I should already be free. I had it all. But I clearly could not handle it. We came back from the sea, made an album .. and in the middle of it I went crazy. That is the only way I can see it right now. There was rescue even then, but no, I destroyed (not only) my life and I still don’t really know why. Tired of trying to be perfect? But what a way to rebel against that. Then, in the aftermath, hideously depressed, near-drowned in guilt and shame and grief, I clawed my way far enough out to survive, build yet another life – but made further hideous decisions that mean I am right back in the Hamster Wheel, fighting again to get out. I have no idea if I am “better” yet, if I ever will be.
I would say I can’t live with it, but I am doing.
I am trying every day to appreciate what I have (which ain’t nothing! By all the gods that don’t exist, it is so very very far from nothing!).
But it hurts. Still. That I am not free, like my soul says I should be. I am re-Minioned, rewound and replaying. Obsessed with plotting and planning what I know I can do – escape. Knowing I can’t wait, knowing that this time I will have to give up part of what is good about where I am now.
I think I need to forgive myself – I can only see that redemption in the resumption of my dreams. Me, a small boat, and the sea…