Cloudy Head In An Older Age

If I would’ve been warned
that getting older
wasn’t just about aging,
saying goodbye to youth, energy, supple skin & innocence,
but that it means
piles upon piles upon piles of
disappointment, regret, and
that everything that would’ve been
shrugged off
is now so heavy, so serious,
because we know there aren’t
always 2nd chances;
we know we aren’t special.
If I would’ve been properly warned,
I wouldn’t have signed up for this.



Chronically Worry Until There Is No Option But To Let Go

I’m a chronic worrier.
I care so much that the amount I care is actually pointless.
I care so much it’s just worry.

I worry that the food in the cooler is all going off, since my fridge died during this heatwave.
I worry that I’m dying, because I’m in my 35th year of life, and in the last couple days, I have a combination of a sharp pain in my right hip all the way down to my inner right foot and a dull thick pain in my groin area, covering the whole perineum area.
But I know we’re all dying,
we’re all dying the moment we are born. As soon as we are born, we are sentenced to death.

I worry that I’ve made all the wrong choices in life.
That the reason I am here, in Vancouver, questioning my career, my home, my art, my life, is because I made the wrong choices.
I got too wrapped up in too many long term relationships.
I changed careers too often. I was never dedicated enough to my art.
I took my childhood shyness and turned it into a growing lack of confidence and a heap of self loathing.

I worry that my leg is going to paralyze me, and that I’ll be in the hospital and people will say, hang on, you’ll be alright, whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger, but all I’ll want is to die.

When I saw an illustration called “Nirvana – I Hate Myself And Want To Die” by Amy Martino, I liked it because of its text – it made me think of Kurt Cobain, who escaped this earth at his own hands.
But I’m not sure I’m stoked on the overall picture because it’s so pastel-y and attractive, like the artist is just borrowing the text but hasn’t the foggiest conception of how it actually feels to feel those words.

I think about Cobain and I think that the people who die early are actually very smart.

Aging isn’t a wonderful thing.
Sure there are the people who age gracefully, and are healthy both physically and mentally. But most people just end up suffering.

Suffering due to diseases,
due to financial losses,
losing family and friends to death,
losing and being hurt by lovers,
suffering inside because they are constantly asking themselves why they never lived differently.
Why do we hold back from the things we really want?

It’s been said that fear holds us back. That usually the things we want are unique or unusual or difficult to attain,
so rather than take those unique paths, we stay where it is ordinary and safe.

But I’m not sure I agree.

Maybe the reason we hold back from the things we really want is that we don’t really want them.
Maybe we have no f**king idea what we want in our lives.
Our minds can’t make themselves up, plus we’re constantly bombarded by the opinions of everyone around us:
friends, family, the government, the media. We should be fit because look at all the fit people in the magazines! We should pursue wealth because it is good for the economy!
But what if you don’t want the things that you’re told to want?
Then you have to make up your own mind.
But maybe your own mind is happy being blank.

My mind is telling me, 5000 times/sec, a million things I want.
Some are induced on me by outside forces, some are my own inventions.
But most I never do.

Why, if I have an idea, do I not pursue it?
Maybe it was just a dumb idea to begin with.

But I tend to forget the quality of the idea, and proceed to rack my brain over all of the ideas, all of the options, all of the possibilities that I never pursued.
I’ve wanted to be single so many times that I have been dating.
I’ve wanted to live in France and learn French fluently
I’ve wanted to live in Poland and learn Polish fluently
I’ve wanted to become a physiotherapist
I’ve wanted to live in Montreal because that’s the only cool, cultural, artistic city in this country.
I’ve wanted to be an excellent dancer, to know partner dances (swing, salsa) and solo (hip hop, breakdance)
I’ve wanted to be a lifeguard
I’ve wanted to sail around the world
I’ve wanted to approach beautiful women and be confident and irresistible
I’ve wanted to be quick and witty and be able to respond to anyone’s comments at any time with the perfect comeback
I’ve wanted to slam dunk a basketball
I’ve wanted to be 6inches taller
I’ve wanted to be trained in a range of fighting techniques so I’d never have to fear other people again
I’ve wanted to forget everything and everyone and just hole myself up and create art all day and all night alone in my studio, giving absolutely everything to my pursuit of my expression
I’ve wanted to be multilingual and work for the UN or some other international organization
I’ve wanted to be more confident in building things and fixing things
I’ve wanted to be more confident. period.
I’ve wanted so desperately to know what life would be like without depression (there are people out there, aren’t there?)
I’ve wanted to have a childhood with a dad
I’ve wanted to have a childhood in which I was good at sports
I’ve wanted to be a multi-instrumentalist and a singer. I believe music is the most powerful and conducive art form in the world.

Those are some of the ideas I’ve wanted. But now I sit on my bed and try not to stress about tomorrow’s work or that I should be drawing more or that my hip worries me or anything else.
Life should not be about wanting,
it should be about letting go.