I find myself regularly remembering a line from Cunningham's The Hours:
He was the person she loved at her most optimistic moment.Romantic love's not necessarily even the primary issue these days, though it — or its absence — is a major thematic thread. I'm having trouble remembering what my most optimistic moment was, or if I ever had one.
I think I had one, because I know that there was a time when life seemed full of possibilities, even if I didn't know what they were. There was still excitement and discovery somewhere around the bend, and it's what prodded me on toward California and Africa once upon a time, without caring whether I had a plan or if I really knew what I was doing.
At some point, those undefined possibilities became unfocused dreams and maybe too many questions. They also ran headlong into financial and other practical realities, which now, more critically, include the non-negotiable requirements of comprehensive health insurance and an eternal (truly) regimen of expensive medications.
I've spent a lot of time learning (or unlearning) how to avoid getting stuck in the whirlpool of dissatisfaction. Buddhist philosophy and meditation experience (though not nearly enough of the latter) have helped substantially in that regard, but I still get stuck in this dilemma, which is maybe really more of a cliche: "Is that all there is?"
About a month ago, my answer to that would have been that it really didn't matter, and that I was ready for "this" or "that" to be all there is. This week, I'm not so sure.
I feel like I need to figure out something to look forward to other than more of the same. I don't believe in the hamster-wheel of discontent, but what's the answer?
Why do I sometimes feel this emptiness or this desire for something I can't even define... feel it so strongly that I want to thrash and scream until I figure out the answer?
Why haven't I grown up? What would that even feel like? Will I ever really be content?
Does anyone else feel this way?
What defines a whiny, lazy, loser?