Here We Go Again

Here we go again. A number of months after one "setback", another "setback" comes along and we're back at square one. I don't know how many "setbacks" one can have before it becomes something else, but I must be close to the maximum number. If I were a cat, I'd be nearing mortality. If I was a human, I'd be able to move on. Throughout this month, with the usual major downs and moments of complete alienation that are related to my incidents, I have reached a sobering conclusion. I don't think I can bounce back from this one.

I once imagined I'd have a successful life. Before I continue, I'd like to point out that I think my definition of "successful" differs from most other people's. I want to be someone. I don't want to be a nobody. You can summon up all the crap you like about "everyone being somebody", but I've never believed that to be true. People drift through their life without anything happening to them. The same routine day after day, month after month. No change. Nothing. I can't let that happen to me. The idea of living a grey life, with grey surroundings, grey food and no activity fills me with absolute dread. The idea of doing the opposite - any idea - fills me with anxiety and unnerving uncertainty.

"Sure", people say. "But you can change that. Go out and explore the world". I tried that. My own head beat me.

Other people say, "You can be whoever you want to be". Wise words I'm sure, but what if you haven't got a clue where to start?

"Meeting new people can lead to wondrous new ventures". Meeting new people makes me so anxious these days that we reach the same conclusions as everything else I try.

Everything I can do to fix this leads to a negative outcome. Everything I have tried to fix this leads to insult, silence or a desperate attempt from people who know about me to comfort my thoughts. My own brain is killing me. And as far as I can see, I can't change that. I honestly gave up trying to fix it about a year ago. I gave up trying to fix what was going on and instead chose to self-destruct. Live manically now and deal with the consequences in your own unique way later. Admittedly, "exploring the world" didn't cross my mind as a viable option back then. When Australia cropped up out of nowhere, I genuinely thought that was my escape route. I honestly thought I could start again on the other side of the world. I naively thought that the only thing I live for these days, cricket, was indeed enough to simply forget to be me. Yet, I was beaten again. After that, I went back to self-destruct mode. I went back to Plan Z.

Of course, we've been here before. Oh, we most certainly have. Running away from home when I was still at school, completely folding in important exams due to this, that and everything going on inside my own head. Quitting my first job out of pure and immeasurable fear of my own boss' reaction to a mistake. The complete and utter depression of the 'night-shift phase', which allowed for a young man to trek the UK on rare time off and hospitalise himself with alcohol misuse, before dealing with the inevitable depression that follows excessive use of drink as a deterrant to thoughts of failure. Followed by the complete nerve destroying experience of learning all about financial services. I kept myself going through that particular "new job stage" telling myself that, once I had worked it out, I would have found myself settled down, and in a respectable job. Except, ultimately, it never worked out that way. After each example, apart from the last, I had something to blame. An illness so deep in its ruthlessness that most people sympathised. I fought back each time, telling myself that it will subside, at least for long enough to be able to get back on my feet and battle on. The first couple of times, I was again naive enough to think these events were merely a blip in life's tapestry and all will get better. For a couple of years, I came to accept that I go through a cycle, usually seasonal. But when it got to New Years Eve 2012, I gave up completely.

It feels like everything I have ever experienced goes in a downward spiral. I'm now finding myself in the same spiral for life itself. I'm yo-yo'ing from stages of defiance to some of the worst thoughts that have ever gone through my head. And I can tell you, they're pretty bad. I gave up everything on New Years Eve 2012 except for mere existence. It was at that point I turned to self-destruct. Live the high life in any means possible because the consequences won't matter. I came to that conclusion based on a mindset of fear and the complete lack of a thirst for life.

I had a good enough winter period, as good as can be expected anyway, except I can't help but wonder that it was because of my self-destruction "plan". We're just under a month from the cricket pre-season tour to Cardiff and happiness is just around the corner. At least it should be. Instead, I find myself at the beginning of another rebuilding session, genuinely questioning if I have the stomach or the fortitude to start all over again. There is a major difference this time round than other times. Other times, it was my own head doing the damage. This time, its my own fault. I cannot possibly sit here and claim that my obvious troubles led me to do what I did. I made a major, major mistake, and its led me to lose a lot. It has the potential to lose me everything. And I have nothing or no one to blame it on, and I'm terrified. What's more, is I knew this was coming.

For its true. I've been racking my brains for this whole month, trying to find reasons as to why this is happening to me. Not just the events of the past month, but all of it. Its obvious I have problems with anxiety and depression, but what caused them? Why me? And this is the point where I go back to my first paragraph. I simply cannot live this mundane life that is promised. The obvious conclusion to come to if one doesn't know what to do with their life is to merely trudge along, no? How can one enjoy his hobbies, when they are largely non-existent? How can one enjoy their career if they can't find an enjoyable path hence hate going to to work? How can one enjoy another's love if they cannot even love themselves or those closest to them? Its the last question that scares me the most. The realisation that the vast majority of my friendships are not real friendships. I appreciate friends, and I care for them, but love? I appreciate my family, and I am lucky to have them but do I love them? I don't know if I do. I don't think I know how to love.

I don't think I belong in this world. Its a competitive world, full of hard-working, confident, aspirational people and I can't compete. My mum would say that this is fine, and not everyone can be ambitious and full of life, but its not fine. Not one bit. I cannot see the positives of going to work every day, in a job that doesn't excite you, (not knowing what to do will lead to any job doing this), coming home to nothing, (because all the money you have is spent on being independent), and going round and round in circles. That is not okay. Changing that pattern is impossible because I don't know when I'm next going to turn into my monster. I could literally sit here for hours and complain about everything. Literally, everything. Every little thing about this world irritates me to kingdom come, but I cannot complain because, especially now, I would merely be another hypocrite.

"Why do people talk to me sometimes as if I'm a patient on the edge?!" .... Oh yeah....

"Why aren't I working in the city, or in the midst of building a career?!" .... Oh yeah....

"Why am I sitting in a flat I can't afford eating a ready meal out of a box?!" .... Oh yeah....

This huge, ever-increasing ball of knots sits in my brain like a tumour. Becoming increasingly more difficult to untangle or digest. I just don't know where to turn to any more. Because of all of this, the oh so basic things in life become pointless. Before we get to the point where there is no point even getting out of bed. Right now, I am at that point. I'm even contemplating a summer without cricket, or socialising or friendship because I fear I will grind to a halt. I'm scared the very few things I have left will get sucked into the black hole, because I made one damned mistake. That is my ultimate fear.

I don't know what I want. I don't know where I want to be. I don't know where I am. And the worst one of all... I don't even know who I am anymore. I am completely lost.

Ultimately, and soberingly, I am no one. And there is nothing I despise more than that.