It’s been a long long time I have felt this defeated. I feel well and
truly licked, totally out of it, completely overwhelmed and just plain pants. I
can muster a smile and carry on conversations, but at various intervals in the
day, I just want to burst into tears and curl up into a ball in a dark room somewhere,
with “do not disturb” plastered all over the door.
Usually, when I feel this way, I get some comfort from the fact that
its hormones, it’s a cyclical thing and it will pass as soon as nature takes
its course, but it doesn’t seem like it this time and there have been no weird
and wacky happenings to testify the goodness and kindness and generosity of the
universe. Boo hiss at it all.
It must be emotional fatigue, I need a break and I haven’t had one in a
long time; I need a change, a really good belly laugh and not just for a couple
hours. I need for the future to look bright, more bearable even; I need more stability,
more security but is that asking for a lot?
My mom recently said recounted what she
was told by some doctor; he said that whilst the human body can survive a week without
food, 3 days without water, 3 minutes, or something like that without air, it
can only muster a few seconds without hope. This makes sense because how can
you live if there is nothing to live for? I suppose this is why suicide victims
take that leap, literarily. The cynic in me thinks that there are few people
who are totally hopeless but for the majority of us, hope is dangled in front
of us, just to keep us alive until the poor human body physically gives up or
we realise indeed that we are never going to touch that bright light that shimmers ever so
slightly out of our reach. This is all very positive for a lovely spring
afternoon. I sigh!
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