A couple weeks back, drunk Heather decided it was a good time to air her feelings about the state of my life. That makes it sound harsh, but she was really more sad than anything else. She thought I wasn't happy, and that I wouldn't be until I got started living the life I want to live. That's all well and good, you know...but I think she's missing the forest for the trees. I am living life the way I want to live it (for now), but not exactly the way I'd imagined it. If that were the case, I'd be off in third world countries, nursing sick children back to health, teaching people to read and single-handedly disabling landmines while ending world hunger and achieving world peace. Even then, would I be happy doing it? Who the hell knows?!
I know Heather's intentions were pure and innocent, but I don't really like someone else telling me (in a non-sober state, even) that they think my life sucks. You can't say that until you've seen it from my perspective. No, I'm not off saving the world or becoming famous or any of those other grand dreams people have, but I am alive and living and no worse for it. I'm not unhappy either. Life isn't a ray of sunshine, but I don't find it difficult to see the excitement and pleasure in the little things. I like trying new foods, especially when it comes to cooking them, and I like to live with my head in a book or absorbed in some TV fantasy. I fall asleep at night thinking of how things could be in the future and I don't see the world through any sort of fog or feeling of drudgery.
The way I see it, things could be a lot tougher. We live in a fragile state of the world and as long as I feel like I have a place in it, I'm not going to upset the balance. I feel like I've been letting this stew for quite some time. I kept coming back to the look on her face, the sound of her voice. Pity. Like I have it bad and only by upsetting the balance can things be better. And maybe she's right. But maybe not. I don't want to say I'm complacent, but I feel like I'm in a good transition state. I'm 25-years-old and I feel like life is still right around the corner. I have so many years and adventures ahead that it seems silly to start worrying now. Which is funny since a year ago, I'm sure all I could do was worry. Worry about money and life and why I didn't have either. But I've seen people get by on a lot less than me, and if I can't draw strength from them, then what's the point at all?
For instance, my mom is depressed. And I don't want to hear any crap about how she can be helped out of it easily, because experiencing it firsthand like I have gives you a whole new understanding about people and depression. One minute, we're laughing and enjoying life and then the next, I hear a sigh. And I don't know what to do about it. I can only help as much as she's willing to let me. But I think it's just life in general that has her in a rut. Having never been clinically depressed, my understanding stops with my internet read knowledge on the subject. Sure, I've been sad for extended periods of time, but I had the power within me to tell myself to stop it and move on. (No, literally...I told myself out loud one day that I wasn't going to be sad anymore and...I wasn't, in time.)
It's just not the same with my mom. I think she's just lonely. I'm here with her, but I'm an adult, capable of caring for myself without a mother to mother me. And I don't think she's ever been alone. Not one moment of her entire life. And I think that weight just sits on her and makes every silver lining draw itself around a huge dark cloud swollen with self doubt, sadness and misery. I mentioned to her once that she needed to live in a senior living complex. She thought I meant a nursing home, but no, I meant an apartment full of people just like her: finally left to take care of only herself. She has hobbies, which makes me happy, because without those, I think she'd truly be lost. So we're just taking this jumbled mess we call life one day at a time. Some days it's harder, but we muddle through.
The big challenge will be this weekend. I'm flying off to Albuquerque again and she'll be home, left to her own devices. This city really drags her down. I keep saying we need to get out, go someplace new for a few days, but we keep pushing it off and so here we are, still waiting for vacation to show up and carry us away on a magical cloud of booze and whimsy (her's might not be the same cloud...). Alas, she will make it through, and life will grind back to a start when I show up windswept and exhausted, hoping for a good mom-made meal. Things will get better. For her and for me. We walk two different paths, but I suspect we are headed the same place. Best not worry about tomorrow until it's today.
Songs to consider:
Sad Savior (Taking Back Sunday)
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