This Sunday was a beautiful day. The sun was shining over London and I had gotten paid the week before. So what did I do with my glorious Sunday? I wasted it away on a violent, painful and inevitable spell of depression. Think yoga pants without the energy to actually do yoga, endless cups of tea and puffy eyes. I did venture outside - I think the Tesco cashier was a bit frightened when I took my sunglasses off (I was debating with myself whether taking them off was a good idea, finally arriving at the conclusion that keeping them on indoors would make me look like someone who wanted to look famous but wasn't. As if a famous person would ever be in Tesco anyway).
My outspokenness about my depression is one of my most defining traits - most people know when I feel down (excluding work colleagues) and my blog, my outlet, isn't any different. I understand bloggers that don't feel like showing off "other" sides of their lives, the places where darkness lurks (as it does for absolutely everyone), the moments that aren't about new shoes, yummy dinners or "I am so blessed". But myself? Brutal honesty is my therapy. So here goes.
I have already discussed this feeling in this post. Since writing it, I've made my piece with the fact that I have no idea how to battle this. Over the years, I was certain that moving to California/Italy/London, getting a new job, a haircut, a boyfriend and my own magazine would cure it. It hasn't. All of these things have made me happy at some point and many of them still do. But none of it, and nothing else, has made that feeling of nothingness magically disappear.
I'm 30 and healthy, head-over-heels in love, living in the city of my dreams and working in a well-paid job with nice colleagues. I have my own online magazine and I'm planning my wedding. Life should be a constant party-hat joy-fest, especially when I think of other people, some of them my friends, and what they go through every day. But even though I recognise that everything is okay - great, even - there are still days, many days, when I wake up feeling hollow and empty and go through the day on the verge of tears, overcome with that anguishing feeling that "there's nothing here". It's not even about feeling sad or angry or lonely or upset. It's about feeling nothing. No passion, no spark, no hunger, no drive. It's like I'm watching other people live their lives from the outside, looking at myself and thinking "who is this person?" She's not someone I want to be. A lot of the time, she's not even someone I like.
I talked to a friend today about that constant need for adventure, for other things, for something else, for more. And while I was talking to him, I realised that, for me, this feeling is probably never going to go away. I look at people I know, famous people, people I read about, that in my eyes seem to be truly living: taking chances, exploring, achieving, filling their days with something, and I feel so painfully, enviously reminded of that constant sensation that I'm throwing away my time and my life doing nothing, feeling nothing, achieving nothing, exploring nothing. And I have always felt this way: my constant search for "something more" has carried me from country to country, from career to career, from experience to experience...without ever finding that "something more". I have found lots of beautiful and magical things for which I am eternally thankful, but not that.
Every day, I feel like my life should be different. I work hard to make it different and once it is, I feel like I'm still not there. Like I want more.
Since I started yoga, I've been really into meditation. But lately, the meditation exercises that I used to love tend to annoy me. Especially the ones on gratitude: they feel like settling. Of course I'm grateful for everything I have. But I refuse to let that be "it". I don't want to "be happy with what I have". I want different. I want something more. And I intend to bring that something more into my life, rather than just tell myself that I am enough, that I have enough - even if it's true. Enough is not good enough for me. I don't want "enough". I want groundbreaking amazingness.
Okay, you say, so go out and get it.
Except that I have no idea what it is. Or how or where to find it.
I keep trying to find it - this is why I move countries every couple of years and change jobs like other people change underwear. But this is not a fleeting moment: it's actually how I feel most of the time. The problem is that wherever I go, whatever I do, I'm still the same.
Sometimes I try to actually ask myself what I want from life. I find that helps. Feeling this empty and miserable does have an upside: it's helped me understand who I am as a person and why I suffer. Namely because I desperately need things that are very difficult to attain, and don't always feel strong enough to go after them.
I want to travel all the time. Never stopping. I'm not talking about constant vacations (although wouldn't that be nice!) but about having a lifestyle that requires you to be travelling a LOT.
I want to write. Really write. Write things that move people and make them laugh and cry.
I want the world to stop pressuring me to live like a grown-up. I don't want kids right now and I don't know if I ever will. And that's okay. Not everyone was meant to be a parent.
I want to do interesting things, see interesting things, be invited to interesting things. But I'm held back by the niggling doubt that maybe I'm just not interesting enough.
I want to feel like my days are filled with something meaningful. And I don't want to "find meaning in what I already have": I want to add things that I don't currently have.
I don't want to just "see the beauty in the little things" - yes, that too, but I want big things. Huge ones. Revolutionary ones.
I don't want comfort. I want challenge.
I don't want security. I want adventure.
I don't want calm. I want fireworks.
I don't want calm. I want fireworks.
I don't want "nice". I want fucking magnificent.
And I want my wants to dictate my life. Not my "have-tos".
Maybe this makes me arrogant or greedy. Could be. But this is who I am and what I want. And I think we all have the right to the life we want, but we also all have the duty to chase after our dreams. I'm just wondering if I'm meant to spend my entire life chasing.
Picture from Pinterest
Picture from Pinterest