Nothing’s going on.

That’s what it feels like when I look at my life – that I’m leading a sort of routine, normal existence, working on my work every day, running rudimentary errands, seeing people, writing bits of my thesis. I’m busy, yet when I think about my life as a whole, it feels like whatever I’m doing isn’t really worthwhile in the long run. It feels like it’s going to end up being insignificant to the big wide world, and some day, I’ll quietly disappear and my work will disappear quietly with me.

As far as the world is concerned, nothing’s going on.

It’s been a rough year since June 2011. A close friend died, I had family issues, then an uncle died, I had issues with my supervisors, then an exhausting winter collecting data and getting my first paper published, then the discouraging restlessness of February, snow, and solitary meditation about all that’s wrong with the world, and last week my great godfather died. And all the while life has continued, as if nothing’s happening, and I’ve been functioning perfectly and keeping up appearances for everyone around me, to keep everyone happy and not let them down, and feeling this deep, relentless sadness inside that’s a battle I choose to fight on my own.

I’m not a people person in any sense of the phrase and I made the conscious decision to fight this battle on my own.

Totally on my own. I don’t want help or treatment or drugs or friends feeling sorry for me. You’re a psychologist for crying out loud.

Looking at one of the friends I love most in the world, and where she is now, I sometimes wonder if I’m headed in the same direction. The black dog breeds, and its offspring go out into the world and attach themselves to other people, make a home with them, and keep them company. There are so many people who suffer this right now, so many wounds to tend and hearts to heal, I wonder when I’ll have time to get to all of them. I won’t, I know.

Right now I feel like I’m at a crossroads between sadness and hope. There’s no way you can choose one path and move away from the other. A part of you walks along each.

And when you look at me from outside, as an outsider, there I am, as busy as ever, enthusiastically tending to my all-important PhD, perky and helpful and cracking jokes to passers by. You’d never guess I’ve experienced all this. And I like it that way. I like keeping my despair to myself and making people believe that nothing is happening. Everything’s fine.

Nothing’s going on. Everything’s fine.

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