I found myself wallowing last night in an ocean of misery and self-pity. I’ve found myself reminded recently of a particularly unfortunate part of human nature – the fact that we’re fickle creatures – and found it worrisome that with a distinctive lack of a source of unconditional love in my life, what I had left were people who would continue their relationships with me only as long as it was personally convenient.
I was troubled as I pondered the long stretch of adult life ahead of me. Feeling some resent that the only person I could truly depend upon was myself and the fact I lacked the “safe space” the majority of friends were able to return to for the holidays and in times of need, I wondered whether there would ever be a time when the chip on my shoulder would be released.
As the thoughts and feelings churned through my mind, I cursed myself for considering them. “There are people who have it much worse than me” I thought. I felt both upset and guilty for having the feelings.
It occurred to me that I’ve been dealing with the burden of melancholy for most of my life. There was always some thing in my life – some change, some new thing – that I hoped would be the answer to my prayers but last night I contemplated the fact that regardless of the efforts I make, happiness would always be a fleeting feeling.
With the release of carb-rich fools denied by my current diet and finding neither answers nor relief through deep introspection, I decided to drag myself to the gym. “Can’t feel any worse, can I?” I thought cynically as I changed into my exercise outfit. “King for a day” roaring in my ears, I audibly mouthed the words feeling a wave of goosebumps travel through my body as my mind resonated with the lyrics:
Pubescent drama queen
You make me sick, I make it worse by drinking late
Scream until there’s nothing left
So sick of playing, I don’t want to anymore
I soon spotted the familiar blue florescent sign of my gym which was the only source of illumination in the deserted night. The rain was tumultuous and battered against my flimsy umbrella relentlessly. My first try at the keypad to enter my pin was unsuccessful. “How convenient” I thought, bringing my fingers to the keypad for a second try. It worked thankfully and I entered the gym.
As I’ve done for the past few sessions, I began the session on the treadmill. I warmed up on a moderate pace – the post-hardcore music being pumped out by my phone providing a comfortable layer between me and the other gym users. I broke into a run a few minutes later and for the first time since the evening began, started to feel some respite from my emotions. Each step helped make some of the anxiety and concern disappear. By the time I went over to the weights area, I was able to approach the questions which had been causing me grief more cooly and rationally.
I found that that I had no perfect answers. The truth was mixed. It was likely that much what I feared would come to pass but I realised that fear would only cause further pain and that it would serve me better to move forward in life trying my best to appreciate the preferable moments, people and circumstances.