Last night, as I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep (for two goddamn hours!), I felt as if I had come to some sort of end. End of dreams, end of hope, end of everything. And I wasn’t even in the deep dark hole of depression, or maybe I was (am), but it has lured me into its arms to gently that I don’t even know I’m there.
I felt that it was never going to end, this constant state of ennui and stress. That things weren’t ever going to get better. That I will live this life, alone, struggling to survive financially, living on handouts from my family and charities, never get a job, never really amount to anything, other than being a mother to my boys.
And I was lying there, at the of this rope that tethers me in place, but I wasn’t struggling, I could still breathe. I stood there and looked at the world around me, a world I will never really take part in, because it’s a world made for couples and groups of friends and people with more money than just enough to pay rent and buy food. (I can’t even keep up with my utilities’ bills.)
And I just accepted it. That it wasn’t for me. That my life was to remain small and confined to these four walls. That great things will never happen.
And I felt sad, but not distraught.
I guess I can live like this, because I have for the past four years. All the good things have already happened and now it’s time to just exist. To let time pass. To watch my children grow and do what I can to send them on their way. I hope they can have good lives, despite me not being able to provide them with more than the basics. I don’t know if and how they will manage to go to university, because I can’t afford to support them, if they do.
I feel so helpless. I’ve been trying for four years to make it, to change our lives, but now it feels like it’s over. Nothing I’ve done has made a lasting difference and I no longer know what to do. I will continue to apply for jobs, because Centrelink makes me, but I have stopped believing that I can actually get one. My skills, my experience mean nothing. I feel like I’ve aged out of the job market and there is no hope. Applying for job after job, spending two hours on each application and then never hearing from the employer or receiving a brief email telling me that I wasn’t successful, is just so disheartening. Especially after four years.
Some people will say that I’m not “hungry” enough. That I should try harder. That I should follow up with those employers and find out why they didn’t want me. That I should hound employment agencies and just keep trying. I don’t know how to explain to you that I just can’t. I feel so heavy, as if a large boulder was on my shoulders and I just can’t move. I feel flattened by it, barely able to function day to day to (barely) maintain the house and feed my children. Yes, I should see my psychologist and I’m in the process of getting a new mental health plan from my GP, who’s on leave right now. These are the things I know to do to keep going. I will keep persisting to get through each day and each year, but the goodness seems to have been sucked out of my life for now.
People say that “what you resist, persists”. Well, I’ve stopped resisting. Life is just crap and there’s nothing I can do about it. I look back at my past and I am grateful that I’ve had those good times, but I can see that it’s over now. It’s time to accept the mundane and ordinary. Maybe I can find my way back to finding joy in the ordinary; I know I’ve been able to in the past.
So, for now, I stand here, at end of my rope and look out at the marvelous lives other people are having elsewhere and without me and I wonder what, or who, exactly is holding the other end of my rope?