I'm a mess

Confession time. My life is a mess.

I really should be suicidal, but I'm not. I think it's pure fear keeping me alive right now. It's a beautiful day, but I feel wrecked once again. 

Last night I woke after midnight and couldn't go back to sleep, got up, read one of my textbooks, and then got on the internet and decided that was a bad idea. The waking in the night, every single night, has to stop. I want to pull my hair out, but then I'd look like even more of a freak. 

I've fallen off a cliff of epic proportions. Maybe I was unaware the whole time my life was crap, and I'm just now realizing it. 

Most people have stuff figured out by the time they're 40. I'll be 41 soon, and I have exactly zero figured out, except I'm a mess. The things I formerly took pride in are no longer there. I've severed ties with people and the past so severely I no longer have ties to anyone or anything. I live alone. I have no friends. I talk to God almost nonstop. I'm pretty sure He put me on hold because I keep saying the same things over and over again. 

The people I care about the most I've hurt. There's no excuse. The people I miss the most I have to go on missing, as that's the theme of my life. Let go until there's nothing left, I guess. 

My self-image is laughable. I've had low self-esteem my whole life; this isn't even the lowest I've been. But, self-esteem isn't a Biblical term so I may have no need for it. I'm worthwhile because God loves me. 

Looking around, I see so many people with full lives, so many perfect, sprawling existences. It's great. Good for them. I'm sure if I was in a proper state of mind, I couldn't even handle all they do. There's something missing in me, and I've missed it my whole life. 

It seems like everyone is having sex. At least, that's how I imagine it. Everyone is going at it, ringing that bell, plowing that field, banging like an unlatched screen door in a windstorm. That's what I see in my head. The truth may not apply. As we all know, the truth doesn't really matter, just our perception of the truth. We love to believe things that make us feel good. So why do I believe all these awful things about my life?

There's nothing here for me. I wanted to move almost as soon as I moved here. What's here is a whole lot of bad memories and things I'd rather not think about. It's almost like this place rejected me. How is that even possible? Well, in my life, anything is possible. 

The thing is, I don't think it will be any better wherever I go. I'll have to find a job where I can hopefully work first shift and have free weekends. That would be ideal. Covering my bills would be nice, too. Providing for my son would be great. All I want is to see my son in the evenings and to do things with him on the weekends. I don't care what kind of job I get. I'm flexible and adaptable. I have no grand delusion of working a dream job at the age of 41 after working a string of jobs I've hated. Chances are, my next job will be a second or third shift back-killer that will sink me even further into depression. There's nothing like a bad job to mess a guy's head up. 

I've given up on love, finding love, loving again, whatever. It's out of my hands anyway. Some mistakes I don't need to repeat. Women come on strong at first, get me involved, then shred me like mozzarella. I've said enough here about this topic. It would be nice to have a relationship with mutual respect, but I doubt I'll find that in this country. American girls cheat and abuse just as much as American men. If I have to get some shots and fly around the world a few times to find a respectful woman, then I will. Or, most likely, I'll think about doing that and will sit quietly at home alone. Because that's how I roll. 

It doesn't matter that I'm burned out. I'm taking classes full-time and working full-time and trying to keep my head clean full-time. It's no wonder all I want to do is sleep. And with so much swirling in my head, it's no wonder I can't sleep. 

As bad as things have gotten, I've seen worse. I've been at the end of my rope so many times, you can see the knots I tied in it as I desperately held tight. As dim as my future looks, it's still okay. I know I'm not in charge, and that's alright. I've found the best thing I could have found in all of this. I've found my Father (or He's found me), and He's still in charge. When everything in my world is askew, nothing is out of order in heaven. And nothing is outside of His control. 

If all of these things had to be rent from me for me to see He's in charge, then so be it. The price I paid was worth it. I'm no Job, but if Job, a much godlier man than I'll ever be or that I've ever know, had to see everything taken from him, then it makes sense I'd have to see the same thing. I just hope I can be a fraction as faithful as Job.

The end of this has yet to be seen. Maybe someday it will make sense. Chances are, this moment of clarity will be over soon and I'll be back in the grind, back in the rat race, and all these beautiful moments of realization will be forgotten. I guess that's why I write.