I have not been able to feel much lately. The numbness hangs in the stillness. If I could feel, at least I can understand whether I was depressed or anxious or both. If this was depression, this is another level I have not yet known – would it also count as personal growth and development?
I don’t feel either. I just don’t feel. There are times when I cognitively know I feel a certain way, or know that in those circumstances my usual feeling would be a particular way or intensity. But I don’t actually feel the emotion. Nada. Nothing.
It is as if I have been wiped out. There is a blank, an empty blank. My name and shape is still there as some arbitrary form of identity, but that’s all it is. It just hangs there. It’s not a void. It’s a blank. In a void, at least one could fall. In a blank, nothing can be done.
Perhaps my safety plan is not so complicated. Perhaps all it needs to be is for me to continuously arrange forward-dated commitments. I cannot bear to break promises. So if I had a date in the future where I needed to be somewhere doing something for someone, I would feel obliged to keep that contract and so, as much as my weariness wants me to stop, I would hold on till that date to fulfill the promise, which means I would stay alive at least till then. Perhaps that is the reason why I keep my agenda full and schedules back to back. It has nothing to do with my fear of good enough driving me to keep myself busy to prove to myself I was mildly good. I got it all wrong. It does not even have anything to do with my sense of self-worth.
Now I see. It is primitive survival instinct. It was some part of my superego sadistically keeping my physical body pumping through non-stop commitments. This is why I don’t stop. I cannot stop. If I stopped I would simply disappear. Burnout is a distraction from something more drastic. It serves a good purpose, so that is why I do not prevent burnout. It is good for me.
My friend a few days ago said “Okay good, then at least you will still be around for another month” after I told her about some client work we just won. We both laughed. It was bitter.
I used to cry quite easily. For the last month I could not really cry. I tried to one time, to think of something sad and make myself cry. I thought, if I could cry maybe I could feel again.
I could not. I keep going nevertheless. So I keep doing. It has nothing to do with resilience or mental wellness or perseverance. It is a straightforward paradox. Drown myself in tasks and doing, so I do not need to live because otherwise I would only have the quantum to ponder death.
But why keep an empty screen on? Why continue to create promises for myself that I do not want to keep? A blank cannot do much. A blank will be forgotten, it would just be a matter of time.
I am wiped out. By myself. By others. By my memories. By my wants.
It has to stop. I need to stop.
My heart is wrenched. I know the ache. But my mind is blocking the hurt so I do not shatter. For someone who prefers to die, I seem to be strangely good at keeping myself alive.
Why do apples crumble? Why are calla lilies yellow? Why is a feather heavy? Why call a sour lemon drink, A Sparkling Kiss?