“New York is 3 hours ahead of California, but that doesn’t make California slow. Someone graduated at the age of 22, but waited 5 years before securing a good job. Someone became a CEO at 25 and died at 50, while another became a CEO at 50 and lived to 90. Obama retired at 55, and Trump started at 70. Everyone in this world works based on their time zone. People around you might seem to be ahead of you, and some might seem to be behind you. But everyone is running their own race, in their own time. Do not envy them, and do not mock them. They are in their time zone, and you are in yours. Life is about waiting for the right moment to act. So relax. You’re not late. You’re not early.”
Soooo I’ve been feeling more like writing lately. I have a lot of thoughts. So many of them that I’m having trouble finding time to get them all out.
I’ve been in the mindset for a few months now that I have no idea where the fuck I’m going in life or what my purpose could possibly be. Well, no. I’ve actually been like that forever, but it feels like lately it’s been encompassing way too much of my brain. I compare myself to friends who seem to have it all figured out. Friends who are kicking ass at work, making bank, buying houses, traveling, and getting married. Or so it seems. Everyone’s got their shit.. I get it. But I (just for a second.. relax) put myself in my death bed, looking back at the last 30 years of my life. I did what everyone else does.. school, college, work. But the rest of my time and energy.. not to mention fucking money.. has been spent looking for ways to make myself less miserable, finding ways to kill myself, but also finding ways to just stop wanting to kill myself, and begrudgingly trying to go through the motions just to make it to the next day.
I don’t really have a bucket list. There’s things I’ve always wanted to do, but I fear that writing them down on paper and not accomplishing them would just feel like another failure. Although it came to a tragic end, I’m so fucking glad I moved to Florida and gave that a shot. It was the best few years of my life, and, though I don’t regret a second of it, I do wish it had maybe ended under different circumstances – or not ended at all. While trivial to most, I love that I got to swim with dolphins. I’ve been obsessed since my first dolphin show at the Shedd, and it’s been a dream ever since. I love the incredible family vacations I’ve had, and I’m glad I got to go along on an almost-paid-for trip to Hawaii cause Lord knows that’ll never happen again. Sadly, that’s really all that comes to mind. I’m sorta almost done with every Mark Wahlberg movie, but I’m not sure that’s a resume booster of any sort.
Is it weird that I want to accomplish something? That I wanna look back on my miserable time on Earth and be PROUD of a difference I made somewhere? Recently, I realized with how much time I spend on my OWN mental health.. looking for new things/places/books/doctors to come up with some other kinda bullshit for me to try. After Demi’s overdose and realizing how much a stranger has been able to impact me for the last 10 years, along with feeling like I was going to slip back into a suicidal lull if I didn’t do something different, I came to the conclusion, with the help of my incredible therapist, that I wanna be someone’s Demi. I wanna force someone to laugh through their tears and make it through the rest of the day. I wanna talk someone off the ledge the way I have been. I wanna help people understand depression. I want more people to know that it’s okay to talk about suicide. I want people in crisis to know they’re not alone. So I reached out to a few places.. some that have helped me and some that were just excited to hear I wanted to help them. It’s in the works, but just knowing that I’ve taken a step I never saw myself taking, makes me feel like I’m doing okay. Despite my desperate desire to not be, I’m still here, right? And somehow staying strong. Take that, fuckers 🙂