I feel like I’m made of pieces, tiny blocks of acts and passion that compose me, body and soul. Like, day after day, I’m forced to build and rebuild parts of myself so I can move onto the next step, maintain a semi-coherent life, and keep moving.
There are many things I want to do in life but stagnation feels to have set in. Depression is like that, just as quicksand. The moment you think you’re almost free, you get the sensation of being tugged down and sucked up by something so intangible that you can never truly fight it. So you stop fighting, stand still in the middle of sinking sands, and wonder if anyone will ever spot you and offer you a hand up. Doesn’t matter who it is, just a curiosity of whether someone will care enough to stop.
Perhaps I used up all my fire. For years I worked all the time. I took a full course load in college, ran multiple student groups, and worked whenever I got the chance. My last year I was taking 15 credit hours, working 16 hours a week, and running five different student groups. I would stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning working on projects only to toss and turn when I went to sleep. Finally, I would wake up a few hours later to do it all again. I got very used to working through a day with only four hours of sleep. But, in those days, I was driven. I had the fire in me to keep me going. There was a point on the horizon that I was working towards, a dock to bring my ship into port, the final X on the map.
But what do you do when you finally make it there? What happens when your boots thump on the dock as you disembark from the ship that carried you so long? What do you do when you finally reach that X and find the treasure?
What is the next step?
I feel like I’m floundering without moving. A quiet desperation for something to break me open and release the fire that seems to have died off, become coals that will eventually turn to ash, their former heat cooled enough to touch.
What do you do when the fire burns itself out?
That’s the point of this summer, this summer I aim to rekindle my spirit. And yet…and yet I have no map. I have no bearings with which to guide my ship. The point on the horizon has been swallowed up by fog that litters the sea all around me.
Where do you go from here?