I heard from a friend and former coworker today. They messaged me on Facebook, and let me know that they had an extra ticket to see a band that we both really like. It’s been a couple of years since I had actually talked with my friend, so I had an interesting realization when I told them that I no longer lived on the east coast and that I had moved to California.

I had told my friend, like I had plenty of other people, that one day I wanted to move to California. I almost forgot that several year stretch when I had laid out a plan of sorts, all the while knowing inside that I wouldn’t accomplish it or be able to accomplish it. The heavy certainty that my desires, with regards to my capability and drive, were largely unrealistic and another avenue towards disappointment and failure weighed on me a lot back then.

But I did still want to move to California.

I detailed the nature of my move to California. How I’ve done stuff in esports and arranged working full time remotely with my job. And when I look at my life from the perspective of where I was and where I figured I would be back then I’d think that I’d be insanely happy. I’ve achieved a lot more than I ever felt I’d be able to, but the same deflated outlook still hangs over my head so much of the time.

I think that’s the truly disheartening and unfortunate thing about depression, self-doubt, and everything along that path; your perception of things are largely skewed and diminish the value had out of the positive things in your life.

I’ve felt so drained lately. It seems like the things I do to try to recharge are only 30% effective, leaving me still worn out emotionally and physically. I spend a lot of time alone with my thoughts; a place that probably isn’t the most advised vacation spot. I find myself struggling with a lot of the same demons I always have.

Feeling like I have no one to talk to, while knowing that I do. Feeling that talking about myself and my feelings to anyone is an exercise in selfishness and ignorance of the goings on for anyone else, while knowing there are people in my life that care enough to be there for me in that capacity if I went to them. The feeling that knowing that paradoxically reinforces the idea that I shouldn’t go to them, because I don’t want to burden a friendship of that caliber and quality.

Feeling abjectly alone.

Bundling all this up leaves a feeling of being bottled up; a tightly shut valve housing building pressure with no release in sight. What feels like sensible logic talks me out of any potential avenue for relief. Returning to therapy would feel like a failure and a step back. I mentioned how I feel about talking to friends and family. Even my blog has lost its sense of purpose.

A core founding principle of this blog was that I’d be completely open and honest with myself in a more public setting, but I never imagined people would actually bother to read anything I wrote. I don’t want my struggles to feel like some cry for attention, or like I’m trying to burden people in some kind of way. In the off chance I’ve ever positively impacted someone with my writing or in some other way, I don’t want to let anyone down or disappoint them.

It’s all an aversion to show weakness, vulnerability, or insecurity. That’s all it’s ever been. At its root, my mind feels perpetually wired to close myself off if it means I’m not showing sides of myself I’m less than proud of.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I can do. I just keep trying to get back on the proverbial bike, wondering if I’ll ever really be capable of learning how to ride. Comparing myself to others who seemingly are naturals at riding to try and figure out what is wrong with me.

Isolation has always lead to introspection for me, and sooner or later that introspection leads to a more positive place. I hope the third act of that progression comes soon.

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I see the world for what it is

Or at the least for what it seems

What makes sense could be mere fact or myth

How can I trust what I have seen?

A heavy cloak, this veil I wear

It’s fabric worn from being there

For years it’s been a second skin

A constant presence, unwavering friend

It’s strange how comfort forms from pain

How what you’ve grown used to feels like home

My hope and joy and light is drained

By this cloak that insist I suffer alone

The emptiness I’m used to

The void is nothing new

It’s bringing color to black and white

That sets my world askew

Warmth within a cold embrace

From the veil, at least that’s what it seemed

The truth that I am scared to face

Is could I survive if I was freed?