For the last couple of weeks, watching the world unfold has been an effort in trying to keep myself upright. I have been on the verge of collapse as Russian troops invaded Ukraine.
There have been countless days where I’ve sobbed uncontrollably as my heart shattered for people I will never meet. From places I’ll never get to visit. I’ve had this experience many times in my life. But for some reason, this hits me in the core.
It’s likely, of the last several decades, I’ve said that the sadness is just too much to take it all in hundreds of times. Today, I’m feeling those words in my marrow. for the last two solid years, I’ve been thinking it regularly, but saying it rarely. Today, I break that silence and acknowledge that my heart is sawdust for the people of Ukraine, and other sufferings that are equally unspeakable. My heart has been ground to fine powder for those sufferings.
It’s difficult to go on with daily life, when life has been uprooted and pulverized. By sickness, pain, loss, isolation, abuses, murders in broad daylight, shootings, all of the tragedies we’ve collectively experienced for TWO SOLID YEARS. Everyone on this earth is in pain, whether they know it or not.
Once upon a time, writing was my safe haven, my outlet, and my muse. Today it feel heavy and pointless. As though my words are meaningless. I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said by someone else, more eloquently, to a larger crowd. What do I have to add to the dialogue? To contribute to the narrative? Very little, in my estimation. However, staying silent does not allow me to feel whole, so I write today. Not for those that are “out there” suffering. But for the one “in here”.
It’s an odd feeling writing to a page about lasting happiness. It’s so elusive. Do I feel “happier” than I did many years ago when this page began? Without a doubt. I’ve grown so much, learned more things than I could ever recall, read a myriad of books, researched the research of happiness and put practice into my quest for more tangible joy in my everyday life. However, in that same breath, I find it impossible to be “happy” while so many people are in pain. It’s so hard to go on with our “regular lives”, whatever that even means now, while others have lost everything. To not acknowledge the struggle, would 1) be doing a disservice to those who are in pain, and 2) make me an asshole. I’m unwilling to allow either of those things. Not on my watch.
I have no rosy closing to this entry. I have nothing but love in the space my heart once was, for those that need love right now. I know I’m not alone in this feeling of hopelessness, and I genuinely hope that we all make it.
