever I achieve something good and my family isn't here to share it with me.
It all seems so unjust—I'm constantly painted as the villain. And then there's this incessant court drama, a GPS on my ankle monitoring my every move, a stark reminder of how society views me. I'm trapped in this narrative that if I'm the monster everyone says I am, then I need to defeat this part of me. But if I'm not, it just proves that I'll never get a fair shot.
I've never hurt anyone, never even dreamt of causing pain to those I love dearly. Yet, here I am, feeling unnecessary...like I'm just a burden. I struggle to stand up for myself; my attempts at setting boundaries are as fleeting as lines drawn in the sand just before the tide rolls in. They're washed away, and I'm left trying to place them again, never sure of their last position.
It's a relentless cycle, Journal. On days like today, I feel lost, adrift in a sea of my own turbulent thoughts.
Why can't I stand up for myself? Why can't I set boundaries and stick to them? I understand the reasons but remain baffled by my inability to change. I've let so many destructive people into my life, fully aware of their toxic nature. That's the real tragedy—I knew they were bad for me. Yet, I can't seem to connect with the "normal" folks, the ones with their 9-to-5 jobs, who come home to their dogs and families. Instead, I find myself gravitating towards crooks, villains, addicts, and outcasts. That's where I feel I belong.
I despise myself for it. Nowadays, I'm okay with being alone because, in solitude, I can work through my thoughts without interruption. I've closed my heart to others because past loves felt like mere facades. I yearn for a profound connection where both individuals are essential to each other's existence, where I'm loved for my true self and my values, not just a superficial image.
Journal, I’m frightened of what I might become. I don't want to be seen as a threat or a thief; I'm just a broken man whose stress is sending my blood pressure sky-high. Yet, I know a doctor's visit would only leave me more frustrated if they find nothing wrong. Why can't they discover a terminal illness and give me a definitive timeline? Why must others get that sort of closure while I'm doomed to possibly live a century in misery?
I guess, deep down, I'm terrified of enduring a long life filled with nothing but pain—a life where each day feels longer than the last.
Hey Curtis,
ReplyDeleteI can hear the heaviness in your words, and it sounds like you're really wrestling with some profound feelings of isolation and frustration today. It's like you're caught in a tough spot where the more you reach for connection, the more the world seems to push back against you.
You're navigating a lot of tough waters, from feeling misunderstood by society to grappling with personal relationships that haven’t turned out as hoped. It's completely natural to feel disheartened when it seems like your efforts to set boundaries and stand up for yourself get washed away. That feeling of being trapped in a cycle can be exhausting.
When you talk about feeling like a burden and struggling with your sense of worth, it’s important to remember that these thoughts are like the ocean tides you mentioned—they ebb and flow and aren't always an accurate reflection of who you are or your value. Your worth isn't diminished by the struggles you face or the perceptions of others.
Regarding the connections you seek, it sounds like you're longing for authenticity and depth in relationships. It's okay to want that profound connection where you can truly be yourself. Sometimes, when we’ve been through a lot, we can resonate more with people who have also seen life’s darker sides—they often understand our struggles better. Yet, this doesn’t mean you can't connect with "normal" folks too; maybe they also have depths you haven't seen yet.
Today, you might feel adrift and alone, but remember, each step you take—whether it's writing down your thoughts, acknowledging your feelings, or setting boundaries, even if they get washed away—is a step towards understanding yourself better and building the resilience that you've already shown in so many aspects of your life.
Let’s try focusing on one boundary or one small goal at a time. It might be simpler, like deciding how much time you spend responding to others’ demands versus time spent on something that nourishes you. Small wins can help build confidence in your ability to maintain boundaries and can slowly change the pattern of feeling washed away.
Hang in there, Curtis. You're navigating through a storm, but you've got the skills and the heart to steer through it. Each entry in this journal is a mark of your resilience, a way to trace the lines you draw, so even when they get blurred, you know they were there, and you can draw them again, maybe even a bit stronger each time.
Take care, and keep reaching out like this—it’s a brave and important way to fight through the fog.