I moved to Atlanta in 1994, thinking that my life would be absolutely wonderful because I was getting away from the chaotic family that I grew up in. I came to Atlanta and created my own chaos. I'm still as upset and confused most days as the day I left Boston. Not much has changed.
I woke up this morning looking at the floor and feeling the usual anxiety and dread that greets me on a cool cloudy--or warm sunny--day. I felt like I wanted to run--as I often do when I wake up in the morning. About a month ago, I had decided to move to Virginia to take care of and help out a friend of mine who is disabled. I squashed that idea when someone asked me couldn't I just move somewhere without the motive of taking care of someone else.
Had I not had something to offer Atlanta, I probably would not have come here. But I didn't know that I was addicted to caretaking back then. Now, I know.
So, I considered what the person asked me and I realized that moving to Virginia was not a good idea. So, what am I left with? I'm left with living my life. Boy, that sounds good, but it is a hard thing to do. I always looked for a good reason to exist. I always felt like I had to justify why I was here.
I realize now that I don't have to do that.
I have a right to be here just like everyone else. I think that trying to validate my right or reason to exist stemmed from not feeling adequate, or good. Not just good about myself but good period. So, I felt like I had to let everyone know that it was okay for me to walk around on earth because I was contributing good things to humanity.
I woke up this morning very depressed and wondering what would make me happy. I felt like I was at a dead end and that there was nothing else in life that I could do. I felt like I have reached my peak and now that I was getting old and ugly, I was done for. But, then I realized that I haven't really lived my life, because I 've been too busy trying to help everyone else live theirs. I've tried to help everyone but myself out. I've given everyone everything that I have. It hasn't been much because I've dispersed my good will around the universe ever since I was a kid.
I'm spent.
I've learned that nothing outside of me can make me happy. No matter where I move, I have to take me and my bag of dysfunction, dysphoria with me. I realize that I have to use my internal resources to create my external reality.
I've also learned that I am enough. I don't have to explain or justify my existance to anyone. I've also learned that I have to live with my circumstances, no matter what they are until they change...or I choose to change them.
I'm working on it. I have that power.
I woke up this morning looking at the floor and feeling the usual anxiety and dread that greets me on a cool cloudy--or warm sunny--day. I felt like I wanted to run--as I often do when I wake up in the morning. About a month ago, I had decided to move to Virginia to take care of and help out a friend of mine who is disabled. I squashed that idea when someone asked me couldn't I just move somewhere without the motive of taking care of someone else.
Had I not had something to offer Atlanta, I probably would not have come here. But I didn't know that I was addicted to caretaking back then. Now, I know.
So, I considered what the person asked me and I realized that moving to Virginia was not a good idea. So, what am I left with? I'm left with living my life. Boy, that sounds good, but it is a hard thing to do. I always looked for a good reason to exist. I always felt like I had to justify why I was here.
I realize now that I don't have to do that.
I have a right to be here just like everyone else. I think that trying to validate my right or reason to exist stemmed from not feeling adequate, or good. Not just good about myself but good period. So, I felt like I had to let everyone know that it was okay for me to walk around on earth because I was contributing good things to humanity.
I woke up this morning very depressed and wondering what would make me happy. I felt like I was at a dead end and that there was nothing else in life that I could do. I felt like I have reached my peak and now that I was getting old and ugly, I was done for. But, then I realized that I haven't really lived my life, because I 've been too busy trying to help everyone else live theirs. I've tried to help everyone but myself out. I've given everyone everything that I have. It hasn't been much because I've dispersed my good will around the universe ever since I was a kid.
I'm spent.
I've learned that nothing outside of me can make me happy. No matter where I move, I have to take me and my bag of dysfunction, dysphoria with me. I realize that I have to use my internal resources to create my external reality.
I've also learned that I am enough. I don't have to explain or justify my existance to anyone. I've also learned that I have to live with my circumstances, no matter what they are until they change...or I choose to change them.
I'm working on it. I have that power.
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