Have you ever seen a leaf floating in a pond or a small lake? It stirs around some with the breezes that blow, but unless a stiff wind comes up and blows hard, the leaf just floats in no particular way or direction, until it finally either saturates with water and sinks slowly or it haphazardly washes to shore and decays on the bank. Granted, the leaf was doomed to begin with. But there is something annoying about the stillness of a pond for a leaf in his or her final moments.
I gather from all the evidence that nature has afforded me that rivers and streams seem to offer at least a minimal amount of excitement for a fallen leaf. I can imagine a leaf falling into the water and wondering whether his or her stream meets with a larger flowing river, or if it flows into an unfortunate dammed lake. At least the leaf is kept guessing in this case. At least there is a hope of maybe having fallen into a river that ends in the glorious ocean, with a few rapids on the way for thrills.
Ponds do not offer hope. They are still and stagnant waters that offer a slow demise and a hopeless finish for any leaf unlucky enough to find itself floating across the surface.
What in the heck am I talking about?
There is something not totally right with me, and I am not sure I have a very firm handle on it. In an attempt to describe the feeling I have, picture this leaf in a pond. It seems to me that a man without a plan is something like a leaf in a pond...maybe not exactly, but it feels that way. I feel as if there were breezes that stir me this way or that way, but there is no real hope for much of anything in the future...no river, no ocean to find.
I think there is a huge malfunction with my hope system. I have no dreams, I have no vision, I have no passions other than wanting to see the face of God...which from all accounts I hear would kill me anyway. But what I mean is, what does a guy like me do with his life? Emotionally, I invested most of who I am into the only dream or passion I ever had, and now I am left licking my wounds after I had to gouge that part of my life out of my being. But I hate going to bed at night because I know the next step is waking up and facing another day of the same things as yesterday: walking mechanically through a day full of working and killing time until I am obliged by my own conscience to go to sleep again, starting the whole process over.
I am not quite sure what to do about this. I have known people that are satisfied with a mechanical life with a few satisfactions, but I am not. I was told by the Creator that he died and rose again to give me the whole lollipop, and I intend on eating the whole thing. I am not satisfied with a lick here and there. I am at my wits end about this. I know my purpose and my destiny is greater than slowly sinking in a glorified puddle, but what am I doing or not doing that makes me feel like this life is just one purposeless day after another? What can I change, if anything?
I feel sorry for you blogees out there that read this stuff. As much as I would like to write happy and encouraging stuff to make people feel better, I have to be honest with my feelings, otherwise they just gather and accumulate and eventually pull a Mt St. Helens on me.
Anyway, I need help. I feel like I am getting very little help if any at all. I am having small outbursts of rage that make me feel ashamed after each one, then I go into a shell of solitude in order to protect others from myself, and then I come out of my shell for appearances sake, and I feel fake. Then I get frustrated for faking it, because I want to be honest with others and myself, and I face the fact that I fake it because thats all there is to do when I don't know who or what I am. And that brings me back to here. A vicious cycle of questions with no answers. I really don't consider this depression, but I don't consider it joy either. It feels like purgatory, and I hate it.
No comments:
Post a Comment