Now what?

So. Here I am. I’m not entirely sure where that is, but it is what it is. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe I am filtering reality based on my expectations, or lack thereof. I’m disconnected, befuddled, and clear on that. I’ve been through deaths of loved ones, death of myself on more than one occasion, and I’m not entirely sure where that leaves me. I suppose here is relative, and if I was supposed to be elsewhere I would be there.

It’s the holidaze. I’ve been isolating since long before this time of unbridled consumerism. I don’t trust myself to safely travel the social labyrinth. That’s nothing new, but I’m too old and bruised to keep repeating the same mistakes. I’d rather be forgotten by those who have chosen to spurn me for being a largely flawed human who screws up in the most unflattering fashion. I have true friends, and that’s enough, although I am lonely much of the time. That’s preferable to being at war with the world, to feeling as though I have to be armed and ready for battle every time I’m in the company of unknown carbon-based organisms.

Right now, I’m a little stressed about money, but it will be OK. It has to be. I am trying very hard to attract prosperity, although it remains somewhat of an abstract endeavor. Depression is still an overlay to most of my life, but I refuse to answer the call of despair. Some days are more difficult than others, but I’m still here and not planning to depart. The unknown is daunting, but that’s how it goes. It seems that acceptance is the lesson for this lifetime, but that doesn’t mean it’s all sunshine and lollipops.

Speaking of this lifetime, I continue to wonder if I am on course, off course, or whether there is a course at all. I read somewhere that the purpose of life is to live, and that may be as good as it gets. Mistakes and change appear to be the only constants for me, and so it goes. My life has been characterized by moments of near brilliance, punctuated by long intervals of abject stupidity. I’ve done some very good things, and some things that have not served me well. I’ve hurt some people, I’ve hurt myself, and I’m not the same person I was yesterday. That is a blessing and a curse, I suppose, but the past is the past and time travel is not in my skill set.

If given the chance, what would I change? I would not have lived so much of my life a television show or a dramatic novel. I would not have lived so much of my life believing that people are trustworthy, that I can be a competent judge of character. I would not havebeen so much of a people pleaser, or perhaps slightly less loyal. I would have been more self-defined, more self-activated, less tied to the sentiments of others. I would have known who I am much sooner on this journey, been more courageous, and made better decisions. I could have been a contender, whatever that means.

Yes, I wish some things were different. However, I have believed for quite some time that if any part of my past could be edited or revised, I would not be sitting here writing this at this moment. All of the screw ups, the errors, the mistakes were necessary for me to be here now. That’s frustrating, but it takes what it takes. I don’t feel as though I am a victim of my own life any longer, which is a good thing, but did it have to be this difficult? I suppose it did.

December has been my favorite month for a very long time. I always loved Christmas, even after it no longer had a specific theological significance. My birthday is shortly after the traditional holiday, and I’ve been rather spoiled to that over the years. Much later, I chose to get sober at the beginning of the month, so there is now added sentiment to this last month of the western calendar. Over time, I’ve added the winter solstice as part of my attraction to this month, and I love the cold. The darkest of the dark nights, the shortest of the days, the turning of the wheel provides me with trust in the constancy of life itself.

At this moment, I feel as thoughI am babbling the same tale and signifying nothing. For some reason I am feeling very disconnected, but perhaps that’s because I’ve been isolating for such a long while. It feels safer, but disconcerting in large part. In a very literal sense, I cannot afford to risk new experiences or experiment with the unknown. I have no choice but to live one day at a time, but I do seriously wish the next several days would pas quickly. I’ll feel a little better after all of this hollow commercial craze is over for another year.

Some days, I wonder if I should have reconsidered my decision to have no children, to opt for a life of solitude. When I was younger, I really had no hormonal urge to reproduce, or to be part of the marriage ethos. I very much wanted to be in a relationship, but truth be told, only because I believed that would have pegged me as a successful adult. I suppose that designation was more for the observers than for myself, although I think I wanted to be loved. The problem, though, was that I had no idea what that really meant. It was still the expected response for my age, for my circumstances. It was what one was supposed to do, unless you were a bona fide loser. That’s what I believed, and I lived as a bona fide loser for many years. My outsides did not match my insides, though, and I was ultimately a self-made delusion.

At this point, I’m not sure where I had choice, and where I had power. I felt that I was doing what I was supposed to do, although in many cases, that was doing exactly what I was not supposed to do. I felt controlled, caged, not free. That was reality for me at the time, and so I lost myself entirely. I settled for what I got, and had no idea that I could demand more. It’s taken a long time for me to accept my responsibility for all of that, for not knowing who I was and what I could do. There is still a part of me that feels as though I have squandered the gifts I was given, and perhaps there is some truth in that. But, as usual, it is what it is and that is all that it is. It’s been a long strange trip, but aren’t they all?

My question, at this point, continues to be…what now? I feel as though my wick is growing shorter by the hour, but I suppose that has been true since the day I was born. I still don’t quite know what I want, still don’t quite know what constitutes happiness. Is that the ultimate goal, to acquire what it is that you want? Does that make one happy? I tend to believe there are no absolutes, but I am not absolutely sure about that. I am not absolutely sure about much of anything these days, except that I am here and this is now and I am not in control of much of anything outside of my Self. I suppose I came into being for some reason, but my brain is not big enough to know what that is. I hope I didn’t piss on anyone else’s breakfast or cause permanent damage to any other person. I tend to think I’m not that powerful to have done so, but just in case, I don’t want to be remembered as a douche bag. I’d rather not be remembered at all if that was the case.

Accepting the fact that I have the bladder of an old woman, I am going to get up and visit the little old ladies’ room for a moment, then feed the dog. Life is good, or at least it is life. I am grateful that it is so.