Why so difficult?

If you’re a Farscape fan that question will be familiar to you, if you remember the episode. In it are a couple of bumbling characters that ask that, a lot, and it annoyed me loads. Though mainly because an arsehole ex and their sex pest flatmate took to saying it, Fucking Loads, after seeing the episode in question. Urgh, I wanted to punch the pair of them (and not just because of that!)

Recently its been popping into my head periodically. Life is difficult, its always been difficult. I perhaps naively thought that things would ease off the further I got with my therapy and self improvement. But no, it just changes into a different flavour of difficult. People are still fucking horrible, the government still lies cheats and steals from those that need help, age insists on proceeding and making its presence known by affecting the health of both oneself and loved ones. Habits and patterns are hard to break, and even with the greatest will and honest desire it can be tortuous to move away from unhealthy behaviours and thoughts. A huge desire to be different doesn’t automatically make one different. Old worn in behaviours, things that depress, anger, agitate and even harm remain strong and can after years of work still override new, healthier, choices.

If things were difficult before my word they’re sure as fuck difficult now. When you’re exhausted, you’re vulnerable, you’re tired of fighting, tired of feeling like a worthless piece of shit. Thats when those old habits just come sweeping in, wiping away any positive feelings. Making it so very hard to practice ones newer more caring actions, the things you know have the power to improve mood, self caring self loving self affirming actions that can stop a depressive slump in its tracks. Or blocking that pathway that allows you to recognise and appreciate the positive things and achievements.

Why, why is the self destructing bullshit so fucking strong despite all the hard work and determination to move into a ‘better’ way of living. Why does depression come along and remove all impetus to do that one thing that would make things feel less awful, or at the least stop things from getting worse. But no, depression loves itself and encourages everything that feeds it. Anger feeds it, ill health feeds it, relentless outside forces feed it. Repeating old patters, despite so much effort to change….  but why? It really cant only be because even though life has been hellish, its what i’ve always known and therefore a ‘safe’ if extremely painful place to be. It cant be just because I was conditioned to hate and disrespect myself. So why is it so hard to see, recognise and be proud of my achievements. Why do I cling onto things that make my chest tight with stress, my jaw hurt and migraines aplenty. Things that I fixate on because I feel powerless to deal with them. Other things that I cant deal with because I haven’t had a good nights sleep in over 30 years (slight exaggeration, I’ve had about 3 or 4 good nights since around 1984) There are things i can do to help, that will ease off some of the stress, that will help me to cope. There are ways of thinking that would improve my mood and make it easier to handle those lovely little surprises life likes to throw our way. Small things. Big things. Easy things. Except they’re not easy when you’re wired to suffer. Its not easy to feel the contentment of success, or love and friendship, or reached goals. And with the literal years of therapy and commitment to becoming my own person, its still fucking difficult to just be a human being let alone a productive and happy one.

How many times can life kick me down before I just stop getting up again? And will I ever discover my raison d’etre? Because without that all this hard work is utterly worthless. I would really like to be making long blog posts about happy things, about things that I have succeeded in, about goals that I’ve reached or surpassed. Its not like those things dont exist, they do, but i’m stuck dwelling on the things that didnt work out. The stuff that I wish I could stop doing, things I wish I could forget, feelings I dont want to feel anymore. It just wont go away. Where is my peace? where is my reward for steering away from what I could have become? Where is that thing I dreamed of as a child, a life where I wasnt constantly afraid, angry, depressed and desperate for it all to simply stop. I still dont have a reason to keep going. I dont know why I am putting so much effort into changing myself. I dont understand why its all so fucking relentlessly difficult. Nor why I find it so hard to not be a miserable negative wanker.

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