Life in Moments: Vol. 3 - Does It Ever Get Easier?

This concludes my Life in Moments series, a project I embarked on with the initial plan to share some moments of my journal entries from over 3 years ago. Life seems to take on a larger than life quality when zooming in on hyper specific instances that I wrote down in the heat of the moment, which is what I hoped to capture in this series. This entry is slightly different, turning to thoughts I've had in the recent months, rather than relying simply on quotes from prior journals. I've adequately named it, "Does It Ever Get Easier?"

I find myself shocked by some of the thoughts I've had recently, something I struggle with because this is the brain I have to live with for the rest of my life. Fear is different when it's directed at yourself.

These thoughts don't debilitate me, but disturb me. I fear what life has in hold for me, I worry that things never really get better, an irrational thought, but then again, maybe it isn't and life truly does get worse. But more so, I fear that things won't change, my relationships won't heal, my confusion, my anger, my pain, will forever be constant and looming. And even if things do change for the better, there will always be the constant reminder of my condition as a human being. I wonder if it's all worth it. And most of all, whether it will ever get easier.

I wish I could say I've figured it out, that I have the recipe for suddenly understanding and accepting the world as it is. To be okay with the suffering that seems to go hand in hand with being alive, to easily give up and go with the flow. But I don't. I crumble, I cry, feel better, cry, feel better again. I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know if I ever will.

Regardless of my tendency to ask answerless questions, regardless of the tears, the love, the hate, the recklessness of being alive, the stupidity of it all, the not knowing, not not knowing, the not not not knowing, sometimes, there is pleasure and comfort in uncertainty. Sometimes, the only thing that I wrap around me like a blanket while looking out into the frigid landscape I have up ahead is that even if things will never get "easier," things will change. And so will I. In what ways, who knows? There will never be any definite answer to these questions that are impossible to answer. I don't have a choice but to face the music as they say. I hate singing. But while there is plenty to hate about being alive (i.e. singing), there's also plenty to love (i.e. art, beauty, writing). Maybe my next project will be more focused on the latter.

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