no one survives

Somewhere along the line in the last ten years or so, I changed my mind. I used to think survival itself was to be lauded. Life is scary, dangerous, and traumatic. Just getting through it was supposed to mean something. Especially if you could enjoy yourself along the way, the good cup of coffee, the beautiful weather, enjoying a good book, movie, or video game.

What has any of that accomplished? The pleasure of eating a donut falls behind me immediately, while the consequences can be far more lasting. I used to think in terms of the moment but have come to think more in terms of the broader picture of my life and what I've done with it. Who have I become, because of how I've lived?

I have a range of theories as to what caused this. It could just be the evolution of my thoughts and experiences over 49 years, but it could also have been spurred by the endocrine shift that began almost a decade ago. Another possibility is that it's the product of being more social, being around people, coming to appreciate them and care what they think. Seeing myself from their point of view and realizing something has gone terribly wrong.

I've shed the notion of meeting someone "like me" as I've realized that was all a defense, a fantasy of meeting someone who would see me the way I saw myself. I've realized that I can like people who are all sorts of different and we are judged on what we have to offer each other, not our autobiographies. I've realized that this is as it should be, because of course we want our connections to be positive.

Who I am doesn't matter. How I live is what matters, and defines who I really am, no matter what I may think about it. I can say it's not my fault, because life keeps being mean to me, but the fact of the matter is that my life has been an abject failure. I have very little to offer. I can't find the motivation to do much of anything, anymore.

Yay, I'm hanging on, getting through it? What are we getting through? This is life. When you get through it, it's over.