The Void
In the journal entry I shared with such trepidation two posts ago, I mention a void. It was always there, always ready to suck me under and bring my life to a grinding halt. It whispered to me all the time.
"Nothing matters," it said.
And nothing did. For a very long time, nothing mattered. Nothing filled the void, no matter what I stuffed down it.
Poor Bronwyn was driven nearly around the bend by this. I think it was something she had never been trapped by and couldn't understand why I was. I couldn't explain it either. Still can't.
Less than a year and a half ago I closed it. The void no longer yawns in me, sucking all enjoyment from life and keeping me from doing things.
"Nothing matters," it screamed one day.
But I was fed up. I was sick of wasting my time and hating my life.
"If nothing matters, it doesn't matter that nothing matters," I finally screamed back.
It had no response for that and shrank to a simple fact to be incorporated into my belief structure. Something I can use, not something that will use me. It hasn't even whispered once since then.
Reading my journals from when it still screamed kind of scares me because it reminds me of how bad things were for a time. But it also gives me a feeling of strength for having gotten through.
"Nothing matters," it said.
And nothing did. For a very long time, nothing mattered. Nothing filled the void, no matter what I stuffed down it.
Poor Bronwyn was driven nearly around the bend by this. I think it was something she had never been trapped by and couldn't understand why I was. I couldn't explain it either. Still can't.
Less than a year and a half ago I closed it. The void no longer yawns in me, sucking all enjoyment from life and keeping me from doing things.
"Nothing matters," it screamed one day.
But I was fed up. I was sick of wasting my time and hating my life.
"If nothing matters, it doesn't matter that nothing matters," I finally screamed back.
It had no response for that and shrank to a simple fact to be incorporated into my belief structure. Something I can use, not something that will use me. It hasn't even whispered once since then.
Reading my journals from when it still screamed kind of scares me because it reminds me of how bad things were for a time. But it also gives me a feeling of strength for having gotten through.
