Faithless path

Today’s Independence Day here in Mexico; everybody is out having fun, or sharing the evening with family and friends, partying, celebrating our country, or just finding a legitimate excuse to get wasted; fireworks are nonstop at this point, and no one would take a second look at me if I suddenly burst out into the street with a sombrero and a fake mustache while singing La Tequilera or something, after all, when else are we going to play with national stereotypes without feeling dumb? I’m all alone at my house writing a post. I’m not the least bit interested in the celebrations. A huge part of it is the knowledge that there is absolutely nothing to celebrate. I take a look at my country and it breaks my heart to see it’s going straight to hell with no breaks. Most people don’t give a rat’s arse about it and the minority who does cannot do a thing about it. What scares me the most is the knowledge that the open attacks are systematically directed at the middle class. I’m part of the middle class. So fuck me I guess… Downward socio-economic mobility is the norm now a days, and there are no books I can read or essays I can write or degrees I can gain that will prevent me from living with a boot on my face because I don’t have what it takes to be successful in this country: I don’t have contacts, nobody “owes” me favors, I’m not corrupt, I will not trade sexual favors for opportunities, and I’m generally speaking a decent human being (the other factor that can help you make it in here is pure damn luck. But one can’t plan a life around finding the end of the rainbow). These are not however characteristics I find only in me, or that make me think I’m some kind of special. No, I believe the vast majority of us mexican middle-classers are like these, and yet we are all becoming the oligarchs’ bitches. Because we, as a class, will not raise a finger against injustice towards us and/or the lower classes, against flagrant corruption, or the new terrorist economic measures, for we are too afraid of losing our toasters and our fridges, our LED TVs and our smartphones. And so on that side: nope, I won’t celebrate Mexico’s “Independence” tonight.

On the other hand, it’s not like I feel particularly in the mood of celebrating anything at all anyways. The emptiness I feel is sucking me in, and despite the fact that I recognize in me a wish for not being in this place, I don’t even have the will to continue trying anymore, I’m still stuck inside the sweater but I’m too tired to continue trying to take it off. Maybe I’m destined to walk around life with my hands on the air and my nose pressed against wool, seeing only shadows of what goes on around me? 😦

If I think about life just for a moment, I realize how nauseous I am about it. There’s too much suffering, there’s no point in it, and it will ultimately lead to nothing.

Let me clarify something though: I’m not suicidal. I don’t even have the will to be in that place anymore, and I think that’s even worse because I’m becoming an emotional vegetable, I’m disgusted not only by life but by myself. I told Mr. Shrinky I feel almost exactly like I did when I entered his office for the first time, minus the desperation. I said that’s worrying because I’m not even able to do anything about the place I’m in. He said he didn’t agree, that it’s not worse because he can’t work with dead people. That this void stage is something we can work with, and that he will help me ride through it. Touchy, right? Except for one thing: he’s not in here right now, he can’t possibly be with me at all times. In fact most of the freaking’ time he won’t be, and I’m left to feel like this all by myself. And in any case, it’s not like I feel a lot better when I’m in session, most times I don’t see the point in it anymore, and I go there like I go buy my coffee everyday or like I go to work. I don’t mind it, it’s not torture of any kind, but it’s not like I WANT to go, or like I want to go anywhere or do anything for that matter…

There are flashes of feelings, and being around BF is certainly keeping them alive, but I see him so little during the week it’s sometimes not enough to really wake me from my numbness…

"Fractured" by LisaMM

“Fractured” by LisaMM

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11 thoughts on “Faithless path

  1. im so sorry to hear youre feeling this way, feeling so numb and empty, so defeated(?) maybe? it sounds defeated. i have alternated for many years between suicidal/depression and the empty/numbness-defeated. i think they are both equally horrible and devastating, and hard to crawl out of. i have seen that same side of life, of people, and it is so very disheartening. just keep trying to muddle on, its the only way things might ever be different. sending you strength and good thoughts.

    • Thanks for your wishes Kat, I will continue to muddle on as there seems to be nothing else to do at the moment. I haven’t lived that many years MH issues, but I too am beginning to recognize the same pattern, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to endure it for long, it’s just incredibly tiring… Hope you’re doing well friend, xx

  2. Pingback: Faithless path | MemePosts

  3. Hey Chatte..I’ve been working through your posts, catching up as I’ve been in a little withdrawal of my own. I’m so sorry you’re having a tough time of it. I know a little what its like to be in the kind of unshakeable blue funk that seems to make no sense…Nothing as extreme as this though. Hope your new meds help…though after reading your most recent post, I’m wondering same as others are…maybe its time for a new shrink? Thinking of you…

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