Live Like Your Dying

I want to live like I’m dying.

Or so the saying goes. I think it’s a title, saying or maybe a phrase. I’m not sure which. Not that it matters.

I understand the above phrase. It’s about living. I want to know how to live when you are dying.

So many people would say to me -- you are not dying. And they would be right. But so would I.

In the logical part of my brain I understand that part of this is my depression talking. I know that these negative thoughts is depression weighing on me. I think that I have a right to that just now.

I have every right to rage, cry, bitch, complain and mope. I have all of those feelings and more. Because what I am facing just plain sucks. No two ways about it. Sucks.

Putting aside that right, I also know that somehow I have to comes to terms with how I live now. Another part of that logical part of my brain. How do I live knowing there is a time bomb waiting to explode?

I am seeking help. I started antidepressants. I am seeing a psychologist. I am reaching out to friends. And talking with my family. All the right steps.

The negative thoughts are starting diminish. There is still work to do. I still need to adjust to life in this new reality.

I thought I was taking it all pretty well but the day to day boredom got to me in face of what I want to do. I don’t have the adrenaline of the immediate threat to get me through.. Now I have the day to day everdayness looking at me. I want more.

But that’s another blog.