Life??

Here I am, fifty years old, and I still don’t know who I am or who I ever was. I talked about being a colic baby. The truth is, I feel like I am still that same baby today—crying, unsettled, unable to be soothed. I cry every day and every night. I don’t sleep, and I definitely don’t take care of myself. Most days, I feel like I hate myself.

I have spoken before about not letting happiness into my life. That has always been true. But the deeper question—the why—I think I am only now starting to figure out. Something inside me resists joy, resists ease, resists the possibility of being okay. Instead, I find myself shrinking, withdrawing, sabotaging. I tell myself I need to disappear from everything and everyone, because I don’t feel like I fit into any part of my life. I feel like a complete failure, like I have hurt so many people who only tried to care for me. I was lost then, and I am still lost now—so confused, so overwhelmed by my own mind and heart.

And yet, there is this small flicker: an opportunity. A chance to go and see my true friends and my son. But even with that, I feel myself sabotaging. I am halfway there, but I can’t seem to take the next step. All I need to do is get my passport photos and renew my passport, but I keep putting it off. The task feels heavier than it should be, as though completing it will expose me to the risk of disappointment, of hurting others yet again.

I am scared. I am disgusted with myself and the life I feel I have lived—a fraudulent life. I wanted to be a good person. I still want to be a good person. But I am always so afraid to disappoint everyone, and that fear keeps me frozen in place. My mind and my heart are tangled, messy, and broken. I honestly do not even know where to start.

This is where I am: stuck between the person I thought I should be and the person I am afraid that I am. Searching for a beginning, even when I feel like I am at the end.