Day One

I have a painting in my possession — on loan, in fact — titled Day One, and it is one of the most beautiful things I have.

It is painted in many shades of blue, and is in a sort of Neo-Cubist style that my friend, the artist, developed, and has used in a a number of her paintings. Looking at it makes me both said and hopeful at the same time. The figure in the painting is, to me, hanging its head, whether in defeat or depression I can’t say, but mostly I feel akin to it in the possibility that the artist named it Day One to signify that sometimes even beginning can be overwhelming.

I find myself in something of a crisis, and it’s not hard to say that if there is a bottom, I believe I have either hit it, or I am damned close.

I’m so very tired of fighting, tired of watching my wife fight for her life, and I am ashamed of the mess that I have put us in.

I’ve been trying to remain hopeful, but I confess, the path ahead of me is rough and difficult — a trip through sunless lands and uncertain destinations — and I lose hope. I am frightened.

So, instead of looking to the future with fear and uncertainty (uncertainty — ha! My mind spits out certainties when it comes to my future, and none of it is kind, hopeful, or helpful. No, it is cruel, bleak, and hopeless, and it only serves to push me toward suicide as the answer to my life crisis) I am deciding to look at today. What can I do today to improve my life? What little thing can I do today that would start my feet in the right direction? I recognize that I’ve got a long way to go, but if I don’t start somewhere, I’ll never get anywhere.

Goals for a good day:

No crying — this is a hard one. It’s hard not to have moments where I want to just scream and cry. Seeing Sarah hobble around, hearing her crying in pain — it is sometimes too much.

Reading a book — this is harder than it sounds. My attention span is fucked, but I will keep trying.

Listening to music. Okay, this is a cheat. Music is not literally the air I breathe, but it is figuratively.

Eat a good meal — this should read “healthy” meal. I can eat poorly, but I have to take care of myself.

Get even a small amount of exercise — my physical limitations might make it difficult for me to go for a long distance hike, but I can walk around my block, and that’s a start.

Say hello to a friend, even online. I’m trying.

I’m also going to try to post every day, and see who joins me. I want to try to journal my ascent into life as opposed to my descent into darkness. I have done that before. Let’s see if I can pull myself up out of the mire and start fixing things, or at least, start to work on my mental health, my physical health, my financial health.

I welcome an exchange of thoughts, whether it be encouragement or advice, or more practical help if you think you have something to add

Thank you for reading.

 

 

4 thoughts on “Day One

  1. I’m saying hello to this friend. We’ve never met, we’ve spoken on the phone once, we’ve exchanged thoughts on writing. I count you as a friend.

    I’ve been in that future-forecasting place, more than once. I do it regularly. I’ve been told it’s called catastrophising. It’s horrific. Day One is a huge step, even if it is just about one day. If that becomes too big, slice it into smaller chunks. An hour. 15 minutes. 5. The time it takes to sink in to your favourite song. Then listen to another song. Sing along. Whatever gets you through.

    Waiting for your next instalment. I’ve missed you here.

    Liked by 1 person

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