Every day seems like a dream. I have my routine that allows me to numbly move through the day without much thought. As I sit in my office, as part owner, I wonder why I even bother. As a younger male working in a crowd of older men, my ideas, thoughts, and ways to increase business is laughed at or shunned. Is it because I have been working here for 15 years from the bottom up? Is it because they are fearful of change? Is it because they know the ideas I have will cause more work for the sake of more money? I don’t know, but it makes me give up.
Then the existential burden hits me like a brick. Why bother? How is my life meaningful? As my brain sorts through the clutter of my painful past from the most recent 5 years, am I living my life for me or for them? Them being my business, my loved one, or even my friends. Why am I alive? To do great things…sure. I believe I am a smart, intelligent man who has been beaten down to a pathetic excuse of a human being. I look calm yet furious. I look happy yet disheartened. I am the meaning of wearing a mask to cover my true emotions. Mask on around everyone, mask off when there is no presence. I am the ticking bomb of the malcontent human whose meaning in life will be either for the sake of love or the death of life.
I stare at my list of FaceBook friends to chat about this with, but immediately feel dumb. I wonder if I should bother my mother more about this, but know she is already worried sick. I don’t know where to turn, another therapist? I am the therapist for everyone else, and its hard for me to take therapy as it is, versus analyzing and breaking down their approach so I know what they will ask or what they want me to do.
Life to me, is existing. I am here, that is all. I am not living.
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