I'm struggling with the "what-ifs" right now. I can't even put it into words and have it make sense. Unfortunately, this mental game I'm playing in my head isn't a good one. The cyclical "what-ifs" aren't good ones but more of me having an attitude of failure, the attitude of a fatalist. They are all thoughts revolving around us becoming a family - however/if/when that is supposed to happen now. Oh, how I wish I could turn all of these thoughts around into an attitude expecting positive outcomes.
Racked with fear, my mind and my heart race. Sleep doesn't help. Walks in the crisp, wintry air doesn't help. Meds don't help. Alcohol doesn't help. Comfort food doesn't help. Sex doesn't help. Mental escape doesn't help. All of those things that good addicts and other escapists use are no good for me. While some may alleviate it for a short while, I feel that my insides are blanketed. I see through the same eyes, using the same mind, and depending on the same heart, but everything on the insides is blanketed in . . . whatever this is.
It's not depression. I know too well what that feels like. It is a lonely, lonely place. A solitude that nobody - not even those closest to me - can quite comprehend. Just a place where I find myself more often than not. Is it fear? Yes. Is it grief? Probably. Is it sadness? Maybe. Is it fear of loss and/or failure? Always. Is it fear of success? Most likely.
So here I sit inside the glass. From this perspective I can't tell if it's half-full or half-empty. This glass may have absolutely nothing in it, but I just can't tell. I can see everything outside the glass, but I don't know if any can see me from out there. I can scream from within the glass, but I don't think anyone can hear my silent cries. Every now and then, I hear tapping from the outside of my glass. Excitedly, I think it might someone coming to help me, to throw me a life preserver, or to save me. Yet it is most typically just another person who needs something from me. Ha! They think I have something left to give??? So, instead of trying to figure it out, I just keep sitting here. In my glass.
But not doing a damn thing about it.