After Birth is a terrible choice of words to start this, oh well. Huzzah.
Let me preface this with: today I hit the same spot I did 3 years ago. Where I wanted to make the cowardly choice.
I didn't dwell on it. With the help of many key family members and new friends I battled back. I didn't want to fall into the funk, again. I know how hard it is to bring yourself out of it... Or for that matter, if you can get out of it. I was a shell today. 22 and a day old shell. I had my body moving, but my brain was pacing like a tweaker. Which is the beauty of life. Your body and mind are rarely synced. For that matter, I don't think they should be. If they are, you are most likely lying to yourself. But, I digress. What I had lacked the first time I hit the funk was Spirit. As the 3rd prong of the trident I didn't know what to do with it. The first time around I just had a fucked up fork.
Spirit, where you get it does not really matter to me. It is important to have it. Spirit can be brought about religiously, can be brought about emotionally. Something just needs to ignite inside. Today, something finally did. After 4 weeks of moping I was tired of being a little bitch. There are people who are fighting for their lives, and all I wanted to do was cease mine. How fair is that?
I scared a lot of people today, including one person who should mean much more than what he does to me. That person was me. I repeatedly said I am scared of myself, as if it were a cynical chant before going to fight a 12 rounder with Prime Time Tyson.
You are your harshest critic, but only when you want to be, I found every fucking reason to be a mope. My brother told me "You have no coping mechanism anymore." Which, struck me upside the head like a 12 round fight with Manny Pacquaio - How many more boxing references does he have left? I had stopped writing my blog over the summer, and in fact; I ignored every inkling to write a short piece of mind. I ran away from my only source of channeling my anxiety and fear.
I took it upon my shoulders since my grandpa died to try to worry and take care of everyone's problems. I spent more money than I should've. I sacrificed more of my body and health than I should have. I did this all on my own, nobody asked me. In a way, I went into the darkness by myself. I didn't care.
I found a reason to get back to the funk, that I had successfully avoided for 3-4 years.
Why? Because, I never grieve, I never care to grieve. I'm really not that big of an asshole. I play one on social media. I truly care about people I have never fucking met. (bananas, right?) I have had more people call me an asshole in the past year than ever before. It fuels me to want to be a better person. I try to pay it forward, talk to people I normally would ignore.
So, this morning I woke up in uncomfortable pain and had a realization I have no motivation to get out of bed. My body did, my mind decided to take a rain cheque. My mind was still back in bed moping. Somewhere around 2 pm I started spiraling and unable to battle back. My brother had called me, knew I was down and challenged me in many ways. I cannot put into words how much that fueled me. I had old friends and new friends decide to just talk to me today.
You are never out of it in life, you are never able to truly run away.
You should be able to battle back, you should find a way to stay.
Today, I went back and forth from down and up I suppose.
These are the problems that life can juxtapose.
I totally used juxtapose wrong. I'm a juxtaposer.
Thanks to anyone who read this and continues to read my blog, you are awesome